Maybe the overload was wearing her down. Or maybe he really wasn’t crazy. Maybe, with his inexplicable entrances and costume changes, he was exactly what he said he was. If not, he almost certainly had to be a member of the Houdini family, and a mind reader to boot.
A smile touched his lips. “You know, the sooner you let me help, the sooner we can start making progress.”
“The sooner you’ll be gone?” She hadn’t thought of it quite that way before.
“Oh, now you’ve cut me to the quick. I’ve only known you a little while, and I’ll miss you terribly when I’m gone.” He was still smiling, but for once, he actually sounded serious.
A dangerous idea began to blossom in her mind, and Lindsay found herself toying with it. He’d shown absolutely no sign that he intended to harm her. Could it be safe to go along with it, just for a little while? She had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to shake him any other way.
It couldn’t hurt to humor him here, anyway, in a roomful of witnesses. “Okay. What do I need to do?”
“It’s a grueling, tedious job, really. Start enjoying yourself. Here, have one of these.”
He picked up one of the sinful-looking chocolate wafers and offered it to her. He would have to choose the least dietetic thing on the plate.
At least he’d saved some chocolate for her.
Silently, Lindsay reached up and took it, the wheels turning in her head. When she bit into the wafer, it was every bit as rich and decadent as it looked.
This was the part where she should run away screaming.
She’d gotten him out of Phil and Evelyn’s house, amid a greater-than-usual number of friendly farewells. Now they walked down the darkened street toward her car, which she’d parked several houses away because of all the arrivals before her. Fred had her hand tucked through his arm in that courtly way of his, and still showed no sign of menace. Screaming seemed silly.
She stole a glance at Fred, who wore nothing warmer than his simple suit jacket. “You don’t have your coat.”
“I figured I’d be indoors most of the evening. Don’t worry. A brisk walk on a chilly night always does me good.”
It was more than chilly. The cold air had the harsh bite and gray, indefinable scent of threatening snow. But with her hand tucked into the crook of Fred’s arm, Lindsay felt warmer. She noticed the difference when they reached her car, and she disentangled herself to unlock the door. Instantly the wind seemed sharper, colder, harder, and she hurriedly twisted the key with numb fingers.
Not fast enough to keep Fred from pulling the door open for her, though.
Lindsay slipped inside quickly, hoping to escape Fred and the wind at the same time. Inside her car, it didn’t feel much warmer than it had outside; she bunched her jacket around her as she reached to pull the door shut.
Fred still held it. He kept it open just a crack, shutting out most of the cold wind, while he leaned down to speak once more. “Good night, Lindsay. Drive safely.”
And he closed the door for her.
Well, that had been easy enough. He straightened with a little wave and stepped back to the sidewalk, giving Lindsay room to pull out of her parking space.
She started to drive off, but as her car turned away from the curb, she saw him in her side mirror, hands deep in his pockets, arms gathered in and head slightly bent against the cold as he walked. He didn’t look back.
She knew it was freezing out there. She’d been shivering even in her coat. Lindsay would have bet money that it would snow by morning.
She stopped the car, engine still running. You’ll be sorry, she told herself.
Lindsay pressed the button to roll down the passenger window, letting in a slice of biting wind. “Fred?” He lifted his head and stepped toward her window. “Where’s your car?”
“Oh, I don’t drive.”
Of course not.
“Oh.” She should drive away now. But it was so cold. “Can I—give you a lift anywhere?” She couldn’t believe she was saying it.
“You could drop me off over by the Broadway Hotel.” He smiled at her through the opening in her window. “As long as it’s no trouble, that is.”
She usually avoided Lakeside Boulevard because it was in such a busy section of town, but in reality, it was the shortest route home. And this time of night, the traffic wouldn’t be bad.
She should pull away, tires screeching. But she couldn’t just leave him there.
Lindsay opened the door, mentally rehearsing every self-defense move she could remember from the women’s safety videos she’d seen in high school. By now, though, she felt fairly sure she wouldn’t need them. After all, this was Fred, and if one of them was crazy, it was probably her.
It was a strange feeling, being wedged into Lindsay’s little metallic vehicle. His legs were bent far up in front of him, close to the front of the car. Still, he could find no room for complaint. She’d allowed him into her car, and that was progress.
Lindsay flicked a little switch on the console between them. “The heater takes a few minutes to warm up. Sorry.”
“Not a problem.” She had no way of knowing how true that was. Cold was something he felt from the outside, something that made the air bracing and invigorating, but it didn’t penetrate him. He had no idea how it would feel to be cold. He hadn’t been above using Lindsay’s perception of cold to his advantage, however, to get invited into her car.
Lindsay wasn’t going to make his job easy, that was clear. But it would be enjoyable.
And sitting beside her while she drove made a fine opportunity to study her. Street lights came and went as they drove past, playing over her hair—a very fair shade of brown, nothing so simple as blond. He’d noticed the way it caught the light at the party tonight; even in this dimness, it did fascinating things. Her delicate features were contemplative, her knuckles just a little tense around the wheel. Well, no wonder. She was escorting someone who, not long ago, she’d considered a maniac. But she’d been kind enough to offer him a ride.
Not a cold person at all. In fact, for all her attempt at sharp edges, she seemed very vulnerable. What kept her closed off?
She gave him a sideways glance. “That seat adjusts, you know.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t have to ride with your knees in your mouth.” She cast him another glance, and this time she smiled. Definite progress. “There’s a lever,” she said. “At the bottom of the seat, on your right.”
He groped under the seat until he found it. After some fumbling, the seat slid back. Not enough to let him straighten his legs fully, but it helped.
“Nice party,” he commented. “Nice people.”
“Thanks.” The corner of her mouth curved up again, just a little. She refrained from reminding him he hadn’t been invited.
“What do you do there? Phil talked about it, but I’m afraid I missed the gist.”
“Corporate-investor relations. It’s like public relations, only more boring.” Another sideways smile. It warmed him in a way no car heater ever could. Fred thought he could bask in one of those smiles for a very long time.
Because it meant he was making progress on her case, of course.
“So,” Lindsay said, fingering the steering wheel, “how did you like Phil’s collection of ships in bottles?”
“I thought it was very interesting, actually. Although he told me he hasn’t built a new one in over ten years. That seems a shame.”
“That’s why he’s always so happy to meet someone who hasn’t seen them yet.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
She nodded. She’d never given it much thought before, but not every pair of bosses would bring employees into their home for a Christmas party. Phil and Evelyn could be almost parental; they were quick to notice when someone wasn’t getting enough sleep, or might have had a recent breakup. It could be a little oppressive at times, but they meant well.
“He’s very fond of you,” F
red said. “They all are.”
Fond of what? she wondered. She’d felt so awkward tonight. Surrounded by all those familiar faces, outside the office, she hadn’t known what to say to any of them.
“Jeanne’s nice too,” he said.
Lindsay’s hands tightened on the wheel. This time there was no denying the irrational bug of jealousy—when she should be planning to warn Jeanne to keep her front door shut. Or giving Fred a lift directly to Bellevue, magical shirts or not. And booking a room there for herself while she was at it. In the opposite wing, as far away from the man as she could get.
“Watch out for Matthew, though. His intentions aren’t honorable.”
“What?” Her head snapped around. “Matt, the accountant? He said that?”
“He didn’t have to. It’s written all over his face, every time he looks at you. You never noticed?”
“No.” It would take a while to get her mind to stop reeling from that one. Matt’s whole conversation with her had consisted of a blow-by-blow description of his car’s new sound system, all six or seven channels of it. Phil’s ship-in-a-bottle collection would have been infinitely better.
“You know,” Fred said, “we just spent an evening in a room full of people who like you very much. They just don’t feel they know you very well. Why is that?”
“Never mind.” Lindsay clutched the wheel again, then forced her fingers to relax. She slid a glance at Fred out of the corner of her eye. “Tell me more about Matt.”
“Lindsay!” For one second he was every inch the proper Victorian. Then he saw her grin, and he laughed.
They both laughed. Together. It felt like a dangerous precedent. “I knew you had a sense of humor,” he said.
When they had finished laughing, it got quiet in the car. Lindsay fixed her eyes on the street ahead, keenly aware that Fred was watching her.
He said, almost thoughtfully, “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”
It sounded more like a statement than a question. And maybe just a little too casual. Lindsay kept her hands relaxed on the wheel and tried to match his offhanded tone. “No one in particular. Why?”
“It just doesn’t seem right to me, I suppose. Someone as lovely as you, unattached.”
From anyone else, that would have sounded like a blatant pick-up line. But Fred didn’t sound smarmy or flirty. He sounded, in fact, genuinely puzzled.
Lindsay shrugged, still feigning a casual attitude. “It’s not like I never go out. There just isn’t anyone serious right now.”
“Odd. You seem like the serious type.”
“And you’re starting to seem like the nosy type.” She smiled again to lighten the comeback.
It had the desired effect. Fred smiled back and dropped the subject.
They reached the hotel. Just in time, Lindsay told herself. She was starting to like him. Worse, if she were honest with herself, she’d liked him for quite a while.
The Broadway Hotel stood on Lakeside Boulevard, one of the main streets in town, now fully decked out for the holidays. Christmas lights stretched from one side of the street to the other, their red and green sparkling like the frosting on a Christmas cookie. She could tell why Fred had been drawn to the spot. She stopped in front of the hotel and waited for him to get out.
Obligingly, he reached for the door handle. “One more thing,” he said. “I know I’ve been telling you to spare yourself all this holiday stress. But you were right about the fudge.”
“What?”
“The fudge you bring in every year. Apparently it’s not to be missed. Several people mentioned it to me. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it, they said.” He sounded approving.
“I told you so.”
“Well, thank you for the ride. It was very nice of you.” He opened the door, and Lindsay endured a blast of cold air as she watched Fred’s long legs disentangle themselves from underneath the dashboard.
Lindsay waited until he was out of the car. Only then did she get up the nerve to ask him what she’d sensed underneath her skin all along, and somehow chosen to ignore. “Fred? You didn’t really need a ride anywhere, did you?”
“I didn’t need the transportation,” he amended. “The ride was lovely. Good night, Lindsay.”
If anyone had been looking at Fred Holliday at that particular moment, they would have seen a tall, dark man simply cease to exist, leaving an empty space on the sidewalk.
Of course, he knew enough to make sure no one saw. He certainly didn’t want to give some poor innocent bystander a coronary for Christmas.
After the brightly colored street, reporting to Headquarters was a bit jarring. If this realm had a color, he supposed, it would be pure white, but there was nothing to see. Likewise, there was nothing to hear, yet he recognized his immediate supervisor’s voice quite plainly.
I take it you’re here to report on the Lindsay Miller case?
Yes. This isn’t going to be easy, is it? It’s taken the better part of two nights just to convince her that I exist.
That’s typical.
She has some impressive barriers.
That’s one of the reasons you were sent. Remember, this is all for her good.
If you really wanted results, you should have sent me in August. Is there any way I might be able to get more time?
Not unless you care to have us change the scheduling of a two-thousand-year-old holiday. There was no audible tone, yet the rebuff was plain. You’ll manage.
He found himself reluctant to comment on Lindsay, beyond those generalities. It seemed—unfair to her, somehow.
His superior prompted him: What do you plan to do next?
He knew just the thing, but he didn’t elaborate. I think I’ll play it by ear.
Yes, that’s probably your strongest skill. But before you go, I have some more pertinent information on her case....
Chapter 3
When Fred showed up on her doorstep the next morning with a seven-foot fir tree, Lindsay didn’t know why she was even surprised.
The day had begun with a call from Evelyn, before Lindsay got out of bed. It had snowed overnight, and the roads were closed, so the office would be closed today too. Lindsay suspected the roads would be open by late morning—they usually were—and also suspected Evelyn knew that. Snow was common in this part of Colorado, but it rarely stayed on the ground for more than a day or two. She had the feeling Evelyn welcomed the excuse to stay home and do some more Christmas preparations, as much as any of her employees.
Lindsay resolved not to waste any time. She’d just discovered eight extra hours, and she wanted to make the best use of them. Fudge for the office? Or get more of her Christmas cards ready to mail? The cards still sat stacked on the tray in front of the sofa, untouched since that memorable interruption the night before last. Lindsay’s eyes went from the tray to the kitchen and back again.
Before she could decide on her task, the doorbell rang.
She opened the door, and there Fred stood on her snow-covered porch, holding a Christmas tree propped up beside him like a friend he was about to introduce. He’d returned to full Victorian regalia, long overcoat, ruffled shirt, top hat and all. Along with a jaunty red scarf she didn’t remember from before.
Lindsay stared. “Some guys give flowers,” she finally said.
He responded with—what else?—a hearty laugh. He turned the tree slowly on the base of its trunk for Lindsay’s inspection, offering a view from all sides. “What do you think of it?”
It looked gorgeous, full and beautifully shaped, with no skimpy spots she could see. The incomparable scent of pine teased her nostrils. Lindsay resisted the urge to finger a branch and test the needles for freshness. “I’m sure it’ll look lovely in your hotel room.”
“That’s not where it’s needed.” She noticed he neither confirmed nor denied having a room at the hotel. “There’s a spot in front of your living room window that’s just crying for a tree.” He turned his head toward her front window, where her C
hristmas tree had stood every year until this one. And to think she’d bought the little artificial one to simplify matters.
Lindsay felt as if she stood at the threshold in more ways than one. If she let him in now, she might never get rid of him. But how did you close the door on a man who brought you a whole tree?
You said “no thank you” and closed the door. Maybe he’d finally get the hint. Or maybe he’d just appear on the other side of her door again, tree and all.
She tried anyway. “Fred, I told you, I already have a tree.”
“No, you have a little artificial electric weed.” His dark eyes teased and coaxed her at the same time. “Come on, now. You know what a difference it will make.”
If she closed the door now, she’d feel like the original Scrooge. “I had plans this morning—”
“Your plan was to go to work. That’s been cancelled. You have a few hours of extra time. It’s a gift. It shouldn’t be thrown away.”
She had cards to mail, and fudge to make.
She had a man standing in front of her with a full-size, fragrant tree, and the most beguiling smile she’d ever seen. Someone who’d shown her nothing but warmth, even if he did have trouble taking no for an answer.
For the first time, she admitted to herself that she wasn’t so sure she wanted him to go away.
Lindsay looked at the spot in front of her window, vacant except for a potted plant, easily moved. And she pulled the door open and stepped aside.
“Wonderful.” Fred swept in past her, bringing the breath of fresh pine into her apartment. Belatedly, she thought to wonder where he’d gotten a tree this time of morning, with all of the roads closed.
Before she closed the door, she looked out on her porch. Pristine snow surrounded it in all directions, except for some impressions where Fred and the tree had just been standing.
No footprints leading up to it. No trail of needles. Just smooth, white snow.
Lindsay shivered.
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