A Little Christmas Jingle

by Michele Dunaway

  “Hmm. Okay, that was fast. You didn’t turn on that recorder in your brain. Maybe you do actually like this one.”

  “I do.” That wasn’t a lie either, Jack realized as he reached for the mashed potato bowl coming his way. Kat was special. He easily recalled the length of her fingers and how they’d stroked Jingle’s head.

  He brought it all back—seeing the wide smile that indicated she’d had braces as a kid, for no one had teeth that straight. Full lips framed that perfect mouth, and he’d liked how the rose-colored corners crept upward when she saw something she liked. Little creases surrounded eyes that twinkled when she laughed. He made a big mound of potatoes on his plate and set the bowl in the middle of the table next to a small decorative Christmas tree. His mom had the decorations out early, probably on account of the upcoming wedding.

  “Where’d she go to vet school?”

  His brain found the answer quickly, seeing the diploma on the wall of her office. “Mizzou.”

  “My alma mater,” Nelson noted. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

  The gravy boat came Jack’s way, and he used the ladle to make a large brown pond in the center of his potatoes. “She’s excited to meet all of you as well.”

  “I’m just excited you’re finally bringing someone around,” his mother said. “You never do.”

  “There’s no point if he’s not going to be serious about any of them,” Cecily defended. “Which we know is most of the time. She must be special.”

  “She is,” Jack confirmed.

  “So where are you taking her next?” Cecily asked.

  “What?”

  “Like on a date. Surely she’s not just hanging around waiting for my wedding. The food will be good, but not that great.”

  “We’re attending the Pet Rescue Gala.”

  Cecily just arched an eyebrow. “The charity?”

  “Our first public venture as a couple,” Jack confirmed. “It’s a great event. Black tie.”

  “Well, that will shock St. Louis’s sensibilities to know that its calendar boy is off the market. I’ll make sure to toss the bouquet her direction.”

  “Don’t you dare.” The words were out before Jack could stop them.

  Cecily smirked. “Ah, now there’s the Jack we know and love. So it’s not that serious.”

  “We just met,” Jack grit out again.

  “Give your brother space,” Jack’s mom said. “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Maybe,” Cecily conceded. She gave him a long, assessing look. “Time will tell, won’t it?”

  Jack simply shoved another bite into his mouth to keep from replying.

  #

  By Friday evening, Kat turned into a complete basket case. This was not a real date. So why was she stressing over a silly charity ball?

  Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen Jack. He’d come by Monday morning at eight to get photos. He stopped by or called at least once a day to check on Jingle’s progress. While the dog grew stronger day by day, Jingle still had a long way to go. He wasn’t out of the woods, and he required constant monitoring.

  Kat looked at her bed, now covered with dresses and one comfortable, sleeping calico kitten. “I tell you, Pippa, you’re lucky you have a fur coat.”

  Pippa’s black-tipped tail thumped once, her only acknowledgement of Kat’s dilemma. She’d been so sure this morning. Wear her favorite dress, the red one with the slit up her leg. Until she remembered that Jack never forgot anything—and she’d worn it the night they’d met. So she tossed it on the bed and pulled out a deep green gown, only to find a stain on the skirt the dry cleaners had missed.

  Two down. Then the black velvet standby looked too shabby, and everyone would be in black, a color that turned Kat’s skin a ghostly shade of pale.

  She even tried on the silver bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn to her friend Marianne’s wedding—until a glance in the mirror reminded her it shimmered like a cheap shower curtain, something a lot of wine at the reception had helped her forget. Time to donate that garment next time she cleaned out her closet. Dress five was another one she planned to donate—she’d worn it five years ago and it no longer fit. Dress six made her butt look big, and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it in the first place, unless she’d been indulging in retail therapy after her latest breakup. Her one shopping weakness post-breakup was buying pretty dresses.

  Trouble was, she had very few places to wear them, but she’d purchase them anyway, just because she liked how wearing them made her feel. For a moment, she could pretend she was a radiant princess, or a supermodel, or an intelligent beauty queen, the type no man could resist.

  Kat sat on the edge of her bed with a thump, the cat cracking one eyelid before closing it again. “You’re no help,” Kat told Pippa.

  Frustrated, Kat dug freshly painted fingers into her thigh, all but her thumb crawling like a spider. She should wear the red dress. So what if he’d seen it? This wasn’t a real date. Tonight she would have attended anyway because she believed so strongly in the work Pet Rescue did.

  So red dress it was. Except for now the cat slept on it, and she’d need to take a lint brush to it.

  Kat wrinkled her nose and frowned. Why was it that when nothing should matter, it always did? At least her hair had gone up into the knot without issues. Her hair, that unruly brown mess, hadn’t disobeyed tonight. One small blessing.

  Kat stood up, walked into the spare bedroom, and threw open the closet door. Surely she had something. Something she’d bought, intending to wear and shoved aside for some reason. She thumbed through, pushing hangers aside.

  And there it was. She’d found the gown at the Women’s Closet Exchange, a high-end resale shop. The dark blue silk fabric shimmered as she pulled it out. Why hadn’t she thought of this dress first? She turned the hanger around. Oh yeah. Because the dress had no back. None whatsoever. The last time she’d thought about wearing it, she’d chickened out.

  The fabric caught the light like moonlit water, and she decided to try it on. Kat tossed the hanger on the dresser and stepped into the dress. She pulled it up and over, the silk caressing her skin. She slid her arms through the slots, attached the back clasp that closed the two-inch collar. The full, floor-length skirt swished around her legs as she strode back into her bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror.

  The back of the sleeveless dress hit the small curve of her back. The dress showcased a diamond-shape exposure of pale skin from under the strap collar to right above the V of her breasts. She adjusted the built-in bra cups and looked at her reflection.

  The designer piece had been worn once according to the salesperson, and Kat had picked up the thousand-dollar gown for a mere fraction of that. She slid into the four-inch silver heels she brought out only for special occasions. Did she dare wear this? She felt utterly glamorous, but then again, she was revealing suggestive amounts of skin. She twirled, loving how the soft fabric swished.

  Then froze as she heard the doorbell. Surely Jack couldn’t be here already.

  She cursed as she read the clock. Where had the time gone? She’d sworn she’d had at least another hour, not fifteen minutes. Blue fabric swishing, she walked down the front steps and let him in. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Jack said, his gaze sweeping over her. “Ready?”

  “Almost,” Kat replied, making her way back up the stairs. Jack gave a low whistle. “What?”

  “That is one hell of a dress.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a flush covering her cheeks. “I …”

  “If you’re trying to make a statement, you succeeded. I’ll be the envy of every guy there.”

  She reached the living room and faced him. “It’s too much. I can put the red one on and—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Jack replied. His blue eyes had darkened to cobalt. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she replied again, and fled to her bedroom where she attached a sterling silver cuff bracelet, the only jewelry sh
e’d wear aside from the matching dangle earrings.

  She gave one last look-see in the mirror, put on a shimmery silver stole, and returned to the living room. Jack held out her black wool dress coat. “Shall we?”

  “Definitely,” Kat replied, stomach butterflies already abuzz. Beneath his coat he wore a black tux, and Kat caught herself before her mouth gaped open. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this affected by a man, and that could spell trouble, for Kat had the sudden urge to yank him into her bedroom and let him slake the desire flowing through her, charity be darned. He held open the door to the stairs, and some cooler air blew in, clearing her brain.

  “Lead the way,” he told her, grin wicked. “It’s going to be an interesting night.”

  #

  And even “interesting” was too tame a word, Jack thought as he and Kat checked their overcoats outside the Ritz Carlton ballroom. Her dress was driving him to distraction. When he placed his hand on the small of her back, all five fingers found silken bare flesh. The gown was red carpet worthy, and worse, the way she wore it made parts of his body go into hyperdrive. When he’d followed her up her flat’s front stairs, he’d mentally recited “Mary Had a Little Lamb”—anything to keep his lower half quiet. He was taking a lot of cold showers lately, both mentally and physically. She drove him mad.

  Kat wobbled once in her heels as they entered the ballroom, and he cupped her bare arm to steady her, drawing her to him. She fit perfectly, which should worry his sensibilities. Yet, he hadn’t one qualm or innate urge to flee. “We’re over there,” he said, bringing her over to a round table that sat ten. “Number thirteen.”

  “My lucky number,” Kat murmured, as he pulled out the chair in front of the name placard reading “Dr. Katherine Saunders.”

  His fingers skimmed over the fine silver lace stole that covered her shoulder blades as he eased her chair in. His breath heated her ear as he leaned down and whispered, “It’s warm in here.”

  She gave an involuntary shiver, as if the chair was slightly cool against her back. “It’s fine,” she told him. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the iced tea and took a long sip. Her eyes had also darkened, proving she was as sexually affected as he was. He was playing with fire.

  “What do you want from the bar?” Jack asked, ready to retreat to safety.

  “Red wine is fine,” she answered.

  “Be right back,” Jack replied. Kat watched him leave, her gaze trailing over him.

  “Handsome, isn’t he? They don’t make them much better than that.” A woman dropped gracefully into the chair on Kat’s right and held out her hand. “I’m Sharon. You here as Jack’s date?”

  “I am,” Kat replied, keeping her tone even and the immediate, catlike hiss tamped down.

  “Lucky you. Jack’s quite a catch. Women have been after him for years but he’s Mr. Elusive.”

  Kat took another sip of the iced tea, taking the moment to study the beautiful redhead whose black dress appeared painted on. She seemed pretty familiar with Jack. “How do you know him?”

  Sharon laughed, long burgundy fingernails reaching for her water goblet. “Oh, I’ve known Jack for years. I’m married to Matt.”

  Tension whooshed from Kat, only to be replaced with confusion. “Matt?”

  Sharon clearly found the whole situation amusing, as her perfect white smile spread ear to ear. “That would be so like Jack to not tell you a thing. Matt’s Jack’s older brother. Stepbrother, but it’s been like twenty years, so past time to drop that moniker. Have you been dating long?”

  “About a month,” Kat replied, sticking to the story she and Jack had created.

  Sharon suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh, it’s you.” She pulled out her phone, turned it on. “I don’t believe it. What luck! You’re the wedding date.”

  “Uh …” Kat began as Sharon unlocked her phone and hit an app.

  “At our final fitting, Cecily was telling us that Jack had a date. I can’t believe I scored this coup. Here. Do you mind?”

  She leaned into Kat’s space, held up the phone, and took a quick picture. “Cecily doesn’t believe you’re real. This’ll show her.”

  Kat sat dumbfounded as Sharon typed a message and hit send. Then she turned to the man approaching. He stood about five eight and had dark brown hair, the complete opposite of Jack. “Matt. This is Kat. Kat, this is my husband Matt. She’s Jack’s date. You know. The wedding date.”

  “Stop bothering my date,” Jack inserted, arriving on the scene much to Kat’s immediate relief. Jack handed her a glass of red wine and set down his longneck bottle of Bud. “Matt,” he said, reaching forward to shake his stepbrother’s outstretched hand. “Good to see you. Didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “My firm is doing some of the pro bono work to assist the prosecuting attorney’s office with task force issues.”

  “But you aren’t involved in any of that,” Jack pointed out.

  “Yes, but I love auctions so I insisted we come,” Sharon inserted, clearly smoothing the waters. “What a welcome surprise we’re at the same table.” She leaned over and squeezed Kat’s hand. “We have been waiting to see Jack settle down for a long time.” Kat resisted the urge to rub her hand; Sharon’s grip had been a vise. “You do know, Jack, that your mom had a string of dates lined up for the wedding.”

  “So I heard. Someone ought to tell her that her matchmaking services are not required where I’m concerned.”

  “You know she’s just trying to help. She’s fixed lots of people up,” Sharon told Kat.

  “Then I’m lucky Kat rescued me.” Jack dropped into the seat to Kat’s left. He lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, those blue eyes twinkling. A tremor of awareness shot through her, and she tamped it down. “She’s my savior.”

  “That’s me,” Kat quipped as three other couples began to take their seats. “Always saving someone or something. This time it was Jack.”

  “That’s sweet,” Sharon said, and Kat could almost see her cataloging everything for later use. Matt, however, was clearly more cynical. His lawyer-trained gaze assessed her, and she resisted the urge to squirm.

  “Oh that’s right. You’re the one with the illegal dog shelter,” Matt said, putting two and two together. He took a sip of the dark cocktail as if his words weren’t a bombshell.

  “It’s not illegal,” Kat replied automatically, praying her tone sounded matter-of-fact and not defensive. She snaked her right hand forward, grabbing the wineglass as a shield.

  “Kat is the vet who saved Jingle,” Jack said, redirecting the conversation. His leg pressed against hers, and his right hand covered her left. To provide comfort, he squeezed gently. “Jingle’s the worst abuse case I’ve ever seen, and Kat was the perfect person for the job.”

  “No one is questioning her ability as a vet,” Matt replied.

  “I personally inspected her shelter myself,” Jack said, and Kat heard the underlying warning in his tone. “Did you not see the news report?”

  “Boys,” Sharon chided. “You should see them at family dinners,” she told Kat with an apologetic smile. But at that moment Kat knew why she was really here, why Jack had come up with a silly fake-dating scheme. Not only had he clearly failed to marry—which was the dumbest thing for anyone to ever criticize—but there was some undercurrent, some blatant tension between the two men. Kat didn’t understand blended families, having never had one. But she recognized sibling rivalry as these two had it in spades.

  “So, did I overhear that right?” a woman across the table asked. “You’re the vet who saved that poor dog?”

  Kat nodded. “I am.”

  “I couldn’t believe that when I heard about what happened. We’re making a huge donation in his honor. I couldn’t bear if something happened to my Pookie. I’m Ellen Harper, by the way. This is my husband, George.”

  Kat knew the name George Harper. More than likely her case was going to land in his courtroom. “Nice to meet you, Ju
dge Harper.”

  “Indeed,” he said, reaching for the salad plate in front of him, more interested in his food than her clinic.

  Waiters came by with warm rolls, and soon entrée plates, and conversation shifted to topics like golf, vacations to Spain, Rams football, and Blues hockey. For the most part, Kat and Jack were able to contribute something to the table’s cheery atmosphere.

  Besides, the food was excellent and the wine smooth, and Kat went past her one-glass limit by indulging in two. Perhaps that’s why, despite the bareness of her skin, she felt so warm. Or maybe it was because Jack kept stroking the top of her arm—the searing heat making her flush. At one point during the speeches he draped his arm over her shoulders, his fingers twirling in the loose strands of hair at the base of her neck.

  He was doing everything a boyfriend would do, and knowing Sharon watched their every move like a hawk, Kat allowed herself to relax and go with the flow. She had a part to play. Later she could remember this night wasn’t real, no matter how authentic the desire her body exhibited. She blinked. She’d tuned out during the speeches, her body short-circuited by Jack’s mesmerizing touch.

  “So,” the mayor was saying, “we are grateful to Jack Donovan for his deep commitment to making this partnership work. When Jeff proposed this joint task force a year ago, I didn’t know how we would make the logistics feasible. But thanks to Jack, we have a road map and we’ve made a difference. So Jack,” the mayor pointed to him, “thank you.”

  Kat clapped automatically as Jack stood, gave a brief wave to the crowd, and then sat back down. She leaned over to him. “That’s wonderful.”

  Around the table, the others saluted him with raised glasses.

  The mayor continued on a new vein, and Kat reached under the table to squeeze Jack’s hand. She leaned to whisper in his ear, “Smile. Look happy.”

  He turned toward her. “I hate the attention—”

  “I know,” Kat replied, catching his mouth in a quick kiss because one, his mouth was right there mere inches away, and two, it seemed the right thing to do at the time to keep him from talking about how he hated all the attention.