Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance

by Valerie Hansen

  Josh’s laugh sounded uneasy, as if he were just as glad as she was to end their extraordinary moment. “In that case, see if you can find me a couple of the same kind you ate, will you? I suspect I may need all the energy I can muster to keep up with the workings of your brain.”

  “Cookies won’t help,” Whitney told him with a wide grin. “I may be a lousy cook but I have a mind like a steel trap.” She was chuckling. “Of course, there are times when its jaws snap shut for no reason and I forget to reset it.”

  Josh was shaking his head in the wake of the inane analogy. He turned away and climbed back into the van, ostensibly to check the warmer, leaving Whitney standing alone by the serving table.

  Why had she made a silly joke about a very nice compliment? Why was it so hard to accept one coming from Josh? Was it because their previous encounters had been so fraught with tension? Or could it be because she was starting to like him far too much and realized how little she really knew about him?

  Either was possible. Only one had a solution. If he continued to hide his past she would have to start digging deeper and casting a wider net, excuse the clichés.

  The hardest part of her plan would be accepting whatever she discovered, when all she really wanted was to return to the moment when he had touched her and relive it, over and over and over.

  Chapter Five

  Bygones’s mayor, Martin Langston, was introduced by Pastor Hugh Garman, Matt’s grandfather, as soon as the caroling ended.

  Leaning on his cane, Langston took the portable microphone in his free hand and began. “Wonderful music, Reverend.” Waiting for the applause of the crowd to die down, he then added, “I’ve given the signal to light our town tree so many times I suspect I could do it blindfolded, yet every year I find I have the same thoughts when this time comes.”

  Josh had gotten out of the van and meandered along with the rest of the assemblage, including Whitney, to gather around the gazebo. It pleased him that she didn’t seem startled when he leaned closer to her shoulder and asked, “Do I sense a speech?”

  “Undoubtedly.” Smiling, she gave him a brief glance. “I can just about quote it from memory. But the mayor is sincere and loyal. Considering that he doesn’t get paid for all the things he does for this town, I guess he’s entitled to grab what little limelight he can.”

  The rotund, graying mayor’s oration was continuing, earning benevolent smiles and nods from his audience. He paused for effect, then concluded with “We must always remember the true reason for Christmas and keep our Savior’s birth as the primary focus of our celebration, in spite of enjoying all the other benefits we share, both here, tonight, and in our homes.” He harumphed. “And remember, shop in Bygones!”

  Josh applauded along with the others. He’d been so caught up in Whitney’s nearness he’d missed most of the speech until the end. That part, he definitely agreed with. Being a merchant, even when his store was not his real livelihood, had shown him the importance of seasonal festivities. His net had improved so much lately there was a chance the Cozy Cup Café would actually start to show a decent profit. A profit he had not expected.

  Which meant he could soon sell the shop and leave town as planned, without feeling guilty. He certainly didn’t want to cheat new owners. He would never misrepresent his success—or lack of it. Of course, whoever took over would need to be pretty good with computers to keep all the stations working. That meant it might be difficult to find just the right buyer.

  The thought of actually leaving Bygones struck a blow to his consciousness that took him aback. He had always intended to restore Main Street for his mother’s sake, then walk away, so why was that notion suddenly making him edgy? It was as if that perfectly logical plan was no longer suitable.

  How could that be? He was a totally rational guy. A man who set his mind on a goal and accomplished it. Which he had done, according to the reports all the other grant recipients had submitted to his auditors via the dummy corporation.

  His gaze rested on Whitney, taking in her fair, blond hair and noting the way it draped in silky waves over the bulk of the bluish scarf around her neck. She was short enough that he could have easily rested his chin on the top of her head and wrapped her in a warm embrace. A few other couples, like Vivian Duncan and Chase Rollins, were doing exactly that and looked blissfully happy.

  The urge to reach for Whitney was strong. His will to resist was stronger and he stuffed his cold hands back into his jacket pockets.

  “Watch the tree,” she told Josh, breaking into his thoughts. “Mayor Langston is about to give the signal.”

  Josh could not have cared less about the tree. All he had eyes for was the woman standing in front of him. The stubborn, unpredictable, intelligent—beautiful—woman.

  And since she was clearly unaware of his personal interest, he was going to give himself the gift of indulging it by looking at her.

  *

  Whitney’s shivers were caused less by the winter temperatures than by her enhanced awareness of the man directly behind her. She imagined she could feel his warm breath tickling her hair. Could he really be that close? Surely not. Her vivid imagination was running amok, that was all. It was time to rein it in. And she would. Soon. Just not quite yet.

  The mayor raised his cane and gestured toward the highly decorated tree. “Three…two…one!” He brought the cane down in an arc.

  The expected brightness of the Christmas lights gave an added glow to the scene as townspeople oohed, ahhed, cheered and applauded.

  Whitney felt her spirits lift and her sense of belonging swell until she was grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t it wonderful? Look how perfectly they’ve arranged all the lights. Every year it gets prettier.”

  “I assume you’ve lived here all your life,” Josh said.

  “Yes. Born and raised. I understand you’re from Missouri.”

  “How did you know that?”

  It amused Whitney to see him scowling and seeming unsettled. “I read it in your business application, of course. How did you think I found out?” She laughed lightly as he continued to give her a perplexed stare. “I may consider myself an investigative reporter but I must admit, you have me mostly stumped.”

  The frown lines in his forehead relaxed. As far as Whitney was concerned, that proved he had something to hide. Something he didn’t want her or anyone else to know.

  The first thing that came to mind was the possibility he was some kind of criminal. That silly thought didn’t last the length of a heartbeat. No. Josh Smith might be hiding his past for some reason but she was certain he was in no way disreputable. Enigmatic, yes. Evil, no.

  She smiled up at him as the crowd around the gazebo began to disperse. “We’d better get back to your van. It looks like we’re about to get more customers.”

  “Right. Can you stay to help until Matt shows up? I’d really appreciate it.”

  Whitney said, “No problem,” aloud while silently vowing to spend the rest of this amazingly wonderful evening with Josh no matter what.

  Yes, she was still a reporter at heart. And, yes, she still wanted—needed—to know a lot more about him.

  But there’s no hurry, she insisted, satisfied to merely enjoy his company for the time being. The attraction she felt for the inscrutable man may have begun with curiosity about his past but it was far more than that by now. She liked him, actually liked him. That opinion was not dependent upon the life he may have once lived. It was based solely on the thrill she felt whenever he smiled at her or spoke her name.

  “Uh-oh,” Whitney mumbled, acknowledging the depth of her folly as she followed Josh back to the coffee van. No level-headed woman, particularly a savvy newspaper reporter like her, would let herself become enamored of a virtual stranger without being more certain of his history.

  Yet there she was, scuffing her way across the trampled grass and packed snow, following a person about whom she knew practically nothing.

  Could she trust her instincts? Wh
itney wondered. Or was she already past the point where being sensible applied?

  If she had known the answers to those questions she might have felt a lot better about her errant feelings.

  Then again, she mused as she watched Josh striding along ahead of her, where that particular man was concerned she seemed to have little common sense left.

  *

  The immediate demands of the crowd left Josh no time in which to consider his attraction to Whitney versus her penchant for digging into his past. By the time the revelers were starting to drift off and return to their respective homes, he had managed to relax considerably. Whitney could not possibly know who he was or why he had come to Bygones. If she’d had even a hint of the truth, she would be peppering him with leading questions.

  Therefore, he told himself, his secret was still safe. The question was, should he continue to pretend he was Josh Smith? He knew Whitney would be furious no matter when she learned his true identity. But, because he was starting to care about her opinion, he wondered if it might be advantageous to make an official announcement right before he left for good? Perhaps the grand opening of the old movie house would be a good time.

  No. My original strategy is the most sensible course, he concluded easily. He’d thought it all through even before deciding to fund the town. There was no reason to change his mind now and take the chance of ruining a perfectly logical scheme.

  However, his musings had reminded him of something he’d been meaning to do.

  “Remember how I told you I was tinkering with the projection system in the empty theater next to my shop?” Josh asked Whitney.

  “Vaguely. I haven’t heard much about it lately. How’s it coming?”

  “Very well.” He slid the folded table into the back of the van with his other supplies and slammed the rear door.

  “That’s great! Can I include it in my next article about the Main Street merchants?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d do a separate short feature as promo for the reopening. I thought I’d have a free screening sometime between Christmas and New Year’s. What do you think? Would people come then?”

  “It’s more likely than if you schedule it before Christmas. What film are you planning to show?”

  “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

  “Oh, I love that one!”

  “A lot of folks do, I guess.”

  Whitney giggled. “Why am I getting the idea that you’re not one of them?”

  “Beats me. I like that film better than the ones with Santa Claus in them.”

  “Because your parents used to fool you about Santa bringing toys down the chimney?”

  Josh’s brow knit. “No. Actually, I was never taught about Santa or reindeer or elves or any of that stuff.” When he saw Whitney’s mouth gape he had to laugh. “Well, I wasn’t. Of course I never heard much about the real Christmas story, either. If my mother had not taken me to Sunday school a few times I might never have heard of Jesus.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Not really. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had,” Josh said flatly. “As I told you, my dad was a no-nonsense kind of guy.”

  “What about your mother? She did take you to church?”

  “Occasionally. Come to think of it, we went when Dad was out of town on business, so I doubt he even knew, not that he would have cared, other than to insist we were wasting our time.”

  Josh noticed an added sparkle to Whitney’s eyes when she took off her glasses and pocketed them.

  “You said your mother was going to be on a cruise at Christmas this year?”

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Then why not spend the day at my house, with my family? We’d love to have you join us.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I wouldn’t fit in.”

  “How about some other night then? Unlike me, my mom is a great cook. She has never once come close to setting the kitchen on fire.”

  “Well, maybe.” He shrugged, wondering why he had such a strong urge to accept her offer.

  “Tell you what,” Whitney said, brightening. “Look for us in church tomorrow morning. I’ll introduce you to my family and Mom can invite you herself.”

  “You really don’t have to put yourself out, Whitney.” He managed a half smile that lifted one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

  “If I didn’t want you to come for supper, I wouldn’t have asked you in the first place,” she countered.

  Josh’s grin widened. “I know you. You probably think if you can get me into a casual social setting I’ll slip and reveal more about myself. Right?”

  “Hey, I never claimed my motives were totally above suspicion. Just remember, if I wasn’t trying to be neighborly I’d have stuck to trying to trace you via the internet. I don’t have to take you home and feed you to research you.”

  “True enough. What I don’t understand is why you feel it’s so important to dig into my private life. Believe me, I’m just a regular guy.”

  When Whitney sobered and said, “There is nothing regular about you,” Josh was stunned. Once again, she was sounding as if she knew more about him than she probably did. He’d have to be very, very careful or she’d put two and two together and come up with four.

  How Whitney would react if and when she learned that he was the town’s mystery benefactor was pretty predictable. She’d be fit to be tied.

  Or maybe worse.

  *

  Whitney thought about Josh and his admittedly barren childhood all the way home. What a shame that he had missed out on so much fun as a boy. There was no way to actually make up for his upbringing, of course, but she intended to give it a try.

  Pulling the Mustang into the empty side of the double garage, she used her remote to close the door behind her before getting out of the car. It was a tight fit these days. Ever since her dad’s recent knee surgery, her mother had been doing all the driving. Consequently, their SUV was crowded to the right of center, leaving Whitney a lot less room to maneuver in the space that was left for her.

  She grabbed her tote and managed to wiggle it out after her, then headed for the house. The moment she opened the kitchen door, the enticing aromas of an Italian meal made her mouth water.

  Not seeing anyone at the table or any food left on the stove, she called, “I’m home! I hope you saved me some supper. I’m starving.”

  “In the refrigerator,” her mother answered. “How was the party in the park?”

  That was a question Whitney had been asking herself all the way home. Her so-called investigation was getting nowhere, but her interest in one of the merchants seemed to be making great progress. Whether that was good or bad, however, was yet to be determined.

  Shorter than her daughter, with hair a couple of shades darker blond, Betty joined Whitney in the kitchen and started to pull containers of leftovers out of the fridge. “So, tell me what happened tonight.”

  “The same old, same old,” Whitney said, shedding her coat, scarf and gloves before turning back around. The moment she saw her mother’s face she knew her excuse had fallen flat.

  “Oh, really? Then why are you blushing?”

  “My cheeks are just chapped from the frosty air.”

  Betty chuckled as she dished spaghetti and meat sauce onto a plate and slipped it into the microwave. “Whitney, I have known you for twenty-five years. You were never a good fibber, which is a blessing for any mother. Now, let’s have it. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I did invite Josh Smith to come here for Christmas dinner. His mother is going to be away and he has no other family.”

  “Good for you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “He turned me down.”

  Frowning, the older woman studied her daughter. “Did he? That’s a bit odd. Isn’t he going to be lonesome?”

  “He says not.” Whitney gave a shrug. “So, I thought maybe, if we asked him to dinner before that, he might relax and change his mind about comin
g here for Christmas.” She sighed as the fresh aromas from her reheating food reached her. “I told him what a great cook you are.”

  “Thanks. When should I expect him?”

  “We didn’t settle on a date. I told him we’d probably see him in church tomorrow morning. Is that all right?”

  “Fine with me.” Betty laughed softly and arched her eyebrows, indicating the other room. “Your father will want to meet your young man, anyway.”

  “Whoa!” Whitney’s hands shot up as if she were being accosted at gunpoint. “Josh is not my anything. He’s just a lonesome guy with nowhere to go for Christmas. If he does decide to join us it will be as a family friend. Nothing more. Okay?”

  Whitney would have felt a lot more reassured if her mother had not given her an exaggerated wink and another soft laugh.

  True, it was going to be a bit awkward introducing everyone in public on Sunday but that couldn’t be helped. At least she only had one more night to worry about it. Besides, what could go wrong at church? They’d be among friends and her parents were pretty easygoing. Plus, she was no teenager with a crush.

  Of course not.

  She was a mature woman—with a crush.

  “That is so stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Get a grip.”

  Betty handed her the plate of hot food. “What was that, honey?”

  “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  “I used to do that all the time, too,” Betty said. “It started right after I met your father and didn’t stop until…well, I guess it never has stopped entirely.” She cast a fond eye in the direction of the living room where J.T. was resting and watching television.

  “How’s Dad feeling today? I figured his knee must be bothering him when you two didn’t show up at the park.”

  “It’s still hard for him to stand for very long. If he wasn’t so stubborn about not wanting to use a cane he’d probably have more stamina. Knee replacements are no fun but it’s better than not being able to walk at all.”