by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME
“No one can grant wishes,” Nicholas scoffed.
“Five years ago, after church, Mary Kennedy wished that she wouldn’t die an old maid. She wished that she’d find a good man to marry and have a big family to love. Mrs. Augusta heard and right there in front of everybody granted her wish. Before a year had passed, Mary was married and had a baby girl.”
Nicholas waved a dismissive hand. “Sheer coincidence.”
“Before Mary dated John, her husband, she’d been on one date. They now have five children and are as happy as can be. There have been several others whose wishes were granted, including the mayor’s unspoken wish for his son to stop drinking and settle down with a loving, Christian woman.”
Nicholas continued to look dubious.
“And if that’s not enough, Mrs. Augusta saved the lives of hundreds of schoolchildren when she called the sheriff’s department to tell them to evacuate the elementary school. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The tornado hit less than two minutes after the last kid got out. The building was flattened. Me and my sister and three cousins were at school that day.” Michelle folded her arms. “At the beginning of the school year, the principal, Yolanda Thompson, had wished that all the school children have a safe year. You’ll never convince me Mrs. Augusta made a mistake.”
Seeing the surety on Michelle’s face, Nicholas realized what he was up against. Augusta had had one lucky guess, albeit a miraculous one, and the townspeople took her word as gospel. The rest of her “wishes” were all coincidental. “This time she’s made a mistake.”
“Mrs. Augusta never makes mistakes.” Michelle turned to her computer. “If I were you, Mr. Darling, I’d accept the wish and start thinking about who you planned to invite to the wedding.”
“This is ridiculous.”
The door behind them opened and three women surged in. Nicholas barely kept from grinding his teeth. Just what he needed. More women!
“Mr. Darling, I just had to tell you the good news,” Delores McKinnie, the hospital’s director of human resources, said, her smile growing as she crossed the room. “You won’t believe how many tickets we’ve sold.” She glanced between the two women on either side of her. “Eula and Rachel just gave me the good news.”
“We’re on our way to post the tabulations of the most wished for items on the bulletin board of the cafeteria,” Eula said.
“We thought you’d like to be the first to know,” Rachel added, staring at him with undisguised interest. “I bought twenty tickets myself.”
Delores hugged the notebook to her chest. “It looks like this year will be the biggest in the ten-year history of the wish list. You’re new to this, but half the money raised goes to one lucky winner to make their wish come true and the other half goes to charity. Since news started circulating this morning, sales have tripled for the wish list for Christmas, and we have you to thank for it.”
Nicholas went very still. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she meant. She just couldn’t.
“I wanted to tell you personally,” Delores said, grinning. “You’re at the top of the wish list.”
Chapter 2
Andrea Strickland sat cross-legged in the window seat of the family room, her upper torso bent with an unconscious grace over the sketch pad in her lap, her slim hand making quick, decisive strokes as she brought the young prince to life once again. This was the last scene in the children’s book she’d been hired to illustrate and the most important. The handsome prince had just professed his unending love to the beautiful but poor young woman in a tattered dress before him.
The story had been told hundreds of times in varying ways, but it had never lost its appeal. What young girl, poor or rich, hadn’t yearned at one time or another to marry a handsome prince? Andrea would settle for a simple man who was honest, kind, and intelligent.
Her mouth curved ruefully as she outlined the prince’s muscular thigh. All right, she wouldn’t mind if he had a body like an Adonis, a voice that made her shiver, and a face to make an angel weep with regret. His large hands would be slow, inventive, and clever.
“Andrea, stop daydreaming and answer the front door.”
Andrea jumped. Her startled gaze flew to her diminutive aunt in the doorway. Heat flushed Andrea’s amber cheeks as if Aunt Augusta could read her thoughts. “Ma’am?”
“The door,” Aunt Augusta repeated with unending patience and love. “The timer is about to go off for the tea cakes.”
At that second a bell sounded on the gas stove that was almost as old as Andrea. “The door,” Aunt Augusta repeated with a smile. She left the room and went down the hall toward the kitchen in the back of the house.
Placing the sketch pad on the window seat, Andrea stood, then stretched her slim arms over her head to loosen the stiff muscles in her back and shoulders. When she worked she often forgot time. Lowering her arms, she headed for the front door, her thoughts returning to the man she’d envisioned.
Melissa Manning, the heroine of the romance novel Andrea was writing on speculation, would have such a man in Braxton Savage. Tall, dark, and brooding, Braxton, an ex-army ranger, was a cynic who didn’t believe in love . . . until he met warmhearted Melissa, who was nobody’s pushover. She’d proven that when she escaped from the two men sent to kill her. Melissa intrigued Braxton as much as she aggravated him. For the first time in his lonely life, he had found someone he could love, someone he couldn’t walk away from.
Andrea readily admitted living vicariously through her heroine, since she didn’t have a man of her own. She’d had fun with Melissa and Braxton’s verbal sparring while the sexual tension crackled around them like a downed electrical wire. The chemistry between them was explosive, the loving hot and intense.
Aunt Augusta would probably be shocked if she knew what her niece had written. On second thought, perhaps not. Her aunt was definitely a woman of the twentieth century, even if her gift dated back centuries.
Augusta Venora Evans was a modern-day fairy godmother. She had no idea why she was the conduit to tell people their wish had been granted. She simply accepted her unusual gift, since the wish always led to happiness.
That ability alone should have alleviated Andrea’s worry about being called home by Aunt Augusta a month ago. When she had called Andrea in New York, insisting she come home immediately, she’d come, afraid her aunt had had a premonition that something bad was going to happen to her.
Since Andrea’s return her aunt remained as spry as the day nine-year-old Andrea had come to live with her eighteen years ago after Andrea’s parents had died in an automobile accident. Dr. Jones, Aunt Augusta’s doctor, had assured Andrea her aunt was in excellent health for a seventy-three-year-old woman.
However, Aunt Augusta still became agitated if Andrea mentioned returning to New York. Thank goodness as an illustrator for a children’s book publisher she could work anyplace. Although she’d been hoping not to spend another Christmas holiday dateless, Jubilee had slim pickin’s when it came to eligible bachelors.
Her mouth twitched. If Aunt Augusta could grant Andrea a wish, she knew exactly what it would be: the man she’d envisioned earlier. What a wonderful Christmas present he would make. Her aunt wouldn’t even have to put a bow on him. Laughing, Andrea reached to open the front door.
Nicholas, tired and irritated after another day of being ogled by women, was in a foul mood. After he’d rung the bell several times and there was no answer, he was strongly considering pounding on the door when it opened. “I’d—” His thoughts scattered as he stared at the woman in the doorway.
Small, delicate, vibrant—his breath caught at the sheer joy she radiated. The fading sound of her silken laughter shimmered down his spine. Thick black lashes shaded deep chocolate eyes in a stunning almond-hued face. Her lush mouth was painted a rich raspberry color that he instinctively knew would taste sweeter than any fruit.
The laughter died on Andrea’s lips as she stared at the man in the doorway. He was absolutely gorg
eous, with a strong jaw, piercing black eyes, a beautifully shaped mouth. His shoulders were broad beneath the tailored wool sports coat, his chest wide, his legs long in gray charcoal slacks. He was six fabulous feet of toned, mouth-watering muscle.
At five-foot-two, she usually didn’t like big men, but she irrationally felt this man would protect her with his life if need be. His skin was the color of honey poured though sunshine. The thought made her want to touch the tip of her tongue to his skin to see if he tasted as good.
“Andrea, where are your manners?” Augusta said from down the hallway. “Invite the gentleman in.”
Andrea flushed, hoping the man hadn’t been offended by her staring. But considering what a handsome specimen of manhood he was, he probably had been stared at before. “I’m sorry. Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you,” Nicholas said, stepping inside the foyer, trying not to stare at her or notice that she had on shorts that revealed legs that demanded a second look or that the long-sleeved knit shirt clung enticingly to her high breasts. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to see Mrs. Augusta Evans, please.”
“Auntie?” Andrea frowned, hoping he wasn’t a salesman who preyed on the unsuspecting elderly. “I’m her niece. What’s this about?”
“I want her to take back her wish or do whatever she has to do so my life can get back to normal,” he said, annoyance creeping into his deep voice.
“She granted you a wish?” Andrea asked.
“No one can grant a wish,” he stated emphatically. “However, the women at the hospital seem to think she can.”
Andrea glanced behind her to see her aunt come out of the living room. Her quickness never ceased to amaze Andrea. “He’s here to see you, Auntie.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Darling,” Augusta said as she came toward them. Hardwood gleamed beneath her feet. “This is my niece, Andrea Strickland. Andrea, Mr. Nicholas Darling.”
Andrea nodded and thought how aptly named he was. “Mr. Darling.”
“Andrea,” he said, then switched his attention to her aunt. “You know my name?”
Aunt Augusta smiled. “Of course. You don’t think I’d go around talking to strange men, do you?”
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. He wasn’t committing or agreeing to anything Augusta Evans said.
“Auntie, Mr. Darling wants to talk about his wish,” Andrea said, wondering what the wish had been.
“I expected as much.” Augusta extended her small hand toward the first door on the left. “I already have refreshments set up in the living room.”
Nicholas shook his dark head. “Thank you, but I just want you to take back your wish and then I’ll be leaving.”
“We can just as well talk while we eat.” She affectionately patted his stiff arm. “I have iced tea cakes. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
His unhappy stomach rumbled in agreement. He hadn’t had a good meal since breakfast with Ronald two days ago. Since then, Nicholas hadn’t dared to venture out of his office or go to a restaurant for fear of women throwing themselves in his path.
“We had fried chicken and macaroni salad for lunch, if you’d care for some,” Andrea said. The poor man looked as if he were at his wits’ end. “It won’t take me but a minute to fix a plate.”
Nicholas thought of telling her not to bother, then caught himself watching the alluring sway of her hips as she hurried down the hall.
“Mr. Darling.”
Nicholas jumped and jerked his head around, half-afraid Mrs. Evans had picked up on his lustful thoughts. He didn’t believe she had any special powers, but she had eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why don’t you follow Andrea to the kitchen? You’ll be more comfortable eating at the table. I’ll get the tea tray.”
“I’ll get it for you,” he said.
She gifted him with another smile. “I knew you’d be a gentleman.”
Nicholas said nothing, just followed her to the living room filled with antique furniture. He picked up the heavy silver tea set from the claw-foot coffee table and took it to the kitchen. He licked his lips as he stared down at the golden palm-sized cookies glistening with butter cream icing on a white dolly.
Entering the bright yellow-and-white kitchen, he saw Andrea spooning macaroni salad on a stoneware plate laden with crispy-looking fried chicken, black-eyed peas, rice, and two corn muffins.
She threw him a glance over her shoulder. “I nuked it already.” She placed the plate on the scarred round oak kitchen table that seated four. “There’s also iced tea, coffee, fruit juice, and soft drinks.”
Nicholas placed the tray on the spotless Formica counter, his eyes on the plate of food. His mouth watered. “Coffee. Black.”
“Please sit down and eat,” Andrea instructed, and went to pour him a cup of coffee. She didn’t like the stuff, but Aunt Augusta couldn’t start the day without it. “Here you are.”
“Andrea,” Aunt Augusta said, “I need to make a phone call. Keep Mr. Darling company.” When Nicholas looked as if he’d object, she said, “By the time you finish I’ll be back.” Then she was gone.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Darling. I’m sure everything will work out.”
Nicholas turned to Andrea and felt his body stir. “Call me Nicholas and have a seat.” Hearing her say “Darling” conjured up a fantasy he wasn’t ready to deal with.
She shook her head of short auburn curls and smiled impishly. “If I hurry, I can grab my sketch pad and be back before Auntie returns. You probably can’t eat with me staring at you.”
Nicholas picked up his fork. For some odd reason, he didn’t object to her being near him, unlike the other women he’d had to deal with over the last two days. “I don’t mind if you sit with me.”
Her face dimpled into a pleased smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Nicholas stared after her, then dug into the macaroni salad. One bite and he closed his eyes and sighed. He hadn’t had food this good in weeks.
By the time Andrea returned and slid into a seat beside him, he had finished off a chicken thigh. Giving him a shy smile, she propped a pad on her knees. Her brows bunched in concentration as she sketched. His food was forgotten as Nicholas watched the quick, graceful movements of her small, delicate hand and her beautiful profile as she worked.
Afraid she’d catch him staring and see the desire in his eyes, he looked down at his plate and began to eat again. He enjoyed the food, but he was very much aware of the woman sitting near him.
Finished, he pushed his plate aside. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.”
“Would you like your tea cakes with ice cream?” Andrea asked.
“I think I’ve stuffed enough.” Nicholas picked up his coffee cup.
“Then I’ll put some in a tin for you to take home.” Placing the sketch pad on the table, she went to the cabinet, then bent to open the bottom door.
Her shorts lovingly cupped her rounded hips, and Nicholas looked away, disgusted with himself. He’d never been this lustful over a woman in his life. Needing a distraction, he drew her sketch pad toward him. “Do you mind?”
Straightening, she glanced around and shook her head. “Help yourself.”
Flipping though page after page of pencil drawings, he was captured by the fine detail of the sketches. “These are wonderful.”
“Thank you,” she said, pleased as she finished putting cookies in the round red canister lined with wax paper. “Let’s hope the author of the book and her editor think so.”
“You’re a book illustrator?” he asked with genuine interest.
“Yes.” Placing the canister beside him, she retook her seat. “After I graduated from art school, I headed to New York. I got lucky when I was sketching on the train and an author of children’s books sat beside me. He introduced me to his editor and, as they say, the rest is history.”
“That’s amazing,” Nicholas said, not sure if he meant her success or the allure beckoning in her deep brown eyes.
She nodded. “People in Jubilee thought Auntie was crazy to let me go to New York on my own without a job. She told me to follow my dream. She never doubted.”
Something about Andrea’s statement caused uneasiness to run through Nicholas. “How long were you in New York before you found a job?”
She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Three days. I know I’m blessed, and I never take my good fortune for granted.”
“Did you wish for a job?” he asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
If she heard it, she didn’t appear offended. “No, but it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Why is that?”
She smiled sadly. “Auntie has never been able to grant anyone in the family a wish.”
He was outraged. What kind of sense did it make to grant a wish to him that he didn’t want and keep one from a person as vibrant and beautiful as Andrea?
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Darling,” Augusta said as she entered the room. She waved Nicholas back into his seat and took the cane-backed chair beside him. “How can I help you?”
“By taking back your wish. I don’t want it,” he promptly told her.
She folded her hands in her lap. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Nicholas placed his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “I was joking with my brother. Marriage is the furthest thing from my mind.”
“Your wish was to get married?” Andrea asked softly.
“I wished my brother was married,” he stated emphatically.
“But you accepted the gift,” Augusta reminded him.
Nicholas straightened, then shoved his hand over his head in frustration. “I only did that because people were watching and I didn’t want to embarrass you by telling you you had made a mistake.”
“That was very kind of you, Nicholas,” Andrea said. “Thank you.”
He looked over at her and became ensnared in Andrea’s dark gaze and soothing voice for a long moment before wrenching free. “I have to be honest and admit that knowing the consequences as I do now, I’m not sure if I would have acted the same way.”