The Mistletoe Affair

by Judith Gilbert

  “I realize that. I'll do better.” He propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “I want to say this before anyone suddenly pops into the kitchen."

  She lifted her eyebrows slightly.

  Paul sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “About last night, my coming on to you like some overheated gorilla. I apologize to you again.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wrapped present and handed it to her. “To punctuate the apology."

  She fingered the paper, tore the tissue and removed the velvet box, almost afraid to look as she opened the lid. Inside lay a pear-shaped emerald pendant.

  “The color of your eyes,” Paul whispered huskily.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I can't accept this."

  “Katherine, it's my way of saying what happened last night was a huge mistake, and it won't happen again. Nothing more. I wish you'd accept it.” He stood and walked toward her. “It's made for you. I took a photo and the jeweler and I matched the shade of the gem to your exact eye color,” he said.

  The stone felt cold to her touch. “I still don't feel right accepting it."

  “I do.” He paused, moved back to the barstool at the counter and watched her carefully.

  She closed the case. “I'm not doing this to hurt you. I need to make a point. Maybe you'll listen to me this time.” She reached across the counter and handed the gift back to him.

  A hint of anger flashed in his eyes before glazing over with ice. He took the gift box, but continued to look at her.

  “I want you to really think about the things you do that hurt other people, and know expensive presents, sex, and saying ‘I'm sorry’ won't work. You hurt both Matt and me."

  The muscles in his jaw clenched. “I know.” He glanced at the box he held and shoved it into his pocket. “You're the first woman to ever refuse my gift. The only one I'd let do that. I'm trying, Katherine. I really am trying to prove I've changed."

  “I hope so, because if you don't really mean it this time, I'm asking you to walk away. I won't see Matt hurt again."

  Standing, he moved to her side. “I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.” He smiled, the flash of anger of a moment ago completely gone. “Matt's down for a nap. I think I'll take him to a movie when he gets up."

  “A movie?” She hadn't been to a movie in ages.

  “You could tag along. You, Matt and me. Let Matt see us as friends."

  She hesitated, uncertain. She didn't want to encourage Paul.

  “I'll buy you two boxes of chocolate-covered-raisins."

  She looked up again. Her mouth rounded. “You remembered?"

  “We have a history, Katherine."

  Her hand clenched involuntarily into a fist below the level of the counter. A history. “Including infidelity."

  Some fleeting emotion crossed Paul's face, which she interpreted as regret. He bowed his head briefly and spoke. “I'm sorry about that particular history. In this case, it won't repeat itself."

  She jerked her chin up. “Won't it? And the other history we have, do you remember? When you returned one week later, the crude remarks you made about-my lack of experience, and-"

  “Not loving you, and marrying you only to please my parents,” he finished for her. “I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I'd never hurt you. Okay, I'll admit it, I lied. I know I screwed us up,” Paul lifted his head a little, “but the time we were married wasn't all bad-was it?"

  She glanced down at the floor. “No, not all of it, at least not in the beginning."

  “Katherine, give us a chance again."

  She gnawed on her lower lip lightly, considering his words.

  “I don't expect overnight miracles. All I'm asking is for you to think about it,” he whispered.

  She inhaled one breath and held it for a good ten seconds. He waited. She shook her head. “No. I can't think about it."

  * * * *

  Katherine double-checked the pantry for the baking ingredients she needed. Everyone would bring a covered dish to the party on Tuesday, but she wanted to make a variety of cookies for her contribution as well as some to hang on the tree. “Darn,” she said, adding another item to the list.

  “Okay, cook,” Paul said, entering the kitchen, “what are we missing?” He walked over and untied her apron, watching it float to the floor.

  She laughed. Except for that one kiss in her bedroom, he had been thoughtful and careful not to invade her space again.

  When she bent to retrieve the apron from the floor, he grabbed her list from the kitchen counter. His eyes scanned it, focusing in on one item.

  “This what you said ‘darn’ about?” he asked, pointing.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I have enough ingredients for some of the cookies, but not all of them."

  He stuffed the paper into his pocket. “I'll go get these for you. Consider it done. Anything else you need to add before I leave on my mission?"

  She widened her eyes in surprise. “You're going to a grocery store? You've never walked inside one in your life."

  “Is that where you buy these things?” His grin was infectious, and she shook her head, smiling back at him. “It can't be that dangerous. Customers go in and come out alive every day."

  She decided not to tell him where the store actually was. His finding it would be a true test of his commitment to her Christmas cookies. She turned back to her pile of ingredients.

  After she and Matt had dinner, she craned her head to check the clock, wondering if she would have to send out a search party for Paul. Or maybe make a poster. Lost, one Harvard attorney, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. A twenty-five minute trip had now taken him almost two hours.

  She sighed, turned the dial to preheat the oven and removed the double batch of chilled Christmas cookie dough from the refrigerator.

  “They ready to roll out and cut?” Matt asked, surrounded at the table by assorted cookie cutters, a wreath in his left hand and a star poised in his right.

  His excited glow warmed her. She set the bowl beside two large floured cutting boards. He laid his cookie cutters on the table and she handed him a blob of dough. Wasting no time, he plopped it down, grabbed the rolling pin and concentrated hard on flouring and rolling out his first masterpiece.

  When he had cut the last one out and placed it on the baking sheet, he floured the board again, reached for a second ball and rolled it out. She chuckled. Small lumps of dough stuck not only to the metal cookie cutters, but also to his chubby fingers, the side of his mouth, and a tendril of hair slipping over his forehead.

  Katherine heard footsteps at the back door.

  “About time you returned, Paul,” she said as she snatched it open.

  “Wrong man,” Jared said, with a strained smile.

  Matt, cookie cutter in hand, ran to him. “Mr. Randall, you're just in time! We're making Christmas cookies for the party.” He handed Jared a tree shaped cutter caked with drying batter.

  Katherine and Jared exchanged an amused glance. He knelt in front of Matt, tugging the putty-like bulbs from his hair. “I came to fix the roof for your grandma. Afraid I wouldn't know what to do with one of these.” Jared handed the cutter back to Matt and stood.

  Matt's eyebrows rose. “You and your mom never made cookies?"

  Shifting from one booted foot to another, Jared glanced at the ground, almost like he was hunting the words to say. When he looked back up, Katherine saw him swallow hard before he answered. “She got sick a lot, so she couldn't."

  “As Grandpa would say, ‘no time like presents’ or somethin’ like that. Let's make some now.” Matt's small hand took Jared's large hand and pulled him toward the kitchen table. “See. It's ready to cut when you roll it flat.” Matt took a star shape, pressed it into the dough, captured it, and placed it onto a sprayed cookie sheet beside them. He looked up with a triumphant grin. “You make a hole to hang it on the tree. It's easy, but you got to eat fast when they get cooked, ‘cause as soon as they're decor
ated Mom freezes ‘em.” He pointed to the assorted icings and candies lined up like soldiers in a parade around the table.

  Katherine noticed the high color that crept into Jared's face, and she moved beside them. “Maybe the roof repair can wait. Besides you'll need your ‘official helper’ to supervise your work.” Matt agreed, and she quickly handed Jared a couple of cookie cutters.

  Jared backed away from the table full of pink icings and dainty candies. “I don't want to bother anyone. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

  “Nonsense. My mother's shopping with some of the neighbors, and Paul's lost at some grocery store. Assuming he recognized one when he saw it."

  His eyebrows knitted together. “You're kidding."

  She shook her head. “Nope, he's never been inside one in his entire life. So far, his twenty-five minute trip has taken over two hours. Apparently, he's lost. So, dig in,” she said, gesturing to the table.

  Jared paused, and that was all Matt needed. He dragged Jared down into the chair beside him and began explaining the intricacies of cookie decorating. Moving to the counter, she began making the dough for her thumbprint cookies. She smiled when Matt stopped to help Jared occasionally, making sure everything went smoothly with him. Katherine set her bowl of dough in the refrigerator as they filled the last baking sheet.

  “Wasn't that fun?” Matt asked Jared.

  He grinned and held his hands up. “Yes, but we're covered in flour.” Both sets of eyes dropped to stare at the table, which looked like a snow slope. Jared looked up again, a corner of his mouth crooked up. “Sorry."

  Katherine shook her head grinning. “Don't worry about it.” She moved aside to let them wash up at the sink. “You and Matt can repair the roof leak, while I bake these batches and clean up this cookie-hazard area. I'll call you when they're done."

  * * * *

  Jared placed the extension ladder from the garage against the side of the house. “How's it going with your dad?” he asked Matt, who stood staring up at him as he stepped onto the first rung.

  “He took me for pizza and a movie after church."

  Jared nodded and moved up another step, hooking his work belt around his waist as he climbed. “Did you have a good time?"

  He nodded. “Uh-huh."

  “Sounds like he's trying to be a good dad."

  He waited for some affirmation, and when it failed to come, Jared descended the ladder. Bending to Matt's level, Jared saw the same sad look he'd seen the first time he'd met the boy. “Hey, you okay? Anything I can help with?"

  “I got money for helping Mom. Will you take me shopping?"

  “I'll have to check with your mom first. If it's okay with her, I will. You going to buy a present for your dad, too?"

  “Do I gotta?"

  “I think you might feel bad, him getting you one, and you not having one for him."

  Matt glanced at the ground. “If I gotta, I will."

  Jared nodded. “I think you should."

  Staring at him, the boy looked deep in thought.

  His soft, “Okay,” almost tore Jared's heart out.

  “Jared, you going back on Grace's roof?” his friend Thomas yelled from the sidewalk.

  “She's got a roof leak."

  “Be careful up there."

  “Sure thing.” Jared waved as Thomas walked by.

  Matt touched his arm and frowned. “You think Santa's too old?"

  “What makes you ask that?"

  “He's mixed up. My mom's supposed to get a date for Christmas. All she's done is be with Dad. I told Santa I wanted a new dad.” He peeked up. “You think he's got mixed up?"

  Jared fought a grin. “I think you'll have to trust him for a little while longer, pal. He's working on it."

  He folded his arms. “You sure?"

  “I give you my word, he's working really hard on getting that date.” And now that he knows you're worried, he'll work harder.

  * * * *

  An hour later, Katherine removed the last batch of cookies from the oven. She lifted the cookies with an egg turner, laid them on a rack to cool, opened the back door and yelled, “They're done."

  Jared and Matt stood on the doorstep, Jared's hand outstretched to turn the knob. Both winced at the loud call.

  “Perfect. We finished repairing the roof,” Jared yelled back, while Matt followed him into the kitchen like a shadow. They washed their hands at the sink again. In a normal tone he continued, “You had some storm damage, loose shingles."

  “I know. That's what I fell on the other day.” She shook her head. “You had your mind made up that I had vertigo. Sorry about yelling at you when you were so close."

  He half-turned, his hands rising in a pose of self-defense. “Okay, okay. Truce. I want to eat those cookies-not dodge them."

  “We got to decorate,” Matt said, grabbing candy and green icing. He spread it on top of his cookie Christmas tree, and leaned over to Jared. “Remember, do ‘em and eat fast."

  Jared popped a freshly decorated wreath into his mouth. He took a deep breath. “Nothing smells better than this kitchen.” He glanced over at Katherine and winked. “Well, I stand corrected. I can think of one thing that beats it, hands down."

  “What?” Matt asked.

  Her face heated as she immediately chimed in. “Chocolate."

  “Quick recovery,” Jared said with a chuckle.

  “Anyone for chocolate milk?” she asked, passing out glasses and filling them.

  Her gaze moved to Jared. He took a sip of milk. “I can't go a day without it,” he teased, invoking her unintentional double entendre from last night. “Matt asked me to take him Christmas shopping. We'll go to the local mall. Is that okay?” he asked, setting the glass down.

  Matt pushed his nose between them and peered up at her. “I gotta get something for Dad, so can Jared take me, please?” He steepled his hands into a pretty-please.

  She nodded her head. “Yes."

  Matt started to chatter about all the presents he wanted for Christmas. Katherine glanced at Jared and found him watching her with that close scrutiny that should make her want to throttle him, but instead sent little fissures of warmth across her belly. In an effort to avoid his gaze, she looked down at her watch, surprised to find another two hours had passed. She hadn't even noticed the time passing. Disconcerted, she lifted her head to find Jared still watching her. “Did everyone get enough cookies?"

  “Thanks. I've had plenty,” Jared said.

  “Me, too.” Matt said. He yammered on in the background, squishing jellied candy into small, flat pancakes between his fingertips, which looked like they'd been dyed bright shades of red and green.

  “I'll leave a dozen out to eat later on.” She filled plastic containers with the remainder and placed them into the freezer. She tossed another glance at Jared. “Matt, please wash your hands upstairs and pick out a story for me to read to you. I'll be up in a few minutes to run your bath."

  She turned to Jared as she finished drying her hands after Matt sped up the stairs. “He has ten dollars to shop with. I hope you don't mind keeping up with what he spends. I'll reimburse you.

  “That won't be necessary. This is something I want to do for Matt. It has nothing to do with you."

  About to argue, she shrugged instead. She couldn't argue with every man she encountered over every little thing. “Have it your way. Thanks. I wrote down a few small items to consider for my mother and included the sizes.” She handed him the paper. His hand touched hers, his thumb playing havoc with her concentration as it gently rubbed back and forth across her index finger.

  “What do you want for Christmas, Katherine?"

  She pulled her hand back, annoyed to find it trembling. “Nothing special. Anything Matt picks out will be great.” She picked up a pen and paper. “I'll write my glove and belt sizes down."

  He shook his head, his eyes darkening. “I know your size-top to bottom."

  A chill danced up her spine. Her breathing quickened as she
felt the sensual pull of her awareness of him. The pen clattered to the floor. Jared retrieved it for her.

  “Tell Matt I'll pick him up tomorrow morning around nine, if that's okay.” He winked and sneaked another cookie before heading for the door.

  “That's fine.” She watched him leave, her palm pressed against the countertop for support, her knees trembling. She slid down onto a stool, picked up a dishtowel and twisted it in her hands. She stared at the chaos of frosting and candy on the table, seeing nothing but Jared's slow smile.

  Five minutes later, she heard a car pull into the driveway. She peeked out the window and recognized Paul's Porsche. He removed the tarp from his trunk and covered his ‘baby'.

  Well, he finally found his way back.

  “Who was that man leaving the house as I drove up?” Paul asked entering the kitchen.

  “Jared Randall."

  He froze, holding his car keys in mid-air. “What was he doing here?"

  She threw the twisted towel on the table. “Fixing a roof leak.” Trying to change the subject and hopefully avoid another fight, she asked with a teasing tone, “Did you get lost?"

  “Very funny. I stopped at the nursery and bought poinsettias for the fireplace."

  “Hmmm,” she said doubtfully.

  He moved to face her. “Katherine, I want you to stay away from that man."

  “You do?” she asked, annoyed at him for trying to change the subject from his own behavior. She swiped a wet rag across the table none too gently.

  “Yes, I do. I checked him out in town. He has a very bad reputation as a womanizer."

  She paused, looking him up and down. “Takes one to know one."

  He nodded vehemently. “That's right. I used to be exactly like Jared Randall. Stay away from him. He's no good, Katherine."

  She tilted her head to the side and considered him in silence.

  After a moment, he raked a hand through his hair. “Babe, he's way out of your league. He'll have you flat on your back before you can count to three."

  Her breathing became short and rapid. Paul had spoken to her like this only once before, but it was not a warning. It was an attack. And even two years later, his hateful, vile words still screamed inside her mind: “I had you flat on your back before I could count to three, Mrs. Cahill.” Afterwards, he'd walked out with the other woman.