by Peggy Webb
“Trust me, Dolly, you’ll never be out of a job,” Ben said, and Dolly dramatically blew him a kiss.
“Good Lord, Ben, let’s go to bed before I have to kill Dolly for flirting with you.” She kissed Jolie. “Good night, dear.”
Jolie breathed a sigh of relief when she was alone. Now she could put Lance’s gift under the tree without the family asking a million questions.
She retrieved the gift from her bedroom, then went back downstairs and stood beneath the sparkling Christmas lights, remembering how the theft of gifts had brought her and Lance together.
She could hardly bear the thought that Christmas would soon be over and he would be leaving.
She was in the process of putting her gift to him under the tree when she heard footsteps. She turned and there was Lance, filling the doorway, filling her vision, filling her heart.
“Hello, Jolie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
His smile took some of the sting out of his words, but they got her dander up, anyway. Maybe it was holiday stress, maybe it was nerves, maybe it was just her geared-for-battle personality.
“Alone, you mean.”
“I was out of line about what happened in the kitchen.”
“Nothing happened in the kitchen.”
She wanted to stomp out and never speak to him again, or at least for the next twenty minutes, but he was between her and her bedroom. To make matters worse, he’d caught her red-handed with a gift. Not just any gift, either, but one that had cost her a whole week’s worth of groceries.
“I didn’t mean to start a fight,” he said. “In fact, I’m glad to see you. Wait right here…please.”
If he hadn’t added “please” she’d have marched past him, spitting fire.
Or maybe not. She could never stay mad at anybody for long. Especially Lance.
When he came back he was bearing gifts, a handful of beautifully wrapped packages, plus a large, unwieldy object.
“I was going to put these under the tree, but since you’re here…” He handed her the packages. “Merry Christmas, Jolie.”
She started crying. Naturally. Put her in any romantic situation where she wanted to look like Julia Roberts, only blond, and she ended up looking like Rudolph, red nose and all.
Lance pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. “Here. I know you don’t have one.”
“You’re right.” She wiped her face, then blew her nose. “That’s me, always unprepared.”
“No, you’re not. And I want you to stop thinking of yourself that way.”
Why? She didn’t dare ask. The correct answer would be, Because I love you. But what if he didn’t say that? She’d only feel worse.
“Okay. I will. I promise.” She went to the tree and got his gift. “I have something for you, too. And I’m dying for you to open it.”
“You first.”
She tore into the wrapping. His first gift was a beautiful hand-tooled leather desk set.
“For that new office you’re going to have,” he told her, and she had to use his handkerchief again. She was never going to be able to get the mascara out.
“This is wonderful.” She traced the design on the soft leather. The desk set was more than a gift; it was an affirmation. Lance believed in her. “It’s the best gift I ever had. Thank you, Lance.”
“You’re welcome.”
She wished she could kiss him, or at least hug him, but his face, his entire body language said, Keep off. Pulling her gaze away, she tore open the next package.
It was a DVD of the two Jimmy Stewart movies they’d watched—or tried to—at the drive-in. Did that mean he wanted her to remember that night? Did two sentimental movies spell love?
“Everybody ought to have copies of those two classics,” he said.
She tried to read romance into his words, but couldn’t. Maybe a bit of nostalgia and just a hint of hope. Or was she being foolishly sentimental?
“I have something for you, too....” She bit her lower lip. Only a foolish woman would let her heart show when there seemed no hope of reciprocity. What the heck. She was a foolish woman.
She put the gift in his hand and added, “Because…you mean the world to me.”
His big warm hand closed around hers, and his dark eyes captured hers with a look that she would remember till she was on her deathbed.
“And you to me.”
She would have closed her eyes and drowned in his deep voice, but she didn’t want to miss seeing him for a single second.
For a heart-stopping eternity she thought he was going to kiss her; she thought she’d broken past all his barriers and found the warm, loving heart he was reserving just for her. But no, he released her hand and opened his gift.
The harmonica she’d given him was top of the line. She’d had no idea you could pay that much for something so small. But the look on his face was worth it. His joy was pure and absolute.
He inspected the blues harp, ran his fingers over the smooth surface, put it to his mouth and played a riff. Even if she never saw him again, she would remember him with his lips caressing the gift she had given him.
“Key of G. How did you know?”
Josh had told her. He and Lance had talked about music over breakfast, specifically the fact that Lance’s G harmonica was about shot.
“It’s a secret, and a wise woman never reveals her secrets.”
“I’ll bet you’d tell Jimmy Stewart.”
“Of course I would. I would walk over water for Jimmy Stewart.”
How easy it was to laugh with Lance. Why couldn’t it be that easy to love with him?
He picked up the unwieldy cardboard, which turned out to be a life-size cutout of her all-time-favorite actor.
“Start walking.”
She walked around her cardboard movie idol, admired him from all angles, bowed to him, then kissed his stiff face and giggled.
“I love him. I’ve seen one just like him at Brooks Music and Video Store at the mall in Tupelo, but he wasn’t for sale.”
“He’s one and the same.”
“How in the world did you get him?”
“You have your secrets, I have mine.”
“He’s perfect. The perfect man, the strong silent type, always available, always smiling.” Unable to restrain herself any longer, she threw her arms around Lance. “Oh, thank you.”
He held her so close she could feel the strong beating of his heart against her own. She wanted to stay there forever.
“You’re…special to me, Jolie.” He was still holding her close. “You’re good for me. I’ve laughed more in the last few days than I have in years.”
People always laughed around her. Kat the clown. But wasn’t that a good trait to have—the ability to evoke joy? Seeing herself through Lance’s eyes, she was beginning to understand that what she needed was not a complete overhaul, but a little fine tuning.
“You’re good for me, too.” And oh, he was still holding her close. Even if he left tomorrow and she never saw him again, she would always be grateful for having known him. She would always remember the Christmas she’d found true love.
She pressed her cheek against his heart.
He held her that way for a long time, but when she felt the stirrings in her body and his, he stepped back.
“Jolie, when you look at Jimmy Stewart I want you to remember what you told me—that you would walk on water for him. You can do anything you want to, and when you doubt your own abilities, do it for Jimmy.
“And do it for me,” Lance whispered, running his knuckles softly down her cheek.
All she could do was nod, because if she said a single word she was going to start crying again.
He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “Good night, Jolie. Merry Christmas.”
“You, too,” she said, but he was already on the way out the door.
She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded, then she said, “Well, Jimmy, I guess it’s just you and me.”
Jolie’s alarm jerked her out of a dream where she and Jimmy Stewart were honeymooning in Tahiti, and into the reality of her Big Cooking Debut. She crawled out of bed and came face-to-face with her cardboard man.
“I know you wanted a little hanky-panky under the sheets this morning, but I have too much to do. Some other time, huh?” she whispered.
Dressing quickly in jeans and a T-shirt, she crept through the still-sleeping household to the kitchen. As she reached for the light, a familiar voice said, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
His rich, sexy, morning voice nearly made her swoon. She held on to the door frame and gave a big yawn so he’d think she was so sleepy she could hardly hold herself upright.
“Lance…what in the world are you doing sitting here in the dark? And at this god-awful hour?”
“I made coffee.”
“I see that. But why?”
“This is your big day. I came to lend moral support.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “You mean, to clean up my messes?” but she bit her tongue. Starting today she was going to be confident and self-assured and efficient.
And if she made any messes, heaven forbid, she’d clean them up herself.
“Then stand back and watch a master chef at work,” she told him, and he laughed.
“Good girl.”
Taking a deep breath, Jolie put aside memories of charred biscuits and smoking bacon, then attacked the Christmas dinner with a vengeance. At first she was achingly aware of Lance sitting on a bar stool sipping coffee and watching her. Gradually, though, she grew comfortable with his quiet presence.
Around eight, Aunt Kitty came in and said, “What can I do to help?”
“Keep everybody out,” Jolie said. “I have it under control.”
“Why don’t I grab juice and cereal fixings and set up breakfast in the sunroom?” her aunt said. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
Her prediction turned out to be true. Around noon Matt arrived with his pregnant wife, Sandi, and their adorable little adopted girl, big-eyed over her first Christmas in America. Lance left at two to get Birdie, while Elizabeth drifted in and out of the kitchen to check on things, always with Michael at her side.
At three Lucy said, “Kat, darling, you’re going to wear yourself out. We’ll all pitch in and help you finish.”
“No, thank you, Mother. I have to do this by myself.”
Turning to her companion and long-time friend, Lucy said, “Ben, do something.” And he came around the cooking island to massage Jolie’s neck.
About that time Lance appeared in the doorway and said, “Why don’t I take over here and let you folks enjoy the fire Josh built?”
Ben and Lucy left, and suddenly Lance, big and dark and gorgeous, was the one massaging her shoulders, smelling of fresh air and the clean scent of soap that was as familiar to Jolie as her own breath. It was amazing the difference a pair of hands could make.
Ben’s hands had eased the ache across her shoulders. Lance’s lit little fires under her skin and sent shivers through her.
“Umm,” she said. “That is so wonderful.”
“Yes, it is.”
She leaned back against him, the great solid warmth of his chest and the long, strong length of his legs. And she forgot everything except the desire that arced between them.
Lord, had she already put the garlic seasoning in the pasta salad? And what about the capers?
She managed to murmur, “The salad,” but she hadn’t the least interest in pasta or Christmas feasts or even a houseful of family watching to see whether she succeeded or failed.
With one hand still on her neck, Lance reached over and added capers, then deftly dumped in the garlic. With her heart already in her throat, she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything except stand there with her legs turning to butter.
His hands were in her hair now, just at the base of her neck, and that thing he was doing made her wish for Lance in her bedroom, instead of Jimmy Stewart.
Yeah, when pigs fly.
In a few hours he would be gone. And suddenly there were a million things she wanted to say to him.
“Better now?” he asked.
“Umm,” was all she could manage. Oh, Lord, he was going to go back to his bar stool, and her golden opportunity would be lost forever. “Lance…”
She turned to face him and her words flew right out of her head. He was gazing at her in that take-no-prisoners way that meant he was going to kiss her…and kiss her thoroughly.
Her last coherent thought was What if somebody comes in? and then it didn’t matter. The entire family could traipse through the kitchen for all she cared. Jolie was in a picture-perfect world where the girl meets the man of her dreams and the man gets the girl.
Oh, if only it were so.
This man would never take a woman lightly. He would never offer a one-night stand, a love ’em and leave ’em proposition. With Lancelot Estes, it would be all or nothing at all.
Like his namesake, he was a warrior to the bone, and warriors’ promises were never broken. Their code of honor didn’t allow it.
There would be no pretty, shallow words from him. When he made up his mind, he would act with a swiftness and certainty that would leave no doubt about his intentions.
Jolie was vaguely aware of the kitchen door opening, then closing again. She was vaguely aware of the tick of the art deco clock on the wall. And she was totally, vividly aware of Lance’s lips locked on hers, his body pressed so close there wasn’t room for so much as a broom straw between them.
Don’t let it end.
But it did. He eased back, and the space between them felt two miles wide.
She touched her kiss-swollen lips, smoothed her damp hair back from her face.
“I never did say thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Lance.”
“You just did.” He put his hand to her cheek and looked so deeply into her eyes she was certain he would start kissing her again. He wanted to. She could see it.
“Jolie, I’ll be leaving as soon as dinner is over.”
“I thought you might.”
“This is goodbye.”
“I know.” She forced a smile. “I guess it’s appropriate to say goodbye in the kitchen, since this is where we met.”
“Yes.” He captured her eyes again with a long, intense gaze that stole her breath and threatened to topple her reason.
I am in love with this man. The truth wasn’t sudden, but something Jolie had refused to acknowledge until she had to say goodbye.
He was going God only knew where, and she was going back to Memphis in hot pursuit of a new job. She’d just have to get over it, that was all.
Would she ever see him again? Did he hear her heart breaking?
“I’ll be coming back to Pontotoc from time to time to check on Birdie.” Did he read minds, in addition to all his many other talents? “And Jolie… I will see you again. That’s a promise.”
All she could do was nod, while she stored his promise in her heart and held on tight.
The oven timer went off and Lance grabbed pot holders, then took the turkey out of the oven. It was the most scrumptious looking bird they’d ever had for Christmas. And she’d done it all by herself.
She’d made a plan and stuck to it.
With a little help from a temporary knight in shining armor.
She beamed at him. “We did it.”
“No. You did it.” He gave her one last, long look, then said, “I’d better go check on Birdie. See you at dinner.”
She watched until the door swung shut behind him, then stood in the middle of the kitchen trying to work up enough enthusiasm to haul herself up the stairs and put on some festive clothes.
“Kat?” Elizabeth came in looking like a princess in blue velvet. “I’m sorry about the interruption earlier.”
“That was you?”
“Yes. I guess I owed you one.”
Jolie joined her sister’s laughter, though she definitely wasn’t in the mood.
“Before you go upstairs to change, there’s something I have to tell you,” her sister said, as if the stars in her eyes didn’t say it all. “Michael asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”
Elizabeth took her silence for concern, which was fine by Jolie. She was concerned. But not seriously. Her big sister never made mistakes, and she wasn’t likely to start now.
“I realize this is hasty, but believe me, I’m certain, and so is he.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Jolie hugged her sister.
“And I’m happy for you, too.” Elizabeth surveyed the huge array of food. “Just look at all this. You did it, Kat. You really did it. I’m so proud of you.”
“Are you going to announce your engagement at dinner?”
“No. You’re the star of the show tonight. After all this hard work you deserve the limelight, and I intend to see that you get it.” Elizabeth donned a bib apron. “Go on upstairs and get gorgeous. Michael’s coming down in a minute and we’ll set the table.”
“Thanks.” She was at the door when her sister added, “I might even do a documentary about women like your friend Birdie, the forgotten souls who fall through the cracks of society…unless they’re lucky enough to be rescued by someone like you.”
Jolie started to add “and Lance,” but she didn’t. Her heart was still too raw to speak his name.
“I’m the lucky one.”
Lance got through dinner. He didn’t know how. Jolie was wearing a soft blue sweater that made him itch to touch her. Instead of staring, he listened to the ebb and flow of conversation, much of it compliments on Jolie’s cooking. The only time he ever looked directly at her was when she opened her mouth to disclaim credit for the feast.
He squelched her confessions with one look. She deserved the glory and he intended to see that she got it.
Lucy announced that dessert and coffee would be served in the living room, and he watched until Jolie disappeared down the hall with Birdie in tow.
It was time to go. He’d already thanked his hostess and said his private goodbyes to Birdie and Jolie. Now the only person he had to see was Elizabeth.