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After Violet dressed, she double-checked the box of Christmas decorations she was taking with her when she had lunch with her mother today—yards and yards of tinsel, old-fashioned bubble lights for the tree and new buildings for a miniature village she and her Grammy had enjoyed adding to each year. She’d wanted to put up the tree weeks ago in the den where it always stood and could be seen from the street, but her mother had suggested that they wait until Christmas Eve—a new family tradition. Violet had agreed, although she missed popping over to enjoy her Grammy’s tree and bringing new ornaments to hang on it every few days leading up to Christmas. She was taking over decorations a little at a time so there wouldn’t be as much to transport Christmas Eve. On impulse, she added the gifts for her parents to the box. Maybe the gaily wrapped packages would persuade her mother to put up the tree early.
She idly wondered what Dominick Burns would do to celebrate the holidays. He’d never mentioned family and she’d never asked. Regardless, he didn’t seem like the type who would want a Norman Rockwell Christmas.
What do you want for Christmas, Vee?
As Violet locked the door to her condo, she banished the memory of his mischievous blue eyes from her mind. Then she lugged the box of decorations, the gifts, her coat and her purse downstairs to the Summerlin at Your Service office while stifling a yawn. At this rate, she’d never make it through the day. One thing was certain, she couldn’t afford to lose another precious night’s sleep to foolish dreams stirred up by a silly letter she’d written in college. After unlocking the front door and turning the sign to Open, she started the coffeepot, then walked into her office, on a mission.
The sooner the letter met the shredder, the better.
But when she glanced at the lone neat stack of manila folders on her desk, panic blipped in her chest. She’d asked Lillian to discard the remnants of her printed research for Dominick—everything on the desk except for the folders. What if the woman had found the letter and read it?
Her cheeks burned. If that was the case, she wasn’t sure she could face Lillian again. She flipped through the folders, but didn’t find the pink envelope containing the letter.
The bell on the front door sounded, along with a happy humming noise, signaling Lillian’s arrival. Violet walked out of her office and gave the woman a tentative smile. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Lillian returned, smiling wide as she hung up her coat and colorful scarf.
Violet bit into her lip, her nerves bundling tighter as her imagination spun out of control. She didn’t know Lillian very well. What if the woman had read her letter and gossiped about its contents? Violet had worked so hard to cultivate a professional reputation in the community. That stupid letter could ruin everything.
“I was just getting some coffee,” Violet ventured. “Would you like some?”
“Sounds good.”
Violet poured two cups, then handed one to Lillian and blew on her own. “Lillian,” she said, trying to sound casual, “I left a small pink envelope on my desk. Did you happen to see it yesterday when you were cleaning up?”
Lillian sipped her coffee. “No. Are you sure it was there?”
“Yes. It had polka dots?” she said, hoping to jog her assistant’s memory.
“I don’t remember seeing it. Did you check underneath the desk? Maybe it fell in the floor.”
Why hadn’t she thought of that? She hurried back into her office and crouched down to search, but didn’t see it.
Lillian’s face creased in concern. “I might have accidentally thrown it away with the other papers. I’m so sorry if I did. Has the garbage been picked up yet?”
Violet nodded and pushed to her feet, feeling oddly conflicted. She didn’t really want the letter—heck, she’d been planning to shred it. But somehow, not having it made her feel as if something had slipped through her fingers. “It’s okay. I was the one who asked you to straighten up. Besides, I don’t need it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Violet said with a resolute nod.
The office phone rang and Lillian left to answer it. Violet dropped into the chair behind her desk and sighed, feeling restless for no identifiable reason.
Lillian was back in a few seconds, her face animated. “Dominick Burns is on the phone.”
A hot flush climbed Violet’s neck. She wasn’t keen to talk to the man so soon after washing the imagined imprint of his hands off her body, but she couldn’t think of a good reason to put him off. “Thank you,” she murmured, then touched a button to connect the call.
“This is Violet.”
“Vee, hey, it’s Dominick.”
His voice sounded sleepy around the edges, so she guessed he hadn’t been awake for long. But when a creaking noise echoed in the background, she realized with a jolt that he was still in bed. Was he wearing boxers or briefs? Or did he sleep in the nude?
“Are you there?” he asked.
“Uh, yes…I’m here,” she said, swallowing hard. “What can I do for you, Mr. Burns?”
“Thanks for the research on Sunpiper.”
“You’re welcome, sir. But I’d planned to do more.”
“Good. Because I’m going to Miami to see what I can find out locally, and I need some help. I was hoping you’d agree to go with me.”
Her pulse rocketed. A business trip with Dominick? “I…I can’t think…I mean, I don’t think—”
“I’ll double your hourly fees for the duration of the trip.”
Her eyebrows rose, along with visions of making an extra mortgage payment. “Wh-when were you planning to go?”
“I’m flying down tomorrow, returning on the twenty-sixth.”
“Oh, I couldn’t go,” Violet said, exhaling in near relief. “This is the busiest time of the year for my business.”
“Can’t your assistant take over?”
“No.” Violet knew she’d spend the few days before Christmas traveling all over the city wrapping gifts for people who realized they didn’t have time to do it themselves. “Besides, I’m spending Christmas Eve with my parents.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed—and a little surprised that she had other plans. “Well, what if I got you back Christmas Eve morning?”
“I…still don’t think that would be possible, sir. I have…commitments. I’m sure you can find someone else to assist you.”
“But I want you, Vee. You agreed to help me with this research.”
“Whatever I could find on the Internet or over the phone,” she reminded him.
“If money is the issue—”
“It isn’t,” she interrupted, looking for a way out, or at least a way to postpone the conversation. “Maybe after the first of the year…”
“That won’t work for me,” he said. “I’m leaving for Brazil in early January, and since another company is interested in buying Sunpiper, I need to move fast. If you’re worried about the sleeping arrangements, we would, of course, have separate rooms.”
Her midsection tightened at the mere mention of beds, proof of just how untenable it would be to travel with Dominick Burns when her mind insisted on spinning fantasies about him. “I’m afraid my answer is still no.”
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’m heartbroken. We would’ve had a blast, Vee.”
“Thanks for the invitation,” she murmured. “Goodbye.” She hung up the handset, tingling all over. I’m heartbroken. We would’ve had a blast.
Apparently he wasn’t planning to spend the holidays with his family. He’d be in Miami, partying with half-naked women in the sun and surf. Violet knew he wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone else to go in her place to “help” him. In fact, if the rumors were to be believed, Dominick didn’t mind being helped by more than one woman at a time.
Lillian appeared at the door again. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Violet snapped, reaching for her calendar and a diversion. Feeling contrite, she forced a calming note into her voice. “Did anything materialize from the calls you returned yesterday?”
“One didn’t go anywhere, but the other two customers are supposed to stop by this afternoon to drop off gifts to be wrapped. I noticed all the paper and ribbon in the workroom,” she said, gesturing to the room behind her desk. “I have the price lists and I used to wrap gifts at Macy’s. I can take care of the packages and deliver them, too, if you want.”
Violet jotted notes, then stood and shrugged into her coat, already calculating how she could make it back in time to greet the customers herself. “I have to make a few pickups and deliveries this morning, as well as go by Ms. Kingsbury’s, and have lunch with my mother. But I should be back before two.”
“Is there anything I can do while you’re gone?” Lillian looked hopeful.
“No,” Violet said abruptly, then realized she was letting the tossed letter and the call with Dominick make her cranky. Neither situation was Lillian’s fault. She manufactured a smile as she swept through the door. “Just hold down the fort until I get back.”
“What if I happen to find the pink envelope you lost?”
Violet whirled around and leveled her gaze at the woman. “Burn it.”
4
JUGGLING HER COFFEE, her purse, the box of holiday decorations and the gifts, Violet unlocked her car door, her chest clicking with renewed annoyance at herself. She shouldn’t have opened the letter to begin with—it was causing her to get even more out of sorts than she usually did when she thought about Dominick. At least now that the letter was on its way to a landfill, she’d be able to forget the silly words she’d written back when she had been under the delusion that sex played a major role in a person’s life.
That might be true for other people. But since college, she’d come to the conclusion that she just wasn’t a sexual person, not like Nan, who made flirting look easy. Anytime a man talked to Violet, her practical mind skipped ahead to the inevitable disaster the relationship would become and her tongue would tie in knots. She didn’t stand a chance against the swarm of pretty, playful Southern girls that Atlanta had to offer up.
But she had her business, she reminded herself as she stopped to pick up and deliver dry cleaning at four different locations, selected twenty-five perfect poinsettias for a corporate holiday party and picked up six needlepoint stockings customized with the names of a client’s grandchildren.
Besides, she thought wryly while shopping for gourmet items on Ms. Kingsbury’s grocery list, she had more luck with the four-legged male types anyway. On impulse, Violet picked up a bag of treats for Winslow. Maybe if the dog ate more, he wouldn’t be so picky about where and when he did his business.
When she arrived at the gaily decorated brick home, the dog was waiting for her at the door with his leash in his mouth.
“He’s been sitting there all morning,” Ms. Kingsbury said. “I tried to take him out several times, but he wouldn’t go.”
Violet handed over the woman’s credit card from her “returns” shopping trip and set the bag of groceries on a table. “I’ll see what I can do. Is it okay if I give him a treat?”
“Whatever you like, dear. Sometimes I feel as if Winslow is more your dog than mine.”
After clicking the leash onto his collar, Violet retrieved a doggie treat from her pocket and let the popeyed Pekingese gobble it out of her hand. “Are you going to be a good boy today?”
He barked enthusiastically. Maybe she should take treats in her pocket the next time she went to a bar with Nan, Violet mused. On the short walk to the park, she called her friend to say goodbye before Nan left town.
“Nan Wellington.”
Violet could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Nan was a staff writer for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. “Are you busy?”
“Just counting the hours until I leave for Aruba,” Nan sang. “I wish you were going with me, but I know how much you’re looking forward to having Christmas with your folks.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You sound kind of down.”
“Don’t mind me, I’m just in a funk.”
“You’re never in a funk. What’s wrong?”
“Dominick Burns asked me to go with him to Miami over Christmas.”
The clicking stopped. “Are you kidding me?”
“He needed my help, of course. Strictly business.”
“Violet, tell me you said yes.”
“I can’t go, Nan. I’m swamped with clients, and I’m spending Christmas Eve with my folks, remember?”
“Oh, right. Well, can’t you come back early?”
“He offered. But that doesn’t help me take care of all the business I still have between now and then.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that’s what your new assistant is for!”
“I just don’t feel comfortable letting someone else take over.”
“Violet, I know you like to think that you have a special bond with your clients. But all they really want is to have things done for them, right?”
“Right,” Violet admitted.
“So you wouldn’t have hired this woman if she wasn’t qualified. Let her help you.”
“It’s not that simple,” Violet said. “I’ve been trying to delegate things to her, but because I’m not used to working with someone, there’s already been a mishap.”
“What kind of mishap?”
“I think she threw away a letter.”
“So call the sender and have them resend it. Mistakes happen, sweetie.”
“This was a personal letter. A handwritten letter.”
“From whom?” Nan asked, her voice brimming with curiosity.
“From…me. It was a letter I wrote to myself when I was in college.”
“Sounds cool. Did you find it in a yearbook or something?”
“No, the instructor sent it. The assignment was to write down your…thoughts. She promised to track us down and send the letter back to us ten years later.”
“To see how much things have changed?” Nan asked.
“Or not,” Violet murmured, realizing that for the first time, she was conceding she still entertained some of the fantasies she’d written about.
“What class was it for?”
