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The Christmas Date
Michele Dunaway
A Sprig Of Mistletoe, Some Christmas Magic…And Who Knew What Might Happen? Kate Merrill wasn't kidding herself. Attractive men didn't commit, as she knew very well from growing up without a father. So even though the jet-setting photographer with the high-voltage smile was the most captivating guy she'd ever met, she refused to think of him as anything more than a fling.Tyler Nichols was addicted to adventure. So at first he was relieved that the cynical law clerk with the cool blue eyes didn't expect him to stick around for long. But that was before he realized that being with Kate was a thrill he wasn't getting tired of.Now their future depended on him getting back to her on time from his most dangerous assignment. He just better not be late for their Christmas date!
The Christmas Date
Michele Dunaway
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Tyler Nichols was a man used to being stared at.
At six foot three, with dark brown hair and a cheeky smile that some women claimed was almost as sexy as Brad Pitt’s, Tyler attracted the ladies the way nectar drew honeybees.
But the leggy brunette giving him the once-over didn’t have a chance of holding his interest this morning. Nor did a redhead as he strode on by, his expensive, though well-worn, leather camera case slung over his shoulder.
Tyler grimaced as a burly man brushed by him and bullied his way to the front of the line, as if being first meant he would get to the baggage-claim area faster. Perhaps the guy hadn’t learned everyone waited for the people movers at Orlando International Airport.
Welcome back to America, land of the Hurry, Hurry, Hurry, It’s All About Me mentality. Tyler glanced at his watch and grinned. Maybe the man had an early meeting and his flight had landed late. Tyler was actually ahead of schedule; no one expected him until December 3.
“That guy was pushy, wasn’t he?”
Tyler turned around, letting his brown-eyed gaze rove over the striking redhead who had followed him into the train. She smiled, shooting him all the right signals, but then again, she didn’t know she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Any unmarried man would be interested, but unfortunately for her, romantic dalliances weren’t anywhere near the top of Tyler’s list today. He’d spent the past three months in Iraq, and today he had places to go and work to attend to—like the stacks of mail that had piled up during his overseas assignment. So he gave the redhead a nonchalant shrug and gripped the steel pole as she moved away, quickly masking her disappointment in his lack of interest.
Moments after announcements in both English and Spanish told passengers to stay clear of the closing doors, the train whisked passengers toward their luggage. Tyler took a moment to reflect on the work he had done in Iraq. Maybe a Pulitzer Prize awaited him for his photographs from Iraq. Perhaps this upcoming year he would receive the accolades that had so far eluded him.
In the more than eleven years he’d been a news photographer, Tyler had been through wars, natural disasters and presidential elections. He’d covered coups, uprisings and Oscar celebrations. He’d crawled on his belly through underbrush, gone without bathing for days and even once trekked into the heart of the South American rain forest, as mysterious as ever but unfortunately, rapidly disappearing.
Women were drawn by his exotic job, until they realized that he wasn’t the type to settle down. He kept no pets or plants, and rented a one-bedroom apartment.
Well, he used to rent an apartment. Now, thanks to his twin sister, Tyler was a home owner. He’d bought the place sight unseen two months ago, giving his sister power of attorney to make the purchase. She’d sent him a text message once the deed was done.
He hadn’t really wanted the responsibility of a house. To him, owning one reeked of permanence. But his accountant and his lawyer sister had insisted that Tyler needed the mortgage-interest deduction for his taxes. They’d convinced him that buying a home was a better long-term investment than buying a condominium.
His twin must have done a good job, because Tyler’s mother had e-mailed him that she’d found his new place charming. Of course she added that she hoped it was a “step in the right direction”—in other words, that he was settling down.
The train came to a smooth stop and Tyler allowed the others to exit first, including the redhead, who gave him one last glance. He readjusted his camera bag and once again ignored her, too busy contemplating the tasks ahead.
KATE MERRILL was running late. Since her boss would be in court all morning, Kate had set her alarm for an extra half hour of sleep. What she hadn’t intended was for the alarm clock to malfunction and not ring at all. She’d woken up more than an hour late, showered and thrown herself together in less than twenty minutes. The moment she’d turned the key in her car, she’d remembered her fuel gauge was on empty.
She pulled into a gas station and her compact car sputtered to a stop. She glanced at the clock on the dash before hopping out. Nine-fifteen. She was supposed to pick up those depositions at the opposing counsel’s law firm at nine-thirty. If the traffic gods were kind, she just might make it.
She swiped her credit card, cursed that even bottom-grade unleaded gas was up ten cents for the third time in two weeks, and wondered how the guy in the Hummer on the other side of the pump could afford the behemoth he was driving.
And didn’t he know how bad those vehicles were for the environment? Sighing, Kate positioned the hose in the gas tank and went to clean her windshield. Her wiper blades needed replacing and last night’s winter rain had been mostly drizzle, meaning her windshield was dusty. The temperature had been wacky lately, as well, likely due to global warming caused by whoever was driving the beast on the other side of her. He or she probably got only fifteen miles to the gallon, whereas Kate averaged at least twenty-five on a good day—which this was turning out not to be. At least she didn’t have too far to go to reach the other lawyer’s office. Of course, after that she’d have another half-hour drive back to the law firm of Murray, Evans and Jasper, where she’d been working as Marshall Evans’s paralegal since graduating from college five years ago. She hoped no one had noticed she hadn’t made it in this morning as she had been scheduled to.
Kate resisted the urge to curse as she found an empty container where the squeegee should have been. She glanced over to the next bucket. Nothing in that one, either. Great. She stepped between the pole and the pump, checking to see if the Hummer’s driver had the windshield-cleaning wand. He did, and as he turned from lowering his driver’s-side wiper blade, Kate froze.
The man in front of her was tall—at least six feet to her five foot five. His closed lips were full and perfect. His hair was dark and silky and curled at his nape. He needed a haircut, but like a rock star, he could get by without one—the shagginess added character. His chest, under a short-sleeved maroon polo shirt, was broad and toned. Light hair dusted his forearms. He was, as the girls in the office would say, to die for.
He seemed to sense she was staring, because he frowned and said, “Uh, can I help you?”
Kate cringed. She knew what he saw: pale skin lacking any natural Southern suntan, dark blond hair confined in the tight knot she always wore to work. She was nothing special at all.
Unlike him.
She gathered her composure, determined to show him how unaffected she was. After all, he probably had the ego to match his looks. Guys like him always did.
“Are you done with that?” She arched an eyebrow and pointed to the black plastic object in his hand.
“Yeah. Sure.” He gave her a bemused look and held out the handle. Kate’s fingers accidentally brushed his as she took the squeegee from him.
“Thanks.” She turned to dip the sponge in the washer fluid then began to clean her front windows.
In the meantime, the pump clicked off, signaling her tank was full. She hadn’t heard the Hummer’s pump shut off, but she assumed it had, since the man had disappeared into the gas station, presumably to pay.
She finished the front windshield and did the back, as well, figuring that late was late, as her boss would say, and he’d much rather have her safe than injured in an accident because she’d been unable to see.
Kate tossed the squeegee back in the bucket. While she loved her job as a paralegal, her goal was to be a lawyer and she’d devoted herself these past five years to earning a law degree in night school. Marshall had already offered her a position as an associate lawyer upon her graduation next spring, and while Kate was grateful he’d made her job search easier, she hadn’t yet said yes. Murray, Evans and Jasper was one of Orlando’s largest firms, and that meant dozens of people worked there, many of whom Kate had never met. She couldn’t discount her concern that she might be more comfortable starting out in a smaller firm. Although the anonymity of a large firm might help her when she showed up late—as she would today.
Her receipt printed, and she tore it off, but as she did so, the wind tugged it from her grasp and sent it flying across the station lot.
She started after it as fast as her sensible one-inch blue pumps would allow. She had almost retrieved it when a hand reached down to the pavement and scooped up the wayward slip. “Here you go.”
Him.
“Uh, thanks.” He placed the paper in her waiting hand, his touch almost ticklish against her palm. She closed her hand around the slip, crumpling the paper, and straightened. “I appreciate your help.”
“You’re probably someone who reconciles receipts with your credit-card statement,” he said.
“Is there something wrong with that?” Kate snapped, irritated at the day and this man, who’d somehow pegged her when he didn’t even know her. Worse, he was smiling!
“Of course not,” the guy said with a grin. “Have a great day and watch those receipts. They like to escape.” Then he climbed into the black Hummer.
Kate stood there a moment, fuming as she watched him drive out of the gas station. Then she shook herself. Yes, those hot guys were all the same. Arrogant. Cocky. Self-assured. Jack had been that way—No, she wouldn’t think of Jack the Jerk. And she wouldn’t think about this guy. Orlando, Florida, was a huge place. It wasn’t as though she’d see him again.
Thank goodness.
“YOU KNOW, finding Mr. Right is like riding a horse. If you fall off, you have to climb right back into the saddle.”
Kate stared at her best friend and coworker, who’d stopped by. Up until this moment, her day had gotten better. Marshall’s court appearance had been successful, and no one had said anything about her not getting to the office until ten.
“That’s not it. I have to study tonight,” Kate said, trying to explain why she didn’t want to attend Gail’s party. “I’ve got finals in a few weeks.”
Wendy exhaled, causing a strand of her wavy brown hair to dance. “Study tomorrow. That’s what Saturday afternoons are for. Tonight you need to get out and find a new man.”
Kate sighed. Three years of close friendship meant that Wendy wouldn’t give up. The two women were the classic example of opposites attract. Wendy was a vivacious brunette; Kate a blonde who’d rather study than socialize. Wendy dated three to five times weekly; Kate dated that number yearly.
“Wendy,” Kate began. “I’m tired of people thinking there’s something wrong with me just because I don’t have a man in my—”
Wendy cut Kate off with an emphatic shake of her head. “Well, I’m tired of your excuses. Just because you live on a street populated with retirees doesn’t mean you have to be old before your time. Heck, most of the seniors on your block probably have a better sex life than you do. When’s the last time you got any action? And don’t tell me it was Jack.”
“Wendy!” Kate remonstrated and glanced around her cubicle. Hopefully no one had overheard her. Kate had been embarrassed enough already.
“Seriously, Kate. The guy was a jerk. We all told you not to date him, and ever since he, well…”
Wendy paused and Kate grimaced as she thought of Jack’s public dumping of her, where, in front of no fewer than ten people, he declared her to be a cold fish.
“Don’t say it,” Kate warned. Despite the incident having taken place over half a year ago, the humiliation was still fresh.
“Fine. But you’re closeting yourself away. Men are good for something, you know.”
Yeah, catching receipts, Kate thought as she frowned. She’d learned the hard way that men, especially attractive men, simply weren’t interested in her. She was too plain, too uptight, too smart, too career-focused, too something.
Men were like roadwork zones. You had to use extreme caution. Besides, she’d never been good at dating. Maybe her inadequacy stemmed from her mother’s abandonment. Perhaps Kate was simply the ice maiden Jack had declared her to be. He’d called her the most frigid woman he’d ever been to bed with. She could still picture everyone’s shocked faces.
“Stop thinking about it,” Wendy said, reading Kate’s mind. “Your mom and Jack both did a number on you. But only you can break the victim cycle.”
“I understand that, which is why I refuse to be like her or deal with guys like Jack again. Dating can wait. My priority is graduation from law school then a career. Then maybe a husband. Unlike my mother, who had too many boyfriends to count and three marriages lasting mere months, I’m planning on doing it only once. Heck, maybe I’ll be like Oprah and not get married. Besides, I’m one step ahead. I’ve already got the house.”
“Yeah, on a street where the average age is a hundred. You’re twenty-seven.” Wendy pursed her lips. “You’re still young. Give men another chance to prove they aren’t all like Jack. At least get out there and mingle. No one’s saying you have to marry the next man you meet. Just indulge your needs a little. A woman has them. Believe me, I know.”
“You indulge yours all the time,” Kate said, cracking a smile. She’d heard all the stories, usually over morning coffee, when Wendy would regale Kate with her previous night’s adventures.
Kate’s reply threw Wendy off balance, but only for a second. Wendy grinned. “You bet I do. Who says a man should be the only one to play the field? There’s a huge double standard. I’m worried that if you don’t, you’ll forget how. Then you’ll end up an old maid with just your devil cat for company until the end of your days.”
“My cat is not a devil,” Kate rebuked. Her cat was merely temperamental, that was all. “And remember my mantra. There are worse things than being alone. Jack was perfect proof.”
“I’m sure you’re not what he said, but you won’t prove to yourself that you weren’t the cause of his erectile dysfunction until you get back out there. The cure for your tension is a night of unbridled lust.” Wendy saw the dubious expression on Kate’s face. “Okay, some harmless flirtation. Platonic. Jeez. And speaking of that house, perhaps you should move someplace more happening. My condo complex, for example, would be perfect. Not a retiree in sight.”
Wendy’s condo complex had the nickname Sin City—it was full of young singles and full of sin. Kate rolled her eyes. “My grandmother willed me the house. It’s paid for. Already the property value has gone up ten percent. It’s a good investment.”
Wendy was not to be daunted. “Exactly! She’d want you to sell and invest the money. Buy yourself some slinky clothes, get a hip condo and find a nice man to warm your bed. I’m sure your grandmother didn’t want you to live alone and celibate on a street full of geriatrics who have retired to central Florida for fun in the sun. Stop suppressing your sexuality. I mean, when was the last time you kissed someone?”
Forever. The image of the guy at the gas station jumped into Kate’s head again and she slumped. As if such a guy would ever consider her.
“Look, I’m not like you,” she said softly. Men of all types flocked to Wendy and she went through them like candy, claiming she quickly got bored. “I grew up on that street,” Kate continued, “I’m comfortable there. I’m busy with school, and most law-school grads are younger than I am. They didn’t opt for the night-school-takes-forever plan. I have to be competitive, so my grades are important.”
“You know I only want what’s best for you. As a friend of long standing, I have to tell you you’re becoming isolated. You’re losing touch.”
“Well, Nora does always drop hints for me to date her grandson, Niles,” Kate conceded.
Wendy scoffed. “Yeah, right. Any grandson of Nosy Nora is bound to be a geek.”
Perhaps, and Kate didn’t want to date Niles any more than she wanted to date someone else. Seeing Kate’s silence as indecision, Wendy overrode Kate’s last defense.
“Kate, today is November thirtieth. You can put off studying for one night, especially since it’s the weekend. Get out and live a little. Hang out with all your friends. We’ve missed you, me in particular.”
“Wendy…” Kate said.
Her friend stood firm. “Kate, you cannot base every guy on Jack the Jerk. I know he hurt you, but put it behind you. We’ll have fun.”
Kate picked up the troll doll she kept on her desk and gave him a vicious twirl. His orange hair spiked. Although the idea didn’t sit well, maybe she did need to pick up a man she didn’t care about and do the deed, just see if the lack of passion had been more Jack’s fault than hers. And she had missed hanging out with her friends. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Super.” Wendy smiled now that the matter was settled. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Be ready. Wear something sexy.” With that, Wendy headed for the elevator. Kate stood up, peered over the cubicle walls and watched her walk away.
“Eight o’clock,” Wendy called as the elevator doors opened. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.” Kate slumped back in her chair, ready to put her lack of a love life behind her and get back to work.
“GIN.”
As Nora spread her winning hand on the card table, revealing the jack of clubs Frieda needed, Frieda tossed hers down in disgust. She’d been playing cards with Nora for over thirty years, but she’d never been beaten this bad by her best friend and neighbor, the self-titled Queen of Dogwood Lane. “That’s the sixth time in a row,” Frieda said, miffed about her current winless streak. This was supposed to be a fun way to relax after helping Nora put up her Christmas decorations. No one was as serious about Christmas as Nora; she had everything up by the end of November.
“I can’t help that I’m a winner. When you’re hot, you’re hot.” Nora grinned, the smile lines at her mouth deepening.
