A Mistletoe Affair

Sandra shrugged as she tipped her wineglass to her lips.

“It sounds as if he needs something to occupy his time now that the election is over,” Vicki said.

“I think he needs to get laid,” Sandra said.

Janelle pointed the lime wheel from her cosmopolitan at her. “Bingo. Has he even been on a date since his divorce? It’s been long enough.”

Sandra waved her hand. “His pat response is that he’s too busy to get involved with a woman, but Jordan’s not fooling anyone. He could find the time to go on a simple date if he really wanted to.”

“What about his wife?” Vicki asked.

“Ex-wife,” Sandra stressed. “And let’s not even go there. I don’t know the last time Jordan spoke to Allison, and as far as I know, she’s made no attempt to contact him, either.”

“Not even about Mason?” Janelle gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t understand how a woman could leave her baby and not even bother to see how he’s doing.”

“Especially a sweetie pie like Mason,” Vicki agreed.

A smile broke out across Sandra’s face at the mention of her nephew. “He is the most adorable child on the face of the planet, isn’t he? He takes after his auntie Sandra.”

“It’s a good thing he doesn’t have his auntie Sandra’s attitude,” Janelle said with a laugh, and then laughed harder when Sandra flipped her the finger.

As the two went back and forth trading good-natured barbs, Vicki’s mind remained stuck on Jordan.

No surprise there.

How often had just the mention of his name prompted a long spell of daydreaming about what could have been? If only Jordan had any idea that she’d been crushing on him like a lovesick fool since the age of fifteen.

Actually, it was probably better that he didn’t know. The only thing worse than Jordan discovering that she’d been clutching so tightly to this torch she’d carried for him all these years was for him to discover it and then pity her because he didn’t feel the same way.

Oh, God. A rush of heat swept across her skin just at the thought of how mortified she would be if that ever happened.

Her chagrin quickly turned into annoyance, along with a healthy dose of self-disgust. She would not allow thoughts of Jordan Woolcott to turn her back into the starry-eyed romantic she’d been just a week ago. The new Vicki wasn’t spending her days hoping that Mr. Clueless would finally notice her.

Yet despite her anger over his obliviousness, Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jordan’s current predicament. The madness following the state representative race had caused such turmoil. After Darren’s victory over Oliver Windom, Jordan had demanded a recount, claiming that there must have been some sort of tampering.

His accusations had driven a wedge right between the Howertons, Woolcotts and Ahlfors. It all must be weighing heavily on Jordan’s peace of mind, knowing that so many people were against his dogged determination to contest the election. Vicki hated that he was at the center of the friction currently rubbing their families raw.

Of course, if she was making a list of the things she hated regarding Jordan, she had several other items she could add. Like the fact that he’d settled for such a cliché when he’d married his now ex-wife. Sure, Allison Woolcott was beautiful and vivacious, but that was all she was. The woman had no substance.

Another item on the list would be how much she hated that Jordan had never bothered to see her as anything other than a friend of his little sister. After all these years, Vicki still felt like nothing more than an acquaintance in his eyes.

Getting past this long-held obsession with Jordan should be at the very top of her priority list. If she was to fully embrace this new outlook, she could not continue to pine over a man who had never shown even the slightest romantic interest in her. It was time for her to move on, to concentrate on all the changes she was ready to make in her life.

New Vicki. Think new Vicki.

“I’ve got some news,” she blurted.

Janelle and Sandra both stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.

Oh, great. Now that she’d put it out there she would actually have to share some news. She should have considered that before she opened her normally not-so-big mouth. A lesson for the new Vicki.

“So?” Sandra raised an expectant brow.

Vicki sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I, uh...I signed up for an online-dating website. Just before I came here tonight, I accepted a date with a guy that contacted me a few days ago.”

“What!” Janelle and Sandra both whooped, high-fiving each other.

“I told you our girl was breaking out of her shell,” Sandra said. “Who is it? Have you been talking to him through email? Have you two had a phone conversation yet?”

“Slow down,” Vicki said with a laugh. “His name is Declan James. Doctor Declan James. And yes, we’ve shared a couple of emails. I haven’t talked to him on the phone yet. He seems nice,” she finished with a casual shrug, as if it didn’t feel like she had a million butterflies doing an aboriginal rain dance in her belly.

“So,” Janelle prompted, circling her hands in a give-us-more motion.

“He suggested dinner,” Vicki continued. “But then he said if I wanted to take it slow and start off with a coffee date he would be okay with that, too.”

“I take it you two are going out for coffee?” Sandra asked.

An impish grin tilted up the edges of Vicki’s lips. “Dinner. And dancing.”

“Ooh,” both Janelle and Sandra said.

“I’m scared of you, girl,” Janelle said.

“So when’s the date?”

“Tomorrow,” she said. She hunched her shoulder. “I know a Tuesday night isn’t your typical date night, but he’s on call a lot at the E.R. Tuesday is his only night off this week.”

“Who cares what night,” Sandra said. “All I know is that the men of Wintersage had better watch out. Vicki Ahlfors is on the move.”

Chapter 2

“Don’t be an idiot,” Vicki murmured around the piece of twine she’d stuck between her lips. “You know better than this.”

Even though she did know better than to try to balance on the wobbly, backless stool, she remained standing on it. If she fell and broke her tailbone it would be sufficient punishment for forgetting to bring the stepladder she’d taken from the Victorian to hang the new artwork in her living room at home. As far as punishments went, maybe a broken tailbone was a bit harsh.

“But you don’t have to worry about that,” she said as she tied that last bit of twine around the garland, fastening it to the molding that framed the front door. She hopped off the stool and slipped back into her heels. Then she took a couple of steps back and observed her handiwork.

“Perfect,” Vicki said.

“I’d say so.”

Vicki whipped around, spotting Jordan Woolcott walking up the walkway. Sixteen-month-old Mason toddled alongside him on legs that still didn’t quite have that whole walking thing down yet. Vicki smiled as the chubby-cheeked sweetheart fought for his independence, trying to walk ahead of his father.

She stood on the top step and waited patiently while he slowly climbed up to meet her. She scooped Mason into her arms, plopping a kiss on his too-adorable-than-it-had-a-right-to-be face.

“How’re you doing today? You and your daddy coming to see your auntie Sandra?” She looked up at Jordan, who remained at the base of the porch steps, a tired smile tilting up the corners of his lips.

“Hello, Jordan,” she said.

“Hey there, Vicki.”

There went her idiot heart, doing that stupid fluttering thing it did whenever she saw him. Goodness, how pathetic that at twenty-eight she still had the same reaction to him that she did as a teenager. No, it was more than just pathetic, it was downright pitiful, because never once had anything in Jordan’s demeanor suggested that he felt anything even remotely similar toward her.

Yet when she’d sat in that salon chair last week and told the stylist to glam her up, it was with the intent of seeing Jordan’s reaction to the finished outcome.

Pathetic.

If the man hadn’t caught a clue in all these years, he certainly wouldn’t notice her just because she’d cut her hair.

“Is my sister up there?” he asked, gesturing to the building’s second floor with the hand that held Mason’s diaper bag.

“She sure is.” Vicki looked down at Mason. “You want to get out of this cold and see your auntie Sandra?”

Jordan joined them on the porch, but before Vicki could turn toward the door, he stopped her.

“What exactly did you do here?” he asked, motioning at his own head.

“You mean my haircut?”

“Yeah. The light brown color you added to the ends, too.”

“They’re called highlights.”

He nodded. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Thank you,” she answered.

She was not going to blush at a simple compliment.

Dammit, she was so blushing. She could feel the heat climbing up her cheeks. Her fair skin hid nothing, so in a matter of seconds Jordan would see it, too.

With Mason in tow, Vicki quickly turned for the door, leaving him to follow her inside.

“Wow,” Jordan said once they’d entered the building. “You all are really getting into the holiday spirit, huh? There are more flowers in here than at the Rose Bowl parade.”

“Well, it is a floral-design shop,” Vicki noted with a laugh.

“A busy one at that,” Jordan said, pointing to various arrangements in different stages of completion. They covered every available surface.

“When it comes to flowers, the Christmas season is second only to Valentine’s Day. Although, to be honest, I’ve been a bit busier than usual this week.”

Jordan peeled Mason’s puffer jacket off while the baby was still in her arms, and then stuffed it inside the diaper bag.

He gestured to her feet. “You don’t normally wear fancy shoes to make flower arrangements, do you? Is this something special you’re doing for the holidays?”

Vicki’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be funny?”

The blank look on his face gave her his answer even before he said, “No.”

“I’m wearing fancy shoes because I have a date,” she said.

“Really?” Jordan’s head reared back slightly. He took Mason from her arms and the baby immediately started to fuss. “A date?”

Vicki couldn’t see past her irritation over Jordan’s apparent surprise at the news that she had a date. It both stung and pissed her off.

“Is it so hard to believe that someone actually wants to go out with me?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a hasty head shake. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

Not that that should come as a surprise, either. When had he ever taken interest in whom she was dating?

Vicki held no illusions about where she stood as far as he was concerned. She had never been in Jordan Woolcott’s league. For that matter, she had not always been in Sandra and Janelle’s league, either.

Unlike her two best friends, Vicki hadn’t been born into money.

She and her three brothers had spent the majority of their formative years in the public school system, not moving to Wintersage Academy until her sophomore year of high school, once her father’s business had taken off.

Ahlfors Financial Management’s success secured her family’s place among Wintersage’s elite, but their wealth didn’t reek of “old money” like that of the Howertons and Woolcotts. Although her friends never made her feel inferior, Vicki never let herself forget that one difference between them.

When it came to Jordan, there was no denying that they were different.

He had been several years ahead of her in high school, having already graduated from Wintersage Academy by the time she’d started there. Vicki had developed the most ridiculous crush on him from the very first day she’d gone over to the Woolcotts’ to study with Sandra one afternoon. It had taken her years to accept the fact that, if not for her being one of Sandra’s very best friends and their families knowing each other for years, Jordan wouldn’t know she existed.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Wintersage was a small town. He would know she existed—in the same way he knew Jocelyn Cornwell, who ran the realty office on Main Street, or Agnes Ripple, the owner of the corner bakery, existed.

That thought annoyed her to no end. And when she thought of how long she’d pined over Jordan, it irritated her even more.

Vicki returned to her worktable, picking up the stem cutters and attacking the stubborn stalks of the lilies that had just been delivered by one of her suppliers. But as Mason’s crying intensified, she walked to where Jordan stood struggling to get the baby to calm down. The minute she lifted him out of Jordan’s arms, Mason’s cries quieted. Vicki bounced him softly, running her hand up and down the baby’s back and whispering soothingly into his ear.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him today,” Jordan said. “I usually don’t have a problem getting him to calm down, but he’s been more agitated than usual.”

“Maybe he can sense that you’re—” she started, but then she stopped.

“I’m what?”

Vicki bit her bottom lip, but then she stopped that, too. The old Vicki would keep her mouth shut to spare his feelings. She was no longer listening to the old Vicki.

“Uptight,” she finished. “You’ve been rather uptight lately, and I think Mason can sense that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “You’re probably right.”

The sheer exhaustion on his face quelled the ire that had risen within her just moments ago. Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

Jordan cocked his head to the side and looked down at his son. “The problem is I can’t seem to unwind because he constantly has me on the go. I get agitated, and then he gets agitated. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“You need some rest, Jordan.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I don’t see rest anywhere in my immediate future, not with this little rascal who wants to get into everything these days,” he said, pinching the baby’s chubby leg through his cute corduroy pants.

Vicki took a moment to consider the suggestion she was about to make before she asked, “How about I watch Mason for you so you can get some rest?”

Jordan’s neck stiffened with shock. “Really?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

That was what his mouth said; the naked hope in his eyes, on the other hand, said that he was dying for a little help with the baby.

“It’s not as if it would be a hardship,” Vicki reasoned. “How could I pass up the opportunity to spend time with this little heartbreaker?” She kissed the baby’s chin. “And while I do, you can get some much-needed rest.”

Jordan’s shoulders sank with relief. “God, Vicki, that would be wonderful.”

“I’m happy to do it. Just not tonight,” she said.

“Yeah. You have a date,” Jordan said. He lifted Mason from her arms but remained standing there, his gaze trained on her.

“What?” Vicki asked. After several moments of his staring, her self-consciousness ramped up to skin-tingling levels.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Nothing.” He gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll go up to Sandra’s.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and gave Mason a little baby wave. “See you later.”

“When?”

Vicki’s head popped up at Jordan’s question. “Excuse me?”

“When will you see us?” He shook his head. “Him? Mason. To babysit?”

She hadn’t thought that far in advance, but it was obvious Jordan needed to rest as soon as possible. “What about tomorrow, maybe around seven?”

“Tomorrow is good. It’s great, actually.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow, then.”

“Good.” He gave her another of those tired, grateful smiles before he started up the stairs. After he’d climbed a couple of steps, he stopped and turned. “Vicki?”

“Yes?” She felt her face heat after being caught still staring at him.

“You really do look nice,” Jordan said. “I hope this guy you’re going out with tonight realizes how lucky he is.”

The instant warmth that traveled across her skin from his simple compliment was embarrassing to say the least.

“Thank you,” Vicki said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She fingered the wispy end of a lock of hair and grinned as she returned to her workstation. Her stylist would get a very nice tip after her next haircut. Even though she no longer cared whether or not Jordan Woolcott noticed her, apparently the pixie cut had gotten her just the result she’d initially hoped for.

* * *

“Anybody home?” Jordan called as he arrived on the second-floor landing of the huge Victorian where his sister’s dress shop was located.

Sandra turned from the glittery ball gown she was adjusting on a mannequin and smiled.

“Well, look who’s here.” She walked over to them and reached for Mason. “Give me my nephew.”

Jordan handed the baby off and plopped into an empty chair. The exhaustion of the past week had him on the verge of both mental and physical collapse.

“So what brings you two here?” Sandra asked, taking the chair opposite his and bouncing Mason on her lap.

Jordan shrugged. “Just thought we’d get out for a bit. He doesn’t understand that it’s too cold for the beach or the park, so I’ve been taking him other places. We just came from the dry cleaners.”

“Such party animals,” Sandra said with a snort. She snapped her fingers. “I know exactly where you should take him—the children’s museum in Dover. I saw something on TV about a special exhibit they have going on for the Christmas season.”

Sandra turned the huge computer monitor around to face her and grabbed the wireless keyboard from her desk. As his sister searched the web, Jordan pitched his head back and let his eyes fall shut. He tried to shake off the edginess that had his skin tingly. The weird vibe had settled over him after his exchange with Vicki, and hell if he knew what to make of it.

She had popped up in his head more than once this week, creeping into his thoughts and setting off memories of how shocked he’d been when he’d noticed her standing on the beach at Sandra’s wedding. The new haircut and that curve-hugging dress had been something to behold.

Jordan couldn’t remember if he had ever once noticed what Vicki wore. Of course, he’d noticed her—no man could deny that Vicki was gorgeous in her own right. He just had never looked at her in that way.

She was just...just Vicki.

She was the quiet one; the one who, if Sandra or their other best friend, Janelle, ever got into trouble, would get them out of it. She was steady. Reserved. She wasn’t the type that normally produced the prickle of awareness that climbed up the back of his neck when he’d spotted her standing on the porch in sexy leopard-print heels.

“What do you think about that?” Sandra asked.

Jordan blinked. “Huh?”

His sister stabbed him with the most aggravated look. “Are you even listening to me? I just listed every special exhibit going on at the children’s museum in Dover. Or maybe there’s something in Portsmouth the two of you can do.”

“Maybe.” Jordan shrugged. “I need to find something to keep him occupied. It can get boring sitting around the house. Makes me wonder what Laurie does over there all day,” he said, speaking of his housekeeper.

Sandra started on the tirade Jordan knew was forthcoming. “Oh, let’s see. She takes care of your son, keeps the house impeccable and cooks dinner.”

“I meant besides all that,” Jordan said, his mouth tipped up in a smile.

He saw the moment that Sandra caught on to his teasing.

“You’re such an ass,” she said.

“Not true. You’re just an easy target,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t worry, I know exactly how indispensable Laurie is, especially now that she’s away on this extended Christmas vacation. I haven’t done the best job at keeping up the housework since, and when it comes to dinner Mason and I have tried just about every takeout place within twenty miles of Wintersage. He likes gyros. Who’d have thought?”

Sandra shook her head, a pitiable look on her face. “I’m almost tempted to tell you to hire a temporary nanny to cover for Laurie while she’s away, but that won’t solve your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” he said.

“You most definitely do have a problem. You have no life. And yes, I know you’ve been taking care of Mason full-time since the election ended, but that’s not the life you’re used to living. Maybe you should just go back to work. Maybe you’d be less irritable.”

Hadn’t Vicki just accused him of the same thing?

“Why does everyone think I’m irritable?” Jordan asked. “I’m just tired. Besides, I can’t go back to the firm. I took an extended leave, remember? I thought I would be working on Oliver’s transition team right now.”

Sandra rolled her eyes. The election was a sore subject for everyone in his family, especially his sister.

When he spoke, Jordan kept his voice low. “Hey, Sandra? The fallout from the election, it hasn’t caused any friction, has it? You know, between you three?”

“What do you think, Jordan? You accused my best friend’s father of trying to steal an election. Do you think things would be all sunshine and roses around here? The three of us decided that when it comes to the election we’re Switzerland, but things are still a bit awkward.”

“Switzerland?” he asked.

“Completely neutral.”

“Oh. Well, I wish I had that luxury.”

“You do.” Sandra reached over and clamped a hand on his forearm. “The election is over. You can accept the results and move on.”

Jordan shook his head. “I can’t. I know something—”

She lifted her hand and held it up, stopping him. “Switzerland. I don’t want to know.”

“That’s too bad,” Jordan said. “I’m pulling the ‘sibling in need of an ear’ card, because I need to talk this out with someone.”

Sandra blew out an aggravated breath. “What is it?”

“I heard from the election commissioner this morning. According to Massachusetts’s election laws, only the candidate can officially file for a recount, so they can’t go forward unless Oliver requests it.”

“Oliver has already conceded.”

“I know. I told him he was making a mistake, but he refused to listen to me. I just don’t understand how he can sit back and do nothing.”

“Maybe he wants to be gracious in his defeat and move on with his life,” Sandra said. “Just as you should move on.”

Jordan shut his eyes and pitched his head back again.

“I wish I could,” he said. He straightened in the chair and looked at Sandra. “Something fishy happened with that election. My polling data was solid.”

“Well, if the commissioner’s office refuses to go forward with a recount, none of that matters, does it? You need to just put this election behind you.”

Jordan pressed his palms together and tapped his fingers against his lips. “I hired my own investigators,” he finally admitted.

Sandra groaned. “Okay, Jordan, I’m just going to say it. This election has driven you right off the deep end.”

“I’m only doing what I think is right,” he said. “If I just rolled over and played dead the way Oliver has, then it’s like admitting that my polling was wrong, and I know it wasn’t.” He put both hands up. “If I don’t find anything before Darren takes office in January, then I’ll drop it. But until then, I’m going to search for the proof I know is out there.”

“Can we please stop talking about this election? You’re giving me a headache.”

“Fine,” Jordan said. He picked up what he could only assume was some kind of dressmaking thing from a nearby desk and twirled it around his finger. “Are you and Isaiah planning to hang around until after the Kwanzaa celebration?”