Mistletoe Madness

Chapter 7

Cole plopped into his seat in the Circle of Love. Friday afternoon. The final gift exchange. And he’d damn near missed it. He’d ditched work this morning because he’d decided on a new final Secret Santa gift for Tatiana after their carriage ride last night. He’d been ready to toss in the towel when he’d finally found what he was looking for. Whew! He’d barely made it back in time.

He bit back a smirk. She’d know without a doubt who had given her this gift. And without a doubt, she wouldn’t reveal him as her Secret Santa. He looked around. Everyone was here except her.

Melvin beamed at the crowd. “Well, it’s time to open the final gifts-”

Cole interrupted. “Hold on. Aren’t we going to wait for Tatiana?”

“She’s already left for the day,” Elle said.

But he’d caught a glimpse of her early this morning. “What?”

“Yeah. She thought she was coming down with something so she left,” Elle explained.

Melvin rubbed at his balding spot. “Yeah. I meant to tell you earlier, but I got hung up on something else. You only have that final restaurant visit tonight. She asked if you could do it separately and e-mail the reviews in. That’s the new plan.”

“What’s wrong with her?” He felt a foreign sense of panic that she was ill.

“She thought it might be the flu and didn’t want to make everyone sick for the holiday weekend.”

Andi spoke up. “I’m sorry she’s sick, but thank God she didn’t stay and spread germs. I’ve got twenty people coming for dinner on Sunday. Getting the flu would be a disaster at this point.”

The gift exchange wasn’t nearly as much fun without Tatiana there. He’d so looked forward to throwing her off balance with his gift. And he hated to think of her at home, all alone and sick.

He retrieved his gift and opened it. He’d begun to think his Secret Santa might just be Ms. Snippy herself, but this blew that theory to hell. Someone had baked him homemade cookies. He’d had cookies from a bakery any number of times, but his mother or any of the subsequent steps had never been of the cookie-baking variety. He pulled off the plastic cling film and inhaled deeply. Ah, a hint of almond. Slightly brown around the edges. It was quite possibly the nicest gift anyone had ever given him.

He knew a moment of intense possessiveness. No one had ever done this for him before, and he wanted to save them, hoard them as his own. But it was Christmas and he was thirty, not three, so he offered the plate around and everyone except Misha, who struggled to control his diabetes, took one. Finally he took one for himself. He bit into it. Perfect. And he still had about half a dozen left.

After the exchange, everyone began to pack up to go home. The day’d been pretty much a blow-off anyway. Melvin had dismissed the department with holiday wishes. Tatiana’s gift sat pathetically alone on the now-empty table next to the rosemary topiary.

Elle began moving the chairs back to where they belonged. Cole pitched in to help.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m trying to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“No problem.” She was gorgeous, but he’d never been interested in asking her out, even before her engagement. She bore a faint resemblance to Connie. “Heading out of the city?”

“Teddy and I are going to D.C. to see his parents tomorrow. I have one more gift to buy and then I have to pack.” She rolled her eyes. “First holiday with the almost in-laws. Teddy’s mother considers me the whore who seduced her son. His neurotic sister is also coming with her shih-tzu who has potty issues. It should be delightful.”

Cole laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“So what’re you up to?”

The same vague holiday restlessness he experienced every year around this time seized him. Everyone seemed to have a long list of last-minute preparations except for him. “I’d planned to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with my sister and her family in Connecticut. But she called this morning and my niece has the chicken pox. I’ve never had them, and since, according to Connie, it can cause impotence in adult males, I’m opting to stay home alone.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a good choice to me. What about your parents?”

“They’ve got other plans.” He didn’t have a clue what they were, but they’d had other plans for the last fifteen years.

They finished placing the last of the chairs around the smaller tables that had been pushed to the wall. Elle picked up Tatiana’s gift. “I suppose I’ll leave it on her desk for her. If my schedule wasn’t so crazy, I’d run it by and check on her, but I suppose she’s okay or she would’ve called me.”

Quite frankly he couldn’t imagine Tatiana picking up the phone and calling anyone for help unless it was a dire emergency. She could be home alone, running a fever, sick…

He had nothing but time on his hands. “I’ll take it by and check on her.”

“That’s nice, but I’m sure you have other things to do.”

“The only thing on tonight’s schedule was dinner with her, and now that’s not happening. It’s no problem.”

Elle handed him the gift he’d bought earlier that morning.

It wasn’t as if he was disappointed that she couldn’t make dinner tonight. It wasn’t as if he was worried about her. It wasn’t as if that carriage kiss had tormented him since last night. No, he simply had time on his hands to kill.

Tatiana pulled her tattered pink chenille bathrobe closer around her. This was her special robe. Guaranteed to make her feel better. Its healing powers had been attested to for the last twelve years, ever since Grandma Rumasky had given it to her and told her it was guaranteed to cure whatever ailed her-even if redheads shouldn’t wear pink. Today she was in major need of a cure.

Jimmy Stewart flickered on the screen in black and white as the townspeople rushed his family’s bank for their money. This was her least favorite part of It’s a Wonderful Life.

She shoved off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. Cole would’ve opened his cookies by now. She was almost sorry she’d been too much of a chicken to stay and watch. She’d come home last night in such a state, longing to do something for him…well, yeah, she’d like to do that, but she also wanted to do something special that went beyond sex. The anonymity of Secret Santa afforded her the opportunity. Home-baked Christmas cookies. She knew what it would mean to the man who’d grown up without any holiday traditions other than making the most out of being exiled with his sister. She’d felt the longing she wasn’t even sure he knew he possessed when she’d talked about her family. For the span of one present, she could give him the gift of caring enough to prepare something special for him.

She opened the canister on the counter and counted out four almond cookies. Four should do her. Forget it. She put two more on her plate. She was going for six. People, on average, gained one and a half pounds over the holidays. She could at least do her part to uphold one holiday tradition considering everything else was a lost cause.

She poured herself a glass of organic skim milk and settled back down on the sofa. She dipped a cookie in the milk and then nibbled at the sodden edge. She’d spend her holiday stuffing herself like a turkey. And, who knows, maybe she’d actually get sick after telling that whopper of a lie earlier. Still, it had gotten her out of dinner with Cole. She’d been at an all-time low today when she’d skipped out of work-

A knock interrupted her cookiefest. Who was this? Maybe it was Mrs. Abramonoff’s Harry & David fruit delivery. Ostensibly Edgar should have snagged the delivery guy in the lobby, but Edgar was the worst doorman in New York. Mrs. Abramonoff spent each December in Miami with family, and it seemed her December pears usually came after Christmas, but maybe this year…Tatiana would like to ignore it and pretend not to be home, but she hated to think of those pears in some frigid warehouse. “Just a minute,” she called out.

She left her cookies and milk on the coffee table. It was a testimony to her Indiana upbringing that she had already thrown the dead bolt by the time she looked through the peephole. No brown-shirted delivery person bearing fruit stood on the other side. Nope. All six feet and some inches of broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, sether-on-fire-with-his-kisses Cole Mitchell stood there.

She looked down at the chenille robe with its bald spots and the thick socks on her feet. Yep, she was pretty much hideous.

He knocked on the door again and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Tatiana? Are you okay? I heard the lock. Are you too weak to open the door? Do I need to call 911?”

Although it might serve her right for lying, she didn’t need him to call 911. She did the only thing she knew to do under the circumstances. She opened the door…and hoped she didn’t live to regret it.