The Christmas Date. Michele Dunaway
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