Hot Christmas Nights (10 page)

Chapter 3

“W
endy Elizabeth Kincaid, have you lost your mind?”

“No, Mom. I haven’t lost my mind.” Wendy glanced at the bedside speakerphone on her way over to the walk-in closet.

When her mother’s number popped up on the caller ID a few minutes ago, she hadn’t seen the harm in chatting with her while she finished getting dressed. Now she wished she’d let the call go to voice mail and called her mother back later tonight. Her nerves were frazzled enough as it was.

Selena Kincaid was annoyed, very annoyed, if the shrill tone of her voice was any indication. It was exactly the reaction Wendy was expecting, which was why she’d waited until the last possible minute to mention the possibility of a blind date to her mother. “It’s just something I’m thinking about. I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

After a few seconds of internal debate, she chose a pair of jewel-dusted black pumps from a shelf inside the closet, stepped into them and then walked them over to the floor-length mirror across the room to check out her reflection.

The little black dress that she’d decided to wear tonight was probably a little too dressy for a blind date, but she wanted to at least look good on the outside, even if she was a bundle of nerves on the inside. It was a sleeveless, fitted little thing with a slightly flared, handkerchief hem that skimmed the tops of her knees and a plunging V neckline that eliminated the possibility of wearing a bra underneath. It was the one thing she’d bought for herself during her trip to New Mexico last year and, until tonight, she hadn’t had the nerve to wear it.

Right now, though, her self-confidence was in short supply and the dress was just what she needed to kick it into overdrive.

“Well, aren’t you afraid of what could happen if you decide to go through with it?” Selena wanted to know. “I mean, what if this person is a serial killer who preys on desperate women?”

Wendy paused in the midst of fastening a diamond pendant around her neck and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Why did she even bother trying to have these kinds of conversations with her mother? They never ended well, mainly because Selena was from the old school. Anything other than being courted Rhett Butler–style by a man was simply unacceptable. Bringing up the subject had been a long shot at best, but at least now she could say she’d tried.

“Tell you what, Mom,” Wendy said as she put on matching diamond studs. “If I decide to go—and that’s a big
if
—I’ll hire a bodyguard to go with me. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“I would feel more comfortable if you’d put the whole thing out of your mind. This isn’t a joking matter, Wendy.”

“I know it’s not, Mom. I’m sorry.” She heard a muffled voice in the background and sent up a silent thank-you for the much-needed distraction, then seized the opportunity before it could get away. “Is that Daddy?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Selena’s voice went from shrill to long-suffering. “He’s been grumbling about dinner not being ready for the past half hour, so I guess I’d better go and finish up before he passes out. Do you want me to put him on before I go?”

Wendy looked up from double-checking the contents of her beaded clutch and smiled, even though neither of her parents could see her. She always enjoyed chatting with her daddy and if she wasn’t already on the verge of running late, she would’ve been happy to talk his ears off. But she
was
running late and she didn’t want to risk it. “Tell him I love him and I’ll call him tomorrow morning, okay, Mom? I’m kind of in the middle of something right now and I want to get it done and over with while it’s fresh on my mind.”

“Will do, sweetie, and don’t worry. I won’t bother upsetting your father with this blind date nonsense. But we aren’t done talking about it, Wendy Elizabeth,” Selena warned. “We are nowhere
near
done talking about it. Do you hear me?”

Wendy fastened a delicate gold bracelet around her wrist and spritzed on her favorite cologne. “Yes, Mom, I hear you.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye, Mom.”

After disconnecting the call, Wendy took one last twirl in front of the mirror. Satisfied that she was as ready as she’d ever be, she picked up her clutch and wrap from the foot of her bed, and headed out.

She pulled up in front of
Tony’s Place
a few minutes before eight and, after turning her beloved Beetle over to a white-jacketed valet, entered the supper club’s dimly lit reception area. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and when they did, she looked around the spacious area curiously, noting the teal-blue walls, glossy hardwood floor and recessed lighting.

Oil paintings in ornate frames adorned the walls and plush seating arrangements invited guests to sit back and relax while they waited to be seated in the main dining room. There was a short line at the coat check counter and a formally dressed hostess manned the reservations desk.

Unsure of what her next move should be, Wendy approached the reservations desk. She had pulled her hair up into a sleek chignon and tucked a red rose at the side of the loose bun, but so far no one had approached her. There were several men in the room, but each one of them appeared to be part of a couple, even though they were giving her sideways looks that lingered a little too long. Maybe the hostess could give her some direction or, if nothing else, tell her where she could get a stiff drink to calm her jittery nerves.

“Wendy.”

She glanced up and froze. “Frazier?” Relieved to see a friendly face, she smiled and moved closer to him. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you had a date tonight.”

“Hey,” he said, spreading his arms and smiling down at her. “I don’t tell you everything, you know.”

“Yes, Frazier, you do, so stop it.” She leaned sideways to see around him and then straightened with a cocked brow. “Where is she? Do I get to meet her?”

It didn’t occur to her to move away when he reached out and touched her hair. But she did step away when she saw the red rose between his fingers. He took it to his nose and inhaled its aroma, including the Dior cologne that she’d accidentally spritzed on it before sticking it in her hair.

“Dior,” he murmured, catching her eyes again. “Your signature scent.”

She looked from his face to the rose and back again. “Y-you bought me my very first bottle years ago, for my—” He was wearing a black suit—expertly tailored, as usual—but in place of a crisp shirt, power tie and polished wing tips, he wore a black crewneck sweater and trendy suede loafers. Gray.

“Birthday,” he cut in smoothly. “I bought it for you for your birthday because I thought it was very feminine and very sexy. Just like you. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Frazier, what...” It seemed like the thing to ask—
what
.

“I’m glad you came, Wendy,” he murmured. “Frankly, I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I’m, uh, a little...” She fanned herself delicately, absently, her gaze darting around the crowded room as if she was waiting for her cue to run, and then rested the hand on her chest.

“I’m a little confused, Frazier. I’m supposed to be meeting someone here and...”

But suddenly, she knew.

It all made sense now. The perfect gifts, the feeling that her secret admirer somehow knew her, all of it. She understood it now. But all the lying that he’d been doing and for all this time—she didn’t understand that and she didn’t think she ever would. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment and then opened on his face.

She sighed. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

He looked thoughtful, slightly regretful. “Wendy...”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me what you were thinking, Frazier? Why would you play a cruel trick like this on me?”

“I thought—”

“You thought—” She heard herself, the hysterical notes in her voice and the jarring volume, and snapped her mouth shut so she could regroup. People were staring and she hated scenes. She looked around nervously and cleared her throat, spoke her next words softly and carefully. “You thought catching me off guard and embarrassing me, tricking me was the right thing to do? Oh, my God, you never really knew me at all, did you?”

He reached for her and she flinched, jumping away from his touch so violently that she bumped into a man standing near her and made him spill the drink in his hand. Tears stood in her eyes when she turned around and saw him wiping at the stain that she caused. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She saw Frazier in her peripheral vision, reaching for her. “No, Frazier! Don’t touch me.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk,” Frazier suggested as he retracted his hand. “Somewhere we can be alone.”

“Talk about what? How you’ve been lying to me for months? Laughing at me behind my back?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he hissed. “It’s never been like that between us and you know it.”

If she had ever been more embarrassed in her entire life, she couldn’t recall when. People were staring at them and a few were whispering behind their hands but, after sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in one long
whoosh,
she decided that she didn’t really care what they were thinking and saying.

The one person whose thoughts and words she did care about was standing in front of her, and she didn’t know where to begin making sense of what was happening between them. Whatever it was, the last thing she wanted was an audience while she tried to figure it out.

“You know what? I have to go.”

“Wendy.”

“No, Frazier. Talk is what we should’ve done in the first place, before you decided to do all this. It’s too late for that now. I’m leaving.” She put up a hand to stop him when he would’ve followed her to the door. “No. Please don’t. Please...”

Running in four-inch heels, Wendy discovered a few seconds later, was much easier than she thought it would be.

* * *

He called her. She didn’t answer, so he left a message. And then he called her again. After the tenth call with no answer, Frazier stopped calling and started worrying. What if she was hurt? What if she’d been in an accident? What the hell had he been thinking, surprising her like that?

He took a shower and thought about it. Okay, so obviously Wendy didn’t feel the same way he did. Now what? Judging by the look on her face when she figured out what was happening, he owed her one hell of an apology, but damn if he knew where to begin giving it. Should he apologize for being in love with her? For wanting to be with her?

He stepped out of the shower, slung a towel around his hips, and answered his own questions with a resounding
no
. Hell, no.

He was worried, though. Wendy wasn’t the world’s greatest driver under the best circumstances. Add in the fact that she was crying and upset, and visions of ten-car pileups suddenly started dancing around in his head. Of all the possible scenarios that he’d entertained when he decided to go through with his plan, this was definitely not one of them.

Neither was warming up leftovers in the microwave and eating dinner alone in front of the television, he thought as he sat down on the couch with a plate of leftover meat loaf and sautéed green beans, a cold beer and the remote control. But that was exactly what he was doing.

He found a
CSI
marathon on cable and sat back, wondering where the hell Wendy was and if she planned to ever speak to him again.

Frazier didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until the sound of the television switching off woke him up. He bolted up from his sprawl on one end of the couch into a sitting position, looking around wildly and thinking about the revolver that was in a lockbox at the top of his bedroom closet.

When he saw Wendy standing with her back to the big screen and her finger on the power button, a relieved breath shot out of his mouth, with a quick expletive right behind it.

He cleared his throat. “You realize that now I’m going to have to reprogram the damn remote, don’t you?”

“I was looking at the phone every time you called,” Wendy told him. Their gazes locked and she sucked in a deep breath. “A part of me wanted to answer, but another part of me was afraid to.”

Ready to have it out and get it over with, he scrubbed a hand across his face. “Look, Wendy, I’m sorry if I—”

“Ask me why I was afraid,” she cut in softly.

He froze, peering at her through his fingers. “What?”

“Ask me why I was afraid, Frazier.”

He ran a hand around his neck and watched her watch him. Earlier, he had only glanced at her dress, long enough to notice that she looked great in it, so now he helped himself to a more leisurely inspection. It fit her like a glove, showing just enough leg to make her legs look like they went on forever and her waist no more than a whisper. The deep V between her breasts revealed smooth, dark skin that he suddenly wanted to taste, and the imprint of her nipples through the material made his mouth water. Underneath the towel around his waist, his penis stirred. “Okay,” he said, staring at her. “Why were you afraid?”

“I was afraid because just the other day I was thinking about you and wanting him to be you. Then tonight, before I left to meet him, I thought about you again and hoped it was you. And then when I got to the restaurant and it
was
you, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve had feelings for you for years, Frazier, and now to suddenly find out that you have feelings for me, too? What was I supposed to do with that?” He understood that it was a rhetorical question and didn’t offer a response. “You picked the absolute worst time and place to do something like that and, for a while, I was really angry with you. I was driving around, fantasizing about the many ways that I could kill you, and the next thing I knew, I was just fantasizing about you.”

So aroused that he could hardly think straight, Frazier cracked a smile. “Do you want me to ask you about the details of your fantasy?”

“My panties got wet—that’s the most important detail—because I couldn’t stop thinking about what making love to you would be like.” Her words were punctuated by the sharp breath he sucked in, but she’d said too much to stop now. “So I turned my car around and came here to find out.” She reached behind her and eased the zipper down, and, as soon as it was low enough, shrugged out of her dress until the top half fell down around her waist.