Free A Merry Little Christmas by Catherine Palmer Page B

so thin you can almost see through it.”
    Her hand tightened on the plate. “ You made the pie? That’s a surprise.”
    “Didn’t think I could cook?”
    “Didn’t think you had the time.” She forced a polite smile on her face and took a sideways step along the table’s edge.
    He matched her, his long arm reaching toward a bowl of fresh fruit salad just as she touched the spoon. His hand closed over hers. “Pineapple this time of year?” he asked. “Wow. And what’s that orange stuff?”
    “Mango.” She had no choice but to allow him to ladle some of the fruit salad onto her plate. “I think I can manage the spoon, Jeremiah. I’ve been feeding myself for years.”
    “Just thought I’d be of assistance. You’re trembling so much you might spill something.”
    “If you weren’t standing behind me…”
    “If I weren’t standing here, I wouldn’t get to smell that perfume I noticed the other night and can’t get out of my head. I told you I wanted to see you again, and here we are.”
    “You’re with the Murayas, and I’m with the students. As it should be. Your mother is sweet.”
    “So is my dad. The boys are enjoying the work on Miss Ethel’s house. Benjamin is crocheting a scarf for her.”
    “No way!”
    He grinned. “It’s your fault. Somehow you found a chink in my armor, and before I knew it my sons were crocheting, a dog was uprooting my two hundred tulip bulbs and a dead goat was roasting in my backyard. You, Lara Crane, are my undoing. And I’m planning to be yours.”
    “Good luck.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the images his words had evoked. “I don’t have any chinks in my armor.”
    “Wanna bet?”
    “Sure.” Despite the knot in her stomach, she lifted her chin and cruised past him to refill her glass of punch. He followed and somehow reached the bowl ahead of her.
    “How about dinner?” he asked. “Next Friday.”
    She tried to hold her glass steady as he filled it. “Busy,” she said. “Busy, busy, busy. That’s me.”
    “Saturday then. After we’re done at Miss Ethel’s, I’ll pick you up for burgers and a milk shake.”
    “I’m busy from now until I turn ninety-nine. You can take me out on my ninety-ninth birthday. How’s that?”
    She glanced across the room to see people beginning to rise and clear the tables. Daniel was holding Tobias. Benjamin had crossed the room to introduce his grandfather to the students sitting with his grandmother. Dahlia was smiling.
    “I can’t wait until you’re ninety-nine, and I won’t.” Jeremiah caught her arm as she tried to evade him. “I know the chink in your armor. You told me the last time we were together, Lara. You’re lonely.”
    “I never said that.”
    “I heard it, though. Let’s go out to dinner again and see what happens.”
    She faced him. “Jeremiah, I can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    “Who’s Melissa?”
    His expression sobered. “Melissa. How did you know about her?”
    “Your cell phone. She called you. You said her name. Listen, I’m not some naive girl. I’ve been through all of this, and I won’t do it again. Not the game. Not the flirting and playing around and seeing what happens. You won’t have me on one evening and Melissa on the next. You won’t have me at all, because I’m not available and neither are you.”
    “I ended my relationship with Melissa,” he said. “That night when you heard us talking. I was supposed to spend Saturday with her, but I canceled so I could go paint Miss Ethel’s baseboards. And see you. Best decision I ever made.”
    Lara stared down at her plate of pecan pie and fruit salad. Her glass of punch. Her plain shoes and black slacks and discount-store belt. This was not supposed to happen. She had worked too hard to make herself invisible, hiding behind her self-made curtain and performing wondrous deeds like the Wizard of Oz himself. How had this man found her? And what was she going to do about it?
    “Yo, Dad.” Daniel breezed up, Tobias