A Mistletoe Affair (14 page)

“It isn’t that simple,” Vicki said, tossing the credit card back at him. “I don’t have time to go toy shopping.”

“What else do you have to do with your time?” Jacob said with a snort.

Vicki slammed her fork down. “Kiss my ass, Jacob.”

“Vicki!” her mother yelped.

“I’m tired of the way everyone in this family thinks that they have the right to decide how I’m going to spend
my
time.”

“I understand that you’re upset,” her mother said, “but can you please watch your language at the dinner table?”

Vicki huffed out a humorless laugh. “Seriously? With all that’s been said in the past ten minutes, my saying
ass
is what bothers you?”

“There’s no need for the sarcasm,” her father said.

“I agree with Vicki,” Terrance said. “If Mom’s going to point out something, she should point out her daughter’s selfishness.”

“Selfishness!” Vicki saw red. She stared her brother down. “For the past five years you’ve strutted around this town accepting praise for that toy drive when you know damn well you don’t lift a finger to put it on. If this toy drive really mattered to you, you would have started looking for an alternative from the moment I told you I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m busy.”

“And I’m not?”

Terrance rolled his eyes. “Here we go again with the hardworking florist. Remind me again how much time it takes to shave thorns off rose stems.”

Vicki put her hands up. “I’m done. I don’t need this.” She pushed away from the table and tossed her cloth napkin over her barely touched food.

“Vicki, please sit down,” her mother begged.

“So I can be subjected to this? I don’t think so. Besides, I have work to do,” she said. “Unlike
some
people, as a small-business owner I don’t have the luxury of taking the weekends off.”

The last thing Vicki observed as she stormed out of the dining room was how much all the men in her family resembled each other when all their mouths were left hanging wide-open.

Without much thought to where she was going, she got behind the wheel of her car and headed below the bay, driving straight to Jordan’s. She didn’t even think to call to see if he was at home. It didn’t matter at this point. If he was not there, she would wait in his driveway until he arrived. She needed to see him. She craved his steadiness right now. She needed someone who was willing to take care of
her
for a change.

Jordan was in his front yard when she pulled up to the house. A trio of wired lit reindeers now decorated the lawn.

A huge smile broke out over his face the moment he saw her, and just like that, everything in Vicki’s world seemed right again. She got out of the car and ran right into his arms, leaning her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

“Hey,” he said, smoothing a hand down her back. “What’s going on?”

“I just need you to hold me.” She wiped her eyes on his soft lamb’s-wool jacket. They stood there for several moments, quietly holding on to each other.

“You have new holiday decorations,” Vicki remarked.

“I wanted to surprise Mason. He enjoyed the ones at Bright Lights at Forest Park so much.”

Vicki looked up at him. “You’re such a wonderful father.”

He grinned. “I’m trying.”

“Where is he?”

“Sandra agreed to watch him. I wanted to get some work done.”

“I’m sorry,” Vicki said. “I knew I should have called before just coming over.”

He reached down and took her chin in his fingers. “Never feel sorry for coming here. You’re always more than welcome to stop by whenever your pretty little heart desires.”

He sure knew exactly what to say to make her pretty little heart beat faster.

“Work can wait,” Jordan continued. “What do you say we go inside and pop open a bottle of wine, and you can tell me what prompted this particular visit. I can tell that whatever it is, it has you upset.”

She nodded and followed him into the house. Ten minutes later, ensconced in the steadiness of his arms as she sat with her back against his chest on the sofa in the great room, Vicki told him about the argument she and her brothers had had over Sunday dinner.

“I’m just fed up with them never taking me seriously, and always taking me for granted. It’s at the point where they barely ask anymore. It’s just automatically assumed that Vicki will take care of everything.”

“You probably don’t want to hear this, but it’s not entirely their fault,” Jordan said. “You share some of the blame here.”

She looked up at him over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Besides now, of all those times they demanded you take care of something, how many of those times did you tell them no?” he asked. “Especially when you knew you didn’t have the time?”

“That’s not fair. I’ve always gone out of my way to
make
the time.”

“That’s my point,” Jordan said. “Face it, Vicki. You’ve made it too easy for your family. The reason they automatically assume you’re going to handle everything is because you always do. They don’t have to worry that something won’t get done because you go out of your way to make sure that everyone else is taken care of.”

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with being helpful.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He turned her around and wrapped his arms around her, settling his hands at the small of her back. “What I’m saying is that you need to stop being everything for everybody. I’ve had to learn that the hard way,” he said.

“So you’re a pushover, too?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Not exactly.”

He motioned for her to scoot to the other side of the sofa. Vicki knew what was coming next. She moved to the other end and placed her feet in his lap. Jordan took her right foot between his hands and began massaging her sole with the pad of his thumbs. She damn near melted all over his sofa.

Vicki was still amazed whenever she took the time to consider how easily they had fallen into this comfortable place. In her previous relationships—not that there had been many—it had taken months to find the same level of familiarity and contentment that had taken her and Jordan only weeks to discover.

“What did you mean when you said you’ve had to learn your lesson the hard way?” Vicki asked, retrieving the glass of wine from the coffee table.

“My problem is that I have a hard time delegating responsibility,” Jordan said. “You know the saying ‘if you want something done right, do it yourself’? Well, that’s been my motto for way too long. Take the election, for example. I started out as a volunteer on Oliver’s team, and then when his campaign manager had to resign, I stepped into that role. I didn’t like his pollster’s methods, so pretty soon I was doing that job, too.”

“The man who wears many hats,” she remarked.

“Too many hats,” he said. “If it’s something I really believe in, I tend to take ownership over it. And when things don’t work out to my expectations, I’m extrahard on myself.”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “That’s why you won’t let this election go, isn’t it?”

“Probably.” He shook his head. “I still don’t understand how Oliver could let it go so quickly, though.”

“What I don’t understand is what it is about Oliver Windom that attracted you to his campaign. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a good guy—at least what I know about him from his campaign appearances during the election—but what made him a better candidate than Darren Howerton in your eyes?”

Jordan’s fingers stilled for just a moment before he continued massaging her foot. Thank goodness he hadn’t stopped. Vicki would be just fine having him pay such attention to her aching soles for the next hour.

“Oliver seemed different,” Jordan began. “He’s not the same old politician. He has fresh ideas. He would bring something new to the legislature.”

“And you don’t think Darren is capable of doing the same?”

“I have nothing against Darren. Our families have known each other for ages. Hell, Darren Jr. and I went through Wintersage Academy together. But Darren Sr. is of the same ilk as the previous state representative.”

“So you decided to back Oliver because he was different.”

“Actually, one of the driving forces behind why I chose to back Oliver is because he agreed to support Mass Mentors.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that reasoning. It’s such a special program,” Vicki said. “It’s been a blessing not only to the kids who are a part of it, but to the businesses that support the program, as well.”

“I didn’t even know about Mass Mentors until last year when an old college friend asked me to do a job-shadowing thing for a day. He’s one of the cofounders.”

“Really?” she asked, her brows arching in surprise.

Jordan nodded. “Instead of continuing on to law school, he started Mass Mentors to expose underprivileged youth to opportunities beyond what they would find in their neighborhoods. How could I not get behind something like that?” He put a hand to his chest. “I know my family has been blessed. It was never a question of whether or not I would go to college, or how it would be paid for when I got there. Some of these kids have the brightest minds I’ve ever seen, Vicki. They just have never had anyone to show them their full potential.”

“You don’t have to convince me of the merits of Mass Mentors. I’ve seen how it has changed lives. And, unlike yours, my family wasn’t always in this position, Jordan. Remember, I didn’t move to Wintersage Academy until my sophomore year, after AFM finally took off. If my father had not busted his butt to build that company, I could have been one of those kids in the Mass Mentors program.”

“You do understand,” he said, sliding his hand up her pants leg and caressing her calf.

“Yes. It’s an important part of the community. Just think of how great it would be if it were in more places in Massachusetts.”

“That’s just it. One of the items on Oliver’s agenda once he got to the state legislature was to work for funding for the program so that it could be launched statewide.
That’s
the reason I worked so hard to get him elected.”

Vicki reached over and stilled his hand. She waited until Jordan looked up at her. “What makes you think Darren wouldn’t work just as hard to get the program funded?”

His forehead creased in a frown, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“God, I’m stupid,” Jordan said. He exhaled an anguished sigh. “I became so hung up on finding the discrepancy to prove that my polling was right that I forgot what was really important. The goal should be to make sure Mass Mentors gets funded, no matter who is in the state representative seat.”

“That can still be your goal,” Vicki said.

“Except that I’ve pissed everybody off because I let my own damn ego get in the way.”

“Go to the Howertons, Jordan. Talk to Darren about Mass Mentors. Explain what the program is about, and how it played into your decision to support Oliver’s candidacy. Darren is a reasonable man.”

“Reasonable enough to back a program I support, even though I still have investigators looking into whether or not he stole this election? And what if he did steal it, Vicki? That question hasn’t been answered yet.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked softly.

“My gut tells me that I’ve got those investigators on a fool’s errand,” he said. “But I still believe in my polling data.”

“Then you have to go with what you believe,” she said, “or you’ll question it forever.”

Vicki set her wineglass down and scooted over to him, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. As the seconds flowed into minutes, the heartbeats began to thump at a faster pace. His fingers trailed lightly along her cheek, the faint caress seductive in its gentle promise.

“When is Sandra bringing Mason home?” Vicki asked.

Jordan lifted his wrist to check his watch. “Not for another hour.”

“Hmm,” she murmured. “I know you mentioned that you had work to do, but can you think of anything else you’d like to do with that hour?”

The soft rumble of his laugh reverberated along her skin. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear.

A cluster of wickedly erotic sensations traveled up her spine.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in his kiss.

Chapter 10

J
ordan picked up a package of baby spinach and tossed it into the shopping cart. The “homemade” dinner he was planning to prepare tonight for Vicki consisted of prepackaged salad, canned vegetables and a frozen lasagna. He gave himself a fifty/fifty shot at not messing it up.

He never claimed to be a cook. The closest he usually came to cooking was warming up whatever leftover takeout was in his fridge. If his housekeeper, Laurie, were to see him in an actual grocery store, she would probably fall away in a dead faint. But he wanted to do something special for Vicki, even if his brand of “special” came already prepared. He decided to stop in at the bakery section to pick up an extrarich chocolate cake to make up for the lackluster meal.

“It’s a good thing Vicki likes us for more than Daddy’s cooking, huh, buddy?” he said to Mason, who was devouring the animal crackers Jordan had yet to pay for.

After adding a tomato, red onion and cucumber to his basket, he left the produce section in search of salad dressing. He had no idea if there was any at the house. The takeout restaurants always included more than enough with his order.

As he rounded the endcap stacked high with the canned artichoke hearts that had won the privilege of being this week’s special hot-item buy, Jordan nearly ran his cart right into Darren Howerton, Jr.

The tension that stretched between them as they stared at each other in the middle of the grocery store was palpable.

“Jordan,” Darren Jr. said, his voice stoic.

“How’s it going, Darren?” Jordan replied, trying to infuse a bit of lightness into his reply. It wasn’t all that long ago that he and the man standing before him had been friends. Jordan didn’t want to lose that friendship over this election.

“How do you think it’s going, Jordan?”

“I know things are a little awkward—”

“A
little
awkward?” Darren Jr. asked. “You accused my dad of cheating. I’d say things are more than just a
little
awkward.”

“I never explicitly said it was Darren Sr. who cheated,” Jordan said in his defense. “I said it was the campaign.”

“Ah, yes. The campaign. My
father’s
campaign. You can play whatever semantics game you want to, Jordan, but actions speak louder than words, and the minute you started up that petition you made your thoughts about my father’s integrity loud and clear.”

“Explain how he managed to win,” Jordan challenged. “Oliver was leading in the polls up until election day. Explain to me how your father pulled off that defeat.”

“I don’t have to explain anything,” Darren Jr. said, his mouth twisting with derision. “The election results speak for themselves.”

Jordan released a weary breath. He was suddenly very tired.

“Look, Darren, despite what you may think, I didn’t start that petition without giving it some serious thought. But something was not right with those election results. I would never have petitioned the outcome if I didn’t think there was some credibility to my theory.”

“You want to know what I think, Jordan? I think you’re full of crap.”

With that Darren Jr. turned and walked away, leaving his cart of groceries in the middle of the aisle.

Jordan’s head fell forward. It suddenly felt as if the weight of the entire world had climbed onto his shoulders and sat there, weighing him down.

He was no longer convinced that this fight was worth it.

Hell, Oliver refused to take it up, and it was his seat in the state legislature that was on the line. If it wasn’t worth it to Oliver to fight, why in the hell was he alienating lifelong friends over this? What did he expect to gain? Was it worth it just to prove that his polling data wasn’t faulty? Did any of that even matter anymore?

It was as if Jordan was running on autopilot as he went through the checkout line and drove home. He put the lasagna to bake and the wine to chill, but his mind was occupied with thoughts of his run-in with Darren Jr.

The only bright spot in his gloomy afternoon was Mason’s bath time. His son enjoyed himself so much in the tub that Jordan couldn’t help but delight in it. But when Vicki arrived not long after he’d dressed Mason in his pajamas, Jordan still hadn’t shaken off his moroseness.

“Hey there,” Vicki greeted as she entered the house. She lifted Mason from his arms and planted a kiss on his cheek. “How are you two handsome guys doing?” She turned her attention to Jordan and frowned. “Okay, really, how are you doing? You look like someone rolled over your dog, or, in your case, your favorite attaché case.”

“Good one,” he answered with a wry smile. She always managed to get a laugh out of him.

Motioning her to follow him into the kitchen, he shared his earlier encounter with Darren Jr. in the condiments aisle at the grocery store. While Vicki strapped Mason into his high chair, Jordan retrieved the lasagna from the oven and served them both healthy portions, all with salad and sweet corn. He waited for Vicki to take her seat before pouring them both a glass of wine.

As he mashed up a bit of lasagna noodles on Mason’s Thomas the Tank Engine plate, Jordan brought his story to a close with Darren Jr.’s dramatic grocery store exit.

Vicki paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. “He left the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle?”

“Yeah. I was nice enough to return the ice cream to the freezer.”

“Wow.” She put the fork down and picked up the wine instead. She took a sip, then brought her elbows onto the table and rested her chin on her folded hands. “Now that I think about it, I’m not all that surprised by his reaction, Jordan. You knew you would alienate people when you started that petition.”

“Maybe I should just call the whole thing off.”

“And you think
that
will help?”

“I can’t piss anybody off any more than I already have.”

“Really? So you think calling a stop to it now, before bringing the investigation to a conclusion, is going to endear you to anyone?”

“No,” he said with a frown.

Vicki reached over and covered his hand with her own. “You demanded a recount because you believed there was an issue with the election. Do you still feel that way?”

“I do,” he said. “But the longer this drags on, the worse it’s going to get, Vicki.”

“The damage is already done, Jordan. Calling a halt to the investigation will only leave you with a bunch of unanswered questions. Whether or not the answer is the one you’re expecting, you won’t be satisfied until you see this through to the end.” She squeezed his hand. “See it to the end.”

Jordan tugged her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss in the center of her palm. “You are the personification of the voice of reason, Vicki Ahlfors.”

“In the past that trait has led to some unflattering comments, usually by your sister when I’ve talked her out of doing something outrageous. Today, I take it that my voice of reason is a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing,” he said.

As he smiled into her eyes, Jordan couldn’t help feeling that this was exactly what he wanted his life to be like for the next fifty years. Sitting at the dinner table with Mason and Vicki every night, sharing their day, planning out their future; at the moment, he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more. Never had a woman fit more perfectly in his world. He wanted her to stay here. Permanently.

He’d always been a man of action. He needed to figure out just what he had to do to make that happen.

*

“Oooooh. I recognize that glow,” Sandra said in a singsongy voice as she leaned against the counter where Vicki was working on the centerpieces for the Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration. Sandra rested her chin on her fist, and said, “It’s the ‘I just got laid’ glow.”

“Really, Sandra? Must you be so crass?”

“How is that crass? You’re the one who’s wearing the glow.” She picked up a red-and-black Peruvian lily and pointed it at Vicki. “Let the record show that I said weeks ago that this was a good thing. Lord knows Jordan needed it.”

Vicki was pretty sure her face was the color of a fire hydrant. If anyone knew how to embarrass her, it was her friend here.

Sandra’s cell phone rang, halting her commentary on the positive effects a healthy sex life would bring to both Vicki’s and Jordan’s lives. When her face immediately beamed, Vicki automatically knew who was on the other end of the line.

Her own cell phone dinged with the arrival of a text message. She snatched the phone from the counter, hoping to see Jordan’s name. Instead, it was a message from Angela Darrow, a fellow florist who had a thriving design studio and nursery in North Andover, a town just west of Wintersage. She and Angela were far away enough that they didn’t compete for business, but close enough that, if necessary, they could help each other out.

Angela had a huge project—a decorating job for a wedding with a winter-wonderland theme—and had asked to borrow Vicki’s snow machine. In exchange for the machine Vicki had purchased last year when she’d decorated for the homecoming dance at Wintersage Academy, Angela was going to loan her the five-foot-high cornucopia she had in storage. She had no idea why her friend had a cornucopia that was almost as tall as she was, but it would be the perfect focal point for the Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration.

As she headed west to North Andover, Vicki decided to stop in at Jordan’s to check in on Mason, who had developed a cold over the past couple of days. When she’d left Jordan’s last night, the baby had been so congested she could hear the rattle in his chest with every breath he took.

As she turned into the cul-de-sac where Jordan lived, Vicki spotted an unfamiliar black BMW in the driveway. She slowed her car, but continued toward the house. Vicki’s stomach dropped at the sight of the woman standing on the porch with Jordan.

Allison Woolcott.

She slammed on her brakes, not even thinking to look to see if there was a car behind her. Vicki just sat there for several long moments, paralyzed by the scene in front of her. Allison stood mere inches from Jordan, one hand resting on his shoulder. She wore stylish dark blue jeans tucked into calf-length boots, and a shapely white coat that showed off her drop-dead-gorgeous figure.

Every inadequacy Vicki had ever harbored came roaring back. There wasn’t a haircut or eye shadow palette in the world that could ever make her measure up to the woman standing on the porch with her hand on Jordan. Some women were born with that amazing beauty and the personality to match. Allison was one of them; Vicki was not.

Janelle’s earlier warning came back to haunt her.

What if Allison decides to come back?

Jordan’s ex had not been around in months. Vicki was certain that she was out of Jordan’s and Mason’s lives forever. Yet, here she was, looking as if she fit perfectly with Jordan.

Just as she was putting her car into Reverse, Jordan looked her way. Their eyes caught and held through the windshield, but Vicki didn’t dare to stay another minute. She didn’t want to see guilt or pity or sorrow in his eyes. She didn’t want to witness Allison gloating.

Vicki backed into his neighbor’s driveway and drove away. She didn’t even consider confronting them like some jealous girlfriend, and she damn sure wasn’t going to shed a tear over this.

She and Jordan had made no promises to each other. What they had was too new; she wasn’t even sure if it could even be classified as a real relationship.

“It sure felt like one,” Vicki whispered.

Still, it paled in comparison to what Jordan had with Allison. The two of them had a history—a rocky one, but nevertheless significant. They had been married; they had a
child
together, for goodness’ sake.

How could she ever compete with that?

It was simple: she couldn’t. She wouldn’t even try.

Holding her head up, Vicki didn’t bother to so much as glance in her rearview mirror. She continued driving, proud at how she was able to hold her emotions in check.

She stayed in North Andover longer than necessary, helping Angela decorate the reception hall and then treating herself to a nice dinner at a local steak house. That was right, she could dine alone and be just fine with it.

It was after nine o’clock by the time she drove through the gates of her subdivision. When Vicki pulled up to her house, she spotted Jordan’s car in the driveway. Maybe she should drive right past it.

What in the heck was she thinking? This was
her
house.

She pulled up next to his car and took her sweet time gathering her things before opening the door and sliding from behind the steering wheel.

“Let me explain about Allison,” Jordan said the moment she got out of the car.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Jordan.”

“Apparently, I do, especially since you wouldn’t answer my calls or text messages.”

Vicki hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder, folded her arms across her chest and leaned back on the driver’s-side door.

“Okay,” she said. “If you feel you have something to explain, go right ahead.”

“I called Allison,” he started.

His words slammed into her like a fist to the gut.
He’d
called his ex-wife?

“And she came running back? Just like that?” Vicki asked, proud that she could maintain the air of nonchalance she certainly wasn’t feeling at the moment.

“No, she took two weeks before she even responded. I called her because I wanted to talk to her about her family’s medical history.”

Her spine stiffened. She had not expected to hear that. “Medical history?”

“Yes,” Jordan said. “I called her the day after we brought Mason to urgent care. I had to fill out that patient information form and it had all these questions about both our medical histories. I realized then that I didn’t know anything about her family’s medical history.”

He held his hands out, pleading with her to understand.

“Allison and I were together for such a short period of time. We never discussed whether diabetes runs in her family, or if there’s a history of high blood pressure, or any of that. I need to know those things for Mason’s sake.”

“Of course you do,” Vicki said. She suddenly felt like the biggest idiot in the world.