Short and Sweet (13 page)

The idea for this story came from my own irritation with the commercialization of Christmas. It starts in October now, for heaven’s sake! Buy, buy, buy is not my idea of the spirit of Christmas.

Part One

B
ianca shuddered as she entered the shopping mall. Christmas again! Acres of tinsel and tasteless decorations in all the shops. They were making very sure you couldn’t avoid the Christmas spirit, even though here in Australia December was the middle of summer and the weather was usually hot.

A fat man dressed as Santa Claus strolled by, looking very pink and sweaty in his extra layers of clothing. He wished her ‘Merry Christmas!’ in a booming voice and followed it up with a mirthless ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ When she glared at him, he blinked in surprise and moved on quickly.

‘I hate Christmas!’ she muttered. She knew why, of course. Being Italian, her family threw lots of parties at this time of year, and her mother used them all as excuses for matchmaking. In fact, her mother kept producing second cousins and neighbours’ sons one after the other, like rabbits out of hats, and it was driving Bianca mad, because it was so obvious!

She sighed as she stared round at the fake snow and sleighs. One year she was going to find a cave deep in a forest and hide in it for the whole of December. It was her favourite Christmas fantasy, a cool dream for hot nights.

She whizzed round the supermarket at top speed, refusing to be tempted by overpriced delicacies or seasonal luxuries. When she got home, she carted the shopping bags inside and sighed in relief. In spite of her car’s air conditioning, she felt like a limp lettuce.

After throwing the fresh stuff into the fridge, she showered and put on her bikini, smiling now. She loved living in this villa, which she’d bought last year after her divorce. It was well worth the residents’ fees to have a swimming pool always available, a pool that someone else had to clean – not to mention the high fences and regular security patrols round the whole complex.

As she was getting a towel for her swim she heard a noise from the back garden and glanced out of the bedroom window. A man was climbing over the fence from next door.
A burglar!
It must be. The next villa had been empty for three months.

Briefly she considered calling the security guard, but held off to watch for a minute because the man wasn’t making any attempt to break into her house. Instead, he was standing peering through the slits in the fence, looking at something in the garden next door.

Intrigued, she moved closer to the open window to watch.

She couldn’t help noticing how good-looking he was, with dark hair, and a lean, lightly muscled body. He was dressed only in denim shorts and his feet were bare, so he kept hopping to and fro on the hot paving.

She frowned in puzzlement as he continued to stand there. Burglars didn’t usually creep around half-naked and barefoot when they wanted to break into houses.

He shook his head as if upset and heaved a sigh so loud it echoed through her open window. His shoulders were sagging, too.

By now she just had to find out what was going on. What on earth was he watching so intently? Even standing on tiptoe, she couldn’t see next door. And why did he keep sighing?

Perhaps he was a stalker? Perhaps someone had moved in next door and he’d nearly been caught?

She felt anger rise at the mere thought. She’d had a prowler soon after she moved into a flat on her own – her ex-husband. She’d had security screens fitted, but he’d smashed the windows anyway.

She’d spent three long months living in fear. Then she’d got so angry she’d attended a self-defence course and bought herself a baseball bat. She’d had to prove to Roger that she would use it, though. And take out a restraining order against him.

So she’d moved into this new development, which had monitored alarm systems in all the villas and a security guard on duty who did regular patrols of the grounds. She got a silent number, and the phone calls and harassment had stopped.

She found out later from a mutual acquaintance that Roger had met someone else and they’d moved in together. Heaven help the poor woman!

Well, if the man in her backyard was a prowler, she’d show him a trick or two that would shock her mother. But before she went out to confront him, just to be safe, she hung the alarm pendant round her neck so that she could summon help with one press of the button.

Women’s voices floated over the fence, loud and strident, but all she saw was their shadows bobbing along the back wall of the other house. Someone must definitely have moved in. It’d be nice to have neighbours again, though not noisy ones, she hoped. Most people were very friendly and considerate in this miniature village. That was yet another bonus of living here.

‘He’s not in.’ A voice carried clearly through the still air, sounding like an older woman.

‘But that’s his car, Jen!’

‘He must have gone out. Fancy leaving the front door unlocked like that! I’ll scribble him a note. I can’t wait any longer. I’ve got half my Christmas shopping to do yet.’

As the voices faded, Bianca saw the man move to and fro again to ease his feet on the hot paving and his frown vanished. He had black curly hair, cut short, and his grin was infectious, even when you could only see half of it. She found herself smiling in sympathy. She was pretty sure now that he wasn’t a prowler.

Impulsively she went outside, crossing the three metres of patio space without him even noticing her. When she cleared her throat and said, ‘Hello. Can I help you?’ he jerked in shock and spun round, his mouth opening in alarm.

The same older woman’s voice immediately called from inside the house next door, ‘Did you hear something, Rita? I’m sure I heard a voice.’

He gasped and looked from side to side as if he wanted to flee for his life.

Bianca tried again. ‘What are you—?’

He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder, and as the voice said, ‘I’ll just look outside again,’ he grabbed Bianca and pulled her towards him, covering her mouth with his and muffling the rest of her words with a kiss.

She ought to have been afraid, but she wasn’t. In fact, she forgot all fear, not to mention self-defence strategies, as her hormones kicked suddenly into action. It had been nearly two years since the divorce and she hadn’t been seeing anyone seriously since.

She hadn’t really missed having a man in her life, either. Now, for some weird reason, her body was responding to a stranger’s kiss, and she was relishing the sheer maleness of his body against hers.

Words of protest died to a gurgle in her throat as his lips moved on hers. For a moment or two she found herself returning the kiss.

Then he moved away, but was still so close she could feel his soft breath against her skin. She stared up into his eyes, beautiful blue eyes fringed with long lashes, and every thought left her head but one:
he’s gorgeous!

She wasn’t aware how long she stood there in his arms, but at the sound of a car pulling away from the central roadway between the units, she came abruptly to her senses and began to push at him.

This time he made no attempt to hold her, but stepped back with his arms spread wide in a gesture of surrender. ‘I’m sorry for that. I was desperate to keep you quiet.’ Then he smiled, a curl-your-toes sort of smile. ‘Mind you, I also plead guilty to enjoying it.’

She sucked in air frantically. She’d enjoyed it, too. Fancy enjoying kissing a stranger! ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m your new neighbour.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘Hal Crawford at your service.’

She was still feeling disoriented and couldn’t manage more than, ‘Oh. Well. I’m Bianca. Bianca Marella. And – um, this is my unit.’

He pumped her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you. And I do apologize for kissing you like that. I wasn’t trying to harass you, I just had to stop you making a noise and it – well, got a bit out of hand. Thank you for going along with it.’

Going along with it? She’d not been able to think or move.

She was suddenly aware that she was only wearing a skimpy bikini that showed a lot more than it concealed. It was the heat that was making her so slow to react. It must be. She tried to speak sharply, in the tone which usually shrivelled men up and made them turn away to find softer, easier females to conquer, only the words didn’t come out sharply this time. ‘I didn’t have much choice about the kiss, actually.’

As she watched, he blushed. He actually blushed. Bright red. She could feel herself softening. How could you stay angry with a guy who blushed like that?

‘It was an emergency,’ he pleaded. ‘My mother and aunt aren’t sure whether I’m actually living here yet. I told them I was going away on business for a few days, but trust them to come round and check that out.’

Bianca watched him run one hand through his hair, setting the curls springing about in glorious disarray. He
must
be a male model! she decided.

He glanced towards the front of the house. ‘That damned car is such a giveaway and somehow I’ve got to hide out from them for five more days.’

Now she was utterly fascinated. If this was a pitch, it was a good one. But she didn’t think he was trying to chat her up. He looked genuinely worried. ‘Could I ask what exactly you’re hiding from?’

‘Christmas.’

She blinked.

He stared at her with a challenging expression. ‘I hate Christmas. It’s nothing but commercialism. There’s no real Christmas spirit left. But most of all, I hate big family parties with all the old aunts trotted out and kids screaming everywhere – not to mention the women my mother finds and parades in front of me because she’s desperate for grandchildren. Tall ones, short ones, pretty ones, even ugly ones. I don’t know where she finds them, but there’s always a new one waiting for me whenever there’s a family gathering.’

She could relate to that. Oh, boy, she could certainly relate to that. ‘Tell me about it!’

She groaned as her own troubles resurfaced. ‘My mother is just the same. I’ve not answered the phone for days without checking first who it is on the answering machine. But she’s sure to come round and catch me in one day.’ She grinned at him. ‘And actually, I hate Christmas, too.’

‘You’re a neighbour after my own heart, then. You’ll not be deafening me with carols or wrapping tinsel round the palm trees or having loud parties.’

‘I most certainly won’t.’

They stood smiling foolishly at one another for a few moments, then his smile faded and the worried expression reappeared. ‘My family are determined to get me over there for dinner on Christmas Day, and if I know my mother she’ll set up a roster of cousins and sisters to keep coming round until they catch me in.’

She nodded and couldn’t help sighing. ‘I’ve got two sisters, both married with children. It makes my mother twitchy about me. They keep trying to find me another man.’

‘Another?’

‘I’m divorced.’

‘Ah. You have all my sympathy, then. I’ve not got any sisters, but I have about a million cousins, who all keep producing friends I just have to meet. The thing is, I don’t want to get married. I never have. It’s simply not my scene. Well, not yet, perhaps never. I’m having a great life without it.’

Sympathy flooded through her. ‘Don’t let them persuade you into anything you’re not sure about. I escaped from a nasty marriage two years ago, and I wouldn’t recommend it unless you find Miss Perfection – and even then you should think twice.’ She realized how thirsty she was and without thinking, asked, ‘Would you like a nice cool beer?’

‘I’d kill for one. I’ve been moving boxes all day and taking delivery of furniture, and I haven’t had time to go out and stock up on booze yet.’

Just as they were going inside, the phone rang. Bianca froze. On the answering machine, her mother’s voice called out brightly, ‘I know you’re there, Bianca, and I’m warning you – if you don’t turn up on Christmas Day, we’ll come over and get you!’ There was the sound of a phone being put down.

Bianca stood staring at the answering machine in dismay. ‘They will, too,’ she whispered.

He patted her shoulder sympathetically. ‘My family do things like that, too. They’ll send someone round to winkle me out on Christmas Day, I just know they will. This is my first Christmas in Western Australia for years and I’m out of practice at avoidance tactics.’

He straightened up and a determined expression settled on his face. ‘That settles it. I’ll have to book into a hotel under a false name for a few days.’

By that time they were inside, so she went to the fridge, took out two beers and handed her fellow sufferer one. She popped hers and took a long cooling gulp from the can, then realized he was staring at her.

‘No fancy glasses or holders?’

‘I don’t let anything come between me and a cold beer on a hot day,’ she retorted.

‘You’re a woman after my own heart.’ He gulped down some of his beer with a blissful expression.

For a few minutes they sat in the air-conditioned coolness, not talking, just relaxing.

‘What do you do for a living?’ he asked after a while.

‘I’m self-employed,’ she told him. She was very proud of that. Roger had jeered at her when she’d broached the idea of starting her own business. He’d said she’d never make it, but she was doing really well. ‘I’m in IT. I train people to use software packages, small business people mainly. And I run workshops about the various software programs for small to medium companies.’

‘Hey, I’m in computers, too, but I design and build linked systems, the hardware. I’m a company man, work for a multinational.’ He grinned. ‘Well, a company bright boy, actually, so I don’t have to conform to suits and ties and that sort of stuff. I produce such lovely gizmos they put up with my little quirks. And they pay me rather well, too.’

‘What are you doing in sleepy old Perth, then? The centre of the universe it is not.’

‘We’re just opening up an office in Western Australia and a new research unit as well. I was going to settle down here for a while, but now I’m having second thoughts about that. I may have to arrange for a sudden transfer to Sydney or London.’

They spent a few minutes discussing computers, then he finished the beer and stood up. ‘I’m keeping you from your swim and I still have some boxes to unpack.’