Sweet Christmas Kisses (41 page)

He was so close. If she turned just a bit to the side, she could lean her head against his broad shoulders. Tempting. Very tempting. She took a shaky breath.

A small smile played around his lips. “Joanna?”

She swallowed. “Yes?”

“I think you've got a spatter of milk on your cheek.”

Joanna could feel the intense heat of a blush.
Oh, no.

He lifted his hand. Using his thumb, he wiped away a drop from her cheek, then another one from her forehead.

She caught her breath. It was such an intimate, such a sensual gesture. Was he used to this kind of thing? Well, she wasn't.

She took a step back, just as Dimitri darted behind her and clipped her in the back of the knees. Joanna stumbled and fell backward, reaching out for the shelf to break her fall. Her quick movement caused her phone to fall onto the floor in a thud.

Conran gripped her elbow. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, thanks.”

They both bent down to pick up her phone.

He reached it first. “I'm sorry. I really have to train Dimitri better.” He looked at the phone. “I hope it's not broken.”

A beep sounded, announcing the arrival of a message.

“Apparently not.” Joanna was relieved.

Together, they looked at the display. “HAVE you kissed Conran Dark?”

Joanna closed her eyes. Could the ground open up and swallow her? Now?
Please.

He looked at her, all traces of a smile gone. “Are they already discussing it on the Internet?”

“Someone saw us last night.”

A tired expression crossed his face. “There's no privacy anywhere.”

She swallowed. Without thinking, she put a hand onto his arm. “I think it's easier in Hollywood, where they're used to celebrities.”

His blue eyes turned hard. “So are you suggesting I return to LA?”

Her heart sank. “No, I . . . “

“Jo!” A loud voice behind her rattled the cans on the shelf. Sally rushed up the aisle with quick steps. When her gaze fell onto Conran Dark, she came to an abrupt stop. Her mouth fell open.

Joanna rolled her eyes.
Pull yourself together, Sally.
“Sally, this is Conran Dark. Conran, my best friend Sally Andrews. The one who designed my house.”

“He's seen the house?” Sally's blond hair stood up in gelled spikes. Her round face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I have.” His voice was dry. “Unusual design.”

“Isn't it?” Sally beamed at him. “I say,” she took a deep breath. “Jo here said you invited her for dinner, and she couldn't go. If you need someone to show you the area, and a good restaurant, I can take you.”

He eyed her, his face enigmatic. “That might be a bad idea. I have it on excellent authority that my manners are execrable.”

Sally wiped away the execrable manners. “Never mind Jo. She's a bit . . . shall we say, unbalanced at the moment.”

The grim look on Conran's face was replaced by amusement.

Joanna's jaw dropped. “What?”

Sally placed her hand on Joanna's arm and shook it in a friendly gesture. “No, I didn't mean unbalanced, I meant . . . confused.” She beamed at Conran. “She's been through quite a lot these last months, and . . . “

Joanna clenched her teeth. “Have you gone crazy, Sally?”

Conran looked at Joanna. His lips twitched, and he took her arm. “You have to tell me all about it.” He turned her away, pulled Dimitri with him, and said over his shoulder to Sally. “Please excuse us. It was nice meeting you.”

Joanna's chest heaved. “I don't believe this.”

He slanted her a glance. “Has she ever behaved like this before?”

“Never.” Joanna shook her head. “I'm . . . speechless.” First Bernice, now Sally. Did every woman go wild when Conran was around? She even had to include herself. She'd never kissed someone she hardly knew. This was getting too deep for her. She was loosing control, and moving way out of her comfort zone. A man who drove every woman crazy within a radius of fifty miles was no man for her, that much was sure.

They reached the cashier. “Stop.” Joanna said. “I'm not done shopping yet.”

“Never mind. You invited me the last time, so it's my turn tonight.”

She stopped dead. “I . . . I'd rather not.” The words were out before she could stop herself. She bit her lips, painfully aware of Wendy, sitting behind the register and watching their every move with avid eyes. If they kept their voices low, Wendy would not be able to overhear their conversation.

The smile fled from his eyes. “Is it because of the fiancé?”

“What?” For a moment, Joanna had no idea what he was talking about. Then she recollected herself. “No! Of course not. I'm not engaged.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Not engaged? But I thought you'd planned the wedding for spring?”

“I . . . no.” Joanna swallowed. “We broke up.” Her throat hurt. “Some . . . months ago.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“I mean,” he gave her a quick smile, “I was feeling bad about the kiss, thinking you were engaged, and I wanted to apologize for my indiscretion.”

She had trouble with her breathing. “No need. I . . . Hugh doesn't matter.”

His blue eyes seemed to see deep into her inner being. “Then why don't you want to have dinner with me?” He smiled a bit. “You did say you enjoy being with me, at least you said so yesterday.”

“I . . . I' just don't . . . :” she broke off. She couldn't very well say that she didn't want to fall in love like all the other female inhabitants of Stony Brook.

“ . . . don't . . . ?” His blue eyes mesmerized her.

“Nothing.” She turned on her heels. “I have to go.” She hurried back to the aisle at her right and hid behind a stack of cereal boxes in case he was following her.

He didn't.

When she peered around the boxes, she saw him paying for the cans of dog food. Then he left the supermarket, with Dimitri under his arm, as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

Joanna felt emotionally exhausted. She wished he had never come to the area. “Stop whining, girl.” She muttered and turned around, then shrieked. “Sally! How long have you been standing there?”

“Two minutes.” Sally grinned. “So you HAVE kissed him?”

Joanna pushed past without looking at her friend. “No, I haven't.” Was that a white lie? No, it was a fully blown black lie.
Never mind.
“But if I should ever plan to do so, I'll make sure to put up an announcement in the newspaper, so that every busybody will be forewarned.”

Sally caught her by the sleeve and turned her around. “Jo.” Her face twisted. “Was I out of line?”

“Totally.” Joanna didn't have trouble keeping her voice grim. “It was mortifying.”

Sally danced on the spot with excitement. “It's just that he's such a celebrity, and I thought I might never have that chance again.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes. “So that makes it all right to jump onto him and forget all basic manners?”

Her friend reared back. “You're angry.”

“Wow.” Joanna made sure her voice was acid. “Congratulations. You've noticed.”

Sally frowned. “I've never seen you so angry. You're usually so even-tempered.”

“Given the right provocation, I am not even-tempered at all, and you of all people should know that.” Joanna freed her sleeve and turned her back to Sally.

“I know what it is,” Sally said from behind her. “You've fallen in love with Conran Dark.”

Joanna turned toward the laundry detergent aisle.

“Don't run away, Jo.” Sally's high heels clicked loud on the tiled floor of the supermarket as she hurried to catch up. “I admit I wasn't the world's most diplomatic woman, but it sort of threw me. He . . . he's quite good-looking, isn't he?” She reached for Jo's arm to stop her.

Joanna shook her off. “Yes, he is good-looking.” Her voice was icy, and she didn't slow down.

“C'mon, Jo! Don't give me the cold shoulder. Please!” Sally grabbed Joanna's sleeve. “I'm exhausted from looking at a million rubber trees and freely admit I behaved like one.”

Joanna had to smile in spite of herself. “Have you found one?”

“No.” Sally sighed. “Apparently the dead rubber tree was one in a million, and there is not a single one on this planet that is in the least comparable.”

“I don't believe this.” Joanna focused on the rubber tree as if it was a matter of life and death. Anything was better than talking about her feelings for Conran. “How long have you been looking for that stupid rubber tree replacement? It must be weeks.”

“Months!” Sally frowned. “Hey, I can tell you exactly. It was July 5th because Mom wanted to make everything pretty for the celebrations on July 4th, and that's when it happened, besides, I remember the rain and the . . .”

Joanna stopped listening. She felt as if something had punched her into the stomach. July 5th. The day when Spicy had died.
Don't think about it!
“Half a year is too long to look for a rubber tree.” Her lips felt stiff as she said it. “I suggest you go to the next store, buy a leafy  one, put a huge bow onto it, and offer it to your mother as a pre-Christmas gift. Then the matter is over and done with.”

“Ha,” Sally said. “You don't know my mother. She'd return it to the store the very next day.”

“But she wouldn't ask YOU to do it.”

Sally shook her head and sighed. “Oh, she would. Finer feelings are for weaklings. She shoots from the hip.” A glimmer of a smile spread across her face. “I always get clear orders.” She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Talking about orders. She told me I have to peel onions for the Christmas dinner. Three hours! Apparently she promised your father. Can you get me out of this?”

Joanna blinked. “Three hours of onion peeling? That's even worse than my job.”

“What are you doing?”

“I'm clearing tables all night long.”

Sally shook her head. “Yours is worse, my dear. At least I get to enjoy the dinner. You won't.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel better.” Joanna sighed.

Sally looked at her friend. “Do you still hate to be a waitress?”

“I hate being a waitress at Dad's restaurant. But that's what parents are for . . . ” she gave her friend a malicious smile, “ . . . you spend months looking for rubber trees and I'm helping out as a waitress whenever the ship is sinking.” She shrugged. “I'm telling myself they raised us, so we can give them something in return, right?”

“Yeah,” Sally muttered. “Though I'm drawing a line at peeling onions. I'll bribe someone to take my place.”

“One Calzone without mushrooms and one creamy tomato soup.” Joanna noted it on her pad with a smile in spite of her hurting feet. “No problem.” She turned from the table and hurried to the back of her father's restaurant where she pushed the note through the little window. Inside the kitchen, a sharp sizzle announced that her father had thrown another steak into the hot frying pan.

Joanna sighed. Maybe she shouldn't have discussed waitressing at her father's restaurant with Sally. That must have conjured up her father's frantic call after Alexandra had called in sick. She should have remained firm in her refusal. But she had jumped in to help as usual. Of course Dad was right - the Christmas crowds were impossible to handle with just two people at the restaurant, but she was already exhausted from her long day at the clinic. She checked her watch. Ten past eight. The night had only begun. Fortunately, it was Friday, and she could sleep in tomorrow . . . delicious thought - unless an emergency managed to get in the way.

She hurried past the bar that separated the entrance area from the restaurant. Every seat was taken, even the three barstools planted by the door for people who just wanted a drink and a chat. With no seats available, Joanna was grateful a family of three decided they wouldn't mind sitting on those stools rather than look for another restaurant. From where she was standing now, close to the kitchen, the family was almost hidden by the ample girth of Tina, the student who manned the bar tonight. She stood in the tiny space like a tree, but her hands and arms were in a constant whirl of movement. Her cheeks had already turned bright-red, and with her shoulder, she pushed back a short strand of black hair that had managed to straggle out of her ponytail.

Joanna gave her an encouraging smile when she came back to the bar. “What a night.”

“My feet are killing me.” Tina said in a low voice.

“Mine, too.” Joanna grabbed a tray with four glasses and a bottle of Chianti, turned her back to the bar, and hurried to the waiting guests in the back of the restaurant. Years ago, when she had helped almost every night, she had been used to being up and running all night low. Now her shoes made her aware she was wearing tools of torture.
I have to concentrate on something else.

Three hours later, she felt as if someone had torn her apart. Every muscle in her body ached with pain, and she wanting nothing more but a cool shower and a soft bed. She watched as the crowd lessened and told herself to be patient - just three tables to go, and she was out of the building. Tina was busy polishing glasses.

Joanna relaxed with her back against the bar and surveyed the guests. Two had reached the coffee stage and were lingering over it. She smiled at the next table with a couple who had eyes for no one but each other. Joanna swallowed and focused on the third table, but the family there had only just begun to dig into their main dishes, so her services weren't needed yet.

Her father appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his red-and white checkered apron. “Busy night, eh?” He beamed with satisfaction and looked around the room. His dark hair stood up as always after a long evening in the kitchen.

“Yes.”

Mr. Damanti glanced at the couple and spoke with a studied indifference. “I met Hugh earlier today.”

Joanna's heart sank. She didn't want to discuss Hugh, not when she was down and tired and felt like a dirty rag. “Uh-huh.”

“He said you've been kissing that celebrity guy, the singer who's here.”

So Hugh told him.
Joanna clamped her mouth shut and suppressed the urge to strangle her ex-fiancé.
The nerve of him. Who else had he told? Had he put up an advertisement in the Stony Brook Chronicle, too?