Sweet Christmas Kisses (44 page)

Joanna turned on her heels and hurried back to her Jeep. Tears ran down her face and dropped onto her sweatshirt. She didn't make a move to wipe them away.
First Hugh. Now Conran. I never seem to be enough.

Stop that thought!

She sniffed, climbed into the Jeep and started the motor.
You're overreacting. What have you shared with Conran? Two kisses? Three? Big deal. He's from Hollywood, baby
. Her throat hurt.
Hollywood, where a celebrity kisses his personal trainer, his agent, and the girl who styles the poodle, all in one morning, without thinking twice about it.
She took a shuddering breath.
It would never have worked anyway. Forget it.
She accelerated and hurried away so fast, she almost slithered into a ditch as she turned out of the snow-covered drive.

II

When a “withheld number” called her later in the day, Joanna sent the call onto her mailbox and didn't listen to the message. Nobody but Conran used a withheld number.

She felt as if she had heavy weights on her arms and legs, making every move troublesome, exhausting. Throughout the morning, she sat on the sofa, watched TV without seeing anything, and ate all the cinnamon buns herself. Then she felt fat and dreadful and wanted to kick herself. How she missed Spicy. He would have licked her hand, and she wouldn't have felt so lost. He would also have forced her to go out again, to face the world. Nobody did that nowadays. If only she could have saved him . . . if only he had not gobbled up that rat poison.

When the phone rang again, her heart jumped in spite of herself. She checked the number and accepted the call with a feeling of doom. “Hi, Dad.”

“Cara! I say, can you make him do something about that ponytail?”

“What?”

“It is only the ponytail that makes him odd.”

“Good morning to you, too, Dad. Did you have a good Saturday?”

Her father wasn't distracted. “He speaks Italian. It is a sign. Yes, positive. It is a sign.”

Joanna rolled her eyes and said nothing.

“Are you still there, Cara?”

“Sì.”

“At first, when you say a star, I think he is not good, that one. But now I have talked to him. And I think he is a good man. Yes. Good-looking, too. But . . . he has to cut off that pony-tail. Can you make him do that?”

“I doubt it.”

“Ah, Cara, don't be so pessimistic. A man in love will do anything, anything.”

I doubt he's in love – with me, that is.

“Are you still there?”

“Sì.”

“So, what do you think? Invite him for dinner, here, at the restaurant, then ask him. I will serve you . . . a Minestrone first. The one you like so much. Pasta arrabbiata as first course, then Saltimbocca . . . or maybe not. Maybe . . .”

“He only eats carrots.”

“What?”

Joanna clenched her teeth. “A celebrity is always on a diet. At the moment, he only eats carrots.” Let Conran explain that one if he should ever meet her father again. She was not going through the details of an elaborate menu she had no plan of ever eating.

“Curious.” The tone of her father's voice made it clear Conran had sunk several notches in his estimation. Then he perked up again. “I am happy for you, Cara. The old one, that Hugh, you know, he wasn't good enough for you. No. He's a stick-in-the-mud, that one. Doesn't even eat Calzone. Says he doesn't like surprises. What kind of man is that, I ask you?”

“No man at all, I agree. But I told you that some time ago.” Joanna got up from the sofa.

“Listen, Cara, I believe I will invite my friend Conran to sing.”

Joanna's jaw dropped. “You'll do WHAT?”

“For our Christmas dinner.” Her father sounded smug. “It'll be perfect. We can build a platform with the old planks I still have in the shed, and . . . “

“Dad!” Joanna forced herself to sound calm. “Are you aware he's a superstar? If you spread the news that Conran Dark will sing at your Christmas dinner, you'll have the whole county plus half of New York in the barn, or rather, in front of it. He filled baseball stadiums!” She took a deep breath. “Besides, he probably gets a million Dollars for each stage appearance.”

“Phew.” Her father said. “Friends don't send each other invoices.”

Joanna made a gurgling sound in her throat.

“Did you say something, Cara?”

“No.” Joanna fought for breath. “Nothing.”

“So, I say we ask him to sing,” her father interrupted himself, “no, no, you do that; he will not say no to a pretty woman.”

“I will not ask Conran to sing. Never.” Joanna made her voice as firm as she could.

Damanti senior sighed. “Ah, you're hard.”

Joanna knew he was shrugging in his inimitable Italian way now. “Yeah, I know.” She had made it a rule not to disagree in minor matters.

“Never mind,” her father said. “I'll ask him myself. He can have dinner for free, if he wants.”

Joanna started to laugh without making a sound.

“What?” Her father sounded defensive. “Don't tell me he'll object to that.”

Joanna rolled her eyes.

“But you tell him he has to cut off the ponytail. Right?”

“I have to go, Dad. Have a great Sunday.”

She interrupted the connection and threw the phone onto the sofa. Then she put on her heavy winter outfit and went for a walk along the ocean. Maybe the wind would help to clear her head.

III

The wind howled like a tormented soul. Joanna leaned against it and walked as close to the edge of the water as she could without getting wet shoes. Up on the beach, the loose sand would build up to huge monsters and attack her with clouds of tiny darts, but at the edge of the water, she could manage. What a stupid idea to go to the ocean in the middle of a howling gale, anyway.
Though it fits to the state of my mind.

With hands deep inside the pockets of her old winter coat and hunched shoulders, Joanna charged ahead. She kept her head bent and concentrated on her feet, walking fast, walking without thinking, just forward, forward, forward, trying to get all the negative feelings out of her system.

Once, she stopped to look out over the ocean. Everything was gray. Endless gray. At the horizon, the gray of the ocean melted into the gray of the sky without any visible line. Joanna felt dizzy, as if she was stuck into the middle of a big, gray ball with whirling elements, over her, under her, left, and right. She was all alone in this gray, tumultuous world. She shivered. The wind was icy.
I'd better move on.
She turned away when something heavy butted against her leg.

Joanna shrieked and jumped away.

“It's only us, Jo.”

She whirled around. “Conran!” She looked down at Dimitri, who was dancing around her, delirious with joy. Had she conjured them up? “What are you doing here?”

Then she saw her. Almost hidden behind his broad shoulders stood the woman she had already seen in his kitchen, muffled up to her ears with a thick coat and a blue scarf, but still unmistakable.

She smiled at Joanna, then turned to Dimitri who was barking at a seagull. “Shhh, Dimitri. You scare the bird.”

I doubt a puppy like Dimitri can scare an experienced seagull.
“What are you doing here?” Joanna repeated.

Dimitri kept on barking and jumped up and down.

The seagull gave one penetrating shriek and sailed away.

Dimitri shook his head in disgust.

Conran lifted his eyebrow. “Is anything the matter?” He said under his voice.

How like him to go straight to the point.
She bit her lip. “No. Nothing.”

Conran looked puzzled, but he didn't probe any further. Instead, he pulled the woman behind him forward. “Meet Mimi.”

Mimi. What a dreadful name. 
Joanna forced herself to smile. “Hi.”

“This is Joanna.” Conran said. “I saved her from the storm, then she saved me from another predicament, so we're even now.”

“Sounds romantic.” Mimi grinned.

Yeah. It was. Until you came along.
It felt as if Joanna's artificially stretched lips were freezing into a permanent position.

“You're from Stony Brook?” Mimi asked.

Yeah, I'm from the middle of nowhere.
“Yes.” In another minute, her smile would crack in two and fall to the ground in a million brittle pieces. “And you?”

“LA. I live around the corner from Conran.”

Of course.
“How nice.” Joanna knew she behaved like a stick, but she couldn't help herself. Something inside her seemed to have left forever.

Mimi elbowed Conran into the side. “You told me only crazy tourists would go to the ocean on a day like this, and now we meet the natives here.”

“Frankly, I didn't expect to meet anybody.” He shrugged.

I can well believe that.
Joanna huddled deeper into her coat.
Though you're managing it with aplomb.
She turned her back to the wind. “I was just about to go home.”

“Maybe you were right, after all, Rancon, and it's a bit too rough out here. Is there a café somewhere, where we could go and warm up?” Mimi smiled at Joanna.

She's nice.
Joanna tried to pull herself together. It wasn't Mimi's fault that Joanna had joined the thousands of women pining after Conran. But why did she call Conran with a special name? Probably an endearment of some kind. She felt sick. “There's a café at Sand Street Beach. If you want, I can show you the way.” She started to walk at a brisk pace.

“Won't you join us?” Conran said next to her.

She turned her head.
That's a bit much.
His blue eyes confused her. They held so much warmth.

The wind blew through his hair, reminding her again of the Highlander, fighting with the elements, and winning.

Joanna averted her gaze. It had been a mistake to look at him.

“Now I really start to wonder.” His voice was so low only she could hear. “What have I done to deserve such a look?”

Joanna swallowed.

“Rancon!” Mimi pulled at his sleeve. “I think Dimitri's drinking the sea water. Do you think it's healthy?” Without waiting for an answer she turned and chased Dimitri away from the lapping waves.

“What did she call you?” Joanna frowned.

Conran sighed. “It's an old game. When we were kids, we used to take apart our names in syllables and put them back together. It wasn't much fun with Mimi's name, but mine  stuck in the family.

Joanna closed her eyes. “Don't tell me Mimi is your sister.”

He gave her a puzzled glance. “She's my stepsister. My father re-married when I was five.”

“Of course.” Joanna wanted to sink into the ground.

“Of course?”

Joanna took a deep breath. “I saw you this morning.”

He stopped and stared at her. “This morning?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath to gather her courage. “I had bought cinnamon buns and wanted to surprise you.”

“What happened?”

“When I came to your house, I saw Mimi through the window. You had both just gotten up.”

His face closed. “I see.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “And you immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was two-timing you.”

Her heart was in her throat. “I . . . I'm not sure.”

“What were you not sure about?”

“Well . . . “ the words slipped out before she could stop them. “. . . to be two-timing me, we'd have to be a couple first.”

He looked at her, his face grave. “I thought we had something going for us. Something special. I also thought you were feeling the same.” He shrugged. “Seems I was wrong.”

He sounded hurt, and she couldn't bear that. “No.” The word shot out like a bullet. “I . . . I did think you were two-timing me. It felt pretty awful.”

“Thanks for the trust.” He started to walk again, looking straight ahead, not even glancing at her.

Mimi and Dimitri were running across the sand, way ahead of them. The wind carried the sound of her laughter and his happy yapping, as if it came from another world.

Joanna felt dirty. “I'm sorry. I . . . to me, it felt special, too, but when I saw you with Mimi, I wondered if maybe it wasn't anything extraordinary for you. You're a celebrity; you live in Hollywood. Different rules apply there.” She had to hurry to keep up with his strides. “Besides, . . . “ to her horror, her voice broke, “ . . . I've not had much luck trusting men in the past.”

His face softened. He stopped, took her face between both his hands and looked at her. “I'm not like that useless lawyer. Believe me?”

Her throat hurt. “Yes.”

He bent forward.

When his lips brushed hers, something fluttered inside her, made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Rancon!” Mimi shrieked. “Dimitri has found a dead fish. How do I take it away from him?”

IV

Mimi leaned back and inhaled the fragrance of her caffè latte. “So you thought he was cheating on you, eh?”

Joanna colored. The words had slipped out before she could stop herself, but at least she hadn't admitted she'd watched them through the window. It was humiliating enough that Conran knew. “Hmm.” She looked at the yellow table in front of her.

The Sunshine Café was decorated all in yellow and orange, catering mainly for students, but it had been the closest, and best of all, the students were too busy with themselves to have noticed the arrival of a celebrity in their midst.

“A bit of a cliché, isn't it?” Mimi winked.

Conran put his arm around Joanna's shoulders. “It has not become a cliché without reason. It happens all the time.”

Mimi grinned. “Well, I'm glad you sorted it out.” She nodded at her stepbrother. “He needs a firm hand, this guy.”

“Mimi.” Conran frowned.

“What?” Mimi shook her shapely head. “Don't try to intimidate me. I'll tell her a few things she has to know, and it'll be smooth sailing for both of you. Come on, with the rate of couples breaking up in the US every day, you'll need all the help you can get.”

Joanna had to smile. “What's your job? Are you a marriage consultant?”

“Nope, I'm a fitness trainer.” Mimi laughed and licked the milk foam from the rim of her glass. “But I know a thing or two about this guy.”