A Mum for Christmas. Doreen Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ appetizing was a packet of macaroni and cheese. Obviously her brother was not fond of eating at home.

      Sighing, she reached for the packet and made a mental note to shop on the way home from the store the next day.

      After dinner, Sherrie tried to concentrate on a television program, but the vision of Lucy Blanchard’s pensive face kept getting in the way. To make matters worse, the stern features of Lucy’s father also kept intruding on her thoughts.

      Finally giving up, Sherrie switched off the television and thought of the task she’d set for herself. Lucy would present no problem, once Mrs. Claus had found the right woman. It was Matthew Blanchard who presented the biggest obstacle.

      Impatient with herself, Sherrie went back into the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate. She didn’t know enough about the man to make a fair judgment, she told herself. First impressions could be misleading and, after all, he had a lot going in his favor.

      In the first place, he was nice-looking. Attractive, even, if one went for the strong, intense type. He was obviously well-off, since he owned the largest department store in town. If only he would lighten up and smile now and again, he’d be quite a catch—as long as someone was willing to make the effort to break through that intimidating front he presented.

      All she had to do, Sherrie decided as she crawled into bed, was find the right woman. Out of all the single women she knew, there had to be someone who would be perfect for Lucy and her implacable father.

      Having convinced herself on that score, Sherrie did her best to go to sleep. It wasn’t easy. Alone in the unfamiliar apartment, every sound seemed ominous. Tom had intended to sleep on the couch while she was staying with him, and she couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t had to leave.

      Now that she had nothing to do but think, Jason’s last-minute betrayal seemed catastrophic. She had lost much more than a future husband. She’d given up her cozy home in a familiar neighborhood where she knew most of the locals. But even if her apartment hadn’t been rented, she knew she wouldn’t return there.

      She preferred to make a completely new start in a place where no one knew she’d been dumped at the altar. As for Jason, he had completely destroyed her trust in men. In her opinion, marriage was overrated and risky at best. She could only hope that Matthew Blanchard’s new wife would have better luck.

      Annoyed with the way her mind kept returning to her unapproachable boss, she turned on her side and tried to get comfortable. Tom’s apartment could use some new furniture, she thought, as she pummeled the pillow. It could also use a woman’s touch—something pretty on the walls would help cheer up the place. Her brother really needed a wife as well.

      She smiled to herself in the darkness. If she could find a wife for Matthew Blanchard, finding one for Tom would be a breeze. On that happy thought, she drifted off to sleep.

      

      Matt just happened to be standing near the employees’ entrance when Sherrie Latimer arrived the next morning. He’d convinced himself that he was merely checking to make sure she was going to turn up for work. After all, she’d looked pretty tired by the end of her shift yesterday.

      He refused to even consider the possibility that he wanted to see her arrive for the sole purpose of checking out her figure. Not even when his pulse leapt as she came through the door.

      He’d forgotten the way her honey gold hair with its hint of red curled onto her shoulders. Without the glasses and white wig she looked incredibly young.

      She wore a black skirt that barely skimmed her knees, and a black sweater with a yellow-and-black scarf tucked in the neck. Her curvy figure easily surpassed his wildest imagination. He was used to seeing reed-thin athletic bodies on the women at the health club. He hadn’t real- ized how much more exciting it was to look at someone a little more filled out.

      His curiosity satisfied, he tried to slip away unnoticed, but she caught sight of him before he could make his escape.

      “Good morning, Mr. Blanchard!” she called out, with a slight smile playing around her mouth, as if she knew his heart rate had jumped to jogging level.

      He mumbled an answering greeting, then watched her trip lightly over to the elevators. He had to stop this, he thought desperately. She was, after all, one of his employees. He made it a rule never to fraternize with the help.

      Not that he wanted to socialize with her, he hastily assured himself as he strode over to the escalator. For one thing, she was too young. For another, he rather suspected that Miss Latimer had very definite ideas on any given subject—ideas that were likely to clash with his own.

      She appeared to be the kind of young lady who would have no qualms opposing his views rather strongly if she were so inclined. And if there was one thing Matt hated, it was an argument.

      More often than not he gave in, sacrificing his own convictions rather than argue, which had been part of the problem with his ex-wife. If he hadn’t been so indulgent with Caroline, if he’d insisted that she behave like a responsible adult instead of condoning her selfish, immature behavior, he might have saved the marriage. Though he rather doubted it.

      He was pretty sure that Caroline had never really loved him. Her head had been turned by the big bucks. She’d seen the furs, designer fashions and jewelry that Blanchard’s carried and she was like the kids in the toy department. She wanted it all. Until Lucy had come along and put an end to her freedom. Then she hadn’t wanted either of them.

      Well, he told himself as he rode the crowded escalator to the next floor, he was through with that kind of commitment. Never again. He’d learned a tough lesson. He’d made a mistake and he wasn’t about to repeat it. That settled, he resolved to put Miss Latimer and her delectable figure right out of his mind.

      

      Upstairs in the private employees’ lounge, Sherrie’s bones ached as she dressed in the Mrs. Claus outfit. She adjusted the wig and the glasses and scowled at her image in the mirror. If this was how she would look when she got old, she thought, there wasn’t a lot to look forward to.

      She was about to leave for her first stint in Santa’s chair when the door of the lounge opened. The impeccable, heavily perfumed creature who entered eyed her up and down with amusement.

      “God,” she muttered, “if I had to spend longer than five minutes in that outfit I’d quit.”

      “It’s not exactly my favorite way to dress,” Sherrie said, smiling. “Actually I’m doing it as a favor for my brother. He was supposed to be Santa.”

      The woman nodded. “So I heard. One of the stockmen told me about the last-minute change. Actually you look pretty good. Definitely an improvement on some of the Santas we’ve had. How’s things going down there?”

      “Exhausting,” Sherrie admitted. “But I enjoy meeting all the children.”

      The woman leaned closer to the mirror and patted her immaculate blond hair. Opening the small black purse she carried, she took out a lipstick and touched up her lips.

      “My name’s Beryl Robbins,” she said, slipping the gold case back into her purse. “I’m the head buyer here. We’ll probably bump into each other now and again. If you want to know anything about this place, just ask me. There isn’t much that gets by me.”

      Sherrie could well believe СКАЧАТЬ