That Maddening Man. Debrah Morris

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СКАЧАТЬ the dog with his white-gloved hand. “I know who you are. I’m—”

      “Santa Claus, of course.” Ellin cocked her head in Lizzie’s direction, warning him with a look not to destroy the little girl’s illusions.

      “That’s right. Santa Claus. Ho, ho, ho.”

      Jack Madden knew exactly who Ellin Bennett was, but the dark-eyed brunette was not the hard-driving piranha he’d expected. He’d heard all about the big city journalist in town to take over the paper while Jig Baker was in Peru living his dream of participating in a full-scale university-sponsored archaeological dig.

      Jig had said she was a career-minded divorcée with a young daughter. He warned Jack she was used to doing things differently in Chicago and might make some changes during her tenure. So be prepared.

      But nothing could have prepared him for these two. Even Mrs. Boswell had failed to mention that the granddaughter she’d recommended for the job was a striking beauty. She’d bragged about her great-granddaughter, but never said she was such a precocious little angel.

      Jack moonlighted as the paper’s sports editor and roving reporter, so he was curious about the new boss. He satisfied that curiosity by watching her openly as she maneuvered the winding road. Word around town, she was a hard-nosed newspaperwoman. But from where he sat, her nose looked anything but hard.

      In fact, everything about the big city hotshot looked enticingly soft. Touch-me-and-see-for-yourself-soft. She had peachy pale skin and thick-lashed golden brown eyes. Full lips the color of his mother’s coral tea roses. Her long brown hair was twisted into a gravity-defying arrangement skewered by two ebony chopsticks.

      Jack was thrown off balance by the sudden urge to reach over and slip out those silly sticks, just to watch the whiskey-colored mass tumble down. He managed to resist temptation but had an unbidden image of classy Ellin Bennett wearing her little girl’s endearingly fake tiara. And nothing else.

      The Santa suit suddenly became too warm for comfort. A master of restraint, he didn’t usually have such inappropriate thoughts about a woman he’d just met. But this one was having a profound effect on him…a very pleasant effect.

      He couldn’t take his gaze off her. She looked more like a delicate old-fashioned cameo than the competitive workaholic Jig had described. Maybe the softness was part of her ensemble, to be shrugged on and off as occasion demanded. Like the creamy angora turtleneck and brown woolen slacks, the camel coat and expensive boots. He noted the delicate gold watch on her wrist and the little diamond studs in her earlobes. Tasteful, understated. And utterly feminine.

      Jack smiled. They were definitely in for some changes. Watching this urbane beauty adapt to small-town living might very well be the most entertaining thing to happen in Washington for years. The thought of getting to know her better filled him with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt since he was a kid waiting for Christmas himself.

      “So, how’s Ida Faye doing?” Ellin’s feisty old grandmother was one of his favorite people. He’d visited her several times since her discharge from the hospital and knew she wasn’t happy being “incarcerated” in the nursing home. His Aunt Lorella made sure she received the best of care.

      “You know my grandmother?” Ellin’s puzzled look was replaced by a smug knowing one. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. Santa knows—”

      “Everything!” Jack and Lizzie called out in unison.

      “Right.” Ellin flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the nursing home drive.

      “I warned her not to shovel snow at her age.” Jack hoped he would be as spry as Mrs. Boswell in his eightieth winter. “But you know Ida. Always helping everyone.”

      Ellin parked near the door and switched off the engine. “Well, this time she helped herself to a broken hip and a doctor-ordered stay at Shady Acres.”

      She dropped the car keys in her coat pocket, opened the back door, unsnapped the child restraint and lifted the little girl out. Pudgy bounced around their feet.

      Jack hoisted the big sack of presents over his shoulder in true Santa style. He looked down when he felt a small mittened hand clutch his fingers. Lizzie held on tightly, her mouth curved in an impish grin, the phony crown askew atop her long blond curls. Those blue eyes could melt the frostiest snowman’s heart.

      Jack squeezed her hand. Reaching into his pack, he produced a large brass schoolhouse bell and knelt to her level. “Can you help me, Lizzie?”

      “You need my help?” she asked, surprised.

      “Yes, I do. Can you ring this special bell to let everyone know Santa Claus is coming?”

      Her face lit up at the prospect. “I sure can.”

      Holding the bell reverently in one small hand, she clutched his fingers with the other. Jack suspected this would be a day little Lizzie Bennett would remember forever.

      Maybe he would, too.

      Together, they walked up the sidewalk to Shady Acres Care Center. Ellin held the door open by leaning against it, her arms folded across her chest.

      He winked at her as he passed, enjoying her startled response. But she played it cool. Clearly not a woman who backed down from a challenge, she didn’t blush or glance away or look flustered. He liked the idea that she would give as good as she got. Staring boldly back at him, she wore the bemused expression of a smart, savvy woman who has been there, done everything, but had finally encountered something she simply could not understand.

      Jack Madden had never been so intrigued.

      Chapter Two

      Ellin and Lizzie entered the winter-bright dayroom ahead of Santa, whose arrival was heralded by the little girl’s enthusiastic bell-ringing. A fragrant Douglas fir in the corner was as laden with ornaments, tinsel and lights as the red-draped refreshment table was with treats. Elderly residents wearing holly corsages and expectant expressions sat in easy chairs and wheelchairs arranged in a circle around the perimeter.

      Ellin smiled and waved when she spotted her grandmother. Ida Faye sat in a wheelchair on the far side of the room, her knobby, arthritic hands clutched in her lap. She had a red scarf around her neck and a colorful afghan over her legs. Her thin white hair was carefully parted, held in place by plastic barrettes like Lizzie’s.

      Ellin was struck anew by how small and frail she’d become since the accident. Celebrating her eightieth Christmas this year, she wouldn’t have many more. Due to her parents’ divorce, Ellin hadn’t spent much time with her paternal grandmother over the years and hoped it wasn’t too late to make up for lost time. It was important for Lizzie to know her great-grandmother, to feel connected to her family. But it might never have happened if circumstances had been different.

      Ellin worried that by leaving Chicago she’d taken the coward’s way out. That coming to this remote little town meant she was running away from her problems instead of solving them. But then she saw how Ida Faye’s face lit up when they walked in, and she knew there were things more important than her career. What had seemed like a fall from grace now seemed more like a blessing in disguise. Only a fool would turn down a sudden, if undeserved, gift of fate.

      She and Lizzie lavished Ida Faye with big hugs and damp kisses. СКАЧАТЬ