Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday Rush / Playing Games / All Night Long. Meg Maguire

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СКАЧАТЬ do that. I’m going to go do a few things. It won’t take long. Call me if you need me,” he said, leaning in for a long, soft kiss.

      “As if there’s any question.”

      Surprise flickered in his brain at her response, and he wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything. With a smile, he left the office, checking to make sure everything was secure before he left.

      Now he had to set a plan in motion, to romance Calla in her bakery window and hope that it not only saved her shop, but convinced her that maybe they were more than a holiday fling, as well.

      * * *

      IT STARTED WITH the Christmas lights.

      Gideon had returned to the shop with his arms chock-full of Christmas lights. He’d insisted that she needed to decorate her shop and her window and door.

      Calla found it impossible to work with him crawling all over the place hanging lights and decorations, so she’d done the inevitable—she’d given in and helped.

      Surprisingly, many of the people walking home from work or out strolling with their dogs had stopped to watch, applauding with oohs and ahhs when Gideon turned the lights on.

      Then he pulled a piece of mistletoe out of his pocket and held it over her head for a kiss.

      This one she granted him happily. The shop did look more in the holiday spirit, and it made Calla feel so, as well.

      “Thank you, Gideon. This is lovely. I didn’t have time to decorate, but so many people are stopping to look at the lights.”

      He nodded, clearly excited. He was so sweet, she thought, her heart warm.

      “And did you notice what I put over in this window? They’re noticing that right along with it.”

      She’d been working on the other side of the shop, and hadn’t seen what he’d been up to. Letting him lead her outside, eyes closed, she opened them when he said and was struck by what she found.

      Twelve color pictures from her website of some of the most elaborate cakes she’d made that year hung in the window, all framed with lights.

      “Gideon...this is...awesome.”

      “I thought so, too. How could someone not want one of your cakes? The website address is listed at the bottom of each one, too.”

      Calla shook her head, barely feeling the cold as she stared at her bright, lively windows. The pictures were definitely eye-catching from the sidewalk, and even from the street.

      “You’re brilliant. How could I have missed putting pictures of cakes in the window? I have the catalog in here on the counter, but I never considered this.”

      “Well, it was one of Diedre’s ideas, and she is brilliant. You can’t think of everything, Calla. You have a lot to deal with here, making these cakes.”

      “Remind me to send your sister a thank-you. This is very sweet, Gideon,” she said again, feeling a little choked up.

      Calla had felt alone in her career since she’d started out. While she had friends, they were also often her competitors. Her family was far away, and supported her in a general sense, but not like this. No one had ever done anything like this for her. Even as she stood there, people stopped to check out the window and pointed to which cakes they liked best.

      They went back inside, and Calla turned to Gideon, giving him a spontaneous hug. It didn’t matter to her if anyone was watching.

      “I did have fun today. I’ll have to get here a little earlier tomorrow to finish, but this really was wonderful.”

      “I’m glad,” he said, loosening the bun she’d pulled her hair back into and running his fingers through it in a way that lit up her nerve endings as brightly as the shop.

      “Maybe we could get some dinner and head back to my place?”

      “Sounds great. I’m starving,” he said with a chuckle, backing away.

      Calla missed his touch when he let go. Oh, no. That wasn’t good. She had to be tired—she was feeling far more warm and fuzzy than she should. This was only a fling, only sex. And Gideon was just being nice, helping her with the shop.

      “Me, too, really,” she said with a smile, closing up and grabbing her coat. “It’s been a long time since lunch.”

      As they walked out onto the street, Gideon didn’t let go of her hand.

      “So, you know the city and the food better than I do. Any preference?”

      “It’s too late for a lot of restaurants if we don’t have reservations, especially this time of year, but I have a friend who runs a small place in Spanish Harlem where you can get the best burrito in the city.”

      “Better than that place on Rudd St. in Houston?”

      “Oh, man, way better,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No comparison.”

      She knew the spot he meant; it was one of the places cops ate regularly because it was open all night. It had a decent menu for a take-out place, but nothing like Diego’s.

      “Let’s go, then,” he said jovially.

      “We should take a cab—it’s in East Harlem, and probably not a place you want to leave your rental car,” she said, letting go of his hand as she stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi with an earsplitting whistle.

      The yellow cab appeared at the curb, screeching to a halt.

      “Wow,” Gideon said, holding the door for her as they got in. “That was impressive. I tried to grab one a few times today, and it took me three tries.”

      “It depends on the time of day, the weather, and if they are on duty or not. And a good strong whistle doesn’t hurt. One of the useful things my brothers taught me to do.”

      Gideon was sure a nice pair of legs helped, too.

      The ride was fast and furious, and Calla let Gideon keep her close in the back of the cab. Far too soon, the cabbie pulled up to the curb again.

      “Are you sure this is it?” Gideon asked, looking around as they paid and got out of the cab.

      Calla laughed and took his arm. “Yes, quite sure.”

      A short ways down the street, she turned him into an alley and opened a door on the side, where the spicy scents of peppers and cumin met them and made her mouth water.

      “Awesome, there’s a table open,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a corner in the back.

      The small cantina was crowded and alive with chatter as they claimed what seemed to be the last table in the place. Calla slid up onto the raised seat, victorious.

      “I wouldn’t have expected this from the outside,” Gideon said, looking around in appreciation at the warm brick walls decorated with authentic Mexican textiles and other art. “It smells like heaven in here.”

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