Holiday Kisses. Gwynne Forster

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      “I’d go farther than that to be with you, coffee or no coffee.”

      Taken aback, she nearly dropped the phone. “Oh!”

      “Is that all you have to say? A guy tells you he likes your company, and you show no interest. Lady, I am wounded!”

      She laughed, more from nerves than from any humor in his words. “You’ve put me on the spot. Obviously I wouldn’t like to wound you. First time I saw you, you looked like a bird with only one wing. Far from me to bring about a repeat of that scene. Of course, the last time I saw you, your wings were in full strength and—”

      He interrupted her. “May I see you tonight? I want to see you.”

      The urgency with which he spoke it sent ripples of excitement through her. What was it about this man that made her want to stretch herself with him, do things she’d never done, see life through different eyes?

      “What did you have in mind?” Surely that cool voice didn’t belong to her.

      “We could go to dinner and dance later, or dinner and a concert, or we could go down to the harbor and watch boats. I don’t care what.”

      She thought for a minute. The less money he spent on her the better. “Let’s see. We could go down to the harbor and watch the boats?”

      “Are you serious?” he asked as if he hadn’t included that among his suggestions.

      “Yes, I love the water.”

      “In that case, I know a delightful restaurant on the edge of the Patapsco River, and it’s not too cool to dine outside at the river’s edge. If the moon is shining, it’s idyllic.”

      The more he talked, the more eager she was to see him. “That sounds wonderful, Craig. What time…Oops!”

      “What’s the matter?”

      “I just remembered that I promised Noreen, my neighbor, that we’d go out tonight and celebrate her new job.” She pulled air through her front teeth. “Maybe we can do this another time.”

      “Girl, you still out here?”

      “Excuse me a minute, Craig,” Kisha said and covered the mouth piece. “What’s up, Noreen?”

      “Girl, I just remembered a hot blue dress that used to be too small, but with these depression-era meals I’ve been eating, I’ve lost a lot of weight, and this baby fits perfectly. Let’s dress up tonight.”

      “All right. I’ve got someone on the phone.” She removed her hand from the mouthpiece. “I like my neighbor a lot, but right now, I’d love to put her out of commission,” she said to Craig, her voice colored with laughter.

      His deep and musical chuckle gave her a warm, feminine rush. “You don’t strike me as being a woman who walks on the edge, Kisha, but there’s something about you that leans that way.”

      “I suspect that’s something you and I are unlikely to explore.” He was right, if he meant she didn’t sit on the side of the road and watch life dance past her.

      “Kisha, there’s an old proverb that says ‘Never declare war, unless you mean to do battle,’ so don’t force me to demonstrate your recklessness to you. When I play, I play for keeps, and I like to win.”

      And she believed him. He was determined, and very self-confident. “Craig, although I like games sometimes, I am not inspired to play Gotcha with you. But I would like to know why you think I’m reckless.”

      “Your comment about Noreen and the joy you’d have in putting her out of commission slipped out. You said you love the water, so I assume you enjoy swimming.”

      “I enjoy the atmosphere around water, not so much beaches as the vegetation, the natural aspects. And I love to fish. I’m just a so-so swimmer, but the laid-back attitude of the people and the wonderful life close to nature are what I miss about Key West.”

      “Why did you leave?”

      “I got tired of the storms. After my house was damaged during a posthurricane tornado, I decided to leave while I was ahead. I’m reasonably content here.”

      “Big cities can really stress you out. Wrap yourself tightly in that contentment until I see you.”

      “Craig, you’re like a whirlwind.”

      “Really? You don’t know how wrong you are. I’m sorry I won’t be seeing you tonight. Promise me you’ll go with me to that restaurant on the banks of the Patapsco. I know you’ll love it, and I’d enjoy showing it to you. We have to do it soon, though, because it’s getting to be cool for eating outdoors. Will you go with me?”

      “That should be a lot of fun. Ask me again. Okay?”

      “With great pleasure. You mind if I call you?”

      “No. I don’t.”

      “Then, I will. Bye for now.”

      Craig hung up, and a feeling of pride washed over her. She could have canceled her date with Noreen, but she hadn’t, and something told her that it was good for him to hear the word, no. He’d brushed her off once, and although she wouldn’t give anyone the chance to do it a second time, her refusal to go out with him that evening was not payback. That would have been childish. But refusing to be convenient for a man reputed to be aloof wouldn’t hurt her relationship with him. And a relationship with him was high on her agenda. Something about the man moved her.

      She didn’t know what to make of his unceremonious goodbye. She dialed Noreen’s phone number. “Hi. Do you have any coffee over there?”

      “Just put on a fresh pot. Come over. I made some buttermilk biscuits, and they’re great with jam and margarine. I don’t use butter. It clogs up my arteries.”

      “Be over in five minutes.” She washed her hands, put on a pair of loafers, put the figs she bought the day before in a bag and went to Noreen’s house, where she found the door unlocked. She liked that house. Although the design duplicated her own town house, Noreen had used pastel paint and large colorful paintings on two of the living room walls and one dining room wall, making the house uniquely hers. Kisha strolled through the hallway to the kitchen.

      “We can have it on the deck,” Noreen said. “I had dreams of sitting out there in my negligee on Sunday mornings eating fancy breakfasts of imported cheeses, champagne and such with my darling husband. But what he wanted on Sunday mornings didn’t have a thing to do with food. Same old routine week in and week out, day in and day out, in bed and out of it. Looking back, I wonder why the hell I didn’t get bored with him.

      “I was relieved when he finally didn’t want to take me to bed the minute he got in the house, but that was because I didn’t know he’d just gotten out of bed with some chick and didn’t have any energy left. I’m prepared to talk about something else. Thinking of him depresses me.”

      “You said you’re over him. What I can’t understand is how two people can think they want to sleep in the same bed, eat at the same table, share children, money, bills, vacation, television, radio and everything СКАЧАТЬ