Christmas Wishes: Christmas Letters / Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie Macomber

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ red wool coat from her condo while Wynn waited outside the building. The moment she joined him, she was hit by a blast of cold air. A shiver went through her, and she hunched her shoulders against the wind. To her surprise, Wynn changed places with her, walking by the curb, outside the shelter of the buildings, taking the brunt of the wind. It was an old-fashioned gentlemanly action and one she hadn’t expected. To be fair, she didn’t know what to expect from him. With that realization came another. He didn’t know her, either.

      They didn’t utter a single word for the first block.

      “Perhaps we should start over,” she suggested.

      Wynn stopped walking and regarded her suspiciously. “You want to go back? Did you forget something?”

      “No, I meant you and me.”

      “How so?” He kept his hands buried in the pockets of his long overcoat.

      “Hello,” she began. “My name is Katherine O’Connor, but most people call me K.O. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

      He frowned. “We did earlier,” he said.

      “This is pretend.” Did the man have to be so literal? “I want you to erase this morning from your memory and pretend we’re meeting for the first time.”

      “What about drinks at LaVonne’s? Should I forget that, too?”

      “Well.” She needed to think this over. That hadn’t been such a positive experience, either. “Perhaps it would be best,” she told him.

      “So you want me to act as if this is a blind date?” he asked.

      “A blind date,” she repeated and immediately shook her head. “I’ve had so many of those, I need a Seeing Eye dog.”

      He laughed, and the sound of it was rich and melodious. “Me, too.”

      “You?” A man this attractive and successful required assistance meeting women?

      “You wouldn’t believe how many friends have a compulsion to introduce me to the woman of my dreams.”

      “My friends say the same thing. This is the man you’ve been waiting to meet your entire life. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s a disaster.”

      “Really? Even you?” He seemed a little shocked that she’d had help from her matchmaking friends.

      “What do you mean even you?”

      “You’re blond and beautiful—I thought you were joking about those blind dates.”

      She swallowed a gasp of surprise. However, if that was the way he saw her, she wasn’t going to argue.

      He thrust out his hand. “Hello, Katherine, my name is Jim Carrey.”

      She laughed and they shook hands. They continued walking at a leisurely pace, and soon they were having a lively conversation, exchanging dating horror stories. She laughed quite a few times, which was something she’d never dreamed she’d do with Wynn Jeffries.

      “Would you mind if I called you Katherine?” he asked.

      “Not at all. Do you prefer Wynn or Dr. Jeffries?”

      “Wynn.”

      “I’ve heard absolutely marvelous things about Chez Jerome,” she said. Not only that, some friends of K.O.’s had recently phoned to make dinner reservations and were told the first available opening was in May.

      “LaVonne is certainly full of surprises,” Wynn remarked. “Who would’ve guessed she had a connection with one of the most popular chefs in the country?”

      They arrived at the restaurant, and Wynn held the door for her, another gentlemanly courtesy that made her smile. This psychologist wasn’t what she’d expected at all. After hearing his theories about Christmas, she’d been sure he must be a real curmudgeon. But in the short walk from Blossom Street to the restaurant, he’d disproved almost every notion she’d had about him. Or at least about his personality. His beliefs were still a point of contention.

      When Wynn mentioned LaVonne’s name to the maître d’, they were ushered to a secluded booth. “Welcome to Chez Jerome,” the man said with a dignified bow.

      K.O. opened her menu and had just started to read it when Jerome himself appeared at their table. “Ah, so you are LaVonne’s friends.”

      K.O. didn’t mean to gush, but this was a real honor. “I am so excited to meet you,” she said. She could hardly wait to tell Zelda about this—even though her sister would be far more impressed by her meeting Wynn Jeffries than Jerome.

      The chef, in his white hat and apron, kissed her hand. The entire restaurant seemed to be staring at them and whispering, wondering who they were to warrant a visit from the renowned chef.

      “You won’t need those,” Jerome said and ostentatiously removed the tasseled menus from their hands. “I am preparing a meal for you personally. If you do not fall in love after what I have cooked, then there is no hope for either of you.”

      Wynn caught her eye and smiled. Despite herself, K.O. smiled back. After a bit of small talk, Jerome returned to the kitchen.

      Once the chef had gone, Wynn leaned toward her and teased, “He makes it sound as if dinner is marinated in Love Potion Number Nine.” To emphasize the point, he sang a few lines from the old song.

      K.O. smothered a giggle. She hated to admit it, but rarely had she been in a more romantic setting, with the elegant linens, flattering candlelight and soft classical music. The mood was flawless; so was their dinner, all four courses, even though she couldn’t identify the exact nature of everything they ate. The appetizer was some kind of soup, served in a martini glass, and it tasted a bit like melted sherbet. Later, when their waiter told them the soup featured sea urchin, K.O. considered herself fortunate not to have known. If she had, she might not have tasted it. But, in fact, it was delicious.

      “Tell me about yourself,” she said to Wynn when the soup dishes were taken away and the salads, which featured frilly greens and very tart berries, were delivered.

      He shrugged, as though he didn’t really have anything of interest to share. “What would you like to know?”

      “How about your family?”

      “All right.” He leaned back against the luxurious velvet cushion. “I’m an only child. My mother died three years ago. My father is Max Jeffries.” He paused, obviously waiting to see if she recognized the name and when she didn’t, he continued. “He was a surfer who made a name for himself back in the late sixties and early seventies.”

      She shook her head. Surfing wasn’t an activity she knew much about, but then she really wasn’t into sports. Or exercise, either. “My dad’s the captain of his bowling team,” she told him.

      He nodded. “My parents were hippies.” He grinned. “True, bona fide, unreconstructed hippies.”

      “As in the Age of Aquarius, free love and that sort of thing?” This explained quite a bit, now that she thought about it. Wynn had apparently СКАЧАТЬ