The Christmas Date. Michele Dunaway

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      KATE CLOSED the door, picked up Jeckyll and shook her head. Darn it all. What in the world had gotten into her? She’d just offered to clean the man’s house. Had her celibacy caused her to lose brain cells? She definitely ought to have listened to Wendy more. Wendy! Kate glanced at the clock. Well, she’d just go next door, lend Tyler Nichols her stuff, make some excuse to leave. After all, she’d been expecting an elderly neighbor with a potbelly, the standard on Dogwood Lane. Would she have offered to clean for him? Not by a long shot. So why should she do it because Tyler Nichols was sexy? He probably had a harem to do his bidding.

      The reality was that Tyler wouldn’t pay much attention to her after she helped him. He’d probably be out of the country somewhere, or with a woman who was more sophisticated than Kate was.

      Which was good, Kate reminded herself. She didn’t need or want to become involved with anyone at this point in her life, especially someone who lived right next door.

      Kate focused. While she might have sensed a flicker of interest on his part, she’d misread signals in the past. Still, she could look, right? Looking was harmless. And Tyler Nichols was definitely eye-catching. Maybe she needed to borrow one of Nora’s many pairs of binoculars. Maybe she should partake in a night of unbridled lust the way Wendy had suggested.

      Tyler Nichols was probably phenomenal in bed.

      Kate closed her eyes for a moment, letting her imagination take her away. He would lave her breasts, kiss her lower and lower, bring her to heights never imagined. He’d never call her a cold fish as Jack had—Jeckyll shifted in her arms and Kate’s eyes flew open.

      She couldn’t do it. Just going to bed with someone you only lusted for seemed cold-blooded, if not plain dumb.

      Deep down, Kate wanted commitment, not a quick roll in the hay—her mother’s norm. Despite his good looks, which tingled her toes, she determined to steer clear of Tyler after she gave him her cleaning supplies.

      As Kate put down Jeckyll, she noticed her gaping blouse and the paw prints. Embarrassment heated her face. She’d already exposed and rattled herself enough, she decided.

      Sighing, she went and changed clothes, then grabbed her cleaning supplies. A knock sounded, and Kate placed the container with the supplies on the counter and threw open the door.

      “Haven’t I told you never to do that?” a familiar voice chided.

      Not waiting for an invitation, the four-foot, ten-inch presence who dominated Dogwood Lane ushered herself in. Her snow-white hair still styled as it had been for the past twenty years, Nora waved some envelopes under Kate’s nose. “You really need to check the window first. I could have been anyone. A mugger. A rapist. A murderer.”

      Kate sighed once more. She knew the entire spiel by heart. Hadn’t she just thought it earlier, when she’d first seen Tyler at her door? “Nora, there hasn’t been any crime in this neighborhood in decades, as you like to brag. You foiled the last one.”

      “Well, I’d hate for another crime spree to start with you. I noticed you didn’t get your mail, so I grabbed it as I came over. You shouldn’t leave it in your box. Might get stolen. I told you that Forrest hates to put mail in a full box, which yours would have been tomorrow. And don’t forget, as of tomorrow, everyone on the block needs to have his or her Christmas lights up. It’s tradition.”

      Kate clenched a hand behind her back and mentally counted to ten. “The new neighbor’s name is Tyler Nichols.”

      “Who, dear?” Nora acted as if she hadn’t heard, but Kate knew better.

      “Tyler Nichols. The man who moved in next door. The man over here earlier. His name is Tyler Nichols.”

      “Oh.” Nora paused so she didn’t appear too curious behind her cat-eye frames. “I wondered who was at your door. Didn’t think it was a service call. Service people don’t drive gas-guzzling Hummers or work this late. Did he tell you what he does for a living, dear? Is he a photojournalist as the rumormongers say?”

      Patience was a virtue, Kate reminded herself and she counted to ten again. Having grown up around Nora, Kate had long ago learned to handle her, especially now that Kate was an adult. “As a matter of fact he did and he is.”

      Nora’s gaze landed on the bucket of supplies. “I thought you cleaned on Saturdays.”

      Busted. Kate’s shoulders slumped. Nora never missed anything. “I volunteered to help him out for a few minutes. The Dorhacks didn’t do any cleaning and the place is a mess.”

      “Those Dorhack kids always were good-for-nothings. Poor Myra to have raised a brood like that. Not like you. You are always such a dear, especially volunteering the way you are. Sandra would be so proud.”

      “Thank you,” Kate said as she somehow ushered Nora to the side door. But the maven wasn’t to be moved outside yet.

      “Since he’s finally here, why I don’t go home and see what I’ve got in the freezer? I bet the poor man hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. I believe I have a beef stew I can thaw out and feed him. Tell him I’ll be over after I get it heated.”

      Kate admitted she was impressed. Nora had found a way to satisfy her curiosity and act as chaperone. She grabbed the cleaning supplies. “I’ll tell him. He’ll love a home-cooked meal, I’m sure.” Even if he didn’t, there would be no stopping it from arriving now.

      “Don’t forget to lock up, even though you’re just going next door,” Nora advised as she moved out from under Kate’s carport. “Can’t be too safe, you know.”

      “Yes, I know.” Kate put her bucket on the ground and turned the key in the lock as Nora bustled across the street.

      “I take it that was Nora.”