A Mistletoe Affair (Mills & Boon Kimani) (Wintersage Weddings - Book 3) Page 2

  She entered the Quarterdeck and headed straight for the table she, Sandra and Janelle usually occupied.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Vicki said as she came upon them, planting a kiss on Janelle’s cheek. She hadn’t seen her at all today. “There was a mix-up with the Christmas tree. I’m convinced the driver took extralong delivering the correct one just to be difficult.”

  “That just means that you’ll have to play catch-up with me and Sandra,” Janelle said. She signaled a waiter, who was at their table in an instant.

  His pen poised over his notepad, he asked, “The usual?”

  “Yes,” Vicki automatically answered. Then she thought better of it. “Actually, no. I’ll have a vodka martini with two olives.”

  The waiter’s brow shot up. “Okay, then. Coming right up. I’ll have that fried calamari appetizer out in a minute, ladies.”

  Vicki looked across the table to find both Janelle and Sandra staring at her with their mouths open.

  “What?” she asked.

  Sandra put her hands up, her eyes wide with shock. “First the new hair and makeup, and now a vodka martini instead of a white-wine spritzer?” She slanted Janelle a questioning look. “Can you tell me what’s happening with our girl over here?”

  “I’m not sure, but I like it,” Janelle said.

  Even as she waved off their teasing, Vicki could feel a warm blush turning her cheeks red. She knew these changes were a shock to her friends. They were used to her being demure, staid.

  Dull.

  The fact that a simple change in her drink order could elicit that kind of reaction from them was as telling as anything.

  As they snacked on crisp calamari tossed in a sweet ginger sauce, Sandra filled Vicki and Janelle in on the plans for her and Isaiah’s belated honeymoon in Paris in a few months.

  “It just makes sense to wait. We’re both looking forward to several art exhibits, and I’ll have the chance to check out Fashion Week. Besides, we can do what we’re going to spend most of our honeymoon doing right here in Wintersage,” she said with a wicked grin. She batted her eyes and added, “Wink. Wink.”

  “Subtle,” Vicki said with a good-natured eye roll. She laughed, but deep down it was hard not to feel the tiniest bit jealous. Of the three of them, she was, by far, the romantic at heart. She was the one who had always believed in one true love, happily ever after, the whole nine yards. Yet she was the one who was perpetually single. Both Janelle and Sandra, cynics to the core, had found love. Where was the fairness in that?

  Vicki squelched a groan. When had she turned into such a complainer? She was beginning to work on her own nerves with all this bellyaching.

  The waiter came over to take their orders. Vicki bypassed her usual Caesar salad in exchange for the almond-crusted cod in a lemon beurre blanc sauce, garnering yet another pair of baffled looks from her friends.

  Seriously? Was she that predictable that they could be so surprised at her ordering fish instead of a salad? It looked as if the decision to become the “new Vicki” couldn’t have come fast enough.

  The discussion around the table soon segued from Sandra’s honeymoon plans to Vicki’s plans for the float she’d entered into the Wintersage Holiday Extravaganza Day float competition. Her submission had yet to be accepted, and now Vicki was starting to regret ever telling her friends about it. If Petals wasn’t chosen as one of the businesses to contribute a float to this year’s extravaganza, it would leave some serious egg on her face.

  “Building this float won’t interfere with the decorations you’re putting together for the Kwanzaa celebration, will it?” Sandra asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Vicki said.

  The Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration had become an institution in Wintersage. As had been the case for the past few years, Janelle had been hired as the event coordinator and Vicki was, once again, in charge of decorating. Janelle set her fork on the edge of her plate and folded her hands. “Speaking of the Kwanzaa celebration.” She paused for a moment, and then continued, “Things were a bit, well, strained at the dinner table this Thanksgiving when my dad asked if Alluring Affairs was still involved in the planning of your parents’ party.”

  “Because of the election?” Sandra asked. “Does he expect you to give up a job you’ve taken on for years just because of this thing with Jordan?”

  A few weeks ago, Janelle’s father, Darren Howerton, had claimed victory in a statewide election against Oliver Windom, the candidate Jordan had campaigned for. The ensuing fallout had caused much tension between their families.

  “Can you blame him? My dad should be celebrating his victory as the new state representative and preparing to head to the legislature. Instead, there’s a huge cloud hanging over the election now that your brother has called the results into question.”

  “You can’t put the entire blame on Jordan,” Sandra retorted.

  “Who else is to blame? He’s the one who won’t let this go.”

  Vicki held her hands up. “I thought this topic was off-limits? We’re Switzerland, remember?”

  “You’re right,” Janelle and Sandra murmured in unison.

  “I’m sorry,” Janelle continued. “We did agree not to talk about it, but I do wish Jordan would drop this.”

  “I know.” Sandra blew out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon, though. Jordan took an extended leave of absence from the law firm. He was so confident Oliver Windom would win the election and would need Jordan to work on his transition team.”

  “So should I tell my dad that Jordan plans to be a pain in the ass until he returns to practicing law?” Janelle drawled.

  Sandra shrugged as she tipped her wineglass to her lips.

  “It sounds as if he needs something to occupy his time now that the election is over,” Vicki said.

  “I think he needs to get laid,” Sandra said.

  Janelle pointed the lime wheel from her cosmopolitan at her. “Bingo. Has he even been on a date since his divorce? It’s been long enough.”

  Sandra waved her hand. “His pat response is that he’s too busy to get involved with a woman, but Jordan’s not fooling anyone. He could find the time to go on a simple date if he really wanted to.”

  “What about his wife?” Vicki asked.

  “Ex-wife,” Sandra stressed. “And let’s not even go there. I don’t know the last time Jordan spoke to Allison, and as far as I know, she’s made no attempt to contact him, either.”

  “Not even about Mason?” Janelle gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t understand how a woman could leave her baby and not even bother to see how he’s doing.”

  “Especially a sweetie pie like Mason,” Vicki agreed.

  A smile broke out across Sandra’s face at the mention of her nephew. “He is the most adorable child on the face of the planet, isn’t he? He takes after his auntie Sandra.”

  “It’s a good thing he doesn’t have his auntie Sandra’s attitude,” Janelle said with a laugh, and then laughed harder when Sandra flipped her the finger.

  As the two went back and forth trading good-natured barbs, Vicki’s mind remained stuck on Jordan.

  No surprise there.

  How often had just the mention of his name prompted a long spell of daydreaming about what could have been? If only Jordan had any idea that she’d been crushing on him like a lovesick fool since the age of fifteen.

  Actually, it was probably better that he didn’t know. The only thing worse than Jordan discovering that she’d been clutching so tightly to this torch she’d carried for him all these years was for him to discover it and then pity her because he didn’t feel the same way.

  Oh, God. A rush of heat swept across her skin just at the thought of how mortified she would be if that ever happened.

  Her chagrin quickly turned into annoyance, along with a healthy dose of self-disgust. She would not allow thoughts of Jordan Woolcott to turn her back into the starry-eyed romantic she’d been just a week ago. The new Vicki
wasn’t spending her days hoping that Mr. Clueless would finally notice her.

  Yet despite her anger over his obliviousness, Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jordan’s current predicament. The madness following the state representative race had caused such turmoil. After Darren’s victory over Oliver Windom, Jordan had demanded a recount, claiming that there must have been some sort of tampering.

  His accusations had driven a wedge right between the Howertons, Woolcotts and Ahlfors. It all must be weighing heavily on Jordan’s peace of mind, knowing that so many people were against his dogged determination to contest the election. Vicki hated that he was at the center of the friction currently rubbing their families raw.

  Of course, if she was making a list of the things she hated regarding Jordan, she had several other items she could add. Like the fact that he’d settled for such a cliché when he’d married his now ex-wife. Sure, Allison Woolcott was beautiful and vivacious, but that was all she was. The woman had no substance.

  Another item on the list would be how much she hated that Jordan had never bothered to see her as anything other than a friend of his little sister. After all these years, Vicki still felt like nothing more than an acquaintance in his eyes.

  Getting past this long-held obsession with Jordan should be at the very top of her priority list. If she was to fully embrace this new outlook, she could not continue to pine over a man who had never shown even the slightest romantic interest in her. It was time for her to move on, to concentrate on all the changes she was ready to make in her life.

  New Vicki. Think new Vicki.

  “I’ve got some news,” she blurted.

  Janelle and Sandra both stopped talking and looked at her expectantly.

  Oh, great. Now that she’d put it out there she would actually have to share some news. She should have considered that before she opened her normally not-so-big mouth. A lesson for the new Vicki.

  “So?” Sandra raised an expectant brow.

  Vicki sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I, uh...I signed up for an online-dating website. Just before I came here tonight, I accepted a date with a guy that contacted me a few days ago.”

  “What!” Janelle and Sandra both whooped, high-fiving each other.

  “I told you our girl was breaking out of her shell,” Sandra said. “Who is it? Have you been talking to him through email? Have you two had a phone conversation yet?”

  “Slow down,” Vicki said with a laugh. “His name is Declan James. Doctor Declan James. And yes, we’ve shared a couple of emails. I haven’t talked to him on the phone yet. He seems nice,” she finished with a casual shrug, as if it didn’t feel like she had a million butterflies doing an aboriginal rain dance in her belly.

  “So,” Janelle prompted, circling her hands in a give-us-more motion.

  “He suggested dinner,” Vicki continued. “But then he said if I wanted to take it slow and start off with a coffee date he would be okay with that, too.”

  “I take it you two are going out for coffee?” Sandra asked.

  An impish grin tilted up the edges of Vicki’s lips. “Dinner. And dancing.”

  “Ooh,” both Janelle and Sandra said.

  “I’m scared of you, girl,” Janelle said.

  “So when’s the date?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said. She hunched her shoulder. “I know a Tuesday night isn’t your typical date night, but he’s on call a lot at the E.R. Tuesday is his only night off this week.”

  “Who cares what night,” Sandra said. “All I know is that the men of Wintersage had better watch out. Vicki Ahlfors is on the move.”

  Chapter 2

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Vicki murmured around the piece of twine she’d stuck between her lips. “You know better than this.”

  Even though she did know better than to try to balance on the wobbly, backless stool, she remained standing on it. If she fell and broke her tailbone it would be sufficient punishment for forgetting to bring the stepladder she’d taken from the Victorian to hang the new artwork in her living room at home. As far as punishments went, maybe a broken tailbone was a bit harsh.

  “But you don’t have to worry about that,” she said as she tied that last bit of twine around the garland, fastening it to the molding that framed the front door. She hopped off the stool and slipped back into her heels. Then she took a couple of steps back and observed her handiwork.

  “Perfect,” Vicki said.

  “I’d say so.”

  Vicki whipped around, spotting Jordan Woolcott walking up the walkway. Sixteen-month-old Mason toddled alongside him on legs that still didn’t quite have that whole walking thing down yet. Vicki smiled as the chubby-cheeked sweetheart fought for his independence, trying to walk ahead of his father.

  She stood on the top step and waited patiently while he slowly climbed up to meet her. She scooped Mason into her arms, plopping a kiss on his too-adorable-than-it-had-a-right-to-be face.

  “How’re you doing today? You and your daddy coming to see your auntie Sandra?” She looked up at Jordan, who remained at the base of the porch steps, a tired smile tilting up the corners of his lips.

  “Hello, Jordan,” she said.

  “Hey there, Vicki.”

  There went her idiot heart, doing that stupid fluttering thing it did whenever she saw him. Goodness, how pathetic that at twenty-eight she still had the same reaction to him that she did as a teenager. No, it was more than just pathetic, it was downright pitiful, because never once had anything in Jordan’s demeanor suggested that he felt anything even remotely similar toward her.

  Yet when she’d sat in that salon chair last week and told the stylist to glam her up, it was with the intent of seeing Jordan’s reaction to the finished outcome.

  Pathetic.

  If the man hadn’t caught a clue in all these years, he certainly wouldn’t notice her just because she’d cut her hair.

  “Is my sister up there?” he asked, gesturing to the building’s second floor with the hand that held Mason’s diaper bag.

  “She sure is.” Vicki looked down at Mason. “You want to get out of this cold and see your auntie Sandra?”

  Jordan joined them on the porch, but before Vicki could turn toward the door, he stopped her.

  “What exactly did you do here?” he asked, motioning at his own head.

  “You mean my haircut?”

  “Yeah. The light brown color you added to the ends, too.”

  “They’re called highlights.”

  He nodded. “I like it. It suits you.”

  “Thank you,” she answered.

  She was not going to blush at a simple compliment.

  Dammit, she was so blushing. She could feel the heat climbing up her cheeks. Her fair skin hid nothing, so in a matter of seconds Jordan would see it, too.

  With Mason in tow, Vicki quickly turned for the door, leaving him to follow her inside.

  “Wow,” Jordan said once they’d entered the building. “You all are really getting into the holiday spirit, huh? There are more flowers in here than at the Rose Bowl parade.”

  “Well, it is a floral-design shop,” Vicki noted with a laugh.

  “A busy one at that,” Jordan said, pointing to various arrangements in different stages of completion. They covered every available surface.

  “When it comes to flowers, the Christmas season is second only to Valentine’s Day. Although, to be honest, I’ve been a bit busier than usual this week.”

  Jordan peeled Mason’s puffer jacket off while the baby was still in her arms, and then stuffed it inside the diaper bag.

  He gestured to her feet. “You don’t normally wear fancy shoes to make flower arrangements, do you? Is this something special you’re doing for the holidays?”

  Vicki’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to be funny?”

  The blank look on his face gave her his answer even before he said, “No.”

  “I’m wearing fancy shoes because I have a date,” she said.
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  “Really?” Jordan’s head reared back slightly. He took Mason from her arms and the baby immediately started to fuss. “A date?”

  Vicki couldn’t see past her irritation over Jordan’s apparent surprise at the news that she had a date. It both stung and pissed her off.

  “Is it so hard to believe that someone actually wants to go out with me?” she asked.

  “No,” he said with a hasty head shake. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

  Not that that should come as a surprise, either. When had he ever taken interest in whom she was dating?

  Vicki held no illusions about where she stood as far as he was concerned. She had never been in Jordan Woolcott’s league. For that matter, she had not always been in Sandra and Janelle’s league, either.

  Unlike her two best friends, Vicki hadn’t been born into money.

  She and her three brothers had spent the majority of their formative years in the public school system, not moving to Wintersage Academy until her sophomore year of high school, once her father’s business had taken off.

  Ahlfors Financial Management’s success secured her family’s place among Wintersage’s elite, but their wealth didn’t reek of “old money” like that of the Howertons and Woolcotts. Although her friends never made her feel inferior, Vicki never let herself forget that one difference between them.

  When it came to Jordan, there was no denying that they were different.

  He had been several years ahead of her in high school, having already graduated from Wintersage Academy by the time she’d started there. Vicki had developed the most ridiculous crush on him from the very first day she’d gone over to the Woolcotts’ to study with Sandra one afternoon. It had taken her years to accept the fact that, if not for her being one of Sandra’s very best friends and their families knowing each other for years, Jordan wouldn’t know she existed.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Wintersage was a small town. He would know she existed—in the same way he knew Jocelyn Cornwell, who ran the realty office on Main Street, or Agnes Ripple, the owner of the corner bakery, existed.