Together for Christmas (15 page)

“Oh, sure,” Kristen began. “Go ahead. I—”

But Shane had already grabbed his coat, leaving her standing there with her arm in the air in a casual wave.

Puzzled, Kristen watched as Shane hightailed it across the room—but not before tossing a triumphant look at his gingerbread pied-à-terre. Obviously, he’d thought he’d won.

She looked at Casey. He was watching Shane, too.

“Go ahead,” she told Casey after Shane had left, giving his shoulder a poke. “You know you want to follow him.”

“Follow him? What for?”

“Because otherwise he’ll get the jump on you. You won’t know what he’s up to. You switched hotels to keep up with him!”

Casey smiled. “I told you, I don’t work that way.”

“I mean it,” Kristen urged. It was ridiculous, but she wanted Casey to win . . . in whatever preposterous, macho contest the two of them were having. “I’ll even babysit your gingerbread skyscraper for you until the icing-glue dries.”

“Not necessary. I dismantled it.”

“It wasn’t
that
bad!”

“It was pretty good for a first attempt. I never would have even tried it without you.” Seeming surprisingly . . .
surprised
(and a little pleased) by that, Casey caught her hand again. He pulled her down to sit next to him. “What I mean is, while you were talking to Maresca, I took apart my gingerbread house and gave away my supplies. I never would have had the patience to wait for all that icing to dry anyway.”

“I thought you said you had patience to spare.”

“I also have the ability to prioritize.” Casey eyed her. “Maybe I’m saving my patience for the things that deserve it.”

Like waiting for a real kiss,
Kristen imagined he was thinking, based on the suggestive glimmer in his eyes . . . and the memory of his shocked—but instantly determined—expression when she’d delivered him that silly “Mmmmwhaa!” of a kiss earlier.

“You could still win,” she felt compelled to say. “Shane’s gingerbread house isn’t
that
cool. Now’s your chance! If you add another layer to yours while Shane is outside, you’ll beat him.”

“I told you, it’s gone. I dismantled it,” Casey said. “And Shane’s free to go wherever he wants. I’m not his keeper.”

“But you were looking out the window so intently before,” Kristen insisted, noticing at that moment that Shane had gone to the yard where the B&B guests were assembling. Undoubtedly, Casey saw where he’d gone as well. Maybe Casey
hadn’t
been playing the “made you look” game. Maybe he’d actually spied something intriguing outside. Because Shane sure had—he hadn’t wasted a nanosecond getting to it. “You wanted to go, too.
You
were interested in whatever Shane is interested in, so—”

She fell silent, belatedly noticing that the silver foil-lined tray in front of Casey held nothing but gingerbread crumbs and icing smears, plus a thick layer of crushed wild-blue-raspberry candies. Oookay. He’d dismantled it. And then what?

Confused, Kristen looked around. Her gaze eventually lit on a nearby pigtailed girl, about six years old, sitting across the table from them a few chairs down. She was gleefully mashing together some very familiar-looking, overfrosted chunks of gingerbread to assemble her own gingerbread house.

Seeing where Kristen’s gaze was directed, Casey shrugged.

“She didn’t want the crushed-candy ‘sea,’” he said. “She said it looked like Barney the Dinosaur pooped on my tray.”

Kristen guffawed. Once again, she found herself not understanding Grinchy Casey Jackson in the least . . . but very much wanting to.

It had seemed to mean a lot to him that he construct his gingerbread skyscraper correctly (and impressively enough to beat Shane), yet he’d surrendered it to a little girl without a qualm. It had seemed vital to him that he go outside to join the other B&B guests in their new activity, yet he’d stayed there beside Kristen while Shane ostensibly gave him the slip.

“But she was all over my gingerbread and icing,” Casey went on, nudging his chin toward the dwindling supplies left on the table. “At this point, pretty much everything else is gone.”

“Except
Shane’s
gingerbread house,” Kristen pointed out with a meaningful glance at his archrival’s abandoned creation. “You could have given her
Shane’s
house and won for sure.”

Casey seemed as though that idea honestly hadn’t occurred to him. Maybe Kristen was the only devious one here.

“That wouldn’t be winning. It would be cheating.”

“But . . .” Kristen gestured at the engraved gold trophy standing in a place of honor on the mantel nearby. Casey had been right—there really
was
a record for gingerbread-house building at the B&B. A photograph of the previously winning house stood near the prize. “All’s fair in love and war, right?”

“If you’re doing it correctly, you don’t have to cheat.”

She shook her head. “You are
not
a very good Terminator.”

His eyes flickered. “Not today, I guess.”

Then maybe he was on other days? Kristen wasn’t sure.

“I’m finding it hard to picture you as a rebellious preteen troublemaker right now.” She scrutinized him again. Still no dice. “Are you
sure
you and Shane were hell-raisers together?”

Casey gave her a shuttered look—a belligerent, semi-dangerous-looking look. Suddenly, Kristen had second thoughts.

“Do you really want to talk about this?” Intently, he listened. Then, “They’re playing your favorite Christmas carol.”

At his obvious attempt at misdirection, Kristen shook her head. “That’s not my—” She listened. “Oh, wait. It is!”

His smile made her want to smile back. All night long.

“You couldn’t
possibly
know my favorite Christmas song!”

“You’re right,” Casey said nonchalantly. “I couldn’t.”

Yet he did
. Shaking her head again, Kristen examined him.

“You’re a confusing man to read, you know that?” she asked.

“Yes, I do. That’s exactly the way I like it.”

“Ooh,
mysterious!
” Kristen laughed, miming a scarier version of jazz hands at him. Casey laughed, too. For a moment, a cozy sense of harmony enveloped them, right there amid the sugar overload and the gingerbread crumbs and the sounds of Bing Crosby’s “Christmas Is A-Comin’” playing on the sound system.

“You know,” she mused further, losing herself in his smoky eyes, “maybe this Christmas isn’t going to be so bad after all.”

“Maybe not,” Casey agreed, his voice low and intimate and seemingly just for her. “It all depends on how you define it.”

She couldn’t help smiling. She felt pretty sure she leaned toward him again, too. She just wanted to be . . .
closer
to him.

“I already defined it!” Kristen reminded him. “Back in your ‘blizzard’-crushing killer Subaru mobile. Remember?”

“Hmm. Remind me, then . . .” Hastily, Casey whipped his gaze toward the other room, then back to her face again. His calm, intimate tone didn’t even waver. “Did your definition of the perfect Christmas include a holiday-lights house tour?”

Kristen couldn’t believe this. “The famous Kismet holiday light show in the Glenrosen neighborhood? I
love
that tour!”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure Vanessa Sullivan is on her way over here to shanghai us into participating.”

Kristen craned her neck to see. It was true. The B&B’s acting manager was headed their way with her cousin, Reid, and his adorable new family in tow. There were six of them all together: the two Sullivans, plus Reid’s new wife, Karina, and her three children—Olivia, Josh, and Michael. Reid had relocated to California after having met Karina at The Christmas House, Kristen had heard, but they always came home for the holidays every year. Robert and Betty Sullivan wouldn’t have had it any other way. By the looks of them, neither would the children.

Vanessa saw Kristen and Casey. A familiar matchmaking gleam came into her eyes. “Hey, you two! You’re looking pretty cozy!”

Guiltily, Kristen jumped apart from Casey. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly wasn’t wild about letting people know she was attracted to him. Which was silly, honestly.

What difference did it make if people knew she liked him?

Heather would assume Kristen was doing a whiz-bang job of “distracting” Casey. So she would be happy. Talia and the gang at the diner would assume Kristen was having a no-holds-barred, sexapaloosa romp with Casey. So they would be happy—or at least they would be spared the matchmaking they’d seemed intent on doing (especially in Gareth’s case). And everyone else in town . . .

Well, everyone else in town would continue to glimpse Kristen on the street or in the store or at The Big Foot bar, assume she was Heather (because everyone had “fabulous!” Heather on the brain, now that she was back in town, and the two sisters
did
look a little bit alike, according to most people), and get all excited to be meeting someone special . . . only to realize (with obvious and demoralizing disappointment) that Kristen was only
herself
. Only regular-gal Kristen Miller and not ultrafamous pop star Heather Miller, loved and adored by everyone.

Kristen frowned. She looked up at Vanessa and her family, still good-naturedly bearing down on them. She would have liked to have gone on the Glenrosen holiday-lights house tour. But if doing that meant letting everyone know she was into Casey . . .

She just couldn’t do it. She didn’t know why.

“I just remembered—I’ve got to run!” Kristen leaped to her feet. Hastily, she wound her knit scarf around her neck. She pulled on her gloves, then whipped on the quilted coat she’d slung over the back of her chair. Properly outfitted for the mounting snowfall outside, she smiled at The Christmas House’s managerial entourage. “Nice to see you all. Later!”

Looking confused, Casey got to his feet, too. “Wait. I’ll drive you.” He grabbed his suit coat, then looked around for his warmer winter overcoat and gloves. “Just let me grab these—”

“No need! I’ll call a cab. You enjoy the house tour!”

Casey gave Vanessa, Reid, Karina, and the others an apologetic smile. Then he turned to Kristen again. “We didn’t even have dinner yet. You were looking forward to the buffet.”

“I can have eggnog and fruitcake another time. Bye!”

And just like that, Kristen made her escape . . . trying not to notice that in addition to looking perplexed, Casey also looked a little bit sorry to see her go. But that couldn’t be, she reminded herself. Because Casey was in Kismet to do a job, and to him, Kristen was only a means to an end—a means to finding out more about Heather and learning what was going wrong with her holiday TV special, so he could “troubleshoot” it. Period.

The last thing Kristen needed to do was forget that.

Chapter 10

Kismet, Michigan
T-minus 20.25 days until Christmas

It took him a while, but Casey finally managed to extricate himself from the Glenrosen holiday-lights house tour.

Vanessa Sullivan was understandably baffled by Casey’s refusal to attend along with the other B&B guests. That was because Casey had privately arranged for Vanessa to “impulsively” show up during the gingerbread-house-building session and “spontaneously” invite him and Kristen to go along.

“But why don’t you just ask Kristen yourself?” Vanessa had originally asked him when he’d approached her. “I mean, look at you.” A flirtatious up-and-down wave. “I think she’d say yes.”

“Maybe.” Just then, hard on the heels of the Shane Maresca mistletoe-kiss incident, Casey hadn’t been so sure. “But I’m looking for a little boost. A little insurance, so to speak.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d need it.”

“Then you’ve never fallen for someone who’s out of your league.” Whereas
Casey
maybe (just possibly) just had.

Vanessa had blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“About what?”

“You honestly think Kristen Miller is out of your league?”

Casey had considered what he knew about Kristen so far . . . versus what he knew about himself.
Yeah
. “Will you do it?”

Looking astounded—and delighted—Vanessa had agreed.

But all his maneuverings had been for nothing. Because at Vanessa’s approach, Kristen had bolted from The Christmas House as though her delectable ass was on fire, leaving Casey looking exactly like the love-struck sucker he feared he might be becoming when it came to Kristen Miller.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but he liked her. He
really
liked her. And not just because she could fill in the missing pieces about Heather’s holiday TV special, either. He liked her attitude and her smile and her slightly husky voice. He liked her kick-ass boots and her miniskirt and her lacy red bra. He liked her straightforward way of relating to people.

Except, of course, when she was bailing out on those people under blatantly false pretenses, like she had today.

I just remembered—I’ve got to run!

Right. Narrowing his eyes, Casey watched as Vanessa finally left him behind and instead herded her guests toward the B&B’s designated vans for the holiday-lights house tour. He still didn’t understand why Kristen had ducked out on it. He didn’t believe there was anything in the world she wanted to do more than soak up some hackneyed, gooshy Christmas atmosphere.

Except maybe mack on Shane Maresca some more, he was reminded when his archrival suddenly appeared in the foyer on Casey’s way out. Stopping short, Casey gave him an even look.

“Something wrong?” he asked. “I thought you’d be headed out for the holiday-lights hoo-ha tour along with everyone else.”

Shane shook his head. “You didn’t really think I’d fall for that patented ‘subtle misdirection’ thing you do, did you?”

“I dunno. You certainly
seemed
to fall for it.”

“Maybe at first. It’s been a while since I’ve—”

Seen you
hung in the air between them, unvoiced but no less damning in its implications. It
had
been a while, Casey knew. It had been a while since Shane had decided to turn to the dark side and work against everything Casey stood for. It had been a while since he’d last hoped they could patch things up somehow.