The Wedding Planner's Christmas Wish, page 9
And still, she wanted to make them costumes.
Before the kiss, he wouldn’t have noticed a kind of bravery in that. And to be honest, it had been a relief to hand over the whole costume question to someone else, so it was helpful to both of them.
Genevieve was totally enraptured with the whole idea of Halloween. She was no longer a baby, content, as she had been last year, to be stuffed into a coat with bunny ears and taken around to the apartments of a few friends.
No, this year Halloween was taking on a production-like ambience. Genevieve and Miss Carmichael had decided on a Bobo Robbins theme. This was a surprise, as Drew had thought Genevieve would lean more toward princesses. However, Bobo was a cowboy cartoon character—Macy’s favorite, apparently—who had a faithful dog, Chance, and a talking owl, Cowly, who rode on his shoulder.
Drew, thankfully, hadn’t had to give costume selection another thought. He’d been grateful for the giggles coming from the playroom, paint coming off his daughter at her bath at night. He’d been grateful that there had been no more escape attempts. In fact, Miss Carmichael and Genevieve appeared to be completely bonded over the Halloween project.
Now, his daughter—make that Chance—was dressed in a delightful costume, head to toe fluffy brown curls, a hood with ears, her brows thickened, her nose red and whiskers on her cheeks—and was running around him, barking excitedly.
He was wearing a plaid shirt and an oversize cowboy hat. The plaid shirt had been padded, as it would act as a jacket on a night that had turned quite cold. It made him look quite rotund.
But being fat was nothing on the final piece of the costume. It was a large cardboard box that had been transformed into a horse, the box its body, a cardboard cutout of a neck with a thick wool mane attached. At the end of the neck was a hand-painted horse’s head, wild eyes and flaring nostrils, and a surprisingly good facsimile of reins and a bridle.
According to Miss Carmichael’s instructions, Drew stepped inside a hole in the top of the horse box and pulled it up. It was held in place around his waist with straps over his shoulders. False human legs, denim-clad and fat as sausages, ended in cowboy boots and stirrups. They had been attached to the outside of the box horse. Two false horse legs dragged along behind the box, and Drew’s real legs were the horse’s front legs.
It was really an ingenious contraption. And hilarious. A tubby guy in a too-large hat on a comical horse.
It was also completely without sex appeal. He had, without evidence, reached the incorrect conclusion that Genevieve was going to be Bobo Robbins, not him.
Not that he had thought about it, but if he had, he would have cast himself differently. A prince, maybe. Or a pirate.
A dashing and romantic hero who would have made Alexandra’s mouth fall open and her eyes darken with lust.
Lust.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to pick up a different costume somewhere on their way to the Halloween party. It wasn’t that this one wasn’t brilliant, it’s just that Drew was not sure he was comfortable in a role so without dignity. Plus, this costume was going to attract attention. It would be so much easier to fade into the background as a Count Dracula or King Arthur.
On the other hand, this getup should protect him from anything even remotely lustful. He wouldn’t be getting within three feet of another person with his box horse surrounding him like a suit of armor. Sneaking kisses would be out of the question.
He turned to look at Genevieve and Miss Carmichael. As he moved, the crazy legs attached to the horse flopped about madly in their stirrups. The girls were in absolute hysterics.
The new Drew—the one he had not been at the beginning of October—cast dignity aside in favor of that squealing laughter.
He rocked the box up and down as if the horse was bucking, and he held on to his hat as if he was in danger of being thrown off. He was rewarded with more laughter. He was aware Genevieve was looking at him with total delight and surprise.
Had he really become so dull? The dad who was absolutely no fun to be around? Maybe that’s why Christmas in Lapland had been such a bust.
“Let’s go, Chance,” he said to Genevieve.
It was then he noticed that Miss Carmichael was dressed as the third member of the trio, the owl, Cowly.
He was aware, again, that the man he had been at the beginning of this month might not have noticed the intricacies of a costume she must have worked on for hours. He might not have noticed her eagerness, that she was just barely more than a child herself, still excited about Halloween.
“What are your plans for tonight?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t have any. Not really. I just made the costume for me because it was fun. It made Genevieve happy.”
He thought of the giggles that had been coming from the playroom, a tired, contented little girl in the tub at night, the water turning blue and pink as the paint sluiced off her. It had, indeed.
That’s what thawed hearts did. They made other people happy.
“Would you like to join us, Miss Carmichael?” he asked.
Her face lit up as if he had showered her with stardust and diamonds. That’s what thawed hearts did. They felt the radiant warmth of moments when they gave other people joy. The feeling was addictive.
“It’s Lila,” she said shyly.
When they went outside, it was damp and foggy. Miserable.
“Perfect for Halloween,” Lila told Genevieve, and his daughter beamed.
The car was waiting, and he removed his horse and it was placed carefully in the trunk. He got in beside the girls and gazed out at the New York skyline, just beginning to be smudged with the late-fall darkness.
What would having a heart this open mean around Alexandra? It was all her fault that he was a different man than he had been a month ago, and to be honest, he did not know if he was resentful or grateful.
He did not know if accepting it was bravery or cowardice.
A two-block area had been closed to vehicular traffic, and the car dropped them at the corner.
“Can we go find Macy?” Genevieve asked, getting out of the car and hopping from foot to foot.
“Of course.”
There were a lot of people here. He wanted to tell Miss Carmichael—Lila—to keep a close eye on Genevieve, but when he saw her hand close firmly around her small charge’s, he knew it wasn’t necessary.
They took off into the crowd and were soon lost in the fog.
He sighed, and his breath made a cloud in front of his mouth. He was glad that Genevieve’s outfit looked warm and was thankful his own plaid shirt was padded against the cold. No, he didn’t have to worry about Genevieve with Miss Carmichael. She had thought of everything.
The driver came around and opened the trunk and took out the horse. Drew carefully climbed in it, put the straps over his shoulders and gathered the reins.
“I must say, sir, best costume ever.”
“I have to agree,” he said.
“Never mind,” the driver said hoarsely. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Drew turned in the direction the driver was looking. His mouth fell open. The damp mist parted a bit, and he saw a vision in a hooded cloak was standing a few feet away and appeared to be watching them. She stood, frozen like a deer in headlights, as if at one move, she would turn and run.
Instead, she reached up and pulled the hood down. It took him a very long thirty seconds before he realized it was Alexandra.
And he was not sure he had any defenses against that.
Nor was he sure he wanted any.
He lifted a hand in greeting, and she came toward him. Alexandra was dressed as the sexy seductress from the hugely popular movie Kiss of Death. She was wearing a heavy black cape, fur lining the hood. As she came toward him, the cape swung open and revealed the blood-red dress underneath it. The dress clung to her like a film and had a plunging neckline. It was very short and revealed a stunning length of legs, clad in black fishnet stockings.
Her makeup, in keeping with the character, was exaggerated, but it made her eyes look as dark and as sensuous as a spell, and her lips look as tempting and juicy as a poison apple. Her hair had been braided into a single thick plait that fell over her right shoulder and made his fingers itch to unweave it.
People who believed in such things said that each good turn you did for another returned to you, a karmic gift.
He had not expected any kind of return when he’d invited Lila to come, but now he saw how that spontaneous invitation to the young nanny was returning something extraordinary to him.
He was free of all the normal Halloween responsibilities any dad might feel. Free to see where an evening with Shanna, the Sorceress, would lead.
The word lust appeared inside his head, bright as a sign made of neon tubing.
He was momentarily taken aback by it. He hadn’t known her long, but certainly long enough to know she wasn’t that kind of a woman. She had been consistently professional. He had seen how wholesome her family was. She had revealed to him she held a reservoir of pain at least as large as his own.
Except then they had shared that kiss.
That had changed everything.
And maybe Alexandra Harris was not the same woman she had been a month ago, either. Because Drew was pretty sure that woman would have never worn a dress—even if it was a costume—like the one she had on tonight.
* * *
If Drew hadn’t spotted her, Alexandra might have, at the last moment, changed directions to run home to find a different costume. How had he managed to find a costume that was so lighthearted and fun? She had managed the exact opposite.
Though “managed” was a bit of an exaggeration. It had been a super-busy week. She’d had another meeting with Ivy, and she had also met with Hailey and seen samples of the first flowers for the wedding. Added to that, she’d put together the final details of a Halloween wedding, which had, thankfully, gone off without a hitch an hour ago.
With everything going on, however, she hadn’t had time to plan a costume, and so she’d had to run into a store and grab the first costume she saw. Well, not exactly the first one, which had been Little Red Riding Hood. Instead, she’d looked right past that one and had gravitated to a rack of rather sexy items, no doubt spurred on by a kiss that she hadn’t quite been able to put out of her mind for weeks, not matter how hard she worked, no matter how deeply she immersed herself in her world of creating perfect days and dreams come true for others.
She had almost lost her nerve when she’d first seen herself in this outfit, but then she’d talked herself into it. She didn’t have time to change it. Now, she wished she’d slapped together something out of her own closet.
She had jeans and an old cowboy hat. Wouldn’t that have looked cute with what he had on?
It would have been perfect. Safe, but perfect. On the other hand, something flashed through his eyes, white-hot, as he took in her costume. She was pretty sure a pair of jeans wouldn’t have done that.
“That is the best costume ever,” Alexandra told him.
“I disagree,” he said, his voice gruff. “Yours is the best costume ever.”
“Definitely yours, miss,” the driver said, then ducked his head and slid into the car.
“You look like someone else completely,” Drew said.
That’s what she had told herself when she had looked in the mirror and seen the look was a little more over-the-top sexy than she had guessed it would be when she grabbed it off the rack.
Don’t be chicken, Alexandra had told her reflection sternly. Wasn’t that what wearing a costume was about? Giving yourself permission to be someone else?
Now, she wondered if a chicken might not have been better.
“Well,” she said, “You don’t exactly look like yourself, either. A perfect Bobo Robbins.”
“You’re familiar with my character,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“With the number of nieces and nephews I have? Of course. Who made it? It’s brilliant.”
She debated leaning in and giving him a kiss—just a little hello buss on the cheek—but she had chosen a crazy shade of red lipstick, and it would leave a mark on his cheek.
The thought of marking him—look, he’s mine—had an odd appeal. Until she reminded herself she was related to half the people in this throng, and they would be making deliriously hopeful note of such things. They were going to make note of her outfit, too. She definitely should have thought this through more carefully.
And yet, after that kiss they had shared the last time they’d met, she wasn’t feeling like she wanted to be careful. Was she feeling a little deliriously hopeful herself? For a repeat of last time?
Ridiculous.
“It turns out Miss Carmichael—Lila—helps make costumes for a theater group.”
“Oh! I saw her and Genevieve race by me. Genevieve barely acknowledged me, though. She was rushing off to find Macy.”
“Ah, Macy. I think there is a little case of hero worship unfolding there. I have her to thank, in a roundabout way, for the costume.”
“You don’t seem that enthused about your costume,” she said. “And it’s perfectly adorable.”
“Do I look like a man who wants to be perfectly adorable?”
Her eyes drifted to his lips. “No,” she admitted.
“I had pictured something a little more dashing. Or even sinister. Can you picture me as a villain?” He twirled an imaginary mustache and lowered his brow at her.
She could, indeed, picture him as a villain, the bad boy—the gunslinger, the pirate, the jewel thief—who created unwanted stirrings of longing in the pure, sweet hearts of every single good girl he ever met.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I DON’T CARE for villains,” Alexandra told Drew primly, though in truth she had never considered whether she liked them or not. In the context of him, it was an absolute lie.
“Oh. Villains are out, then.”
As if her opinion really mattered to him. Why would that create such an unexpected feeling of warmth in the region of her heart?
“Superman,” he suggested. “A sheikh. A prince. How could that girl miss my potential so completely?”
As he said it, she could picture him in each of those roles completely. Unfortunately.
“She did what would make Genevieve happy,” Alexandra said. “You have yourself a gem of a nanny there.”
“Thanks to your intervention. So, no more complaining or conjecturing. I promise I will appreciate my costume completely.” He pretended the horse was rearing up and swept off his hat to her.
Alexandra laughed, even as she made note of how dashing he was even in the silly costume. In fact, Alexandra thought it was probably a very good thing for both of them that his costume did not show off his full masculine charm.
They were going to put that kiss behind them. Become friends. Enjoy a really fun night with no strings and no complications. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d just given herself over to having lighthearted fun. She was pretty sure he couldn’t, either.
Kisses, she reminded herself, were complications of the worst variety.
He pretended the horse was getting away from him, sidling sideways. She laughed more, and so did he, and it boded well for the evening.
They explored the block party. And it was fun. There was almost a giddiness to them, as if they were two children let loose at a country fair. Every house looked as if it had tried to outdo its neighbors with decorations. There were gravestones in front yards and skeletons hanging from roof peaks. There were inflatable werewolves and witches. The mistiness of the night was a perfect backdrop for all the spookiness.
They stopped at a bonfire, where there were vats of hot chocolate, hot dogs and freshly made candy and caramel apples. They admired costumes and were admired. Hordes of screaming, costumed children ran by them with loot bags filled with candy. Occasionally they would catch sight of Genevieve and Macy, still with Lila Carmichael.
They watched people bob for apples and each took a few blindfolded swipes at a huge pumpkin piñata. There were a couple of game booths raising money for charity, and despite how difficult it was for him to get his costume close to the counters, they played whack-a-witch, beanbag toss and spin-the-wheel.
Drew won Alexandra the homeliest stuffed toy she had ever seen, a plush warty toad. Winning it probably cost him the equivalent to a month’s rent for her, but it wasn’t the expense that made her aware she was going to treasure it forever. It was his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration—it was the fact that he wanted it so badly for her.
They ran into her sister, Heather, and her brother, Shaun, shepherding kids with pillowcases already filled with candy from house to house. Thankfully, introductions were brief. It looked as if Shaun desperately wanted to interrogate Drew, but there was too much chaos going on around them to encourage conversation.
Finally, just as the mist was turning to rain, they found themselves at the promised bouncy tent. It was filled with shrieking pint-size superheroes and ghosts, princesses and space creatures.
Shelley and Lila were outside it, and Macy and Genevieve were inside, holding hands, jumping facing each other.
“I’m going to take them home after this,” Shelley told Drew and Alexandra. “They’re just at that turning point—happiness to hysteria.”
“All kids reach that turning point?” Drew asked.
“You poor man,” Shelley said. “Of course they do. Usually once a day.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not a failure on your part, believe me. Anyway, I’ll grab them and put on a movie at home. I think they’ll probably both be sleeping in minutes. Drew, you can come get her when you’re ready to go.” She looked from him to Alexandra. She looked at how Alexandra was dressed, and how she was clutching the toad. “Or you can leave her with me for the night.”
