speaking to me?”
Mac had an inkling he’d made a mistake. “I’m the guy with the holly.’’ He fingered his lapel.
She frowned.
His smile disappeared. “Maybe I’ve made a mistake.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said, tilting her head and her eyes until she found the top of his head. “For starters, you’re too big. I don’t like big men. And I hate holly.” She swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked away, ignoring the drink the bartender had just poured.
“You paying for this?” the bartender asked.
Mac dug into his pocket, dropped a twenty on the bar, and didn’t bother waiting for change.
He went back to his table, hating to look around. The eyes that had been staring at the redhead now stared at him. Merry would never hear the end of this. How could he have let her talk him into this fiasco? What more could go wrong?
He glanced at his watch: 7:35. Twenty-five minutes to wait. If she didn’t show up by 8:05, he would leave.
The waiter set another beer in front of Mac. “Meeting any more women tonight?” he questioned.
“One.” Mac stared at his drink and held up an index finger.
“Would you like me to have another beer ready when she arrives?”
Mac thought about it for only a moment, then nodded. “Might be a good idea.”
oOo
Kathleen stared at the clock. 7:35. Oh, my God. I’m late, she thought. How could she possibly have taken so long to get ready when all she’d done was shower, dress, brush her teeth, apply a light spray of cologne, then add a few brush strokes of mascara to her already dark lashes?
When she pulled her hair out of the bun it hung in long, unruly auburn waves that cascaded down her back. She stood before the full-length mirror and gasped. How on God’s green earth could she go out looking like this? The dress was too short; too low; too tight; too—too wrong. But she didn’t have time to change, and she didn’t have anything else to wear.
She slipped into the three-inch heels, praying the man from the Personals would be well over six feet tall. Searching through the pile of discarded clothing on her bed, she grabbed her purse, threw in a lipstick, a brush, her wallet, then made the ultimate decision to spend money on a cab. She’d never make it on time if she took the bus. Taking one quick look in the mirror, she stuck out her tongue and made an ugly face, picked up the gloves, and ran out the door, opting for the elevator instead of the stairs.
A horrendous number of cars, buses, and taxis jammed the streets. She had to hurry. She didn’t want to be late and miss her date. If she did, she’d never forgive herself. She’d also feel like a fool standing in the lounge dressed in such a conspicuous way without anyone to meet. The hotel management might get the wrong idea.
The Plaza came into view. She applied another coating of lipstick, checked for any loose mascara under her eyes, paid the driver, took a deep breath, and rushed into the hotel.
She stood in the lobby looking totally bewildered, until the bell captain came to her rescue, ushering her to the lounge.
8:05. The place buzzed with activity. How could she ever find a man with a sprig of holly in his lapel? Then, at a distant table, she saw McKenna O’Brien. Damn! What’s he doing here? How could she look for the man with the holly? What would Mac say if he saw her? How could she explain? And, oh, why couldn’t he be the man she was meeting, instead of some stranger?
Maybe he didn’t see her. How could he? Too many people crowded around in the darkness, and he sat at the far end of the room. She squinted, trying to get a better look at her boss. Her shoulders slumped. Oh, God! He had holly in his lapel.
oOo
“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter said, “but I think your next date just walked in.”
Mac gulped down the beer, turned to the entry, and saw only a throng of faceless people. “Where?”
“The tall one in the white dress. She’s wearing white gloves,
Mac had an inkling he’d made a mistake. “I’m the guy with the holly.’’ He fingered his lapel.
She frowned.
His smile disappeared. “Maybe I’ve made a mistake.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said, tilting her head and her eyes until she found the top of his head. “For starters, you’re too big. I don’t like big men. And I hate holly.” She swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked away, ignoring the drink the bartender had just poured.
“You paying for this?” the bartender asked.
Mac dug into his pocket, dropped a twenty on the bar, and didn’t bother waiting for change.
He went back to his table, hating to look around. The eyes that had been staring at the redhead now stared at him. Merry would never hear the end of this. How could he have let her talk him into this fiasco? What more could go wrong?
He glanced at his watch: 7:35. Twenty-five minutes to wait. If she didn’t show up by 8:05, he would leave.
The waiter set another beer in front of Mac. “Meeting any more women tonight?” he questioned.
“One.” Mac stared at his drink and held up an index finger.
“Would you like me to have another beer ready when she arrives?”
Mac thought about it for only a moment, then nodded. “Might be a good idea.”
oOo
Kathleen stared at the clock. 7:35. Oh, my God. I’m late, she thought. How could she possibly have taken so long to get ready when all she’d done was shower, dress, brush her teeth, apply a light spray of cologne, then add a few brush strokes of mascara to her already dark lashes?
When she pulled her hair out of the bun it hung in long, unruly auburn waves that cascaded down her back. She stood before the full-length mirror and gasped. How on God’s green earth could she go out looking like this? The dress was too short; too low; too tight; too—too wrong. But she didn’t have time to change, and she didn’t have anything else to wear.
She slipped into the three-inch heels, praying the man from the Personals would be well over six feet tall. Searching through the pile of discarded clothing on her bed, she grabbed her purse, threw in a lipstick, a brush, her wallet, then made the ultimate decision to spend money on a cab. She’d never make it on time if she took the bus. Taking one quick look in the mirror, she stuck out her tongue and made an ugly face, picked up the gloves, and ran out the door, opting for the elevator instead of the stairs.
A horrendous number of cars, buses, and taxis jammed the streets. She had to hurry. She didn’t want to be late and miss her date. If she did, she’d never forgive herself. She’d also feel like a fool standing in the lounge dressed in such a conspicuous way without anyone to meet. The hotel management might get the wrong idea.
The Plaza came into view. She applied another coating of lipstick, checked for any loose mascara under her eyes, paid the driver, took a deep breath, and rushed into the hotel.
She stood in the lobby looking totally bewildered, until the bell captain came to her rescue, ushering her to the lounge.
8:05. The place buzzed with activity. How could she ever find a man with a sprig of holly in his lapel? Then, at a distant table, she saw McKenna O’Brien. Damn! What’s he doing here? How could she look for the man with the holly? What would Mac say if he saw her? How could she explain? And, oh, why couldn’t he be the man she was meeting, instead of some stranger?
Maybe he didn’t see her. How could he? Too many people crowded around in the darkness, and he sat at the far end of the room. She squinted, trying to get a better look at her boss. Her shoulders slumped. Oh, God! He had holly in his lapel.
oOo
“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter said, “but I think your next date just walked in.”
Mac gulped down the beer, turned to the entry, and saw only a throng of faceless people. “Where?”
“The tall one in the white dress. She’s wearing white gloves,
Similar Books
