Read Online Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers) by Cheryl Brooks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cheryl Brooks
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bite until she felt like she was going to puke. Then she tried calling him again. Still no answer.
Maybe Alan had gone to Russia for Christmas and was riding around on one of those peculiar Russian sleighs, pulled by an underfed horse like something out of Dr . Zhivago or Fiddler on the Roof .
Or he might have gone to Paris and was sipping a cafe au lait in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower while a choir sang “Silent Night” in French.
Germany would be a nice place to spend Christmas. After all, a German man had written “Silent Night.” If she remembered correctly, Germany was also responsible for the whole Christmas tree idea.
He could have gone anywhere and been doing anything—except watching a football game, which could be safely ruled out since he didn’t like football or any other sport. Although he might have been lying about that.
He could have lied about everything. She might’ve sent an email to some unknown person and been trying to call his uncle in Duluth or the Walmart in Dallas. No, it couldn’t have been Walmart, because they never close. They would have answered the phone. Unlike Alan. The twit . He knew he could safely give her those numbers, because he never answered his phone or his email.
Checking the napkin for the fiftieth time, she verified the digits once more and dialed the number again, letting it ring twenty-five times before hanging up. Then she did it again. She checked her email once more, promising herself a truly genuine suicide attempt if she failed to receive anything this time, and found a message from Amazon.com promising her free shipping if she ordered before Christmas. They probably had no idea they’d saved her life when they sent it. Then again, if she had to spend another day like this one, she might wish they’d deleted her from their mailing list.
Emily buffed her nails with the kit she’d purchased from the Israeli man in the mall. She could go see him—he’d written his name on the receipt—but he’d probably gone back to Israel. Alan was probably there, too. A trip to Bethlehem for Christmas made perfect sense.
Unless there was unrest in the Middle East. There usually was. S ince she hadn’t exactly been keeping up with current events, she didn’t know.
In desperation, she called Todd, who at least had an answering machine, and told him she was looking for a man named Alan, and if he knew of anyone by that name, to bring him over to her house, pronto.
About an hour later, Todd showed up on her doorstep with Alan.
Her Alan.
Chapter 7
This was definitely the same Alan—three-day beard, tousled hair, slate blue eyes, luscious lips, and all—right down to the leather jacket.
“You two know each other?” she asked.
“ Yep,” Todd replied. “He lives across the hall from me. You said if I knew anyone named Alan to bring him over, so I did. Why is that so surprising?”
“ Because he’s the right Alan.” She gazed at Alan, still not quite believing her eyes. Finding that napkin was akin to discovering a treasure map. He was the treasure. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“If I’d known you wanted him , I could have brought him over a long time ago.”
Todd s aid it so casually, Emily wanted to slap him—or hug him. One thing for sure, he would get more than a pizza oven for Christmas. The moon might be enough…
Alan hadn’t said a word. He simply stood there wearing an expression so blank he might never have seen her before.
Her heart sank to her toes. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Oh, he remembers you , all right,” Todd said. “He’s been moping around for weeks because he met this terrific woman who never called him. Too bad you didn’t tell him your name.”
“I –I lost the napkin,” she said, still staring at Alan’s impassive face. “It was in my fleece jacket. I’ve been wearing my other coat since then because it’s been so cold. I sent you an email this morning. I’ve been calling
Maybe Alan had gone to Russia for Christmas and was riding around on one of those peculiar Russian sleighs, pulled by an underfed horse like something out of Dr . Zhivago or Fiddler on the Roof .
Or he might have gone to Paris and was sipping a cafe au lait in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower while a choir sang “Silent Night” in French.
Germany would be a nice place to spend Christmas. After all, a German man had written “Silent Night.” If she remembered correctly, Germany was also responsible for the whole Christmas tree idea.
He could have gone anywhere and been doing anything—except watching a football game, which could be safely ruled out since he didn’t like football or any other sport. Although he might have been lying about that.
He could have lied about everything. She might’ve sent an email to some unknown person and been trying to call his uncle in Duluth or the Walmart in Dallas. No, it couldn’t have been Walmart, because they never close. They would have answered the phone. Unlike Alan. The twit . He knew he could safely give her those numbers, because he never answered his phone or his email.
Checking the napkin for the fiftieth time, she verified the digits once more and dialed the number again, letting it ring twenty-five times before hanging up. Then she did it again. She checked her email once more, promising herself a truly genuine suicide attempt if she failed to receive anything this time, and found a message from Amazon.com promising her free shipping if she ordered before Christmas. They probably had no idea they’d saved her life when they sent it. Then again, if she had to spend another day like this one, she might wish they’d deleted her from their mailing list.
Emily buffed her nails with the kit she’d purchased from the Israeli man in the mall. She could go see him—he’d written his name on the receipt—but he’d probably gone back to Israel. Alan was probably there, too. A trip to Bethlehem for Christmas made perfect sense.
Unless there was unrest in the Middle East. There usually was. S ince she hadn’t exactly been keeping up with current events, she didn’t know.
In desperation, she called Todd, who at least had an answering machine, and told him she was looking for a man named Alan, and if he knew of anyone by that name, to bring him over to her house, pronto.
About an hour later, Todd showed up on her doorstep with Alan.
Her Alan.
Chapter 7
This was definitely the same Alan—three-day beard, tousled hair, slate blue eyes, luscious lips, and all—right down to the leather jacket.
“You two know each other?” she asked.
“ Yep,” Todd replied. “He lives across the hall from me. You said if I knew anyone named Alan to bring him over, so I did. Why is that so surprising?”
“ Because he’s the right Alan.” She gazed at Alan, still not quite believing her eyes. Finding that napkin was akin to discovering a treasure map. He was the treasure. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“If I’d known you wanted him , I could have brought him over a long time ago.”
Todd s aid it so casually, Emily wanted to slap him—or hug him. One thing for sure, he would get more than a pizza oven for Christmas. The moon might be enough…
Alan hadn’t said a word. He simply stood there wearing an expression so blank he might never have seen her before.
Her heart sank to her toes. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Oh, he remembers you , all right,” Todd said. “He’s been moping around for weeks because he met this terrific woman who never called him. Too bad you didn’t tell him your name.”
“I –I lost the napkin,” she said, still staring at Alan’s impassive face. “It was in my fleece jacket. I’ve been wearing my other coat since then because it’s been so cold. I sent you an email this morning. I’ve been calling
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