How could he? Jess fumed silently. He’d just asked her to spend Christmas with him. He’d kissed her and then snatched the mistletoe from above her head as if he were a possessive lover. For months he’d pursued her, and then he’d turned around and married a two-bit actress?
Of course, she’d known something like this would happen if she made the mistake of falling in love with Jimmy Blue.
The apparition leaned forward, drifting through the air and even partway through the solid desk. “If you tell a man often enough that you’re not interested, eventually he will believe you.” There was more than a hint of admonition in that statement.
The door flew open, the movement accompanied by a light tapping. Lorraine stepped into the room. “How’s that headache?”
Lorraine looked directly at Jess, through the shifting and misty figure on the desk. Obviously she didn’t see the ghost. Mrs. Courtney smiled and waved to Jess as she faded away.
“Headache?” Jess’s eyes dropped to Lorraine’s distended belly. The petite office manager wore her usual festive attire, but the bright red material and gold sequins were draped over a very pregnant stomach. Jess’s eyes grew wide as she stared.
“If you say one more word about how huge I am I’m going to scream,” Lorraine said as she closed the door. “Headache or no headache.”
Now Jess knew without doubt that this was a dream. She pinched her arm, lightly, and nothing happened. It hurt, but she didn’t wake up.
“I’m okay,” Jess said. “No headache.” Her head was fine, if she discounted the disorientation and the hallucinations. Yeah, she was just peachy.
“Good.” Lorraine propped herself against the edge of the desk, there where Mrs. Courtney had been a moment ago. “Join the party and pretend to have fun, like the rest of us.”
Dream or hallucination, what could she do but play along?
“I have these appointments to go over.” Tess glanced down at the calendar she’d apparently used as a pillow. Sure enough, three years had passed. There were a few appointments scribbled there. A very few.
“You can’t hide in here every time Jimmy brings that Erica thing to the office,” Lorraine said softly, and with the sympathy of a true friend.
“I’m not hiding,” Jess said. Whether she was answering Mrs. Courtney’s earlier comment or Lorraine’s, she didn’t know. It was all the same, anyway.
“Then come on.” Lorraine rounded the desk and took Jess’s hand to assist her from the chair. Snowmen dangled from her ears, brushing pudgy cheeks. Goodness, Lorraine really was huge.
“When are you due, again?” Tess asked as she came to her feet.
“I have seven more weeks to go,” Lorraine said testily, “and you darn well know it. If I hear one more word about how big I am, about triplets, or how I’m going to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records for delivering a fully grown three-year-old, I’m going to cry. A lot.”
Oddly enough, the tough-as-nails Lorraine looked as if she really might burst into tears at any moment. “Sorry,” Jess said. “It’s just—”
“I know.” Lorraine threw her arm around Jess’s waist as they headed for the office door. “You turn into a real bear every time that Erica thing shows up. Who can blame you?”
Jess shook her head to clear it, and smoothed the short navy skirt she wore. Paired with a plain white blouse it was her usual business attire, simple and classic. She didn’t own a pair of holiday earrings or a sparkling sweater. Who would take her seriously if she came to work in a getup like Lorraine’s? No one.
Suddenly she knew this wasn’t a dream at all. It wasn’t a hallucination, either. Somehow this was
real
. Lorraine was warm; the doorknob at her fingers was cold. Dean was singing, loudly and off-key. If this was a dream, she would’ve made certain he actually sounded like Elvis, for a change.
This was really her chance to know what the future would be like. Her hand froze on the cold doorknob.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do this.”
She waited for Mrs. Courtney to show up and whisk her back home, to her movie and her tea and her flannel pajamas. But it was Lorraine who answered.
“I know.”
“I want to go home.” It was a plea, but still there was no sign of her ghostly neighbor.
Lorraine opened the door.
At first glance, not much had changed. The main office was the same, as were most of the people. She noticed a few new faces, and there were a couple of old ones missing. A long table against one wall was heavily laden with punch and finger foods, and Lorraine’s Christmas decorations had been hung on the walls.
Dean was standing on Lorraine’s desk. He’d just launched into “Heartbreak Hotel.”
She saw Erica Blue almost immediately. Knew, without being told, that this tall, dark-haired, artificially endowed woman was the gold digger who’d gotten her claws into Jimmy. Her holiday dress was covered entirely in silver sequins and was low-cut in front and back. A cigarette dangled from slender, elegant fingers, and a champagne glass rested comfortably in one hand.
“Who smokes anymore?”
“Erica says smoking keeps her thin,” Lorraine said in a lowered voice. “She’s on the nicotine and liquor diet, as usual.”
“It’s a no-smoking building.” A weak argument, she supposed. Perhaps the rules didn’t apply to Jimmy’s wife.
“Pretty disgusting, isn’t it?” Lorraine hissed.
Yes
. “Whatever makes Jimmy happy,” Jess said softly.
Lorraine snorted. “She’s made him miserable, and you know it.”
Across the room, Erica lifted her head to stare at Jess. There was no warmth in that gaze, no greeting. She took a fluidly graceful step forward, toward Jess, and Lorraine jumped ship with a mumbled excuse.
Wow. It took a
lot
to make Lorraine run.
“Miss Lennox,” Erica said, stopping just a foot or two away from Jess.
“Mrs. Blue.” She almost choked on the words. “Merry Christmas.”
The cold smile Jess received made her stomach knot. This woman hated her, and without reason. There had never been anything between Jess and Jimmy. One date, one kiss... nothing.
“If you’re looking for my husband, you’re out of luck,” Erica said, moving in closer. Jess wanted nothing more than to slip back into her office and close the door. “He’s holed up in Bartlett’s office, going over figures and arguing about money. You know how it is.”
“Sure,” Jess muttered, though she knew nothing at all.
What on earth did Jimmy see in this man-eater? Stupid question. The woman was model gorgeous, and had a killer body. Were those things
real
? Unlikely, not that any man would care. But what did Erica see in Jimmy? She looked like the kind of woman who would go in for wild parties and power lunches. She was sleek and fast and deadly, and Jimmy was warm and sweet and modest. Surely they were like oil and water.
At that moment, her sweet and modest Jimmy burst from Terry Bartlett’s office. All heads turned as he stormed into the midst of the party.
“Erica!” he shouted. “Let’s go!”
Dean stopped singing, Lorraine’s voice from the opposite side of the room trailed off in mid-sentence, and a small circle cleared around Jimmy, as everyone stepped back.
He looked awful. Dressed all in black, from the hat on his head to the scuffed boots, he was obviously angry and tired. No, more weary than tired. Jimmy had aged more than three years. He’d aged badly. He was thinner than she remembered, almost gaunt, and he needed a haircut. And his eyes—she could tell even from here that his eyes weren’t bright anymore.
Those eyes lit on her, briefly.
“Come on, Erica,” Jimmy said in a softened voice. “Let’s get out of here.”
It was as if everything had stopped. No one moved, and there was not so much as a whisper. Jess could have sworn that no one even breathed. The party didn’t resume, but waited for Erica’s response. And she liked being the center of attention.
“But Jimmy, darling, it’s Christmas Eve.” Erica lifted her hands, almost as if to invite Jimmy to her. But there was that champagne glass in one hand, and the cigarette in the other, so it was more of a challenging pose than an invitation. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”
The crowd parted as Jimmy stalked across the room. “It’s a little early in the evening to be completely sloshed, don’t you think?” he whispered when he was so close no one but he and Erica and Tess could hear.
Erica rolled her eyes toward Jess. “He is
such
an old man.”
“Dammit, Erica,” Jimmy said, seething.
Jess backed toward her office door. Hiding? You bet she was. She wanted to close her eyes and call Mrs. Courtney and beg to be taken away from here. This was not her Jimmy, this was not the future, this was not a dream. It was a nightmare.
“Don’t leave us just yet, Miss Lennox,” Erica said huskily.
Jess froze.
The party had resumed, but at a lower level. Dean gave up his act and left the “stage,” but instead of milling with the employees or speaking to Jimmy, he went directly to his office and slammed the door.
Erica drained her glass and brought the cigarette to her red lips. “My husband has some news for you, isn’t that right, Jimmy, darling? Since you two are such good old friends,” she said sarcastically, “we think you should be the first to know.”
“Later.” Jimmy slipped his hand beneath Erica’s elbow to guide her to the door, but she jerked away from him.
“I tell you what, baby,” Erica whispered. “You go ahead and tell her the good news. I’ve been invited to another party, and I’m sure it’ll be more fun than this wake. I’ll take a taxi.”
She walked away, shaking her silver-draped hips like a sultry actress from an old B movie. “Don’t wait up.”
Jimmy, looked at the floor, and then lifted his head slowly. There were new lines breaking from the corners of his eyes, and those normally bright gray eyes were dull as mist. He was openly bitter, angry, and tense. She couldn’t accept this. Wouldn’t. This sad man wasn’t her Jimmy Blue.
“Go after her,” Jess said with a nod of her head. “Anything you have to tell me can wait.”
Jimmy shook his head, and if she wasn’t mistaken he actually relaxed a little. “I learned a long time ago that Erica does exactly what she wants. Trying to stop her is like trying to stop a tank with a speed bump.”
In spite of everything, Jess smiled. There, at least, was a hint of the Jimmy she remembered.
“You look tired,” she whispered.
“Well, you know.”
She felt like she should know, but she didn’t. And then she remembered something Mrs. Courtney had said. Jimmy’s latest release wasn’t doing well; Vandiver Records was in trouble. His marriage was obviously less than wonderful.
“Things will turn around,” she said.
Jimmy smiled, and while it wasn’t his bright and wonderful smile, it was better than nothing. “I remember a time when I was the optimist and you were the one waiting for the sky to fall.”
Was she? Was she so afraid of moving forward, of taking a chance, that she froze and did nothing?
“How about a drink?” he added.
Jess glanced at the punch bowl on the other side of the room. If Jimmy would step away for a few minutes it would give her a chance to think clearly, to analyze this... dream or nightmare or gift or whatever it was.
“Sure.”
Jimmy grabbed her hand and pulled her with him toward the door. As he passed the punch table he grabbed two empty paper cups without pausing or breaking his stride. They went into his jacket pocket.
“Blue,” she snapped as they approached the door, “what do you think you’re doing?”
Jimmy glanced over his shoulder. “You haven’t called me Blue in years.” His voice was almost nostalgic, and then he laughed, brief and harsh and without humor. “Let’s face it. You haven’t called me anything at all in years.”
Jess allowed Jimmy to all but pull her through the door and into the hallway, past the garish Christmas decorations and to the elevator.
He punched the down button.
“This is not a good idea,” Jess whispered.
He didn’t release her hand. “I’ve got to talk to somebody.”
He turned those weary eyes to her and squeezed the hand he held. There was something almost desperate in his voice, something on the verge of breaking. She couldn’t possibly say no.
Chapter Four
A blast of icy wind hit Jess full in the face as they left the building. “It’s cold.” She shivered. “I should’ve grabbed my coat before we left.”
As they walked across the parking lot, Jimmy slipped off his leather jacket and placed it around her shoulders. It was warm from his body, every bit as comfy as her flannel pajamas and quilt.
There was no snow, no sleet, just an unrelenting wind on a crisp, clear night. It stung her eyes and burned her cheeks, sensations too real to be a part of any dream. Jimmy guided her, his arm light at her back, to his pickup truck. Most of the parking lot was empty, and the black Ford sat all alone at one end.
“You drive that same old truck,” she said into the wind.
“Yeah.”
“I figured you’d have a Jag or a Porsche by now,” Jess said lightly. “Something fast and dreadfully expensive.”
Jimmy threw open the driver’s side door, and with his hands at her waist he lifted Jess onto the seat. She scooted over quickly, to escape both the cold and the warm touch of his hands. He followed, slamming the door forcefully behind him.
She leaned against the passenger door, placing as much distance between her and Jimmy as possible. Not that it did any good. He kept coming, until he was leaning over her. She’d spent so much time and energy avoiding this... his wide shoulders dwarfing her, his body heat wrapping around her, his very closeness making her heart pound hard and fast. His hand slipped to her side, into the pocket of his jacket, the jacket she now wore, and came up with the two paper cups.
He retrieved a pint of Jack Daniels from the glove compartment, and then retreated to a position similar to her own against the opposite door.
She took the paper cups and held them while he opened the whiskey and poured the amber liquid slowly until the little cups were half-f.