A Fairytale Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

Aloof. Waiting. But why? She had all but thrown herself at him.
    A possibility struck her like an icy slap. She tore herself away from him and scrambled back into a corner of the sofa. “You fraud!”
    * * *
    Jack felt the blood drain from his face. The jig was up. She’d probably known from the first instant, but he’d proved a convenient escape from a boring party. Now that things were heating up, her ice-goddess persona was kicking in.
    “Madeleine, I can explain. I—”
    “Oh, I’d like to hear that one, mister.” She reached for her coffee and took a sip, then winced as if her throat were on fire.
    “Look, Madeleine, I never planned on letting it go this far, but you—”
    “You’re married!”
    “Never!” he said, relief mingling with untimely amusement. “Is that what you thought? Swear to God, Maddy, I’m not.”
    “Then you have a—a disease or something.”
    “Not that, either. Honest.”
    “A fugitive?” she guessed.
    “Okay,” he said, still amazed by his narrow escape. “I fled Texas to find myself.”
    “And did you?” She eyed him warily.
    “Maybe. I found you. That’s something.” His gaze swept the showcase apartment. Did she know she lived in the glossy pages of
Architectural Digest?
It was sort of sad, in a way. Empty, somehow. Like the large potted pine tree in the corner. It bore no ornament except a single red bow at the base of the pot.
    Madeleine’s gaze followed his to the barren tree. “I’m Christmas challenged,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly.
    “I’m not,” said Jack. “Where are the lights and ornaments?”
    As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to reel them back in. Damn, he was an idiot. He had been
this close
to seducing Madeleine Langston and here he was offering to decorate a Christmas tree for her. He was losing it.
    She took another sip of her Irish coffee, her eyes bottomless and blue as she peered at him over the rim of the cup. “I might cry,” she said softly.
    He felt a jolt of unexpected tenderness. “Why?”
    “Daddy always made a big deal of Christmas.”
    He slipped his hand around hers. “I get it. If you’d rather not—”
    “I didn’t say that,” she interrupted. “I was just telling you—if we do the tree, I might cry. I wanted to see if you’d mind.”
    “Mind!” This woman was a surprise a minute. “Sweetheart, believe me, there are worse things in life than having a pleasantly tipsy, gorgeous woman cry on my shoulder.”
    She tilted her head to one side. “You’ve got nice big shoulders. Maybe I won’t cry, after all.”
    * * *
    But in the end, she did, of course, as they had both known she would. It happened in the wake of laughter, just after they had finished untangling the string of lights and draping them artfully around the odd-looking, skinny tree.
    Jack had hit a wall switch, bringing the lights and treetop star to twinkling life. Madeleine stood in front of the glittering tree, bathed in the reflective glow. The colored lights flashed in the beads that ornamented her black dress. She stood very still, looking curiously bereft, hereyes wide and sparkling with tears, her hair nicely mussed, more blond wisps escaping to curl around her face and neck.
    “Maddy?” Jack asked softly, as if speaking louder would make her shatter like a crystal goblet on a Memorex commercial.
    She wept silently, giant tears rolling down her flawless cheeks. Finally she whispered, “Your shoulders are too far away.”
    Flooded by a rush of tenderness, he took her in his arms and pressed her cheek into his chest. Her tears soaked the front of his Harry Fodgother original. “Shh,” Jack said. “It’s okay.” He grimaced. For someone who worked with words all day, he wasn’t being very eloquent.
    After a while, she drew back and said, “It
is
all right. I mean, I miss Daddy. Sometimes it feels like I can’t even take the next breath. And then, somehow, I take that breath, and the next and the next, and the