powder that made her think of the glitter that her mom had once glued to the wings of her angel’s costume for the fourth grade Christmas pageant. Back then she’d believed in angels and miracles and the special magic of Christmas snow. Could it be time to believe again?
Speaking her thoughts aloud, she said, “A white Christmas, it doesn’t get any better than that.”
He shook his head, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Oh, it gets better, Mandy. It gets lots better. I have a hunch this New Year is going to be the start of something wonderful, a fresh start in more ways than one.” He kissed the tip of her nose before stepping back. “I’ll call you after the holiday. In the meantime, have a good one—and drive safely.”
She hesitated, not sure of how much to say, of how much to hope. “Okay, you too,” she said and then turned to open the car door.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he waited until she was safely inside the car with the engine started before turning to go, one hand raised in a wave. Watching him fade to black, his tight Bon Jovi butt filling out the seat of those jeans in just the right way, his booted feet leaving impressively large prints in the powdering of snow, she vented a sigh. It might be a record cold night, but there’s no need to switch on the heater, that’s for sure. Backing out of the space, she caught a glimpse of a smile, hers, in the rearview mirror and shook her head. Maybe her luck wasn’t changing for the better; maybe it already had.
3
Monday, December 25
7:00 a.m.
Christmas morning, hurray! Barely closed eyes all night but when did, was to visions of blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk dirty dancing through dreams. Come awake awash in optimism and hormone-induced euphoria. Put energy boost to use in Christmas gift to self: getting rid of puke pink wall color reminiscent of scary high school prom dress and repainting to soothing sage green fit for cool, sophisticated Woman of the World. Afterward, floated downstairs to find mother holed up in kitchen, too busy fretting over preparation of Christmas Open House feast to comment that youngest daughter (me) is still languishing in chaste, childless singledom, frittering away supposed “best years” and dwindling supply of “baby eggs” on cold-blooded pursuit of police career.
But for first time in a long while, maybe forever, feel like the best is yet to come. Embracing power of positive thinking, am keeping cell phone close at hand so as to be ready when, not if but when, He calls.
Please, dear God, let him call. Let him call soon…
W ATCHING M ANDY DRIVE OFF , Josh could only shake his head at his life’s latest ironic turn of events. Just his luck, he finally met his dream woman—Mandy Delinski of the Titian red hair, soulful amber-brown eyes and Rubenesque body-to-die-for—and he couldn’t even tell her his real name.
Ever since he’d discovered that his new brother-in-law, Tony, was embezzling money from Thornton Enterprises, his family’s Boston-based telecommunications company, his life hadn’t been his own. When Grady Stone, the company’s chief financial officer, first came to him with his suspicions that Tony was faking project invoices, Josh had brushed it off as the workings of an overly active imagination. Grady might have a great head for crunching numbers, but he read way too much true crime crap for Josh to accept such a wild accusation on faith alone. True, he’d never been all that crazy about Tony, but he was still Martie’s husband. He wasn’t ready to hang the guy out to dry purely because their personalities had clashed on occasion.
Still, Grady was the CFO. Josh had agreed to check out a few things behind the scenes, namely the accounts on which Tony served as project manager. Once he started digging, it wasn’t long before he hit pay dirt—literally. No run-of-the-mill embezzler, Tony was a high-level Mafia plant. He’d used his marriage to a Thornton as his
Speaking her thoughts aloud, she said, “A white Christmas, it doesn’t get any better than that.”
He shook his head, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Oh, it gets better, Mandy. It gets lots better. I have a hunch this New Year is going to be the start of something wonderful, a fresh start in more ways than one.” He kissed the tip of her nose before stepping back. “I’ll call you after the holiday. In the meantime, have a good one—and drive safely.”
She hesitated, not sure of how much to say, of how much to hope. “Okay, you too,” she said and then turned to open the car door.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he waited until she was safely inside the car with the engine started before turning to go, one hand raised in a wave. Watching him fade to black, his tight Bon Jovi butt filling out the seat of those jeans in just the right way, his booted feet leaving impressively large prints in the powdering of snow, she vented a sigh. It might be a record cold night, but there’s no need to switch on the heater, that’s for sure. Backing out of the space, she caught a glimpse of a smile, hers, in the rearview mirror and shook her head. Maybe her luck wasn’t changing for the better; maybe it already had.
3
Monday, December 25
7:00 a.m.
Christmas morning, hurray! Barely closed eyes all night but when did, was to visions of blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk dirty dancing through dreams. Come awake awash in optimism and hormone-induced euphoria. Put energy boost to use in Christmas gift to self: getting rid of puke pink wall color reminiscent of scary high school prom dress and repainting to soothing sage green fit for cool, sophisticated Woman of the World. Afterward, floated downstairs to find mother holed up in kitchen, too busy fretting over preparation of Christmas Open House feast to comment that youngest daughter (me) is still languishing in chaste, childless singledom, frittering away supposed “best years” and dwindling supply of “baby eggs” on cold-blooded pursuit of police career.
But for first time in a long while, maybe forever, feel like the best is yet to come. Embracing power of positive thinking, am keeping cell phone close at hand so as to be ready when, not if but when, He calls.
Please, dear God, let him call. Let him call soon…
W ATCHING M ANDY DRIVE OFF , Josh could only shake his head at his life’s latest ironic turn of events. Just his luck, he finally met his dream woman—Mandy Delinski of the Titian red hair, soulful amber-brown eyes and Rubenesque body-to-die-for—and he couldn’t even tell her his real name.
Ever since he’d discovered that his new brother-in-law, Tony, was embezzling money from Thornton Enterprises, his family’s Boston-based telecommunications company, his life hadn’t been his own. When Grady Stone, the company’s chief financial officer, first came to him with his suspicions that Tony was faking project invoices, Josh had brushed it off as the workings of an overly active imagination. Grady might have a great head for crunching numbers, but he read way too much true crime crap for Josh to accept such a wild accusation on faith alone. True, he’d never been all that crazy about Tony, but he was still Martie’s husband. He wasn’t ready to hang the guy out to dry purely because their personalities had clashed on occasion.
Still, Grady was the CFO. Josh had agreed to check out a few things behind the scenes, namely the accounts on which Tony served as project manager. Once he started digging, it wasn’t long before he hit pay dirt—literally. No run-of-the-mill embezzler, Tony was a high-level Mafia plant. He’d used his marriage to a Thornton as his
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