Once Upon a Christmas Read Online Free PDF

windows, nor skulking around corners of the houses. “Thanks.” He returned to his vehicle and debated; take Matty for a walk, go back home and work for awhile, or stay here and check for messages. The latter won out and with Matty giving his other ear a quick cleaning, he dialed for messages and set about answering what he could. Change of schedule for tomorrow. He glared at his cell phone. Now he wouldn’t be able to walk Matty in the morning or invite Blythe out to dinner. Half tempted to say he wasn’t free in the morning, he dialed back and agreed. One did not renege on one’s largest client, even though he’d need to be on the road by 5:00 a.m. to beat the traffic and get to South San Francisco by eight.
    He left a message on Josie’s pager that he would need her to walk the dog in the morning and late afternoon. At the next message he shrugged, checked his PalmPilot and set the meeting for Thursday at noon, definitely time to walk and latte before leaving—and for that trip, he’d takeBART so he could work on the way home, as long as he got a seat. The Bay Area Rapid Transit sometimes seemed like a second office, and the sights of all the other computers and technical devices showed that others used their travel time as wisely as he did. He’d never learned to sleep on the commuter train.
    He was just finishing his last message when a well-cared-for older car turned into the drive just behind him. Perfect timing. He scooped up his purchases, popped the rear door and went around to grab Matty’s leash as she jumped to the ground. While he had to boost her over the tailgate getting in, she leaped out with a happy woof.
    “Hope you don’t mind my bringing her?”
    “Not at all.” Blythe reached into the back seat for several plastic bags. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
    Harley’s woof turned into a full-blown howl.
    “Your friend is not a happy house sitter.” He followed her to the yellow front door. Pots of geraniums lined the three steps to a porch shadowed pink through the western screen of bougainvillea. A white wicker rocker with a cushion splashed in vivid reds, pinks and yellows had already invited him to sit and make himself comfortable before he opted to work in the car.
    Not that wicker was his thing. His outdoor furniture lacked cushions over the teak slats, mainly because cushions needed to be taken in and he’d not taken time for such mundane things.
     
    He waited while Blythe fumbled with the key, finally opening the door to a rush of Harley, yipping his greetingto Matty, entirely ignoring the man looming behind his owner.
    “Some watchdog, isn’t he?” Blythe motioned Thane inside. “Welcome. Let me put these things in the kitchen and then I’ll show you the way to my office.”
    “Okay, dogs. That’s enough sniffing.” He raised his voice slightly to follow Blythe. “Do you mind if I take Matty off the leash. She has good house manners.”
    “No, of course not.”
    He glanced around the room as he unsnapped the leash and folded it to put in the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. Lived-in but lovely and inviting. Just what he’d expect of the woman who so intrigued him. She might call herself a graphic designer but she could add interior decorator and artist to her list as the two oil paintings—one of the waterfront at the park, the other of John Muir House out toward the freeway—both bore her signature. A trio of watercolors of summer blooming irises, purple cone flower and Mexican sage showed her artistic versatility. If she’d also taken the photos lined on the mantel, what was she doing producing playbills, menus and advertising for local businesses?
    “There, sorry I took so long.” Blythe wiped her hands on her jeans as she entered the room.
    “You did all these?” He nodded to all the artwork.
    “Ah, yeah.” She shrugged as if they were of no account, as if anyone could create such beauty.
    “I see.” Keep out of her business, Davidson, you have