The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Carrie Read Online Free PDF Page A

building.
    She was not the least bit curious about what was going on over there, but she pressed her nose against the window and craned her neck just in time to see Mark’s backside looking unnecessarily spectacular in a pair of tailored suit pants.
    Humph. She preferred him in jeans. That’s how she remembered him. Rugged, scruff of beard, Levi’s clinging to his hard muscled butt. Not this smooth, shaved, sophisticated man. Columbia and L.A. had remade him into someone she did not recognize. It was inevitable, she supposed. Why then, did she feel like she’d lost something significant?
    You didn’t lose a single thing. Forget him. Sell some yarn.
    Except there were no customers to sell yarn to; they were all over at Jesse’s. A bulky bodyguard positioned himself at the door of the motorcycle shop after the film crew had gone inside. He held up his hand like a stop sign at the spectators mobbing around the front of the store.
    “What’s going on over there?” Renee asked.
    “Who knows? Who cares? Watch the shop, I’ll be right back.”
    “Huh?” Renee blinked.
    But Carrie was already out the back exit and creeping down the alley that connected the Yarn Barn to the motorcycle shop. The wind blew off the lake, whipping through her denim skirt. She shivered.
    What the hell are you doing? Go back to your shop. Forget Mark.
    Quietly, she opened the rear door to Jesse’s store and found herself surrounded by motorcycles in various stages of repair. Jesse not only sold new machines but repaired old ones as well.
    The sound of voices in the showroom drew her in that direction. She crept to the door that led out into the shop and placed her hand on the knob. Flynn hadn’t said a word about Jesse being interviewed on Fact or Fantasy. Maybe her sister didn’t know.
    Carefully, she pushed the door open a crack. The hinges squeaked. She cringed. The last thing she wanted was to get caught spying on Mark. If he caught her spying, he might think she cared. She didn’t care.
    Well, not much.
    But she was curious. Cautiously, she put her eye to the slit and peered into the showroom.
    Jesse was standing at the counter, his back to her, a sprocket in one hand, and a red grease rag in the other. Mark stood in front of Jesse glancing at note cards in his hand. The camera crew was setting up.
    A woman carrying a makeup tray flitted around the two men. “Mr. Calloway,” she said. “Can I put a dusting of powder on your cheeks so you don’t shine on camera?”
    Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “Never wore makeup in my life. Not gonna start now.”
    The makeup girl shot a glance toward Mark.
    “It’s okay, Ladonna,” he assured her. “We can work magic in editing.”
    Ladonna smiled and turned her makeup brush on Mark’s cheeks.
    Carrie opened the door wide enough to ease through. She tiptoed closer, using various shelving to stay hidden.
    “Ready?” a cameraman asked Mark.
    Mark tapped his finger against a tiny microphone pinned to his lapel. “Testing.”
    The sound guy gave him a thumbs-up.
    “Roll it,” The thin woman in the red glasses ordered.
    The camera honed in on Mark, who dissolved into a toothy dimpled grin. The same grin that used to turn Carrie’s knees to rubber. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? Her knees were still wiggly as Jell-O.
    Mark was so cool and self-possessed. Totally in control. He’d always been something of a cocky guy, but this was a whole new level of self-confidence.
    Her heart thumped crazily. He is so out of her league—tall, cutting-edge hairstyle, striking brown eyes. He was perfect for television. No wonder he’d given up on the idea of writing a novel. He’d made choices that led him to the top of his field. He’d changed. While she . . . well, she was still in Twilight wasn’t she? Running a yarn store and living with her father.
    Mark’s voice rang out, authoritative and clear. “Our investigation into the sweetheart legend has led us to an infamous resident of Twilight,