What She Really Wants for Christmas

He nodded.

“Let’s walk.”

“You’re not cold?”

Liza laughed. Nice husky sound. “It’s only the beginning of December. Ask me next month.”

Would she still be around then? Naturally he said nothing. He simply walked alongside her, and when they got to the sidewalk, promptly swung around to take the outside position closer to the street.

Her lips lifted in amusement. “A perfect Southern gentleman, I see.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “My grandfather once made me promise to never let a woman walk on the street side. Do you know how the custom came about?”

“Ah, no.”

Evan smiled. He could tell she didn’t care but she was going to hear it anyway. “It started back in the old west. Unpaved roads, puddles of water…you starting to get the picture?”

She shook her head in mock disgust, but he saw the smile dancing at the corners of her mouth.

“A gentleman always walked on the outside to protect the women from getting their long skirts splashed.”

She laughed, making her eyes sparkle. She wasn’t classically pretty but she had an interesting face. Her eyes were small and almond-shaped, and her nose looked as if it had been sculpted by a skilled surgeon. Although she didn’t strike him as a woman who’d go in for that kind of thing.

He smiled. “And now you know.”

“Is that true?”

“I have no idea.”

Her eyebrows arched. “You made it up?”

“No, I heard it from my grandfather. I imagine he did read it somewhere, though. I remember him always reading a book or newspaper.”

She looked away. “I don’t remember my grandparents. I was a baby when they died.”

“All four of them?”

“Yeah,” she said, showing undue interest in the Santa window display they were passing.

He got that it might be a sore subject and dropped it. “You look nice.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “This is a drink, okay? You’re not getting lucky.”

“No problem. I’m celibate.” As much as he wanted to see Liza’s expression, he had to look away because he had a lousy poker face.

Fortunately, at that moment they arrived at the bar, both of them going for the door, but he got it first. He held it open for her.

“Celibate and a gentleman. This is going to be interesting,” she murmured as she proceeded him.

Evan followed her, disturbed by the new view he was getting. The sweater wasn’t hiding any curves. She’d lost a lot of weight. About twenty pounds that she hadn’t needed to lose. Was she sick? Was that the reason for her sudden disappearance? Is that why she needed the lottery money?

The light vanilla fragrance of her hair distracted him, and drew him closer than was polite. When she stopped suddenly, he nearly rammed into her. She turned to say something and their eyes met. She didn’t look pleased.

“There’s a table over there,” he said, discreetly backing up a foot.

She hesitated, her gaze turning toward the dimly lit room, the walls covered with racing memorabilia and autographed pictures. Artificial garlands interwoven with Christmas lights were draped along the heavy wooden bar. A Christmas tree stood in the corner but it hadn’t been decorated yet. There were a lot of customers for the time of day, talking and laughing or thoughtfully sipping their cocktails.

Evan only recognized one person who worked at the station—a cameraman from another show that was filmed down the hall. Luckily, he had nothing to do with Just Between Us and he was probably new enough that Liza wouldn’t recognize him.

“This okay?” he asked close to her ear.

“This is fine. I could do without all the damn decorations but I don’t think we can get away from that.”

“Don’t like Christmas, huh?”

“Not particularly.”

“Me, neither.”

She looked at him with surprise but a couple came in behind them and since there were only two available tables, he and Liza headed toward the one he’d spotted in the corner. It hadn’t been cleaned off yet from the previous customers and a waitress promptly removed the empty glasses, wiped off the tabletop with a towel and then said she’d be back to take their drink orders.

After a brief but awkward silence, Evan spoke first. “You can tell me to go to hell, but I’m going to ask the burning question. Where have you been for the last year?”

Liza leaned back in her chair and stared at him. “Does it matter?”

That, he hadn’t expected. “I guess not.”

“Good.” A hint of a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Now I don’t have to tell you to go to hell.”

“Go ahead. I can take it. I’ve got broad shoulders.”

“Do you now?” She gave him an obvious once-over. “I see that you do.”

“Careful or I’ll think you’re flirting with me.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to a man in your condition.”

Now that he thought about it, he was painfully close to celibacy. His nurse thought he was too picky. “How thoughtful.”

Liza opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again when their waitress appeared. The woman waited patiently while Liza changed her mind twice about what she wanted to drink. Finally, she settled on a tequila sunrise with an extra cherry. Surprising, because he’d expected her to drink something like scotch or beer.

After he’d given his order and the waitress left, he waited for Liza to pick up the conversation again, but when she didn’t, he asked, “What have you been doing with yourself?”

She looked uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and feigning interest in the picture of a Grand Prix racing crew on the wall. “Nothing much.”

“You have a job?”

“I’m looking.”