A Mistletoe Affair

That thought annoyed her to no end. And when she thought of how long she’d pined over Jordan, it irritated her even more.

Vicki returned to her worktable, picking up the stem cutters and attacking the stubborn stalks of the lilies that had just been delivered by one of her suppliers. But as Mason’s crying intensified, she walked to where Jordan stood struggling to get the baby to calm down. The minute she lifted him out of Jordan’s arms, Mason’s cries quieted. Vicki bounced him softly, running her hand up and down the baby’s back and whispering soothingly into his ear.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him today,” Jordan said. “I usually don’t have a problem getting him to calm down, but he’s been more agitated than usual.”

“Maybe he can sense that you’re—” she started, but then she stopped.

“I’m what?”

Vicki bit her bottom lip, but then she stopped that, too. The old Vicki would keep her mouth shut to spare his feelings. She was no longer listening to the old Vicki.

“Uptight,” she finished. “You’ve been rather uptight lately, and I think Mason can sense that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “You’re probably right.”

The sheer exhaustion on his face quelled the ire that had risen within her just moments ago. Vicki couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

Jordan cocked his head to the side and looked down at his son. “The problem is I can’t seem to unwind because he constantly has me on the go. I get agitated, and then he gets agitated. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“You need some rest, Jordan.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I don’t see rest anywhere in my immediate future, not with this little rascal who wants to get into everything these days,” he said, pinching the baby’s chubby leg through his cute corduroy pants.

Vicki took a moment to consider the suggestion she was about to make before she asked, “How about I watch Mason for you so you can get some rest?”

Jordan’s neck stiffened with shock. “Really?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

That was what his mouth said; the naked hope in his eyes, on the other hand, said that he was dying for a little help with the baby.

“It’s not as if it would be a hardship,” Vicki reasoned. “How could I pass up the opportunity to spend time with this little heartbreaker?” She kissed the baby’s chin. “And while I do, you can get some much-needed rest.”

Jordan’s shoulders sank with relief. “God, Vicki, that would be wonderful.”

“I’m happy to do it. Just not tonight,” she said.

“Yeah. You have a date,” Jordan said. He lifted Mason from her arms but remained standing there, his gaze trained on her.

“What?” Vicki asked. After several moments of his staring, her self-consciousness ramped up to skin-tingling levels.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Nothing.” He gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll go up to Sandra’s.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and gave Mason a little baby wave. “See you later.”

“When?”

Vicki’s head popped up at Jordan’s question. “Excuse me?”

“When will you see us?” He shook his head. “Him? Mason. To babysit?”

She hadn’t thought that far in advance, but it was obvious Jordan needed to rest as soon as possible. “What about tomorrow, maybe around seven?”

“Tomorrow is good. It’s great, actually.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you both tomorrow, then.”

“Good.” He gave her another of those tired, grateful smiles before he started up the stairs. After he’d climbed a couple of steps, he stopped and turned. “Vicki?”

“Yes?” She felt her face heat after being caught still staring at him.

“You really do look nice,” Jordan said. “I hope this guy you’re going out with tonight realizes how lucky he is.”

The instant warmth that traveled across her skin from his simple compliment was embarrassing to say the least.

“Thank you,” Vicki said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She fingered the wispy end of a lock of hair and grinned as she returned to her workstation. Her stylist would get a very nice tip after her next haircut. Even though she no longer cared whether or not Jordan Woolcott noticed her, apparently the pixie cut had gotten her just the result she’d initially hoped for.

* * *

“Anybody home?” Jordan called as he arrived on the second-floor landing of the huge Victorian where his sister’s dress shop was located.

Sandra turned from the glittery ball gown she was adjusting on a mannequin and smiled.

“Well, look who’s here.” She walked over to them and reached for Mason. “Give me my nephew.”

Jordan handed the baby off and plopped into an empty chair. The exhaustion of the past week had him on the verge of both mental and physical collapse.

“So what brings you two here?” Sandra asked, taking the chair opposite his and bouncing Mason on her lap.

Jordan shrugged. “Just thought we’d get out for a bit. He doesn’t understand that it’s too cold for the beach or the park, so I’ve been taking him other places. We just came from the dry cleaners.”

“Such party animals,” Sandra said with a snort. She snapped her fingers. “I know exactly where you should take him—the children’s museum in Dover. I saw something on TV about a special exhibit they have going on for the Christmas season.”

Sandra turned the huge computer monitor around to face her and grabbed the wireless keyboard from her desk. As his sister searched the web, Jordan pitched his head back and let his eyes fall shut. He tried to shake off the edginess that had his skin tingly. The weird vibe had settled over him after his exchange with Vicki, and hell if he knew what to make of it.

She had popped up in his head more than once this week, creeping into his thoughts and setting off memories of how shocked he’d been when he’d noticed her standing on the beach at Sandra’s wedding. The new haircut and that curve-hugging dress had been something to behold.

Jordan couldn’t remember if he had ever once noticed what Vicki wore. Of course, he’d noticed her—no man could deny that Vicki was gorgeous in her own right. He just had never looked at her in that way.

She was just...just Vicki.

She was the quiet one; the one who, if Sandra or their other best friend, Janelle, ever got into trouble, would get them out of it. She was steady. Reserved. She wasn’t the type that normally produced the prickle of awareness that climbed up the back of his neck when he’d spotted her standing on the porch in sexy leopard-print heels.

“What do you think about that?” Sandra asked.