Christmastime Courtship

Now what? he silently demanded.

“Something on your mind, miss?” he asked, his voice low and far from friendly.

The officer sounded as if she was annoying him. But Miranda hadn’t gotten where she was by giving in to the nervous quiver that occasionally popped up in her stomach—as it did now.

Raising her head so that her eyes met his—or where she assumed his eyes were, because he’d lowered the visor on his helmet, she stated, “I wanted to say thank you.”

Colin grunted in response, because in his opinion, this wasn’t the sort of situation where “you’re welcome” suited the occasion. As far as he was concerned, she wasn’t welcome. He’d just given in to an impulse that had come out of nowhere, and if he thought about it now, he was rather bewildered by his own actions.

“Do you have a card?” she asked him.

“A card?” Colin repeated, clearly perplexed by her question.

Miranda didn’t think she was asking for anything out of the ordinary. “Yes, like a business card. The police department issues those to you, right?”

Instead of answering her question, or giving her one of the cards he carried in his pocket, Colin asked, “Why do you want it? You don’t have anything to report me for,” he pointed out gruffly.

It took Miranda a second to absorb what he was saying. Talk about being defensive. But then, maybe he had a reason. Some people were belligerent when dealing with the police.

“I don’t want to report you,” she assured him with feeling. “I just want to be able to call you.”

So that was it, Colin thought. The woman was a groupie. He knew that there were people—mostly women—who were attracted to the uniform, some to the point of obsession. He had no patience when it came to groupies.

Colin got back on his motorcycle, ready to take off. “That’s not a good idea,” he told her in a voice that left no room for argument.

Or at least he thought it didn’t.

“But the kids at the hospital would get such a big kick out of meeting a real live motorcycle cop,” she said, hoping to change his mind.

She caught him completely off guard. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

Now that he had transferred to Bedford, he didn’t find himself interacting with any children. The ones back in the LA neighborhood he used to patrol saw police officers as the enemy, and either scattered whenever they saw him coming, or would throw things at him and then run.

“Look, I don’t think—” Colin got no further than that.

Determined to convince him, Miranda attempted to submerge the police officer in a tidal wave of rhetoric. “A lot of the kids in that ward haven’t been out of the hospital in months. I think meeting you would go a long way in cheering them up.”

There had to be some sort of an ulterior motive at work here, Colin thought, and he wasn’t about to fall for whatever trap she was trying to set for him.

“I really doubt that,” he told her as he revved his motorcycle.

“I don’t,” Miranda countered cheerfully, refusing to be put off. “Why don’t you come by the hospital and we’ll see which one of us is right?” Mindful of procedure, she told him, “I’d have to clear it with my supervisor, but I don’t see why she would say no.”

“She might not, but I will.” Then, just in case the woman still had any doubt about what he was telling her, Colin said, “No.”

“But, Officer—” Rebounding quickly, Miranda tried again “—it’s Christmas.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “It’s November,” he corrected.

“Almost Christmas,” she amended.

The woman just wouldn’t give up, he thought, his irritation growing to astounding levels.

“Look, why don’t you get back into your car and drive off before I decide to change my mind about issuing you that ticket?” Colin suggested tersely. “You said something about a birthday party for a little girl named Lily,” he reminded her.

“Oh my goodness! Lily!” Miranda cried, genuinely upset. She’d gotten so caught up with her idea about having the police officer visit the children in the oncology ward that she’d forgotten the mission she was on right now. “The poor thing’s going to really be upset if I don’t turn up on time.”

Whirling around, Miranda hurried back to her car and got in. She was starting the vehicle before she even closed the door.

Raising his voice, Colin called after her, “Remember the speed limit!”

There was next to no traffic at the moment.

Reining herself in, knowing that the officer would be watching her pull away from the curb, Miranda gripped the steering wheel and drove off at a respectable speed, all the while wishing herself already at her destination.

Despite her hurry to get to the women’s shelter, she made a mental note to track down the officer and get his name and number from his precinct the first chance she got. This wasn’t over yet, she promised herself.

Miranda managed to catch all the lights and breeze through them, arriving at the women’s shelter fifteen minutes later.

Rather than wasting time driving around and looking for a parking spot near the gray, two-story building’s front door, she pulled into the first space she came to.

Grabbing the cake, she hurried into the building—and nearly collided with the blonde little girl who was anxiously waiting for her at the door.

“You came!” Lily cried happily, her furrowed brow smoothing out the second she saw Miranda.

“Of course I came,” she said, pausing to kiss the top of Lily’s head as she balanced the large cake box in her arms. “I told you I would. It’s your birthday and I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

Lily was all but dancing on her toes, eagerly looking at the rectangular box in Miranda’s arms. “Is that a cake?”

“Aw, you guessed,” Miranda said, pretending to be disappointed that her secret had been uncovered. “What gave it away?”

“The box,” Lily answered solemnly, as if she’d been asked a legitimate question. And then she giggled as she added, “And I can smell cake.”

“Well, since you guessed what it is, I guess you get to keep it,” Miranda told her.

Lily was all but bursting with excitement. “Can I carry it to the dining room?” she asked.

That wouldn’t be a good idea, Miranda thought. The box was large and would prove to be rather unwieldy for a little girl to carry.

“Well, it’s kind of heavy,” she told her. “So why don’t I carry it there for you and you can open the box once I put it on the table?”

“Okay,” Lily responded, obviously ready to agree to anything her idol suggested.

The little girl literally skipped to the dining area at Miranda’s side. And she never took her eyes off the box, as if afraid it would suddenly disappear if she did.

“What kind of cake is it?” she asked.

“A birthday cake,” Miranda replied solemnly.