Three Christmas Wishes

“Uh, yes,” he said slowly. “But what are you doing here?”

She was very aware of the guard looking her up and down through narrowed eyes. Yes, what are you doing here, you and your borrowed clothes and your dangly earrings?

“Maybe we could talk about that in your office,” Noel said and swept past him on shaky legs.

“Hold my calls, Janelle,” he said and followed her in.

Okay, she’d reached the inner sanctum and she had his full attention. Yay for her.

She glanced around. So this was where Ben Fordham plotted and schemed. A desk sat on the far wall, relatively uncluttered with only a laptop and a cell phone, a pad of paper and pencil. No pictures of a girlfriend. A couple of leather chairs sat in front of a wall lined with bookshelves, which were mostly empty except for a few books on finance, and some baseball trophies. Oh, and here were two framed photographs. One showed a house with a smiling family posed on the front porch, with writing over it. Thanks for your help, Ben. Love our new digs! Another was a picture of a Santa holding a hammer. Probably him, trying to disguise himself as a nice guy.

“Noel,” he said as if trying her name on for size. “Didn’t we meet Friday night?”

Yes, we did, you skunk. You know we did! “I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.” Noel proffered the wine.

He took it. “That’s, uh, nice of you. And about the other night, like I said, it’s just business.”

“Not to me. I love that house.”

“It’ll be even more lovable after I’ve fixed it up.”

“Please don’t buy it,” she begged.

Now his expression was regretful. He shrugged. What can I do? “I’m sorry, but I already made your landlady an offer.”

Noel sat down hard on the nearest chair. “Oh, no.” Then she burst into tears. Her house, her sweet little house, had been snatched away from her. All her plans for it, all her dreams...

“Shit,” he muttered. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

“There are all kinds of houses in Whispering Pines. Why did you have to want mine?” she sobbed.

“Yours? Funny, I thought it belonged to Mrs. Bing.”

Was that supposed to be funny? She glared at him.

“Lady, look—”

“Noel,” she corrected him and took an angry swipe at her eyes. Good thing she was wearing waterproof mascara. She’d spent a lot of time on her makeup that morning. Big difference that had made.

“Noel. I’m not out to ruin your life.”

“I’d say turning people out of their homes at Christmas is a good way to ruin their lives.” What a heartless Scrooge.

He knelt in front of her. “I’m really sorry. I am. And nobody’s turning you out of your house at Christmas. I’m not going to close on this until the end of January, so you’ll have plenty of time to find a new house.”

“Not a house, a home. That’s my home and I love it.”

He frowned. “Then you should’ve bought it.”

“I was working on that!”

He sighed and sat back on his heels. “I don’t understand what you want me to do.”

“I want you to go away!”

He half smiled at that. “This is my office. I belong here.”

“You know what I mean. You don’t belong in my house.”

“I’m not going to be in your house other than to fix it up. Listen, if you can come up with the money you can buy it after I’ve remodeled.”

“As if I could afford it then. Anyway, it won’t be the same. You’ll come in and destroy the character.”

The frown was back. “I assume you found me on the internet. So you’ve seen my website. Do the houses I’ve flipped look like I destroyed their character?”

Well, no.

“I promise I’m not going to wreck the place,” he continued.

“You’re going to pull up floors, take out counters and change the living room floor plan and...and who knows what else.”

He studied her. “Okay, what would you do to improve the house?”

“I’d leave the built-in china closet, that’s for sure. I bet you were going to take that out.”

“I hadn’t decided.”

“It gives the house character. And you’re probably going to modernize the fireplace. All those house people do it. I’ve watched Flip or Flop.”

The frown was growing.

“Oh, never mind.” She was doing this all wrong. She hadn’t even taken off her jacket.

He laid a hand over hers and sent a jolt zipping along her nerve endings clear to her chest. “I promise I’ll retain the character of the house.”

Was it suddenly hot in here? She freed her hand and opened the jacket. His eyes slid to her cleavage. Oh, Jo, you’re so smart.

“I’m in this business because I love houses and I love fixing them up,” he said, returning his gaze to her face. He looked so sincere.

And maybe he was, but darn it all, why did he have to be sincere about her house?

“I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” she asked.

“Why don’t I stop by one night this week? You can share your vision for the place.”

And show off Close Encounter Outfit Number Two. Perhaps she could convince him to sell to her on some kind of payment plan. Maybe he’d let her rent with an option to buy. Unlike Mrs. Bing, he could probably afford to carry her.