The Perfect Christmas Part 18

Ca.s.sie hadn't forgotten.

"I held up my part of the bargain," he said.

"Yes, you did."

"I've deposited the check and it's cleared your bank."

She nodded.

"If you voluntarily decide not to meet your match, you should know there'll be no refund."

"I didn't think there would be."

"If you walk away now, without meeting John, you'll forfeit your money." He said it again, as if he felt it necessary to remind her of what was at risk.

"I'm aware of that."

"It would be foolish for you to do this."

"I've been called a fool for lesser things," she said calmly.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have expected you to be an unreasonable woman."

"Really?" She smiled, just a little.

He looked pointedly at his watch. "Your time's about up. Is there anything else you'd care to say...in closing?"

This last part was said with emphasis, as though he was eager to usher her out the door.

"I'm almost finished," she told him.

He sighed.

"I'm not telling you how I feel so you can laugh at me, Simon."

His gaze held hers. "I would never do that," he said, then added, "any more than I did with the other women."

She tried to disguise a smile. "Nor do I wish to be humiliated."

He agreed with a nod.

"I have reason to believe you share my feelings."

"You-"

"Do you kiss other female clients?" she asked, interrupting him.

He was silent.

"I didn't think so. How many have you taken to your home?"

"None," he admitted from between clenched teeth.

"That's what I thought," she said. To her relief, he was being honest.

"I've never had a woman...a client break down in tears and turn to me for comfort. Yes, I stepped over the line. I regretted it immediately and, if you recall, I apologized."

"You did."

"I realized it was a mistake to allow any client access to my personal life after you showed up at my home later with the soup. I should never have invited you inside."

"Why did you?"

He refused to meet her eyes. "I'd been ill for several days and my resistance was weak."

"Resistance to me?"

"No," he countered sharply, "resistance to impropriety."

"Ah." So that was the excuse he'd chosen.

"Afterward, I was afraid you might have read more into that evening than was warranted, and I see now that you have. I'm sorry I didn't address the subject earlier. I wish I had. As I feared, you've got the wrong impression."

"I see."

"It would be best if we could forget that evening entirely, put it out of our minds."

"I'm sorry, she said. "I can't forget that night. I can't make myself regret it, either. It was after our evening together that I knew, Simon. I'd fallen in love with you."

Simon met her look unflinchingly and yielded no emotion. "Please don't continue. This is embarra.s.sing for you and for me."

"I have one other comment," she said, striving to remain unemotional. "Actually, it's more of a question than a comment."

"Then out with it, and let this matter be laid to rest."

She thanked him with a brief nod. "I can accept that a distraught female weeping on your shoulder might have caused you to offer comfort in a way you normally wouldn't."

"Thank you. I appreciate your understanding."

"I can even accept the fact that your resistance was low when I dropped by your home that evening."

Once more he nodded.

"But how do you account for the way you kissed me on Sunday?"

"Sunday?" he repeated. The color seemed to drain from his face.

"Can you tell me what prompted that kiss?" she asked.

He didn't answer for a long moment. "I have no excuse," he finally said.

"I'm not looking for excuses, Simon, I'm looking for honesty. It hasn't been easy to lay out my heart for you. If I've misread the situation, then I apologize. In that case, I'll walk out your door right now and you'll never hear from me again."

"That would...be a shame."

"Yes, it would," she agreed, hope seeping in for the first time since she'd entered his office.

"You've paid me a lot of money and I'd feel bad if you allowed this opportunity to slip by. John is awaiting an introduction, and I hate to disappoint him."

Ca.s.sie closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to her poise. After a moment, she opened them and met his look head-on. "I'm not meeting John or any other man you deem the right mate for me. Or my 'suitable' mate or whatever word you want to use. I've already found him and it's you."

Simon didn't acknowledge that comment in any way.

"Have I misread your feelings, Simon?" she asked softly.

He refused to answer.

Reluctantly she stood; she'd gone past her allotted ten minutes. "I won't embarra.s.s you further-or myself for that matter. But before I go, I have one simple request."

"Fine," he said tersely.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. Do that and I'll leave and never trouble you again."

"I'm not playing word games with you, Ca.s.sie."

"This isn't a game. It's my life, my future-our future."

He squinted up at the ceiling. "Why do women have such a flair for the dramatic? I suppose you're going to spend the rest of your life pining away for me."

"No, I won't," she told him. "I love you and it's up to you to accept or reject that love. It'll hurt me, but I know I'll get over you in time. In every likelihood I'll marry someone else one day and perhaps even have children. Rest a.s.sured that if you reject me, I won't leap off a bridge."

"That's a relief."

She moved away from the chair, her heart pounding so hard she was astonished it didn't echo through the room. She gave him ample opportunity to stop her.

He didn't.

With her hand on the door, she turned back to look at Simon one last time. He sat at his desk, reading. She wasn't fooled. He might not admit it, but he loved her.

"Merry Christmas, Simon."

He glanced up and his eyes flared as though he was surprised to see her still in the room. "Oh. Merry Christmas."

"Goodbye."

She didn't wait for a response. Head held high, she marched out the door. Once on the other side, she closed her eyes, almost collapsing to the floor as a wave of deep loss. .h.i.t her.

Ms. Snelling's chair sc.r.a.ped as she stood. "Oh, dear. Are you all right, Ms. Beaumont? You look like you're about to faint."

"I-I'm okay," she stammered. "Thank you...." she added politely.

It was exactly as Ca.s.sie had feared. Simon Dodson, professional matchmaker, was an expert at finding love for everyone except himself.

Chapter 16.

"H old the elevator!" Ca.s.sie shouted, rus.h.i.+ng across the condo foyer on Wednesday afternoon. When she saw that the lone occupant was Mr. Oliver, she automatically slowed her steps. No need to rush; he'd take s.a.d.i.s.tic delight in letting the doors shut in her face. To her amazement, he thrust out his arm and stopped them from closing.

Ca.s.sie hardly knew what to think. "Thank you," she managed as she hurried into the elevator, loaded down with her mail, the newspaper, her purse and a couple of last-minute Christmas purchases.

The newspaper.

She hadn't even realized Mrs. Mullinex hadn't "borrowed" it since their dinner together. That was progress.

"My pleasure," Mr. Oliver said as the elevator doors glided shut. "Can't thank you enough for the great dinner."

It seemed wrong to confess that if it hadn't been for Simon she would never have thought to invite Mr. Oliver.

Try as she might, she couldn't get Simon out of her mind. She'd given it her best shot, told him how she felt and done what she could to convince him that he shared her feelings. But she hadn't expected the strength of his conviction in denying his love for her. Nor could she understand why he fought it so hard.

What bothered her most was his inability to admit to her face that he didn't love her. If he had, she might have believed him. However, for reasons she'd likely never know, he refused to accept her love.

"Nice young man..."

"I'm sorry," Ca.s.sie said. "I didn't catch what you said?"

"That Simon of yours. He's a fine young man. You've chosen well."

"I...thank you," she whispered. No need to explain that he wasn't "hers," or that she wouldn't be seeing him again. Ca.s.sie had been sincere when she'd told him she wouldn't pine away for the rest of her life. He'd made his decision and she'd made hers.

The elevator stopped, and Mr. Oliver held the door for her to exit first. When they stepped into the hallway, Mrs. Mullinex opened her condo door and, seeing the two of them, waved cheerfully. Ca.s.sie noticed that the other woman's eyes immediately went to Harry Oliver.

"Oh, what perfect timing," Phyllis said. Her hair was brushed into soft waves and she looked lovely.

"Good afternoon, Harry," she purred.

"h.e.l.lo, Phyllis."

Ca.s.sie hid a satisfied grin. Apparently there'd been a breakthrough in that relations.h.i.+p. Wonderful!

"I was hoping to see you," she said, smiling shyly at Harry. "I thought I'd invite my dearest friends over for eggnog on Christmas Eve. I do hope you can join me." As if she realized she'd directed the invitation solely to Mr. Oliver, she turned to Ca.s.sie. "I'd like it if you could come, too."