The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [26]
“Well, yes… Simon, Dr. Dodson, was late the past two times and—”
“And you felt turnabout was fair play,” he said, standing in the doorway leading to his office. “If you’ll forgive the cliché.” His arms were crossed and he looked more amused than annoyed.
It’d been four days since she’d last seen him and it struck her again how attractive he was.
He arched his brows. “You have nothing to say? Generally I can’t get you to shut up and now you act as if we’ve never met.”
“No…I figured you’d be late and—and I didn’t want to waste time sitting here…” she stammered, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Then don’t keep me waiting again,” she returned.
His shoulders relaxed. “Ah, I see the Cassie I recognize is back. Follow me. We have business to discuss.” He walked into his office, Cassie close behind him.
Without waiting for an invitation, she took the visitor’s chair across from his desk. She leaned back, legs crossed, trying to appear confident.
Looking stiff and formal once more, Simon sat down. “I asked to see you because I have the information concerning your agreement to work as Santa’s helper.”
She nodded. “Okay, but you could’ve phoned—unless you have my outfit.”
“Outfit?”
“For my elf job.”
Simon shook his head, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he seemed edgy. “There’s been a small change in plans.”
“Change? What do you mean?”
“The mall has experienced a decline in the number of parents bringing their children to meet Santa.”
“Does this mean Santa won’t be requiring my help, after all?” She did her best to keep her enthusiasm to a minimum. She wouldn’t mind getting out of this; she liked children—in fact, she loved them—but if her tasks were limited to two instead of three, she’d be done that much sooner. Then Simon could introduce her to John.
Despite herself, she felt a twinge of regret at the idea of never seeing Simon again. But once he’d made the official introduction, his role would be over, his job done. She realized she’d miss his acerbic responses…?.
Simon frowned at her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
Cassie answered a bit more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m sure you’re not interested in my thoughts.”
Again his brows shot toward his hairline. “I wonder how long it will take you to learn that I do not ask questions unless I am interested in the answer.”
Cassie threw back her head. “All right, fine. I was just thinking that you’re a very odd man. I find I’m rather…intrigued by you. Not in any romantic way, of course.”
“Of course,” he said dryly. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is.”
“It’s more like…driving past a car wreck. Horrible though it is, you can’t stop yourself from looking.”
His frown deepened. “I can assure you my life is no wreck—nor is my car.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with your car.”
Ignoring her comment and its implication, Simon picked up a piece of paper. “As I was saying, I heard from the Tacoma Mall regarding your assignment. There’s been a slight change.”
“Is this because of what you said earlier—that there’s a decline in the number of children visiting Santa?”
“Yes. But here’s what—”
“Oh, wait, I have a question,” Cassie broke in.
Simon looked up at the ceiling as though his patience, which was always in short supply, had been sorely tested yet again. “No.”
“That’s rather dictatorial,” she said. “How could a question hurt?”
“If you’d let me get a word in edgewise… I’m trying to give you some important information.”
“About helping Santa?” Simon acted as if she’d have to smuggle top secret papers to the north pole.
“This relates directly to your assignment,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I need to know if you’re afraid of heights.”
How could that possibly pertain to her working as an elf? “Not really. Why?”
Simon paused. “Maybe you should ask me your question, after all, before I explain.”
“I’d rather hear what you have to say first.”
He sighed loudly. “I talked to the