Trading Christmas: When Christmas Comes / The Forgetful Bride

“Hadley?”

“Hadley Charles. The minute he was old enough to speak, he refused to let anyone call him Hadley.”

Emily smiled. “I can’t say I blame him.”

“Rayburn isn’t much of an improvement.”

“No, but it’s better than Hadley.”

“That depends.” Ray sipped his wine and sat up straighter when the waiter brought the antipasto plate. It was a meal unto itself, with several varieties of sliced meats, cheese, olives and roasted peppers.

That course was followed by soup and then pasta. Emily was convinced she couldn’t swallow another bite when the main course, a cheese-stuffed chicken dish, was brought out.

When they’d finished, they lingered over another bottle of wine. Ray leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and they talked, moving from one subject to the next. Emily had hardly ever met a man who was so easy to talk to. He seemed knowledgeable about any number of subjects.

“You’re divorced?” he asked, as they turned to more personal matters.

“Widowed. Eleven years ago. Peter was killed when Heather was just a little girl.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She could speak of Peter now without pain, but that had taken years. She was a different woman than she’d been back then, as a young wife and mother. “Peter was a good husband and a wonderful father. I still miss him.”

“Is there a reason you’ve never remarried?”

“Not really. I got caught up in Heather’s life and my job. Over the years I’ve dated now and then, but there was never any spark. What about you?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been consumed by my job for so long, I don’t know what it is to have an ordinary life.”

This interested Emily. “I’ve always wondered what an ordinary life would be like. Does anyone really have one?”

“Good point.”

“Did you have any important relationships?”

“I dated quite a bit when I was in my twenties and early thirties. I became seriously involved twice, but both times I realized, almost from the first, that it wouldn’t last.”

“Sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy to me.”

He grinned as he picked up his wineglass. “My mother said almost those identical words to me. The thing is, I admired both women and, to some extent loved them, but deep down I suspect they knew it wouldn’t last, either.”

“And it didn’t.”

“Right. I put long hours into my job and I have a lot of responsibilities. I love publishing. No one’s more excited than I am when one of our authors does well.”

Emily had plenty of questions about the publishing world, but she knew Ray must have been asked these same questions dozens of times. They had this one evening together, and Emily didn’t want to bore him with idle curiosity.

When they’d finished the second bottle of wine, Emily felt mellow and sleepy. Most of the other tables were vacant, and the crew of waiters had started changing tablecloths and refilling the salt and pepper shakers.

Ray noticed the activity going on around them, too. “What time is it?” he asked, sitting up and glancing at his watch with an unbelieving expression.

“It’s ten to eleven.”

“You’re kidding!” He looked shocked.

“Well, you know what they say about time flying, etc.”

He chuckled softly. “Tonight certainly was an enjoyable evening—but there’s a problem.”

“Oh?”

He downed the last of his wine and announced, “I’m afraid the next train doesn’t leave for New York until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh…right.” Emily had entirely forgotten that Ray would have to catch the train.

He relaxed visibly, apparently finding a solution to his problem. “Not to worry, I’ll get a hotel room. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Without a reservation, she wondered if that was true. Furthermore, she hated the thought of him spending that extra money on her account. “You don’t need to do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your brother’s condo has two bedrooms.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sleeping in the guest room, and I’m sure your brother wouldn’t object to your taking his room.”

Ray hesitated and looked uncertain. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that arrangement?”

“Of course.”

That was easy to say after two bottles of wine. Had Emily been completely sober, she might not have—but really, what could it hurt?

She decided that question was best left unanswered.

Eleven

Heather Springer wrapped her arms tightly around Elijah’s waist, the sound of the wind roaring in her ears. She laid her head against his muscular back and relished the feel of his firm body so close to her own. Three other Harleys, all with passengers, zoomed down the interstate on their way to the white sandy beaches of Florida.

Try as she might, Heather couldn’t stop thinking about the bewildered look on her mother’s face when she learned Heather had made her own plans for the Christmas holidays.

The least her mother could’ve done was let her know she was flying to Boston. It was supposed to be a big surprise—well, it definitely was that. Actually, it was more of a shock, and not a pleasant one. Heather had hoped for the proper time to tell her mother about Elijah. That opportunity, unfortunately, had been taken away from her.

Heather sighed. She was grateful when Elijah pulled into a rest area near Daytona Beach. He climbed off the Harley and removed his helmet, shaking his head to release his long hair.

Heather watched as the other motorcycles pulled into nearby spaces. Heather was proud that Elijah led the way in this adventure. Being with him during the holidays was thrilling, and she wasn’t about to let her stick-in-the-mud, old-fashioned mother ruin it.

Elijah was different from any boy Heather had ever dated. The others paled by comparison, especially Ben who was traditional and frankly boring. All he thought about was school and work and getting his law degree. For once, just once, she wanted to think about something besides grades and scholarship money. She wanted to live.