The 6'1 Grinch Page 3

  “It’s not here,” she finally announced.

  To the surprise of no one.

  “Now what?” he asked, truly curious, as he watched her scoop up her stuff and toss it all back into the briefcase, about how she’d handle the situation.

  “Ah, I really hate that we made the trip for nothing.”

  She shoved her cloud of hair back and thought for a moment, while he waited, using the time to take in her lively green eyes.

  “Okay, okay. I know, we can have a look in the windows since we’re here.” She walked over to the one on her left. The traditional-style house had tieback curtains, so one could easily see in through the multi-paned glass.

  She was actually serious, he realized, when she began describing the interior of the room, trying to sell him on the house from the outside.

  “See, the dining room has a fireplace. That’s a nice bonus, don’t you think? It would be great for business dinners.”

  He came to stand beside her and glanced in, then looked down at her. “I don’t have business dinners at home. I’m single, so I entertain in restaurants. I understand St. Louis has many fine such establishments.”

  “That’s true. St. Louis is known for its Italian cuisine in particular.”

  Not giving up on her harebrained idea, Hollie moved to the window on her right. “Look, the living room has a fireplace, too.”

  She wasn’t deterred when he didn’t follow her to the window, just went on with her spiel about the room’s selling points.

  “Look at the big old rafters, and the pine floors are made of real tongue-and-groove boards. The French doors even have transoms.”

  “I’m more interested in whether the kitchen has a built-in microwave and whether the family room is large enough to accommodate a big-screen TV and a regulation-size pool table. You know—is the place livable?”

  “A pool table,” she repeated, clearly taken aback.

  Obviously she didn’t think he was the type. His custom-tailored suit didn’t suggest a taste for motorcycles and smoky rooms.

  He shrugged. “Some people relax with yoga or fly-fishing. I play pool to get mellow.”

  “So let’s see what’s around back,” she proposed. “This house has the typical St. Louis floor plan, with the living room and dining room side by side in the front of the house and the kitchen and family room in back, forming a perfect square box.”

  She was plucky; he’d give her that. And so, having nothing better to do, he trailed after her to the back of the house to see what the windows there yielded. If they could see in them.

  The large cedar deck that ran across the back of the house afforded them an easy view of the rear rooms. He let her climb the steps to the deck first, enjoying the scenery… and not of the expansive backyard, either.

  “Oh, it’s plenty spacious for your needs,” she cried out happily upon seeing the open-plan kitchen-family room. “See, there’s a built-in microwave in the center island and the kitchen even has white painted cabinets with glass fronts so you won’t have to remember where you put the coffee when you wake up grouchy.”

  He pretty much knew that was a dig. But peering inside, he had to admit the house met his requirements nicely.

  “Okay, this is looking good, but what about the half story above? I’ll need some room for a home office, with enough electricity for a fax, computer, copier and such.” He glanced at the windows four feet above their heads, then back down at her. “I suppose I could boost you up so you could stand on my shoulders and tell me….”

  Hollie stared down at her long, narrow skirt and boots and then looked up at him again. “Not a chance. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”

  Her reply got a flashy grin from the grinch. Clearly he was already doing just that—lasciviously.

  Hollie knew they had gotten off to a bad start, with him thinking she was some incompetent fluff. But she knew better. And she was the one who would be smiling when she got the commission for selling him a house. Because she would sell it; she was very good at what she did.

  As good as he figured he was.

  HOLLIE’S RUSE of selling Noel the house from the outside hadn’t worked. She couldn’t believe she’d actually tried such a scheme. Every once in a while her Lucy Ricardo streak surfaced, despite her best efforts to keep it in check. And usually when she was confronted by someone stuffy like her tall broad-shouldered client. Noel Hawksley had perfect manners, and a peculiar effect on her. She was unaccountably nervous and self-conscious—as if they were on a first date instead of a first peek at a house.

  She realized that her efforts to get inside were not just professionally motivated. She wanted him to like her. Why? She wasn’t even sure she liked him herself. One thing for sure—it appeared no one ever played fast with rules around him. Play wasn’t a word she’d bet was in his vocabulary. He was all business and that was just fine with her, she thought, sitting across from him in her office, where they’d returned so she could do a computer search and printout of other similar-style and -size houses in the area for Noel to examine if he didn’t like the inside of the house he’d first sighted.

  “Did I hear you say ‘rats’?” he asked.

  She looked away from the screen. “No room for an office for you in that one.”

  She sighed and wished she were at home making pomanders, creating the fragrance of Christmas for her house. Instead she’d let her excitement at the possibility of earning a big commission—and doing a good deed for a family in dire need, or so she assumed wrongly, of a home for Christmas—interfere with her holiday preparations.

  Not only had Noel Hawksley turned out to be single, he was a grinch. She just knew he was going to be one of those clients who took a tremendous amount of time to find that elusive something he wanted to make the purchase, despite his claim he had to be moved into a house by Christmas.

  “Maybe your blood sugar is dropping and making you testy. Why don’t I buy you lunch? Then we can swing by Elena’s—whoever she is—house to check on the key and spend the rest of the afternoon looking at houses.”

  “Elena is my godchild. Her mother is my best friend, Sarah. But you’re right about lunch.” Hollie switched off her computer. She’d only breakfasted on an angel cookie she’d filched last night from Sarah with a conspiratorial wink to Elena.

  “Okay, I’ll let you buy me lunch, since you insist. But first I need to make a quick call to Sarah to make sure she’ll be home.”

  As it happened, they went to Sarah’s first because Elena had a dance class scheduled.

  When Hollie rang the bell, she heard the patter of little tap shoes and a childlike “I’ll get it, Mommy.” Hollie quickly prayed that Elena didn’t blurt out anything terribly embarrassing. Hollie wasn’t at all sure about Sarah’s permissive child-rearing practices.

  The door eased open and Elena launched herself into Hollie’s arms. “Can I spend the night with you, Auntie Hollie? Can I, huh?”

  “Uh…”

  “Who’s he? Is he your new boyfriend?”

  “Sorry,” Sarah apologized.

  She got to the door just as Hollie felt herself turning red.

  “Elena’s wound up tighter than a top because of the holidays. She takes after Hollie, I’m afraid. Elena get down. You’ve got tap shoes on and you’ll ruin Hollie’s pretty suit.”

  Elena unwound her arms from around Hollie’s neck and stretched them out to Noel, wriggling her fingers for him to take her.

  Noel stepped back out of Elena’s reach.

  “Come on, sugarpie,” Hollie said, setting the child down and taking her hand. “Let’s go look for my key and telephone book you borrowed from me last night. Do you remember where you stashed them?”

  “Sarah Smith,” Sarah said, holding out her hand and shaking her head. “You’ll have to forgive Hollie. She’s a bit of a free spirit.”

  “I’ve noticed. It’s good, though, that Elena has a playmate.”


  “Why don’t you come out to the kitchen? I hear the dog scratching at the kitchen door to come in.”

  Noel followed, leery about what might lurk in the topsy-turvy house. They passed a dining room table stacked high with enough Tupperware containers to start a franchise.

  “I’ve been baking,” Sarah explained. “Since adopting Elena, I’ve been catering from my home, and this year the orders for Christmas cookies have been huge. No one seems to have time to bake anymore, thank goodness.”

  Sarah’s kitchen was as welcoming as she was. The white glass-front cabinets were filled with cheery Fiestaware, and a jumble of pots and pans danced on a rack above the center island.

  Sarah opened the kitchen door as Noel took a seat at the round table by the bay window. A froufrou black-and-white dog jumped into Noel’s lap and put its little paws on his chest while it stood to lick his face.

  “Midnight, get down,” Sarah commanded.

  Midnight was evidently hard-of-hearing.

  “You aren’t afraid of dogs, are you?” Sarah asked, taking the animal and giving it a biscuit to distract it after she shooed it off Noel’s lap.

  “No. I’m just not used to them.”

  “That’s a shame. It must be hard moving around a lot the way you do for your career.”

  So Sarah and Hollie had discussed him. Interesting.

  “I like it. I like a challenge.”

  “Then Hollie’s the right woman for you. Although men always have a way of disappointing Hollie. Oops, I shouldn’t have said that,” Sarah said, caught up in her matchmaking.

  Before Noel could ask why men disappointed Hollie, the subject of their conversation came into the kitchen, victorious in her search for her phone book.

  “Found it in Elena’s backpack. I had to trade her a tube of your magenta lipstick for it, Sarah. Alas, no key.”

  “You didn’t let her put the lipstick on—” Sarah was headed for the bedroom before Hollie could tell her that she was only teasing and the tube she’d traded was jellybean pink.

  “So what do you think?” Hollie asked, taking the chair across from Noel.

  “Think?” he repeated, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “About Sarah…” she coaxed.

  “She’s nice—”

  “Nice. She’s fabulous. Great legs, big blue eyes, and she’s a great cook and a wonderful mother.”

  “I thought we were looking for a house for me.”

  “Of course. But you’re single, and I thought that maybe you’d…”

  “Make a great father for Elena?”

  “That wasn’t my first thought after you backed away from holding her.”

  “I don’t know what to do with little kids,” he dodged.

  “Then you’re wrong for Sarah. She wants to adopt another one.”

  “Do you always do drive-by matchmaking?” he asked, rubbing the wood-grained top of the table with his long fingers.

  “Much to Sarah’s chagrin. Sarah thinks it’s just fine to raise children without a father. I’m not so sure. What do you think?”

  “I spent my childhood at boarding school. Only saw my father at holidays.”

  “How awful.”

  “Is it?”

  “You don’t think so?” Hollie was astonished at his matter-of-fact acceptance of a lonely childhood.

  She’d always missed having parents; he’d had them and apparently hadn’t enjoyed the bond she’d assumed every child would crave.

  “Are you close to your parents now?” she asked, pushing.

  “At holidays—except Christmas. That I don’t celebrate anywhere but on a warm island away from all the madness.”

  “How can you not love Christmas?” She was serious. “It’s the most magical time of the year. Anything can happen. Anything at all.”

  Midnight, done with her biscuit, jumped up into Hollie’s lap, and she absentmindedly patted the animal’s back.

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  He didn’t seem to want to discuss it. “What time does your tree say?” Noel asked.

  He nodded at her Christmas watch, which he obviously disapproved of.

  “Definitely time for lunch. You have anything we can grab a bite of while I keep looking for the key?” Hollie asked Sarah as she joined them.

  “Sorry, since Elena wouldn’t take off the lipstick we had to find something that would match jelly-bean pink. How do peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches sound?”

  “Like you’ve been around a four-year-old too long,” Hollie said, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t you have any grown-up food?”

  “How about grilled cheese?”

  “Perfect. I’ll help. You don’t mind grabbing a bite here, do you, Noel? It will give us more time to look at houses.”

  Noel shrugged, outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

  Just when the kitchen was starting to smell buttery good, Elena wandered back in with a tape of Cinderella in her hand.

  “Mommy, I can’t reach the VCR. Will you put it in for me so I can watch like you said until it’s time for dance class?”

  Sarah was washing lettuce for a salad and Hollie was keeping an eye on the grilled cheese sandwiches so they didn’t burn. Both women turned to Noel.

  “I can handle the VCR,” he assured them, and got up to give Elena a hand.

  “You look like the handsome prince,” they both heard Elena say as he followed her from the kitchen. The two friends broke up.

  “Do you realize a four-year-old has better dating skills than either of us?” Hollie said.

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to lock her in her room until she turns thirty. That’s why I’m thinking of adopting an older brother for her.”

  “What did you think of Noel?” Hollie whispered so they wouldn’t be overheard discussing their guest.

  “What kind of man doesn’t like kids or dogs?” Sarah replied. “It’s like he’s afraid of them.”

  “He grew up in boarding schools, so I don’t think he’s ever been around either.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “He is kinda sad, don’t you think?” Hollie slid the cheese sandwich onto a warm plate and began grilling another while Sarah mixed the salad.

  “He said he likes a challenge, so I told him you were the perfect woman for him.”

  Hollie dropped the spatula in her hand with a clatter. “You didn’t!”

  “I did. Serves you right for matchmaking. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to.”

  “But now he’s going to think I want to jump his bones, Sarah.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Bury them, more like it.”

  “Sell that to someone who’ll buy it.”

  “I’m not interested.” Hollie emphasized her point by shaking her head. “He’s not my type.”

  Sarah laughed. “Yeah, too tall, too broad-shouldered, too good-looking.”

  “He doesn’t smile much,” Hollie insisted.

  “He will if he hangs around you for very long. You are a caution, girl.”

  “I’m just going to sell him—oops—” Hollie caught the grilled cheese that almost slid from her spatula to the floor “—a house and that’s all. And hopefully in record time so I can enjoy the holidays. With any luck at all we’ll find something this afternoon, and Mr. Noel Hawksley, the grinch, will be history.”

  “Grinch?”

  “He hates Christmas.”

  Sarah erupted into gales of laughter, just managing to blurt out that Hollie and Noel were meant for each other—perfect opposites.

  “Be that way,” Hollie sniffed, patting her riotous curls. “And here I was going to tell you how much I liked your new haircut.”

  “Do you? It’s a gum cut.” Sarah carried the bowl of salad to the table.

  “Gum cut?” Hollie added the plate of fragrant cheese sandwiches she’d grilled to a golden brown.

  “Your sugarpie crawled into m
y bed when she had a bad dream last night and somehow her bubble gum got into my hair. So voilà, short haircut. I have to admit it’s a lot easier to take care of than long hair. I don’t know why I didn’t try it sooner, since I’m always so pressed for time now.”

  “It makes you look like Demi Moore in Ghost. “

  “Then I’m keeping it.”

  “Call the grinch and Elena while I get plates, napkins and some chips,” Hollie said, not wanting to face Noel after Sarah’s inept efforts at matchmaking. Hollie thought her own attempts had been at least semi- subtle.

  Sugarpie hadn’t helped by reminding her that Noel did indeed look like the handsome prince.

  Even she didn’t believe there was a fairy godmother in existence who could turn Noel into a fun date. Even if Sarah did insist Hollie was a princess, intent on always getting things her way.

  She had a plan: find a home for Noel fast, find a car for herself with her tidy commission, end of story. No magic slippers; no fancy ball; no handsome, brooding prince.

  Now, that was what she called a happy ending.

  NOEL LOOKED DOWN at the little princess who’d climbed up on his lap when he’d settled on the sofa after inserting the Cinderella tape in the VCR.

  She seemed really comfortable, cuddling against him as she watched the fairy tale.

  To his surprise, he felt really comfortable, as well.

  Next thing he knew he’d be believing in fairy tales.

  And happy holidays.

  And happy endings.

  He’d have to guard against that.

  He’d especially have to guard against the foxy real estate agent starring in his fantasies. What was it about Hollie Winslow that tripped his switches? It was more than the body that wouldn’t quit and the mind that eschewed logic in favor of magic.

  Meanwhile, back at the North Pole…

  SANTA SAT BACK in the recliner with his red stockinged feet up on the footrest. His tummy was stacked with women’s magazines. The ones he’d found in Claudia’s bathroom. If he was lucky, he might find the spa his wife had gone off to featured in one of them. She might have circled the name, giving herself away.

  He hadn’t had any luck yet finding the Christmas cookies she’d hidden. He’d looked and looked, even searching in the elves’ quarters. They claimed not to have seen them. The reindeer shed hadn’t turned up any cookies, either. He’d probably just imagined the crumbs on Rudolph’s nose. Claudia wouldn’t have fed his chocolate crinkles to the reindeer because she was miffed at him for ignoring her, would she?