Do You Hear What I Hear?
Holly Jacobs
“Kissing you is addictive, Libby,”
Josh admitted. “But the rest of it—being with you, being with Meg—it feels right.”
Right for now, Libby was sure, though she didn’t say it. She didn’t want to argue with Josh. As a matter of fact, she didn’t really want to talk at all. Because talking made her worry about how much it would hurt after Christmas, when Josh was gone.
No, she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. She just wanted to kiss him.
When she was kissing Josh, she could forget the inner voice that kept whispering that she and her daughter would be heartbroken when he left. While she was in his arms, she could think of nothing but him.
And, for the moment, that had to be enough….
Do You Hear What I Hear?
Holly Jacobs
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Miss Mac, Joan McLaughlin, who saw more in me than I saw in myself. You are sorely missed.
And for Allison Lyons
whose input and insight so enriched this story.
HOLLY JACOBS
can’t remember a time when she didn’t read…and read a lot. Writing her own stories just seemed a natural outgrowth of that love. Reading, writing and chauffeuring kids to and from activities makes for a busy life. But it’s one she wouldn’t trade for any other.
Holly lives in Erie, Pennsylvania, with her husband, four children and a two-hundred-pound Old English mastiff. In her “spare” time, Holly loves hearing from her fans. You can write to her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102.
Dear Reader,
This is my first Silhouette Romance novel, and I’m so pleased to be a part of this great line. Writing stories about love and family is a perfect niche for me. I married my high school sweetheart and we have four wonderful children ranging from college age to grade school. Add to that a two-hundred-pound mastiff, and you may guess that there’s never a dull moment at our house!
Reading has always been a part of my life. When I was in the third grade I read a biography of Helen Keller and knew I’d found a role model. She was a woman who faced hurdles in her life, but she didn’t let them trip her up. No, she overcame them all and triumphed. I can’t tell you how much she inspired me. Incorporating a hearing-impaired character in my first Silhouette Romance novel is a small tribute to her, and to every family who has ever overcome tremendous obstacles.
I hope you enjoy Do You Hear What I Hear? and that you’ll look for my upcoming Silhouette and Harlequin titles.
Contents
Chapter One (#udd5452a9-776c-51d8-8fc7-bb61330a7e8d)
Chapter Two (#uf5aa1a0c-3225-523d-bdcc-2a7a64e5b516)
Chapter Three (#udfb566fd-7f45-557f-9958-ac6a2ce4a7c8)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“Have you met him?”
“Him who?” Libby McGuiness asked as she measured a section of Mabel’s gray hair on the right side against its counterpart on the left side.
“Your new neighbor,” Mabel said, her exasperation evident in her tone.
“No, I haven’t met him yet, though I met his receptionist and she seemed nice enough.”
“Well, nice isn’t the word I’d use to describe Dr. Gardner. Hunk—now that’s a good description.”
Libby chuckled. Mabel might be a widow pushing seventy, but she had the vitality of someone in her twenties. An acupuncturist who vowed never to retire, Mabel was a vital part of the downtown Erie small business community; more than that, she was a friend—a friend whose main goal in life was finding Libby a man.
“You could use a hunk,” Mabel added.
“A hunk of money, that’s for sure.” Owning her own salon, Snips and Snaps, might be satisfying, but it wasn’t always overly lucrative.
Libby turned the chair a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Satisfied that everything was even and in place, she turned Mabel to the mirror. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” the older woman said, fluffing her new cut. “But then, it always is when you cut my hair. Maybe you should take a look at your new neighbor. He might be perfect, as well.”
“I’m glad you think your hair is perfect, and thanks for the suggestion about the doctor, but I’ll pass. There may be such a thing as a perfect haircut, but there’s no such thing as a perfect man.”
Libby whipped off the cape that covered Mabel, and led her to the register. “Do you want to make your next appointment now?”
“You’re sure about the doctor? I could introduce you.”
Libby chuckled. “I’m absolutely positive.”
Mabel sighed. “Do you have any openings for a wash and style before Thanksgiving?”
Libby checked her appointment book. “I can squeeze you in Wednesday at four-thirty. You’ll be it for the week.”
“You’re a dear. All the kids are coming home for the holiday, and Stacy is bringing her new boyfriend, so I want to look my best.” She handed Libby a twenty. “And speaking of best, maybe you should do something new with your hair before you meet Dr. Hunk.”
“I’m sure I’ll meet our new neighbor, but I don’t plan on meeting him, if you know what I mean. And I know you know what I mean. I like my hair just the way it is,” she said, fingering her long braid. “And I like my life just the way it is, as well. But thanks for the advice.”
Libby pulled Mabel’s change out of the drawer, but the older woman just waved it away. “You keep it, dear. You did a lovely job.”
Mabel’s matchmaking might be blatant, but it was hard to stay annoyed with such a generous, sweet spirit. “Thanks, Mabel. I’ll see you for that wash and style.”
“See you then. And think about what I said.”
Libby tucked the bills into her pocket. The only thinking she planned on thinking about was Meg’s new computer. She’d been saving tips since the beginning of the year for this one special Christmas present. Not just any computer, but something big and fast—something that would put the world at her daughter’s fingertips.
Meg. Yes, that’s all she was going to think about. Meg and Libby were a team, and they didn’t need any man messing up their lives. So Mabel could just keep her hunk.
Libby glanced at her watch. Just another hour until she was home and with Meg. As much as she loved Snips and Snaps, she loved going home to her daughter even more.
Home? Just how was she supposed to get there, Libby thought an hour later as she eyed the green truck with Ohio plates that was butted up against the bumper of her Neon.
How was she supposed to get out of the parallel parking space with no room to maneuver? The idiot who had parked that truck was clearly encroaching on her parking space. It wasn’t her fault that he drove a truck the size of a small tank and had to take up more than his fair share of the parking space.
And look at that—he had about two feet of free space behind him. Couldn’t he at least have given some of it to her?
Libby realized she was mentally referring to her bumper-pusher as a male. Maybe it was sexist, but she’d bet a week’s pay it was a guy. A big-truck-driving, thinks-he’s-macho, parking-space-hogging man.
Libby glanced nervously at her watch. She was going to be late picking Meg up from the Hendersons. Where was a cop when she needed one? The police station was just across the square. There should be one of Erie’s finest somewhere about. This green-truck jerk deserved a ticket.
Better yet, forget the cop. Where was a tow truck?
No one was going to ride to her rescue. She’d just have to call the Hendersons and explain she was trapped until the driver of the red Jeep in front of her, or the idiot green-truck’s driver came out. She hoped it was the truck’s driver. She really wanted to give him a piece of her mind, not that she had much to spare, Meg would have added.
Thinking of her daughter’s occasional wisecracks made Libby smile, despite her annoyance. Then a cold gust of wind made her remember why she was annoyed in the first place.
Well, she might have to wait, but she wasn’t waiting outside. November’s Canadian wind blew off Lake Erie and made things far too cold to do much more than hurry from one warm place to another. She crawled into her Neon and started it, cranking the heat up to the highest setting. She might as well be comfortable while she waited. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long. At five o’clock the city pretty much shut down, so one of the cars would probably be leaving soon.
Just as she reached for her cell phone, she spotted a man coming out of Gardner’s Ophthalmology and headed for the green truck. She jumped from her car. “Hey, you.”
The man looked up. He was gorgeous. Drop-dead-drag-your-tongue-on-the-street gorgeous.
“Yes?” he asked with a smile—a smile that made him even better looking, though it shouldn’t be possible.
Good-looking or not, Libby’s anger didn’t fade.
“I don’t know how you park in Ohio, but here in Pennsylvania we at least give the other person a foot or so to maneuver.”
“Really?” he asked blandly.
“Really.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He opened the truck door and started to climb in.
“That’s all? No I’m sorry. No I won’t let it happen again?”
He sighed and stood beside his open door. “Listen, I’ve had a very long day and don’t need to have some shrew—”
“Shrew?”
“—yapping at me because she doesn’t know how to parallel park.”
“My car was here first. You’re the one crawling up my bumper, and yet you have the nerve to say I don’t know how to park?”
“Well, I don’t know how you do it here in Pennsylvania, but in Ohio we try to come within a foot of the curb.”
“I’m within a foot of the curb. Heck, I’m practically on the curb. And how close I am to the curb doesn’t affect how others park and, more importantly, get out of their parking spaces.”
He climbed into the truck. “So maybe next time you should park on the parking ramp at the corner of Eighth and Peach. It’s only a couple of blocks.”
Libby knocked on the window, and reluctantly the parking idiot rolled the glass down. “Or, maybe,” she said, “next time you should park there when you visit the doctor’s.”
“That’s a heck of a hike to walk to the office every day.”
“You need to see the ophthalmologist every day?” Right. The man didn’t have glasses; she’d wager not even contacts. No, Mr. Perfect’s eyes were probably twenty-twenty. Who did he think he was fooling?”
“I am the ophthalmologist.”
“Dr. Gardner?” This was Mabel’s Dr. Hunk? Well, he might be eye candy, but he certainly left a bitter aftertaste.
He nodded. “And you are?”
“Your new neighbor, Libby McGuiness.”
“You have an apartment here?” He nodded toward the apartments that topped a number of the square’s businesses.
“No, I own Snips and Snaps, the beauty salon right next door to you. And since it appears we’ll both be parking here frequently, maybe you should invest in some parking lessons.”
“Only if you join me,” he said pleasantly.
Libby resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the man and attempted to sound mature. “Listen, sparring with you hasn’t been much of an exercise in wits, since you’ve only got half of yours, but I have to go. If you wouldn’t mind moving your truck…?”
“And I have to confess, this is the nicest welcome to the neighborhood I’ve had to date.”
A small shot of guilt coursed through her. After all, she might not want to go after Dr. Gardner in a romantic way, but she also didn’t want to alienate a neighbor.
Libby’s guilt totally evaporated when the parking-failure doctor shot her a snotty grin.
“With manners like yours, I’m sure you’re in store for even better ones,” Libby said before she stormed to her car.
Mabel wanted her to change her hair for hunky Dr. Gardner? Libby slammed the car door shut. The only thing she’d change was her parking space. She had a daughter to pick up and couldn’t wait on a daily basis for Dr. Gardner to move his truck.
The green truck slipped smoothly into Reverse then, and with the two feet of free space behind it, angled out of the parking space. Finally able to back up, Libby followed suit. It was time to go home.
A half hour later she stood in her kitchen with Meg, and the parking-idiot was all but forgotten.
“And then Jenny barfed, right there in the class. The janitor had to come clean it up. We had class in the cafeteria then because the room still smelled, but the cafeteria smelled almost as bad.”
Some things never changed. Bad cafeteria food was one of those things.
Libby glanced at her daughter’s brunette curls. Another thing that never changed, and never would, was the delight she got watching Meg. Every year she just seemed more wonderful. Her baby was ten years old. Where had the time gone?
“Do you have homework?” Libby asked to cover up the fact she was suddenly feeling nostalgic. Ten-year-olds didn’t appreciate being sighed over.
Meg frowned. “You ask me that every night. Maybe I did it at the Hendersons?”
Libby stirred the sauce and smiled. Her daughter was a normal ten-year-old girl in every sense of the word. She put the spoon down and said, “And maybe you didn’t. Which is it?”
“Fine. I’ll do my homework.” Meg’s hands moved much slower than when they recited Jenny’s barf experience.
“Dinner’s on in about fifteen minutes, so get to it,” Libby said as she signed.
Moving fingers. Dancing hands. Those signs were the only indication that there was something different about Meg.
She watched her daughter stomp away and couldn’t help but smile again. Meg groused about homework, had a room that resembled a pigsty and spent as much time as she could manage chatting with her friends on the Internet. Libby wouldn’t allow her to use public chat rooms, but they’d set up a private one where all Meg’s friends could meet. And meet they did whenever Meg could sneak some computer time on their antiquated model.
She’d be thrilled with the new model Libby planned to buy her for Christmas. Computers, sign language, lip reading—Libby encouraged anything that opened communication for her daughter.
She started slicing the Italian bread, visions of modems and mouses floating through her head. Like any other fifth grader, Meg would love a faster model.
Like any other fifth grader. That phrase summed up Meggie to a T. Well, maybe not just like any other fifth grader. Meg was special, and it wasn’t her hearing impairment that made her that way. She was just a very special little girl.
Too bad her father, Mitch, hadn’t stuck around long enough to see that he was right—their daughter wasn’t normal. No, Meg was spectacular.
Mitch’s loss was Libby’s gain. Raising Meg was probably the most wonderful thing she’d ever do. Getting dinner with her, nagging her about homework, seeing the world through her daughter’s baby blue eyes was a gift. And Libby tried not to let a day go by without reminding herself how blessed she was.
Fifteen minutes later the two of them sat down to their spaghetti and meatballs. In between bites Meg bubbled about her score on some new computer game she was playing with Jackie Henderson. “I beat her, big-time.”
“I suppose she’ll want a rematch, and she might win, so don’t get too cocky.”
“No way. My fingers are quicker than hers will ever be.”
After nine years of signing, Libby’s fingers were fast, but not nearly as fast as Meg’s. She was probably right—Jackie didn’t stand a chance.
The kitchen light flashed at the same moment the doorbell buzzer sounded.
“I’ll get it,” Meg signed even as she flew out of her chair before Libby could protest. She didn’t like Meg answering the door after dark, and evenings came early in November. She hastily trailed after her daughter.
“Flowers!” Meg signed before she took the arrangement of fall foliage from the deliveryman.
The dark-haired deliveryman flashed a lopsided smile as he checked his clipboard. “Libby McGuiness, right?”
“Right.” Libby fished in her back pocket and pulled out a couple dollars. “Here,” she said, thrusting the bills at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Whoever he is, he’s sure sorry. He called the shop and sent me out after hours, even though it cost him extra.”
Libby shut the door and took the card from the arrangement Meg had placed on the hall table. “Dear Ms. Snippy,” it read, “Here’s a number for Dan’s Driving Lessons. I suggest you start ASAP.”
What an arrogant, couldn’t-park-to-save-his-truck sort of man. Without thinking she bent and sniffed the flowers. He might be an idiot, but that didn’t mean Libby couldn’t enjoy the beautiful arrangement.
“What?” Meg asked, grabbing the card.
“I had a run-in at work,” Libby explained, all her previous annoyance flooding back. “Come on, let’s finish dinner.” She stuffed the card in her pocket and started walking back to the kitchen.
Meg stopped her with a tug on her sleeve. “An accident?” Concern was etched on Meg’s expressive face.
“No,” Libby reassured her. “A very bad parker who thinks he’s funny.”
“I think he is, too,” Meg said. “Is he cute?”
“No, he’s not cute, and you’re a traitor.”
“I’ve seen you park.” Meg pantomimed numerous parking attempts. “You end up miles from the curb.”
“And you’re grounded,” Libby said, laughing. Her frustration with Dr. Hunky-can’t-park Gardner evaporated in the face of her daughter’s amusement.
“Am not.”
“Are, too.” Hands flew as they talked over one another. “No.” “Yes.” “I still have homework.” “You’re a cheat.” “And you can’t park.”
“Eat,” Libby said, and Meg’s hands quieted as she finished her spaghetti. Unfortunately Libby’s thoughts didn’t have to quiet while she ate, and no matter how she tried, they kept circling back to Dr. Gardner. He obviously thought his good looks and a cute card attached to some mums and leaves would get him out of trouble. Well, he had a thing or two left to learn.
Libby didn’t like him—didn’t like him a bit. He was arrogant, and he had a warped sense of humor. Add to that the fact he was far too good-looking for his own good, probably had half of Erie’s female population eating out of his hand, and you had the right mixture for trouble.
Okay, he just moved here. So, he might not have all that many women yet, but just give him time and he would. But one of those women would never be Libby McGuiness.
She could sense trouble when she met it, and in this case trouble had a name—Dr. Gardner.
Trouble.
The pattern of the waiting room border was the least of his worries the next morning, but Joshua Gardner found himself staring at the wallpaper book anyway. Visions of wallpaper designs might be dancing before his eyes, but it was visions of his new neighbor that kept dancing in his mind. A new neighbor whose snapping blue eyes had haunted his dreams last night. A new neighbor who didn’t appreciate his parking abilities.
She did have a point. It certainly hadn’t been his best parking job ever. He’d been in such a hurry to get into his office—his office—that he’d simply jostled his truck into the first available space and never even checked that the oversize vehicle hadn’t infringed on anyone else’s space.
And, of course, his response to her anger had been a bit over the top. He’d been tired, and the tension of getting his practice off the ground might not impress her as a good enough excuse, but there it was. He’d been tired and grumpy and she’d simply set his teeth on edge.
Josh had felt bad moments after he’d pulled out of his parking space. He hoped his flowers had eased the tension between them. The last thing he wanted was to start off on the wrong foot—or tires as the case may be—with his new neighbors.
She was cute though. Ms. McGuiness. She was all bristles and outrage. Both of which happened to look very good on her. He chuckled as he forced his attention back to the task at hand. Wallpaper. It might not be one of his most earth-shattering decisions, but it was his decision. His new life, his new office…his new wallpaper border.
“This,” he said, pointing to a bold, geometric-shaped border.
“You’re sure?” Amy’s tone suggested she was anything but sure about his choice.
“Yes. I’m positive.”
His cute, just-out-of-high-school, bundle-of-energy receptionist shrugged and grabbed the book. “Okay, you’re the boss. It’s your office.” She strode from the office and slammed the door.
The boss.
That was him. Joshua Gardner was in charge, in control. It had been a long time since he’d felt as if he was in control of anything. But now he was the sole owner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Every piece of furniture and all the equipment in the office was his. The hiring and firing of staff for the office was all up to him. Even the wallpaper decisions were all his. The buck stopped at his desk.
The problem was the bucks were close to stopping altogether. Buying Dr. Master’s practice, deciding to buy the office building rather than rent it, relocating to Erie…It all took money. After his divorce, his bank account was suddenly lighter than it had been in years. At the moment it wasn’t just light, it was next to empty. But the practice came with a built-in patient base, so hopefully he’d recoup some of his money soon.
Joshua glanced around his office, most of his things still in boxes. The painters were coming tonight to give the waiting room and his office a badly needed face-lift. His new border—which was perfect no matter what Amy thought—would go up sometime next week. Things were progressing.
The move had been the right thing to do. Coming home to Erie, Pennsylvania, had been just what he’d needed to begin his life anew in the city where he’d begun his life. If he walked to the corner and looked down the road, he could see the hospital he was born in. Farther down State Street was the bay where he’d learned to water-ski. Happy memories were stored in about every corner of the city.
Dr. Joshua Gardner was home, he was in charge of his destiny and things were going to be great.
The intercom buzzed. “Doctor?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“Your eight o’clock is here.”
“I’m coming.” Josh shoved his papers to the back of the desk. He was home, doing the job he loved to do, and had probably even scored a few brownie points with his new neighbor with his flowers. Every woman loved to get flowers.
Yes, things were going to be just great.
Chapter Two
“So, what do you think?”
Eight o’clock in the morning was too early to think, too early to deal with Mabel, too early to deal with just about anything. That’s why Libby never scheduled her first hair appointment until eight-thirty if she could help it. Coffee and paperwork for half an hour. It was quiet and eased her into a fully functional human.
And if customers were too much to deal with, Mabel was a complete overload of her fragile system.
Libby finished scooping the coffee into the filter, trying to come up with a convincing reason why she couldn’t help Mabel out. “I don’t think—”
It’s a good idea. That’s how Libby had planned to end the sentence, but Mabel cut her off and said, “So don’t think. Just say yes. It will be fun.”
“If it’s going to be so much fun, why don’t you do it?” Libby slammed the filter into the coffeemaker and hit the switch.
“Hey, I’m president of the association, I can’t hog all the fun jobs. And I’m doing my bit for the area. Now it’s your turn.”
“Couldn’t I find some other turn to take? I could plan a bake sale, or—”
“You could plan the Christmas party.” Mabel shook a motherly finger at Libby. “I need someone I know I can count on.”
“But I don’t have the time.” Time. Libby felt as if every day was a race against the clock. All day long on her feet, then her evenings with Meg, and all the responsibility for the household chores and…
Libby shook her head. No, she didn’t have time for anything else.
“What if I got someone to co-chair the event?” Mabel asked.
Mabel wasn’t going to give up. Libby could see it in the older woman’s stubborn expression and realized she’d lost this particular battle before she’d even started fighting.
Facing the inevitable, she asked, “Someone who’ll co-chair in name only, or someone who is willing to dig in and really work?”
“Work.” Mabel held up her fingers in a scout’s honor sign and then crossed her heart.
If the woman had a heart she would never have come to Libby and made this absurd request in the first place. Despite the fact that everything in her was screaming to refuse, Libby found herself saying, “Maybe, if I’m not doing everything all by myself, I could manage.”
“Of course you can,” Mabel promised. “This is a good way for you to have some fun. We all worry about you. All you do is work and take care of Meg. You need a life.”
“And planning a Christmas party is your way of assuring I get a life?”
Mabel shrugged even as she broke into a grin. “It’s a start. And if you have any problems or questions, you know you just have to ask.”
The coffeemaker made the glug, glug sound that indicated it was done brewing. Gratefully Libby poured herself a mug. If Mabel had come after her first few cups, she suspected she would have done a better job of getting out of this particular task.
“If I have questions, you’ll have the answer?” she asked.
“Of course not. I’m a delegator, not a problem solver.” Mabel grinned infectiously. “But I’ll sympathize.”
“Gee, you’re too generous.”
Mabel shrugged. “It’s a fault.”
“Do you want a cup?” Libby asked, but Mabel shook her head. “You know it’s going to be your fault if this party is a bust. I don’t throw personal parties, so what do I know about throwing one for around fifty people?”
“As much as anyone else, I’m afraid. And, Libby?”
Something in Mabel’s tone made Libby even more concerned. She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “Yes?”
“Um, I did mention that this Christmas party isn’t just for the group?”
“No?” It was for more than the dozen or so businesses, and their employees, that made up the Perry Square Small Business Association?
“Families, too.”
“Mabel!” Quickly Libby’s mind tried to come up with some calculations. The Perry Square Business Association, the PSBA, had a dozenish businesses as members, about fifty people. If families were included, that was definitely over a hundred people.
“Just how many people am I planning for?” Libby asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere under two hundred. And don’t worry. I’ll have a list of kids for you, and their ages.”
Libby glared at the woman she used to consider a friend. “Why do I need the children’s ages?”
“So Santa can have the appropriate presents there for them.”
“Presents?” What on earth had she gotten herself into? “Mabel, you didn’t say anything about families, or kids or presents. I was thinking a brunch at some restaurant, maybe a party favor or two. There’s no way—”
“—you could do it alone, which is why the idea of a co-chair is such a good one.” Mabel must have sensed she’d best get while the getting was good, because she grabbed her coat and started toward the door.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Libby called. “We’re not done talking here.”
“Now, don’t you worry. I’ve got a couple great lists that should prove very helpful. And it just so happens that I suddenly have the perfect idea for a co-chair for you.”
“Who?” Libby tried to think of anyone in their group who was crazy enough to let Mabel rope them in. She couldn’t think of a soul…other than herself.
“I don’t want to say until I’m sure.” Mabel’s hand was on the doorknob.
“Mabel, you’re making me nervous.”
Mabel turned around and faced Libby with a look of confusion on her face. “You know, people say I make them nervous all the time and I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe it has to do with your coming at them with needles, or maybe you just have one of those personalities that makes people nervous.” Realizing that Mabel had managed to get her off the subject of the Christmas party, Libby added, “About this party—”
“Gotta go,” said the neighborhood needle-pushing acupuncturist and busybody as she raced out the door.
Libby watched helplessly as Mabel disappeared from the front of the store. Plan a Christmas party? What had she been thinking?
She’d have to worry about it later, because she had a full day’s schedule waiting for her. But worry about it she would.
There was just no way she could plan a party for two hundred in just a few weeks. The shop would be a madhouse between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Most of the time Libby looked forward to the holidays. But suddenly she was feeling decidedly Grinchy about this Christmas party.
Grinchy wasn’t the word to describe how Libby felt as she waited for her four-thirty appointment later that day.
“What do you want now?” she barked when parking-space-hogging Dr. Gardner waltzed into the shop and took a seat in front of her.
“Just a quick trim.”
Realization hit her. “I saw J. Gardner in the appointment book, but I didn’t realize it was you.” The name had been in Josie’s handwriting. Libby should have asked who the customer was when she didn’t recognize the name.
If Pearly and Josie weren’t in the back room, she’d be giving them the evil eye, hoping to make them worry about a lecture when this new customer left.
“Believe it or not, Doctor isn’t my first name. Most of my friends call me Joshua, or Josh even.”
“Then I think I’ll stick to Dr. Gardner, if you don’t mind.”
He was watching her reflection in the mirror, Libby realized. His dark brown eyes studied her, making her feel like a hare being stalked by a hawk.
“And if I said I did mind, Libby?” he asked softly.
“Then I’d say, so sorry, Dr. Gardner, I prefer we keep things formal.” She whipped the cape around his neck, and pulled it closed with a little more force than required. “And the name’s Ms. McGuiness.”
He sighed. “You’re still miffed about the parking space.”
“Miffed?” She reached for a comb, tapping the excess sterilizer solution against the side of the soaking jar.
“The flowers as an apology didn’t help? In my experience, women love that kind of thing. Plus, I had to go to the effort of looking up your address in the phone book.”
“I realize that alphabetical order might cause you some difficulty, so I’ll give you credit for having to figure out just where McGuiness might be in the phone book. And I might admit I love flowers, though I hate to be a generalization, but your card just added insult to injury.”
From anyone else she might have found the card humorous, even cute, but from Dr. My-smile-gets-me-out-of-trouble Gardner, she was simply even more put out.
Libby stared at his hair a moment, strangely reluctant to touch him. Why was that? Of course he was good-looking, but she cut a lot of good-looking men’s hair and never felt this unreasonable need to keep as much distance as possible between herself and them. Men didn’t affect her—not anymore. She was totally immune to the whole species.
“An apology added insult to injury?” He craned his head so he could look her in the eye. “How?”
“Dr. Gardner, if I’d seen an apology, I’d have accepted it.” Forcing herself to shake the crazy urge to run as far away as she could get, Libby reached out and turned Dr. Gardner’s head so he was facing forward. “The card was just another slap in the face.”
“You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you, Ms. McGuiness?”
“Sure I do, when I see something humorous.”
The only funny thing she saw right now was the strange emotions Dr. Gardner seemed to be evoking in her. She wasn’t the type to start fights on the street, and she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, and yet holding one she was—holding on to it as tightly as she possibly could.
“Are you saying I’m not funny?” he asked.
“I’m saying you’re certainly funny, just not in a humorous sense of the word.”
“I’ll have you know that plenty of women find me humorous.”
Libby realized that Josie and Pearly were probably in the back room hanging on every word of her conversation with the irritating Dr. Gardner. Determined not to give them anything else worth listening to, she finished the absurd argument. “I’m sure they do, Dr. Gardner. I’m sure they do. But the big laughs you give other women don’t interest me at all. What kind of cut you want does.”
“Like I said before, just a trim.” The humor in his voice had faded, replaced by a clipped annoyance.
“You’re sure you’re comfortable trusting me with a sharp implement at your neck?” Libby was sure she wouldn’t trust the good doctor. His frustration was evident by his expression.
“I’m sure you’re much too professional to maim a paying customer.”
“Fine.” Finally the man shut up. Libby spritzed his hair with her water bottle, then snipped in blessed silence.
Joshua Gardner might not be as humorous as he liked to think, but Libby would admit the man had a fine head of hair. Thick, with a slight tendency to curl. Running her fingers through it would be a pure sensual delight if she was the kind of woman who paid attention to those kind of things. But Libby didn’t pay attention to the way the ends of his hair curled around her fingers. No, not one bit of attention.
No wonder he kept his hair well trimmed. Otherwise it would rapidly get out of control, just as her strange thoughts were out of control.
She toyed with the hair, just making sure she’d cut it evenly, she assured herself. That was the only reason her fingers were lingering in his hair. It had nothing to do with the pleasure of running her fingers through his dark locks. Not a thing.
“Are you done fondling me?” Joshua finally asked, pulling Libby from her hair-induced daze.
“If you didn’t want me to touch you, why on earth did you make an appointment to have me cut your hair?” She spun the chair so it faced her rather than the mirror.
“I made the appointment because I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. Get a much-needed trim and discuss what we’re going to do about the party.”
“What party?”
Joshua stuck out his hand. “Hi. Joshua Gardner, cochairman of the PSBA Christmas party.”
Libby ignored the hand. “I’ll kill her.”
“I could ask her who, but I’m going to assume you mean Mabel. And I’m going to assume the fact you want to kill her indicates you’re less than enthused at the prospect of working with me. Since planning a Christmas party requires very little parallel parking, I think we should be safe.” He shot her a smile, one that had probably gotten him out of countless sticky situations.
Despite the fact that a smiling, newly trimmed Joshua Gardner was a sight to behold, Libby frowned. “I quit.”
His smile slipped a notch. “What?”
“You can plan the party yourself.”
There. Problem solved. Libby hadn’t wanted to plan the Christmas party before she found out who her co-chair would be, but now…well, having a mammogram was higher on her list of things she wanted to do. At least a mammogram had some intrinsic value, something she’d found totally lacking in Joshua Gardner. Unless she considered his great head of hair—which Libby definitely wasn’t considering.
“I don’t know the area,” Joshua protested. “I mean, I might be from Erie, but things have changed since I left home.”
“I’m sure you can find someone else to help you.”
Josie and Pearly had been quiet in the back room—too quiet. She was betting either of them would willingly throw themselves at the man’s feet, and help plan the party.
“I’m sure one of my employees would volunteer.”
A small thud came from the back—a thud she was sure her two employees were responsible for. Whether it was Pearly and Josie thumping, Sure we’ll do it or What are you thinking? Libby wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with Dr. Gardner.
“What are you afraid of, Libby?” he asked quietly.
“Ms. McGuiness,” she corrected. “And I’m not afraid of anything. You just rub me the wrong way, and I don’t have the time or patience to pretend your arrogant, overbearing manner is acceptable. So, keep your flowers, your hair and your smiles to yourself. And find someone else to help with the party.”
“Are you telling me that you are immature enough to let one small incident mar any further relationship between us?”
He removed the cape and stood, facing Libby. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes, but look him in the eyes she did. “Let me assure you, Dr. Gardner, I have no interest in a relationship with you. You might think that no woman can resist you, but I’m quite capable. I have no desire—”
“I wasn’t talking about a personal relationship,” he interrupted. “I was talking about a professional relationship. We’re both members of the Perry Square Business Association, and we’re neighbors. Surely you’re adult enough to put one small disagreement behind us, and work together on this one little party. Unless you’re avoiding me for some other reason.”
Libby knew a challenge when she heard one. She shouldn’t care what he thought, as long as he thought it somewhere she wasn’t. But despite the fact she should just let him think whatever his tiny little mind wanted to think, she found herself saying, “Fine.”
“Fine. You’ll stay my co-chairman?”
“Yes. But no more flowers, no more parking anywhere near my car and we keep our meetings as brief as possible and strictly business.”
Again, Joshua extended his hand and this time, reluctantly, Libby accepted it in an impersonal handshake.
“Partners,” he simply said.
“For now,” she added.
“Thanks for the haircut.” He reached in his pocket and handed her a bill. “Will that cover it?”
“Just let me get you your change.”
“Keep it. Could we meet tomorrow night after work?”
Libby wanted to say no to both the tip and the meeting. But the tip would go toward Meg’s computer, and tomorrow was Friday and Meg was spending the night with the Hendersons, so it was convenient. But it irked her to tell the good doctor so.
“Fine,” she said grudgingly.
“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow after work, Ms. McGuiness.” He turned and left the store.
As if every ounce of energy had drained away, Libby sank into the chair that was still warm with Joshua Gardner’s body heat.
“Way to go, honey,” Pearly said as she burst from the back room.
“For a minute there, I thought you’d blown it.” Josie patted her hair. Her opinion was, bigger was better, and her red-from-a-bottle hair was certainly proof of that philosophy. Despite its impressive height, there was never a strand out of place. Josie’s nails were as loud as her hair, and just about as big and red. As the shop’s manicurist, she felt her nails were advertisement, and she advertised as much as she could. “I mean, Mabel found the perfect guy for you to work with.”
“Perfect?” Libby snorted. “He’s overbearing, arrogant, very unhumorous in his I-think-I’m-soooo-funny way, and—”
“Flowers. Tell us about the flowers,” Pearly commanded. Pearly, the shop’s other hairstylist, still carried her Georgia roots in every word she uttered, just as she carried her own natural graying brunette hair. Pearly didn’t believe in pretenses, not even with hair color. Soft and very Southern, Pearly was a lady to the core of her being.
“You two were eavesdropping.” The accusation held very little heat. Libby was well aware that Pearly and Josie were professional eavesdroppers and busybodies. That’s why they got along with Mabel so well. There was no way they would have been able to resist the opportunity to spy.
“Of course we were spying,” Josie said, honest to the core.
“You should have just gone home. You didn’t have any more appointments,” she grumbled.
“And miss all the action?” Josie laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“What was that thump back there?”
“Me kicking the wall,” Josie admitted. “I thought you’d blown it.”
“I wish I had.” Libby rubbed her temple. Dealing with Joshua Gardner had given her a headache. Dealing with Josie and Pearly was intensifying it.
“Honey, when fate throws a good-looking man in your lap, it’s best to catch him.” Pearly was always spouting off down-home wisdom.
“Personally I’ve found it best to duck.” Especially if that man was Joshua Gardner.
“You’re hopeless,” Josie said, snapping her gum for emphasis.
“No, I’m a realist. And realistically there’s no way Joshua Gardner and I will ever get along.”
Joshua Gardner was a realist. Realist enough to know that working with Libby McGuiness—Ms. McGuiness—was going to be a huge pain. Either the woman didn’t like men in general, or she just didn’t like him. It didn’t matter which it was—working with her was going to be a chore. He should have just let her bow out and asked Mabel to find someone else he could work with.
But he hadn’t let her bow out.
In fact, he’d practically insisted she continue chairing the party. His actions didn’t make sense. And if there was one thing Joshua Gardner liked, it was having things make sense.
Maybe that’s why his breakup with Lynn had been so difficult. It didn’t make sense. He’d thought they were happy…right up until the day Lynn told him she wanted a divorce. The divorce didn’t make sense to Joshua, at least until he’d met Lynn’s new boy-toy. Twenty-five with a washboard stomach. Then it made plenty of sense.
He looked down. His stomach wasn’t exactly a washboard, but it wasn’t potbelly, either. He took care of himself, but didn’t push the line to obsessing about his body. And though he wasn’t twenty-five anymore, he was happy being almost forty. Well, maybe not happy, but not dreading his forties. No midlife crises for him, unless you counted a failed marriage, and picking up and starting over again.
He’d been living the life that he’d always wanted…Well, except for kids. He’d wanted them. She hadn’t. And they had none.
Lynn said she’d worked as hard for her degree as he had for his, and she wasn’t about to give up all that work for some mewling brats. He’d pointed out he’d be willing to split the burdens fifty-fifty, just like he wanted to split the joys, but Lynn would hear none of it.
In the end, nothing was split quite fifty-fifty, but the settlement was fair enough. Lynn had bought out his half of their practice, and it had given him enough to start over. To start here in Erie, his hometown.
Though his family had scattered throughout the country, this was still home.
So here he was.
Dr. Joshua Gardner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Footloose and fancy-free, and utterly unsure of what to do with his loose ends.
He’d readily agreed to Mabel’s request because chairing the Christmas party gave him something to do, and gave him a way to ease into the community he had joined. His agreement had nothing to do with the fact that the very bristly Ms. McGuiness would be working with him.
No. It had nothing to do with her at all.
She was his neighbor. This was just an excellent way to get over the hurdle of their first, inauspicious meeting.
That’s all it was.
Chapter Three
A business meeting.
That’s all this was.
People had them all the time.
The phrases ran through her head all day, and yet not one eased the raging case of nerves Libby had developed. It was only a meeting, and Libby didn’t know why it was bothering her so much. But when she accidentally dropped her scissors for about the hundredth time of the day, she knew it was useless to deny her anxiety any longer.
She was nervous as hell about this little meeting.
“Would you stop fluttering around the shop like some sort of drunken butterfly?” Josie asked, exasperation in her voice. “He’s only a man, sweetums. And men are a dime a dozen. You can take my word for that.”
“He’s not a man, he’s a business associate. That’s the only reason I’m seeing him tonight. Business.”
“If you say so,” Josie said with a sly smile.
“I do.”
“Well, then settle down.” There was more than a hint of indulgence in Josie’s voice.
“I’m not nervous,” Libby said with as much force as she could muster.
“Hey, my appointment just canceled,” Pearly called as she came in from the back room.
“Why don’t you just take off early?” Libby offered.
“That’s one idea,” Pearly said slowly.
Libby sensed a trap, but asked anyway, “What’s the other?”
“You could let me have a go at that hair. It’s getting so long, and it’s such heavy hair that carrying around that weight all day can’t be comfortable.”
Libby grabbed her braid. No way was she going to let Pearly start trimming. “It’s fine.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Pearly asked innocently. Much too innocently.
“Of course I trust you,” Libby reassured her, even while she silently added, As far as I can throw you. “But I don’t have time to get my hair cut. I have a meeting in an hour and have to close up the shop and—”
“We’ll close up the shop for you. And I’m not talking a cut, just a small trim,” Pearly pressed.
“You really need one,” Josie said, blatantly choosing Pearly’s side as she joined the skirmish.
“Well…”
“Come on, Libby.” Pearly sensed the kill was at hand and pounced. “You just sit yourself in this chair and let me give your hair a quick rinse. We’ll have it all trimmed, smart and proper, before your date—”
“It’s not a date, it’s a business meeting,” Libby said again. Exactly who she was reminding she wasn’t sure. She’d had meetings in the past and had never felt this jittery about any of them.
“Who’s Libby meeting?” Mrs. Kane asked from Josie’s manicure chair.
“The new doctor next door,” Josie said.
“It’s just a meeting,” Pearly soothed. “Well, let’s get this done before your meeting shows up.”
Reluctantly Libby sat. The wash went fine, and Pearly led her to the chair, had the cape whipped over her shoulders before Libby could blink an eye. It wasn’t until Pearly picked up the scissors that the trouble started. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh, what?” Libby asked, craning her head to peek in the mirror.
“I slipped with the scissors,” Pearly cheerfully responded.
“How did you slip with the scissors when you’ve only just started?”
“It was easy. But don’t you worry. You’re going to just sit here and let me fix up this mess I created.”
Knowing that her hacked hair was no accident, Libby resigned herself to a real cut—a cut she hadn’t asked for and didn’t necessarily want.
“Pearly, what are you doing?” she asked as the snipping seemed to continue for an inordinately long time. Libby cut hair for a living and knew that this was taking longer than a trim—even a trim with slipping—should take.
“You just sit back and relax. You don’t relax nearly enough.” Clip. Clip.
“And it doesn’t appear I’m going to get much relaxing done tonight.”
“Yeah, meetings aren’t very relaxing, are they?” Pearly asked. Snip. Snip.
“Especially not when you’re meeting with a handsome man like Joshua,” Josie added.
Clip. Clip.
“I haven’t met the new doctor yet.” Mrs. Kane looked interested. “Is he that good-looking?”
“Better,” Josie assured her.
“Worth getting an eye exam,” Pearly added. Snip. Snip.
Clip, clip, clip.
“It sounds like a lot of cutting for just a small trim.” Libby tried to turn and catch a glimpse in the mirror of what Pearly was up to, but Pearly grabbed her head.
“Well, there was that slip, remember.” Clip. “But don’t worry, you’re going to love it.” Snip.
“I already do,” Josie piped in.
Libby groaned.
And when Pearly finally turned the chair so she could look at her trim, she groaned even louder. “Pearly!”
“I told you I slipped.”
Muttering about scissor-slipping stylists, Libby toyed with her now-shoulder-length hair. It wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t about to tell her sneaky, snipping, conniving employees that. She gave her head a small shake and watched in delight as the brunette curls, freed from the weight of her hair and her ever-present braid, bounced.
Despite the fact she didn’t hate the cut, might even like it a bit, she wasn’t about to admit a thing. She was just about to read them both a riot act when the bell over the door chimed merrily.
“Ready?” Dr. Gardner, the hunky reason for Pearly’s slippage, asked as he walked through the door.
“Just let me get my coat.” She grabbed it off the hook in the back room. Before she walked out the door she turned to the two haircut cohorts. “And don’t forget to get in an hour early tomorrow for that little meeting we’re going to have.”
“What little meeting?” Pearly asked.
“The one where we discuss professionalism, honesty and nonslip scissors.”
The phone rang and Josie practically vaulted over the chair to get it and escape the lecture.
“Nonslip scissors?” Dr. Gardner—Libby refused to think of him as Joshua—asked.
“Snips and Snaps,” Josie said into the receiver.
“Private joke.” Libby trudged after him toward the door. “Where are we going?”
“My place? I’ve got an apartment at Lovell Place, so it’s close.”
There was no way she was going to Joshua Gardner’s home, no way at all. This was a professional association, and professional associations didn’t get all chummy at each other’s homes—dates did. And this wasn’t a date.
“I was thinking maybe a restaurant, or—”
“Libby,” Josie called. “It’s Mrs. Henderson.”
“Meg?” A sense of dread crept into Libby’s heart. “Is something wrong with Meg?”
“She said there was a small accident.”
A helpless feeling washed over Josh as the color totally deserted Libby. She raced for the phone, and he followed. Who the hell was Meg? A sister? A friend?
As she spoke in hushed tones to this Mrs. Henderson, some of the color returned to her face. By the time she hung up she looked better, though obviously still concerned. “Listen, I hate to cancel on you, but I’ve got to go.”
“Who’s Meg?” he asked.
“My daughter.” With that she was gone and all Joshua could do was watch her leave.
Her daughter?
A hand touched her shoulder. “There’s no husband to go with that daughter, if that’s what you’re wondering, boy.”
He turned and looked into the graying stylist’s warm eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“No, you won’t be if you stick around. Libby’s a woman no man would be sorry to have. And I said, she doesn’t have a husband, leastwise, not anymore, so you don’t have to look so puppy-dog sad.”
“Miss—” Joshua left the word hanging, realizing he didn’t know the woman’s name.
“Missed a man, that’s the only Miss I’ve got. And the name’s Pearly. Pearly Gates. You see, the day I was born my mother—God rest her soul—took one look at me and said she was looking on a piece of heaven. She named me Pearly, Pearly Gates, to remind herself—and me, too—what I was.”
Josh couldn’t help but smile. Before he could make his escape, Pearly added, “And Mama used to say it was a good thing she named me Pearly ’cause she needed all the remindin’ she could get. Seems I might have come from heaven, but the devil put his two cents in my makeup. I was always gettin’ in one piece of trouble after another. Mama said the gray hairs on her head were all mine. I figure this—” she ran her fingers through her short gray hair “—is her way of getting even with me.”
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