Next Time...Forever by Sherryl Woods

Author:Sherryl Woods
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781460399590
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 1990-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Halloween

“Where would you like to meet for Halloween?” Dillon asked in a low seductive murmur. Since he’d returned to New York this last time, the calls had grown more frequent than ever. He woke Catherine up each morning and was on the phone again to whisper good-night. Since his day often didn’t end until midnight, it was wearing her out. Dillon seemed capable of surviving on four or five hours of sleep a night. She could not. She was turning into a walking zombie.

“I can hardly wait to see you in a costume,” he said. “What would you choose, I wonder?”

“A witch,” Catherine murmured sleepily. “Dillon, it’s almost one o’clock. Can’t we talk about this in the morning?”

“I love talking to you when you’re all muddleheaded,” he argued. “I get my best responses then.”

“You mean I give in more easily then, which is exactly my point. I’m hanging up so I can get some sleep. If I don’t, you’re liable to talk me into wearing harem garb and going trick-or-treating.”

“An interesting possibility. You’d be fascinating in all that billowing, see-through stuff. Now all we have to decide is where to go. Halloween is only a couple of weeks away.”

She yawned and tried to think coherently. Halloween was not a national holiday. Apparently, though, Dillon was ready to use any excuse to see her again. At any other hour of the day that realization might have pleased her. “People do not get a day off for Halloween,” she informed him. “Don’t go getting some crazy idea about a long, wild-and-crazy-weekend. I have classes.”

“Couldn’t you play hooky for a day? People who’ve just won a potential six-figure account for a candy company practically swoon at the thought of Halloween, official holiday or not.”

That jolted her up. “Six figures for candy corn?” she said incredulously.

“Well, not candy corn,” he admitted. “Something slightly more upscale.”

“You must live in a ritzier neighborhood than I do. Not even my parents give out Belgian chocolates to trick-or-treaters.”

“Maybe not this year, but by the time I finish with this ad campaign, they will next year.”

That piqued her curiosity. “You’re representing some Belgian chocolate manufacturer?”

“Not exactly. Actually, I took on that candy company on the waterfront in Savannah. It’ll give me a third reason to come down there more regularly.”

“Third reason?”

“White Stone, you and now the candy company.”

“I’m glad I rank higher than nuts and chocolates. Is this the place where we spent a fortune the last time you were here?”

“Where you spent a fortune,” he corrected with ungentlemanly accuracy. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Dillon, I thought you said this account was going to be profitable. That’s a tiny little operation.”

“With huge mail-order potential.”

At first she’d thought his decision entirely capricious, but she was beginning to see the sense of it. The candy was delicious. “So that’s what you were talking to the owner about while I was overdosing on pralines.”

“That’s right. Even chocophobics won’t be able to resist, once I get finished with touting the virtues of their pecan fudge and pralines.

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