The St. James Affair by SUSAN WIGGS

Author:SUSAN WIGGS [Wiggs, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460349083
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 2003-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

“THANKS A LOT, pal.” Tony glared at the Zamboni driver.

“You don’t have time to thank me.” Larry jerked his thumb at the rental booth. He was compact and spry, a blunt, friendly man of indeterminate age. He had a froth of white hair, but the light in his eyes sparkled with an ageless mingling of wisdom and merriment. “So, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

Tony followed Elaine, who barely looked at him as she put on her boots, then stood there tapping her toe in impatience. Okay, he thought. Party’s over even before it started. He led her back to the car and held open the door for her, catching a whiff of sweet cold air in her hair as she got in.

“You want to explain that?” asked Elaine, clipping on her seatbelt.

No. He really didn’t.

He slid a glance at her, then concentrated on his driving. The car surged into the string of taxis, limos and private cars. Tony stole another look at her.

Elaine St. James. He couldn’t believe he was seeing her again after all this time. He’d never forgotten her. How could he? All that cool blond beauty, that smart-alecky sense of humor, and the almost-hidden sweet vulnerability he noticed when she didn’t know he was watching. The passage of time had added polish and sophistication to a woman who had been polished and sophisticated to begin with. And in spite of all the ways he’d reasoned with himself over the years, he still wanted her. Bad.

She was the reason he had never married and settled down. Thanks to her, he would never be happy with any other woman. She didn’t know that, and he wasn’t about to tell her. Yet what he had done—rather, what he’d failed to do—the last time he’d seen her had had ramifications he never could have predicted. Because of that moment of decision, just that one moment, his heart had been stuck in the same place. He was beginning to think maybe this was true for Elaine, too.

As he navigated the flow of traffic, he could feel her watching him. Waiting for his answer. “I got no idea what that guy was talking about,” he said.

“Simple. He knew we met there every year on Christmas Eve—”

“Every year, Elaine?”

“Okay, for three years. There was a pattern. Even the Zamboni driver realized that.”

He said nothing for a few minutes. A crooner on the radio made “Little Drummer Boy” sound like a timeless love ballad. “Okay,” he said at last. “I showed up that night.”

A small intake of breath. “I didn’t see you.”

“I changed my mind.” He figured she was too proud to ask why, but the question shouted through the silence. “I couldn’t even get down to the rink level. I was just out of the hospital, recovering from surgery. I had to use a wheelchair to get around.”

“A wheelchair?” She leaned forward to get a closer look at his legs. “What happened?”

“Wrecked my knee and couldn’t skate. I was looking at months of physical therapy, and then God knew what.

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