Merry Humbug Christmas (17 page)

Damian had a Very Brady Bunch Family Christmas?”

“There’s too much to tell to get into it now. When do you get

back?”

“We dock on New Year’s Eve morning.”

“Then you’re coming New Year’s Day, right?”

“Of course. Just like always.”

“Wonderful!” Reese exclaimed. “Football, food, and friends. And

by then, we’ll have left another Christmas flat in the dust.”

“Thankfully. I can hardly wait to get home.”

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“Me, too,” her friend admitted.

“What? You mean it’s not snowflakes and evergreens up there in

God’s country?”

“I’ll see you soon,” Reese diverted. “And Joss? Feel free to invite him. The more, the merrier.”

“Hanging up now.”

“Give the guy a break, Joss. See how it plays out.”

“Good-bye, traitor.”

“You might be surprised how—”

“Say good-bye, traitor.”

“Good-bye, traitor.”

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On the eleventh day of Christmas,

Murphy’s Law gave to me . . .

eleven schemes a-forming,

ten sharks a-snapping,

nine Scrooges hiding,

eight careers crashing,

seven songs a-shrieking,

six teeth a-breaking,

five cold sardiiiines!

four dirty words,

three French friends,

two hearty shoves,

and a Partridge with the first name Keith.

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11

Joss glanced at the time display at the bottom corner of her

laptop and wondered how it could possibly be nearly mid-

night. She’d had a quick conversation with Ryan around 4:30 p.m.—

at least until the ship’s connection dropped their call—and told him about what had happened with Jenkins. After the initial panic had passed, Ryan had convinced her that, unless Jenkins outright canceled their meeting scheduled for early January, they were going to march in there prepared to knock the guy’s argyles right off his feet.

“Do or die,” Ryan had declared. “We’ll bring him something so

good he won’t be able to let his personal issues come into play. I’ll have Char block out all next week so we can brainstorm and work on improving what we have. We’ll overcome every objection he doesn’t even know he has.”

“You’re a crazy person, you know,” she’d said to him.

“And that’s why this works, Jocelyn. We’re two nut cases with

one mission.”

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After the call inspiration had struck. Now that Joss knew Jenkins better, she realized the angle they’d taken in their initial marketing plan was all wrong.

“He’s a family man,” she’d said aloud as she paced the cabin alone.

“He responds to family values. He won’t react to improving the

wheel when he can have something completely new that appeals to

families.”

With the lightning bolt still fresh in her mind, Joss ordered up

room service and set about deconstructing her entire proposal for Vandermere Hotels & Spas. She tossed the slick corporate vibe and rebuilt it with family vacation packages and points incentives, a kid-friendly advertising campaign, and a solid list of slogan possibilities branding the hotel chain as a high-end destination for parents and children alike.

She pushed the laptop aside and nestled into the mound of pil-

lows behind her with a stretch that wriggled down the entire length of her stiff body, from neck to toes. Yawning, she closed her eyes and pulled the terry cloth band from the messy ponytail she’d pulled together at the top of her head. She tried to convince her eyes to open, her body to carry her to the bathroom to get changed for bed, but cooperation eluded her.

Just about the time she began to really embrace the idea of sleeping right where she was, fully dressed, a rap at the door drew her attention and her eyes snapped open. She listened carefully, wondering if she’d imagined it, but a second knock provided confirmation.

“Joss. It’s me.”

Patrick.

She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation until

she felt more in touch with her own feelings; however, the time she might have spent working that out had been conveniently diverted

by work. And hadn’t that become her usual
modus operandi
? Anything she didn’t want to think about, that made her uncomfortable or inse-cure, anything about which she felt unsure, none of it could stand up next to her full-on confidence in her professional life. There wasn’t a Merry Humbug Christmas.indd 132

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problem in the world that couldn’t be avoided by a sweet treat by her side and a straight nosedive into work.

Joss glanced at the remnants of her earlier room service din-

ner. More than half of the meal remained untouched; the dessert

plate, however, was a different story entirely. Not a crumb or speck of chocolate cake remained as a telltale sign of its existence. That plate, in fact, looked a little like it had never been used.

Patrick knocked again. “Joss? C’mon. We need to talk.”

He was right, of course. They did need to talk. Joss just wished

she knew what she needed to say.

When she tugged open the door, fully expecting to find Patrick

on his way back down the hall, he stood there facing her instead.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his weary eyes.

“Thank you,” he said. “Can we talk?”

She nodded him inside, and by the time she closed the door

behind him and followed, Patrick stood there inspecting the cart of dishes next to the bed.

“That’s why you didn’t come to dinner.”

“I was working,” she replied, consciously acknowledging the

half-truth.

“Look,” he said, and he ran both hands through his shaggy hair

with a sigh. “I told myself to walk away and just let it be, but I just couldn’t manage it. I had to try one more time to get you to talk to me. What’s going on here, Joss? What happened?”

She breathed in sharply, expelling it through twisted, puckered

lips. “I’m sorry, Patrick.”

“For what exactly?” He scraped the desk chair over toward her,

turned it around backward, and sat down on it, draping his arms

over the back of it. “Look, if you haven’t been feeling what I’ve been feeling, and you just want to call this a shipboard type of thing, I can live with that. I just need you to make me believe it. I mean, you changed pretty dramatically in a matter of hours.”

Joss didn’t know how long she just sat there, hands folded in her lap, silent except for the nervous flick of her fingernail.

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“Just tell me what happened, darlin’.”

She looked up at Patrick and sighed. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I know it’s late, but I thought I’d just take a chance and—”

“No,” she said with a chuckle. “I mean, I didn’t expect to meet

you.”

“Ah.”

“I came on this cruise as an escape, the same as every year. But

there you were. And you’re unexpected, and so . . . so . . .
in my face
.”

Patrick grinned and shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

“I kind of don’t know what to do with you now.”

“I’m not really that complicated,” he joked. “My care and feeding are pretty simple.”

“I’m serious, Patrick.” She reached out and stroked his hand.

“You’re wonderful. But you also just . . . tick me off!”

A surprised cough popped out of him, and he stared her down

until she continued to explain.

“You’re so pushy.” Joss stood up and began to pace the cabin. “You just won’t take no for an answer, and that drives me crazy because—”

“Because I’m so much like you,” he finished for her.

She started to deny it, but she couldn’t really—not with a

straight face anyway.

“Maybe.”

“So where do we go from here?” he asked. “We could call it a

wonderful holiday surprise and just go back to our lives when we

dock. Or we could take a chance on what’s been growing between us and let it unfold to see if there’s something solid to build upon. But either way, we owe it to one another to be honest, don’t we?”

“Yes. We definitely do.”

“I’ll start,” he said as she continued to pace. “I’m not ready to let you go. I want to see what happens to us on dry ground.”

Joss stopped in her tracks and stared out the window as she con-

sidered his words. Her heart pounded harder, her palms felt clammy, and perspiration rose on her upper lip. How could so much relief

and hope coexist with such a massive dose of anxious trepidation?

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“I guess,” she said when she finally broke the silence, “I just need a little time.”

Patrick stood up and pushed the chair back over to the desk

before he picked up her phone from the side table. “My cell number is in here, correct?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “You put it in the day we docked in

Mazatlan.”

“Good. Then when you’ve thought this over—whether we’re

still on the ship or we’ve gone back home—you text me, and we’ll

meet and have this conversation again.” He placed the cell phone in her hand and pressed it there. “If I don’t hear from you before we disembark in L.A., I just want you to know I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and—”

“Patrick. I’m not going to leave the ship without saying good-

bye. To you or your mother!”

“All right then. Take your time and think it over. If I’m not the kind of guy you can see yourself involved with, so be it.”

“Thank you,” she said, and it was heartfelt.

“But I believe I am, by the way,” he added, holding her hand and

phone in place. “I hope you’ll give us a shot.”

Joss could feel her heart pounding against her chest, far beyond

simple palpitations, and she glanced down to see if her blouse

revealed the rhythm. She broke the connection between their hands and dropped her phone to the table. Feeling suddenly faint, she sat down on the corner of the bed and sighed.

“I’m really tired,” she told him.

“It’s late. Get some rest.” He leaned down and placed a firm kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Joss felt as though she couldn’t get a deep breath. Hand to heart, she managed to mutter her quiet appreciation before Patrick closed the door behind him. Within a few short minutes, she began to

hyperventilate, and she hopped to her feet and began to pace again, sucking air sharply into her lungs as she wondered what on earth was wrong with her.

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“Reese is right,” she said, breathless as she dumped the contents of one of her shopping bags on the bed. “I’m a total head case.”

Clamping the paper bag around her nose and mouth, she rapidly

breathed into it.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

JOSS REALIZED IMMEDIATELY UPON opening her eyes that

something was different. It took a few minutes to figure it out, but the clock on the nightstand verified it for her. She’d overslept, and the ship had docked.

She grabbed the remote to the television and flipped it on,

switching to the onboard message channel. Sure enough, the third

message that flashed onscreen announced the ship had docked.