How To Succeed At Love. Susan Connell

brother, he will never meet his deadline because, unfortunately, Neal’s never finished anything in his life. Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, heading back to the hall door for her suitcases, “I’m going to settle in. I’ll be back for you later.”

      When he made a move to help, she waved him off. “Don’t touch them,” she said, grabbing the suitcases from his reach and heading for the connecting door to the next bedroom. “Don’t go anywhere, don’t talk to anyone and don’t use the phone unless you have your own calling card.”

      Before he could respond, she kicked the door shut behind her.

      

      Where was he! Jade knocked for the third time.

      She hadn’t meant to leave him alone this long, but somehow her intended five-minute nap had raged out of control. Now two hours had disappeared and so, it seemed, had Spencer Madison.

      She called his name through the closed door. No answer. Frowning, she pushed it open, poked her head in and looked around. His wallet was right where she’d left it. Casting a quick glance toward the hall door, she slipped into the room and headed for the night table. The temptation to look through the brown leather trifold gnawed at her insides like a hungry pit bull puppy. She rubbed her moist palms against the tunic top of her black evening pajamas. Everything she’d been taught about right and wrong was fast-forwarding through her mind.

      If ever there was a reason to break a rule, Spencer Madison’s presence was it. She had a right—no, a duty—to check him out. Switching on the lamp, she picked up his wallet and began unfolding it.

      “Can I help you find something?”

      The sound of his voice had the same effect on her as a minor earthquake. Slamming the wallet back onto the table, she accidentally sent the lamp crashing sideways onto the bed. When she scrambled to right it, her knee connected with the corner of the night table.

      “No. I was doing just fine,” she said, rubbing her knee as she turned toward him. He was lounging in the doorway, his arms crossed, his one shoulder casually pressed against the door frame. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

      “Yes. Do you always go through your guest’s belongings?”

      “You’re not a guest,” she said, reaching behind her to stop the drawer handle from rattling.

      “Don’t tell that to your parents,” he said as a lazy grin lit his face. “They’ve laid out quite a spread down there. Why don’t you come on down and see?”

      “I thought we agreed that you were going to stay up here until I came to get you. I don’t appreciate you wandering around my house,” she said, crossing the room to where he blocked the doorway.

      “After I made some phone calls to let people know where I’d be, things got pretty boring. By the way, I’m short on hangers in my closet. Think you could lend me some?”

      “You don’t need hangers because you’re not staying.”

      “Why not? We were doing so well.”

      “You were doing so well, but I’m not like you. I dislike taking advantage of people. I hate lying. And I especially hate lying to people I love. I’m going down there now,” she said, turning sideways to shimmy past him. She hurried toward the stairs then paused at the top step to turn and face him again. “I’m going to tell them all about this ridiculous mistake I’ve made,” she said, grasping the rail. “Then Neal will drive you into town and we can put all of this behind us.”

      Spencer slowly shook his head.

      “What?”

      “It’s not a good time for that.”

      “It’s as good a time as any because sooner or later they’ll have to know that I’ve been...” She’d almost said fired. What got into her every time she spoke to this man? His easygoing, confident manner pulled the truth right out of her. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d be blurting out the whole, tawdry story of how she’d lost her job.

      “Don’t stop now. Let it out,” he said, joining her at the top of the curved staircase.

      “Okay. Dumped. I’ve been dumped by my boyfriend.” Just before he emptied my bank account and “borrowed” my car. She stared hard, daring him to smile. “Are you happy now?” Spencer looked disappointed. But not for long.

      “Mildly perplexed. Look, I could be wrong, but I don’t think you’ll be bringing any of this up tonight.”

      “Well, I’m not interested in what you think. This is a personal matter,” she said, continuing down the stairs. “I made two mistakes. I allowed myself to panic. And I involved you. I’m not making a third one by keeping this charade going any longer.”

      He followed her across the tiled foyer toward a set of oak doors. “What charade are you talking about?”

      For a scary moment, she had the feeling he was referring to her firing. But he couldn’t know that because nobody knew yet except Sylvia Bloomfield and her. They’d both agreed that the announcement would be quietly made after the holidays.

      She closed her hand over the shiny brass door lever. “Don’t be cute. All you have to concern yourself with is that you’re getting the meal I promised you, eating it quickly and getting back upstairs to repack. You’re leaving here tonight. It’s a done deal, Spence.”

      His growing smile sent a shiver of suspicion through her.

      “Did you ever notice that things are never as simple as they seem?” he asked, sauntering toward her.

      “As far as you’re concerned, they are.”

      “What’s your big hurry?”

      “Look. All along I’ve planned to spend a quiet holiday with my family. Alone. Without strangers.”

      “Flexibility is a highly underrated virtue.”

      She narrowed her eyes as he wrapped his hand around the brass lever next to hers and smiled. What was he up to now? They pushed opened the double doors.

      From all parts of the room came a rousing chorus of “Surprise!”

      Three

      Twelve hours, too many half-truths and one champagne hangover later, Jade walked into the Chocolate Chip Café. Mouthwatering aromas of gourmet coffees and homemade desserts were mixing with the snow-scented air that blew in with her.

      Smiling to herself, she closed the door then looked around her old high school hangout, now a successful college coffee-and-dessert bar owned by a former classmate. Behind the counter, Megan Sloan managed to return her wave between twisting knobs and flipping levers on the cappuccino machine. The whooshing sounds added to the background hum of conversation in the sun-filled room. Her friend had made several changes to the place yet managed to retain the fun feeling that still made it one of Jade’s favorite places in Follett River.

      As she shrugged out of her coat, the bell above the door jingled, signaling someone else’s arrival. She looked over her shoulder at a smiling Spencer.

      “No dents,” he said, referring to the car he’d just parked.

      “Considering the way you drive,” she murmured, “that could start me believing in Christmas miracles.”

      But she wasn’t thinking about Christmas or miracles. She was reminiscing about the old days when the place reeked of greasy burgers, industrial-strength hair spray and teen spirit. Behind her, Spencer was stomping snow from his shoes and unzipping his bomber jacket. Surprisingly, his sounds were blending with her cherished memories. The nostalgic moment wrapped itself around her heart, making her smile.

      For about two seconds.

      Suddenly Spencer opened his arms, closed his eyes and pulled in a deep, noisy breath. The grand movement jolted her out of her memories