The Nights Before Christmas. Vicki Thompson Lewis

Suzanne,” Terri said.

      “You know, I can picture you following through with this, because you go after what you want. But I’m—I’m not that good at putting myself out there.”

      Terri gazed at her. “I know, sweetie. That’s partly why I suggested the gym. There’s nothing passive about it.”

      “You are so right, and look at me! I’m miserable, a fish out of water. I don’t think this is a quick fix, Terri. I’ve been a cautious type for a long, long time, which explains why I’m a financial analyst instead of in the sales division with you. But it was great of you to trust me with the information. I promise the secret is safe with me.”

      “Listen, you need to break your pattern and latch onto this. You really—”

      “Let’s try the stair-climbers.” It was a radical way to end the conversation, considering how much she dreaded the stair-climbers, but another round on one of Terri’s beloved exercise machines might be the only way they’d table the discussion of Greg, the rebound man.

      SUZANNE MANAGED to survive the stair-climbers and the rowing machine, although her muscles had a little chat with her and promised to punish her for this craziness later. Terri didn’t bring up the subject of Greg again until they walked into the lobby of their apartment building.

      In the past, Suzanne had felt reassured whenever she walked into the redbrick complex. Its sturdy, Midwestern architecture and its location near Northwestern University appealed to her more than some of the glass and steel apartments out by Lake Michigan.

      The lobby contained live plants instead of silk, and this time of year, a fresh Christmas tree filled the small area with the scent of pine. The lobby furniture reminded her of the upholstered pieces her parents used to have when she was a kid, before the divorce, back when life had been safe. She’d rented an apartment here because it felt secure, but now that she knew about Greg, that sense of homey security had vanished. In its place was a disturbing undercurrent of unbridled sensuality.

      The idea of unbridled sensuality had always made her nervous. She always assumed that was what had led her father to take up with his young secretary, thus destroying life as Suzanne and her brother, Bill, had known it.

      “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” Terri said as they stepped into the elevator.

      “No,” Suzanne said. That was a lie. Whenever she hadn’t been reviewing the damage she was doing to her poor body, she’d been thinking about Greg and his fascinating sideline.

      “You’re doing yourself a disservice if you don’t check him out.”

      “I’ll think about it,” she said, more to keep Terri quiet than anything. She had no intention of following through on this hot tip. She’d love to wipe her brain free of the whole concept, but that didn’t seem likely, not when this was the most bizarre factoid she’d been given in quite a while.

      Before Terri could continue her infomercial for Greg, the elevator stopped at the third floor and Suzanne got off, gym bag in hand. “See you in the morning, assuming I can still walk.”

      “You’ll be fine. Soak in those herbal bath salts I gave you for your birthday.”

      “I will.” Once the elevator door closed, Suzanne allowed herself to sag a little. That workout had been murder, and she no more wanted to go back to the gym in two days than row around Lake Michigan in a dinghy. Come to think of it, rowing around the lake might be easier, even taking into consideration the iced-over parts. And she’d paid good money for this gym madness, which made no sense at all.

      But she would go back, because once someone had pushed her into an activity the way Terri had with this gym caper, Suzanne tended to hang in for the duration. She might not be much of a self-starter, but once she got going, she was no quitter.

      Soaking in the herbal bath salts was an excellent suggestion, though. She opened her apartment door and locked it carefully behind her. The apartment was as tidy as she’d left it. During her Jared period that rarely had been the case. Besides tossing his things around in a helter-skelter way, a trait she’d struggled to accept, he’d made fun of her Virgo tendency to want everything neat. Now that he was gone and the effects of his overwhelming personality had faded enough to give her some perspective, she realized that his comments had hurt her. Besides, it was her apartment, and she liked being able to find things.

      Jared, whose parents were still married, didn’t understand how order comforted her. Her parents’ divorce had been messy, with many terrible arguments. Ten years later, her mother still felt a lot of resentment. Suzanne hadn’t been able to tidy up any of that, but she could at least keep her surroundings peaceful. To that end, she’d worked hard to decorate this one-bedroom nest of hers. The white-on-white design scheme worked best when it was uncluttered. Her single accent of color was a red velvet pillow set on a diagonal in the middle of her ivory couch.

      The color scheme also worked with her Christmas decorations. For several years she’d waged a quiet battle to reclaim the joy she used to feel during the holidays. She hadn’t quite captured it yet, but she wasn’t about to give up.

      A three-foot tree sat in a corner on a skirted table. She’d considered white lights and white decorations to go with her furniture, but in the end she’d used multicolored lights and ornaments, much like the ones her parents used when she was growing up. The carved nativity scene on top of her TV cabinet was new this year. She had no idea what had happened to the one her parents used to have, but because her mother got teary-eyed whenever Suzanne brought it up she’d settled for one that resembled the old version she remembered.

      She’d also won a poinsettia at the office Christmas party, and it looked festive on her coffee table. The room had a holiday feel, although nothing like her parents’ house used to be this time of year. These days her mother had to be coaxed to even put up a tree.

      Still carrying her gym bag, Suzanne walked back to the bedroom. She couldn’t remember ever being quite this tired, but soaking in the tub might keep her from waking up crippled in the morning. Although her movements were slow, eventually she stripped down and had water running in the tub.

      Then she opened the cabinet under the sink to take out the jar of bath salts. The jar sat in a puddle of water.

      She stared at the puddle for several seconds while the water continued to thunder into the tub. Surely the universe didn’t work this way. But a steady drip from the U-joint under the sink told her otherwise.

      Taking a towel from the rack, she tucked it under the drip. That would do for now. If she changed the towel regularly, she could put off the inevitable for a few days. But she wasn’t the kind of person who could tolerate a dripping pipe for very long.

      Not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow night, but eventually she’d need to call the handyman.

      WHEN SUZANNE TALBOT CALLED about the leak under her bathroom sink, Greg’s pulse leaped. He’d had a secret yen for the woman in 36C every since he passed her in the hallway about eighteen months ago. Since then he’d been keenly aware of her whenever they happened to be in the same vicinity.

      He’d developed a fascination for the way her mahogany-colored hair curled at the slightest hint of dampness in the air. She usually tried to tame it with a bow, a clip or a scrunchie, but a few times he’d seen it rippling down to her shoulders, and the sight had made him catch his breath.

      The same conservative streak that caused her to imprison her hair seemed to rule her choice in clothes. Although she had a lush figure, he’d only discovered that by strategic observation. During the work week she wore business suits in neutral colors, favoring black. And on weekends her outfits were often baggy sweats and oversize shirts. She seemed determined to minimize her sex appeal.

      That only made her more intriguing to Greg. When he’d finally had a chance to look into her eyes one day, he’d been hooked. He’d always been partial to blue eyes and Suzanne’s were Siamese-cat blue. But it was the intelligence shining from those eyes that nearly made him break his rule never