Angels And Elves. Joan Elliott Pickart

Jillian shrieked.

      “Jillian, please, just listen. You know Andrea isn’t supposed to get stressed right now, but she’s doing exactly that over her concerns about Forrest. Andrea needs you, Jillian. You’re the only one who can divert Forrest’s attention, get him to balance his life better with work and play. I told Andrea I’d talk to you because she gets uptight just discussing her work-weary brother.” Deedee sighed. “It’s so sad.”

      “You two are Looney Tunes,” Jillian said. “I can’t take on Forrest as The Project. He’s a person, a human being, a man, for crying out loud. He doesn’t qualify for The Project.”

      “Sure, he does. Whose project is it? Yours. You can do whatever you want to. You just said you hadn’t picked anything, and here it is, right before your very eyes. You’d be doing it for your dear friend Andrea, for those adorable twins she’s going to have. How can you say no to someone in need like she is? Like Forrest is, for that matter?”

      “Deedee, Forrest MacAllister is not the type of man who is lacking in female company.”

      “Indeed not. But the tricky part is, he doesn’t take enough time off to enjoy what’s out there. You’ve got to be brave, courageous and bold. Step right up, invite him out, help him get his life in order. This is a terrific project for you, Jillian. Think how good you’ll feel about what you’ve done for Andrea, and for Forrest.”

      “No, I’ll think about where to get professional help for you and Andrea. You two are not playing with full decks. Deedee, this is crazy.”

      “It is not! Listen, when the MacAllisters were kids, their mother periodically had them do Angels and Elves assignments. You know, nice things for people—like mowing their lawn, or washing their windows, or whatever. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”

      “Too sweet for words,” Jillian said, rolling her eyes heavenward.

      “So, that’s what we’re asking you to do here. Forrest MacAllister will be The Project aka your Angels and Elves assignment.”

      “Deedee...”

      “Jillian, don’t say no. Just promise me you’ll think about it. When you really give this some thought, you’ll realize it’s perfect. You’ll have The Project, Forrest will get his priorities in order, and Andrea will relax and stay calm.”

      “Deedee, I really don’t want—” The doorbell rang, causing Jillian to stop speaking. “Someone is at the door. It must be the pizza I ordered.”

      “Good. Hang up. Just promise me you’ll think about what I proposed.”

      “Yes, fine, all right, I’ll think about it. I’ve got to go, Deedee. Bye.” Jillian dropped the receiver into place and shot to her feet. “Pizza. Brain food.” She marched across the living room toward the entry hall. “Andrea and Deedee need some help for their brains.”

      Before opening the door, she grabbed a twenty-dollar bill from the credenza in the entry hall. It was her “cash stash” for the frequent delivery of meals that held more appeal than cooking her own. Flipping on the porch light, even though the motion-sensitive lights would have been activated, she opened the door.

      “Hi. That was quick. I only called you a few minutes—” She stopped speaking. Her mouth remained opened as her eyes widened.

      Standing before her in the bright light, dressed in a dark gray suit, pale blue shirt, and gray paisley-print tie, looking like he’d just stepped out of the pages of Gentlemen’s Quarterly magazine, was Forrest MacAllister.

      * * *

      “Andrea?” Deedee said. “We’ve been momentarily saved by a pizza. Jillian was not going for The Project idea, no way, no how. Then the pizza she ordered was delivered and she had to answer the door. I got her to promise to think about Forrest being The Project.

      “Now we wait and see what happens, and keep each other posted if we hear anything. I swear, when we decided that Jillian and Forrest would be perfect for each other, I had no idea that Cupids had to work so hard. This is exhausting. But victory shall be ours! Won’t it?”

      Three

      Forrest MacAllister, Jillian mentally repeated incredulously, was standing in her doorway. Forrest, who had been smiling, but who was now frowning and appearing rather confused as his gaze swept over her attire.

      Jillian blinked, cleared her throat, and was unable to hide an expression every bit as confused as his.

      “Forrest?” she said. “I thought you were the pizza.”

      “No,” he said slowly, “I’m not a pizza. I’m a man. The one you have a dinner date with.”

      “I do?”

      He nodded. “You do. May I come in?”

      “Yes, I think you’d better,” she said, stepping back.

      Gracious but he was gorgeous. She had a funny little flutter in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t chalk up to hunger. He smelled wonderful, too. His after-shave had a woodsy, very masculine aroma.

      As she closed the door, Forrest turned to look at her.

      Cute as a button, he thought. Jillian’s sweatshirt was baggy, her jeans as old as dirt, and the socks were weird. But she was femininity in spades, causing his heart to increase its tempo.

      “I think we’ve had a communication problem, or something,” Jillian said.

      “Actually, I was afraid this might happen,” he said. “I tried to call you today to confirm our date, but you have an unlisted number.”

      He could have asked Andrea or Deedee for Jillian’s number, he knew, but he wasn’t ready to tell either of them that he was taking her out. The cackling glee he would no doubt have been subjected to was something a guy had to gear up for.

      “When you agreed to go out with me,” he went on, “I wondered if you’d remember.”

      Jillian splayed one hand on her chest. “I agreed to a dinner date for tonight?”

      “Yes, ma’am, you did. We were standing right here in your entry hall last night when we made the plans for me to pick you up at seven-thirty.”

      “Oh, Forrest, I’m so sorry. I don’t remember. I knew there was something niggling at me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. This is embarrassing, and I sincerely apologize.”

      “Hey,” he said, smiling, “don’t worry about it. You were so exhausted that I wasn’t certain at the time that you were really tuned in to what we were saying. How about a rain check?”

      “Well, I—” she started, then gasped as the doorbell rang again. “Pizza.”

      She spun around and opened the door. A few minutes later she closed it, and stood holding an enormous, square flat box.

      “Mmm,” she said, inhaling deeply. “Doesn’t that smell delicious?”

      “That has got to be the biggest pizza box I’ve ever seen.”

      “Isn’t it great? It’s a Super Duper Pizza Supreme Deluxe Extraordinaire.”

      Forrest laughed. “That’s quite a title.”

      “Forrest, listen. I feel so badly about not remembering our date. Why don’t you stay and share this pizza with me? There’s enough here for a regiment of marines. You could take off your jacket and tie, be more comfortable, and we’ll have a pizza party.”

      “Sold.”

      “Good,” she said, matching his smile. “I’m glad.”

      She really was very glad that Forrest had agreed to stay, Jillian mused, as she walked past him into the living room. She hadn’t