Hot Docs On Call: His Christmas Wish. Susan Carlisle

I can get into the colorful Christmas spirit if that makes you happy.”

      This should be good. Seeing him in his float clothes would be worth having to come up with a costume of her own. After all, she had a secret weapon: Cecilia, who rocked makeup and costumes.

      “Well, then. Sign me up for some Christmas float happiness.”

      Cecilia really was like a Christmas float costume secret weapon. A fairy godmother.

      She walked around McKenzie, her lips twisted and her brow furrowed in deep thought.

      “We can use heavy-duty bendable hair wires to wrap your hair around to make some fancy loops.” Cecelia studied McKenzie’s hair. “That and lots of hair spray should do the trick.”

      “What about for an outfit?”

      “K-I-S-S.”

      “What?”

      “Keep It Simple, Stupid. Not that you’re stupid,” Cecilia quickly added. “Just don’t worry about trying to overdo anything. You’ve got less than a week to put something together. The mayor may not be expecting you to be dressed up.”

      “Lance says we are expected to dress up.”

      Cecilia’s eyes lit with excitement, as if she’d been patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask but had gotten distracted at the prospect of having her way with McKenzie’s hair and costume makeup. “How is the good doctor?”

      “Good. Very good.”

      Cecilia’s eyes widened. “Really?”

      McKenzie looked heavenward, which in this case was the glittery ceiling of Bev’s Beauty Boutique. “I’ve kissed the man. That’s it. But, yes, he was very good at that.”

      Cecilia let out a disappointed sight. “Just kissing?”

      Her lips against Lance’s could never be called “just kissing,” but she wasn’t going to point that out to Cecilia.

      “What did you think I meant when I said he was very good?”

      “You know exactly what I thought, what I was hoping for. What’s holding you back?”

      McKenzie shrugged. “We’ve barely been on three dates, and that’s if you count the community Christmas show, which truly shouldn’t even count but since he kissed me for the first time that night, I will.” Why was she sounding so breathy and letting her sentences run together? “You think I should have already invited him between my sheets?”

      “If I had someone that sexy looking at me the way that man looks at you, I’d have invited him between my sheets long ago.”

      McKenzie shrugged again. “There’s no rush.”

      “No rush?” Shaking her head, Cecilia frowned. “I’m concerned.”

      “About me? Why?”

      “For some reason you are totally throwing up walls between you and this guy. For the life of me I can’t figure out why.”

      McKenzie glanced around the salon. There was a total of five workstations. On the other side of the salon, Bev was rolling a petite blue-haired lady’s hair into tight little clips, but the other two stylists had gone to lunch, as had the manicurist. No one was paying the slightest attention to Cecilia and McKenzie’s conversation. Thank goodness.

      “How many times do I have to say it? I work with him. A relationship between us is complicated.”

      Cecilia wasn’t buying it. “Only as complicated as the two of you make it.”

      McKenzie sank into her friend’s salon chair and spun around to stare at the reflection of herself in the mirror. “I am creating problems where there aren’t any, aren’t I?”

      “Looks that way to me. My question is why. I know you don’t fall into bed with every guy you date and certainly not after just a couple of dates, but you’ve never had chemistry with anyone the way you do with Lance. I could practically feel the electricity zapping between you that night at the Christmas show,” she pointed out. “You’ve never been one to create unnecessary drama. So, as your best friend, that leaves me asking myself, and you, why are you doing it now?”

      True. She hadn’t. Then again, she never dated anyone very long. Not that three dates classified as dating Lance for a long time. She’d certainly never dated anyone like Lance. Not even close. He was…different. Not just that he worked with her, but something more that was hard to define and a little nerve-racking to contemplate.

      “You really like him, don’t you?”

      At her best friend’s question, McKenzie’s gaze met Cecilia’s in the mirror. “What’s not to like?”

      Cecilia grinned. “What? No argument? Uh-oh. This one has you hooked. You may decide you want to keep him around.”

      “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Then what? Eventually, he’d be ready to move on and if she were more vested in an actual relationship, she’d be hurt. Being with someone so charismatic and tempting was probably foolish to begin with.

      She toyed with a strand of hair still loose from its rubber band. “So, on Saturday morning you’re going to make me look like Christmas morning and then transform me into a beautiful goddess for the hospital Christmas party that evening?”

      “Sure. Just call me Fairy Godmother.” Cecilia’s eyes widened again. “Does that mean you’re going to go to the hospital Christmas party with Lance?”

      McKenzie nodded. She’d just decided that for definite, despite his having mentioned it to her several times. Even if she did insist on them going separately, what would be the point other than that stubbornness he’d mentioned?

      Lance stared at the cute brunette sitting on a secured chair on the back of a transfer truck flatbed that had been converted into a magical winter wonderland straight out of a children’s storybook.

      As was McKenzie with her intricate twisted-up hair with its battery-powered blinking multicolored minilights that were quite attention gathering for someone who’d once said she didn’t want anyone staring at her, her elaborate makeup done to include a perky little nose and ear tips, and a red velvet dress fringed with white fur, white stockings and knee-high black boots that had sparkly bows added to them.

      She fit in with the others on the float as if she’d been a planned part rather than a last-minute addition by the mayor. Lance liked her costume best, but admitted he was biased. The mayor and his wife stood on a built-up area of the float. They waved at the townspeople as the float made its way along the parade route.

      “Tell me this isn’t the highlight of your year.”

      “Okay. This isn’t the highlight of my year,” she said, but she was smiling and waving and tossing candy to the kids they passed. “Thank you for bringing candy. How did you know?”

      “My favorite part of a Christmas parade was scrambling to get candy.”

      “Oh.”

      Something in her voice made him curious to know more, to understand the sadness he heard in that softly spoken word.

      “Didn’t your parents let you pick up candy thrown by strangers?” He kept his voice light, teasing. “On second thought, I should talk to my parents about letting me do that.”

      “Well, when there are big signs announcing who is on each float, it’s not really like taking candy from strangers,” she conceded. “But to answer your question, no, my parents didn’t. This is my first ever Christmas parade.”

      “What?”