All I Want for Christmas Is You (24 page)

“My name?”

“You know my name. It seems only fair that I know yours.”

“Oh, right. Jonah Wallace and this blueberry pie was the best I've ever had in my entire life. Did you make it yourself?” He clanked the fork on his empty plate.

She shook her head. His compliment was probably just general small talk, but it flattered her just the same. She liked pleasing her customers. And as her grandmother always said, there was no better way to get a man’s attention than by plying him with good food.

“Anything is good when you're hungry. You ate that piece of pie like it was the first thing you had all day.”

He glanced away and appeared to be thinking, and then he chuckled. It was the first time she'd heard his laugh. It was rich and full of character like the tone of his voice. And it was nice. Too nice.

“Oddly enough, it was,” he said. “I don't usually leave the house without breakfast but it's been a...”

“Horrific day. I know, you told me,” she finished for him. “As flattered as I am, I can't accept the compliment for the pie, though. Virginia, my morning manager, does all the baking.”

“Then I'll have to make it a point to stop in and pay her the compliment in person.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Mr. English would be paying the
Coffee Drop
another visit. She wasn't quite sure why that pleased her so. Maybe because men in general weren't on her list of priorities for the coming year, possibly not for a long time to come.

He'd said he worked across the street but she didn’t recall ever seeing him before. Sure, there were thousands of people who worked in the square. And yes, he stood out now wearing a tuxedo on the hottest day of August like a big pumpkin at an Irish festival. But Maggie had the feeling even in simple casual wear Jonah Wallace would stand out among a crowd of men. He had a presence that commanded attention and that was rare. At least among the men she'd known in her life.

Oh, dear Lord, please give me strength.

Maggie fidgeted with the zipper of the moneybag. “I take it your ride will be coming soon?”

“Yes, I can't thank you enough for the use of your phone. If it wasn't for your kindness, I'd still be baking in the sun.”

“It was my pleasure. I hate to throw you out of the air conditioning and onto the street, but I do have to lock up here and make the bank before it closes. I'd be more than happy to give you an iced coffee to go while you wait for your ride.”

He slid off the stool and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Instinctively, she took the dirty plate from the counter and slipped it into the gray tub filled with soapy water under the counter.

“You've been more than gracious. I don't want to keep you. But I'm afraid I won't be able to pay the check until--”

Maggie waved him off. “Don't worry, it's on the house.”

“You're very kind,” he said in a low voice that stirred something deep inside her. “But I've never left a bill unpaid in my life. I don't intend to take advantage of your generosity now.”

He dipped his gaze, hiding from her view the most incredible blue eyes she'd ever seen, as if he were embarrassed. She was sure that was the case. She'd had her share of Dutch treat dates for the brief time she'd attended Boston University, but she'd bet this week's register tally that Jonah had never allowed a lady he was with to go Dutch.

She couldn't help but chuckle. “It's just a cup of coffee and some pie. In some parts of the world people call that being neighborly.”

Jonah stared blankly, and then his eyebrows knitted together.

She pointed to the building across the street. “You said your office is in that building.”

His lips stretched into a slow grin. “I guess that would make us neighbors then.”

“Exactly. So, don't worry about it. Where I come from we look out for our neighbors.”

“And where do you come from, Maggie?”

His question as well as the genuine interest in his eyes caught her by surprise. This man was an enigma for sure. But it didn't take much to figure out they'd lived their lives worlds apart. Not just geographically, but socially. Despite not having two nickels to rub together at the present moment, Maggie could tell this man was from money. Either that or he was a good impersonator.

“Across the Charles River,” she said. Not quite the other side of the track, but far enough to make their differences evident. He was money, she wasn't. End of story.

She locked the door behind them and walked out into the sunshine of Harvard Square, wilting immediately under the cruel sun. The choking smell of fuels and garbage from a nearby trashcan made her stomach roll. Every little smell seemed magnified lately, just like this sudden attraction to a stranger.

Hormones. That's what this is, Maggie decided instantly. Not that she'd had this kind of reaction since she found out she was pregnant two months ago, but she'd never liked the combination of pickles and chocolate sauce either and that had been a regular treat of late.

“Thank you again, Maggie. I didn't catch your last name.”

“Bonelli.”

Jonah gripped her hand. She was struck by how small her hand felt in his stronger one, how snug his fingers curled around hers. Safe and strong. For a moment, she found herself drawn even closer to this stranger. Abruptly, she snatched her hand away.

“It was nice to meet you Maggie Bonelli. You've made an otherwise rotten day...almost bearable.”

“I'm just glad I could help. Make sure you stop by again.”

She turned and walked next door to the bank, muttering to herself she shouldn't look back at Jonah Wallace. And she didn't. She made her deposit and decided her day had already been too long.

* * *

“Congratulations, Sir. How was the--” his driver said, opening the door to the back seat of his shining black limo.

Jonah put up his hand. “Hold that thought, Michael. Did you remember to bring the petty cash for me?” he asked, tossing the tuxedo jacket to the leather seat.

“Yes, Sir. It's in the--”

Rummaging through the console deck, he found his wallet and his spare set of keys.

“I have it, thank you. Be right back.” Twisting around, he walked back the way he’d just come.

He slammed the back door of the limo just as he saw Maggie push through the bank door, and walk out into the heat, moving in the opposite direction.

A few quick strides through the crowd and Jonah fell into her stride.

“I want to thank you again for your kindness.”

With the sound of his voice, Maggie did a double take, and stopped walking. His heart did a flip-flop as she peered up at him with wide eyes like she had inside the coffee shop.

“Didn't we do this already?” she asked, her brow crinkling slightly.

“Yes, but I see that you're still here and I've retrieved my billfold--”

As he held the leather billfold up for her inspection, she laughed. Little beads of sweat were already forming on her forehead and matting stray ringlets of hair to the sides of her face.

“You have a hard time letting people help you, don't you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I'm use to taking care of things myself. I don’t think you full appreciate how unusual today was for me. I'm grateful for your help.”

Shaking her head, she said, “It was a cup of coffee and a phone call. You're making too much of this. “

“Don’t forget the pie. And I’m really not. I'd been to three other shops in the square before I came through your door. No one so much as offered up a smile. With you, at least I got a bite to eat while I waited.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned, pursing her lips. “It's genetic. I'm a softy. So was my grandmother.”

She continued walking again, this time passed him, and dropped her bag on the wooden bench in front of the bus-stop sign. She glanced back once, just to see if he was going to follow? He took it as an invitation. She glanced down the street toward the shiny black limousine that was now double parked outside her coffee shop.

She nodded toward the limo. “Yours?”

“My ride, thanks to you.”

She tried her best not to look impressed, but he could see that she was. He was used to it, but not many people were used to having a chauffeur at will. He generally didn't ask Michael to take him anywhere but formal functions. He'd hired him mainly for his housemaid, Mary, since she detested driving in the city on her own.

“If your friend doesn't want a parking ticket, I suggest he pull into a parking space...or two. The meter maid can be scary, I hear.”

“I'll have to remember that.” He glanced up at the bus-stop sign and then back at her. “Can I give you a lift?”

Maggie pulled at the waistband of her skirt. The white cotton top that she'd seemed cool enough wearing inside the coffee shop was now clinging to the swells of her breasts, compliments of the heat and humidity.

“That won't be necessary.”

“It's no trouble, really.”

She let out a quick breath and looked around at the people walking up and down the sidewalk, until her gaze settled back on his face again.

“Look, you seem like a nice man and all. But I don't make it a habit of getting into cars with strange men I've never met before?”

“I'm not a strange man.”

She tilted an eyebrow as her eyes drifted down to his tuxedo.

“Right. The clothes again.” He motioned back to the diner with his hands. “What was it you said earlier about being neighborly? We’ve just shared coffee and pie together. You could hardly consider us strangers anymore.”

Maggie chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter. He liked the sound of her laugh, musical and sweet.

“Every day people come into my shop.”

Nodding, he said, “I see your point. These days you can never be too careful.”

“Exactly. Thank you for the offer. That’s really sweet of you. But the bus will be here shortly.”

Jonah turned and started toward the limousine, then abruptly stopped and angled back. He didn't know why this should mean so much to him. It wasn’t just her kindness that had him making the extra effort. He’d met many selfless people working with the Foundation for Young Wanderers. Something told him Maggie was a woman with a heart of gold and perhaps saw little back.

Now that he knew she'd been working directly across the street from him, he knew he could see her at the coffee shop again. He would see her. Something inside him told him it was a certainty.

He wasn't a gambling man by nature, but he decided to go for broke.

“Still, it is August and I hear the busses don't always run on schedule. The limo is air conditioned.”

Maggie eyed him speculatively, but didn't say a word.

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman and sit tight on my side of the seat. Scout's honor.”

She pursed her lips, grinning as she had before, making his heart hammer in his chest.

“You were never a boy scout.”

“Correct, but one good deed does deserves another, wouldn't you say?”

“I suppose,” she said quietly, glancing back at the limo, then at her coffee shop.

“If you accept my offer, you'll be home in no time. Or you could spend the next fifteen minutes to however long it takes for the bus to arrive roasting in this heat. And then of course, because the busses are usually crowded, another fifteen or more minutes standing with aching feet on a sweaty bus after a long day of--”

She tossed him a wry grin. “You're pulling out all the stops, aren’t you? All this for a lousy cup of coffee and a piece of pie?”

“Air conditioning,” he said, smiling devilishly, knowing that would be the catalyst to push her over the edge to accepting.

She heaved a sigh and then laughed, pointing a finger at him. “If my feet weren't killing me so much... You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Wallace.”