Sweet Christmas Kisses (37 page)

“It's the flu.” Mr. Allard said. “I hope he'll soon be fine again. He's not happy inside the stable.”

“Don't worry about him, dear. Ms. Damanti knows what she's doing; we know that, even if others don't.” Mrs. Allard gave her husband a reassuring smile and turned to Conran. “Do you know my nephew, Ms. Damanti?” Mrs. Allard took Conran by the elbow and pulled him forward. It looked as if a harbor boat was trying to tug an ocean liner.

“You told me you had a date with a hunk tonight.” Conran crossed his arms in front of his chest and glowered at her.

Joanna bit her lower lip. Mr. and Mrs. Allard couldn't be counted as hunks, that much was obvious.

Mr. Allard slapped his thighs and started to laugh. “Of course she had! She had a date with Fergus.”

Conran's chin dropped. “With Fergus? Fergus the bull?”

“What's so funny about that?” Mr. Allard drew himself up. He was just a bit touchy when it came to his precious bull. “He's an especially imported Highland cattle, invaluable to me.”

Conran's blue gaze didn't waver one instant from Joanna's face. “Are you serious? Were you thinking of Fergus when you said that?”

“Well.” Joanna took off her coat so she could avoid his eyes. Then she pulled up her courage and straightened her back. Why should she apologize to him? He was the one who had no manners at all. “Yeah, I did.” She tried a smile. “It was a joke. Sort of.”

“Sort of.” He echoed her words in disbelief.

“But why are we standing here?” Mrs. Allard clapped her hands. “Do come in and sit down. Dinner is ready. We can talk in comfort while we're eating.”

I don't think it'll be very comfortable.
Joanna eyed Conran's broad back as he went before her into the dining room.
This particular star seems just a tad upset because I preferred a bull to him. Even if it's a very superior bull.

She took a quick detour via the bathroom, washed her hands and retied her hair into a ponytail, but the mirror told her she didn't look her best. “Well, even if I did, it would not impress him. He's used to Hollywood beauties.” She shrugged, winced because of the pain that still remained in her shoulder, and joined the others at the sturdy oak table.

Mrs. Allard bustled in and out, refusing any help. She had prepared a savory roast accompanied by mashed potatoes with brown sauce and peas.

Joanna felt Conran's presence next to her as if the air between them was full of electricity.

“So how is your young man, my dear?” Mrs. Allard beamed at Joanna and held out a dish. “Do take some more peas. They are so healthy.”

Joanna choked. Darn. Didn't they ever listen to gossip? How could they have missed the information that her engagement had been called off four months ago? Four months and two days, to be exact. “Em.” She cleared her throat. “Hugh is well.” That wasn't a lie, as far as she knew.

Mrs. Allard beamed at her. “And have you set a date for the wedding already?”

Joanna could feel herself going bright red. She didn't want to say the engagement had been called off, not with Conran Dark sitting next to her. It was humiliating enough without stars listening in.

Mrs. Allard turned to her nephew. “Ms. Damanti is engaged to such a nice man. He's a young lawyer, here at Stony Brook, and we are so happy that she will stay in the area.”

Conran's face remained impassive. “How nice.”

Mr. Allard heaped potatoes, peas, and a chunk of beef onto his fork and lifted it. “I wouldn't have liked to hunt for another veterinarian.” He looked at Joanna. “I don't mind admitting that I wasn't keen on a woman as a veterinarian at first, but . . . “ he turned to Conran, “. . . she has done excellent work. Knows her job.” He nodded to affirm his own statement and stuffed the food into his mouth. “Very interested in Highland Cattle, too.”

“Thank you.” A warm feeling spread inside Joanna.

“Yes, and we don't mind at all what some people say.” Mrs. Allard smiled.

Joanna's hear stopped. She tried to look nonchalant as she pierced a bit of roast beef onto her fork. “What do people say, exactly?”

Mrs. Allard colored. “Would you like some more sauce?”

Darn. 
No one ever dared to tell her the truth. What on earth was happening? What rumors were flying around that were keeping patients from her clinic? Joanna opened her mouth, then closed it again with a snap. It would be too rude to insist on an answer. She glanced at Conran Dark who met her gaze with a quizzical expression in his eyes. She did not want him to know that she was fighting for her business. She did not want him to know anything about her. She had been proud of her clinic, of her achievements. But the last six months had been such a conglomeration of catastrophes that she now found it difficult to hold up her head.

Joanna forced herself to smile at her hostess and held out her plate. “Yes, I'd like some more sauce. Thank you.” At least Mrs. Allard seemed to have forgotten that Joanna had not answered her question about the marriage.
Thank God.

“Spring is a lovely time for a wedding.” Mrs. Allard smiled at Joanna.

Oh, no.
Joanna searched her mind with haste. “
A topic. I need another topic. “
How come you never mentioned you have such a famous nephew?” Mentally, she kicked herself. Gosh, she sounded like an infatuated teenager.

Mrs. Allard laughed. “We didn't really know how famous he was. You see, we're a bit cut off from the world here . . . “

You can say that again, if you never even learned about my engagement being terminated with the juiciest scandal we've had in years.
Joanna nodded and smiled.

“. . . and he never bragged. We never even heard his songs in the radio because my favorite station doesn't air them very often.”

What does she listen to? Country music?
Joanna mentally shook her head. Conran's songs were played by pretty much every station in the country.

Mrs. Allard smiled at Conran with affection. “Of course, he told us everything when he came here, after that unfortunate incident and . . .” 

Mr. Allard shot his wife a warning glance. “I don't think we need to discuss that now.”

Joanna lifted her eyebrows and looked at Conran.
What on earth happened in Hollywood?

He met her gaze with an impassive face, then turned back to his roast beef.

“Of course.” Mrs. Allard picked up the roast with a flustered movement. “Would you like some more roast beef, Ms. Damanti?”

“I would, thank you very much.” Joanna smiled at Mrs. Allard, though her thoughts focused on the man beside her. What was his secret? She bottled up her curiosity. From all she had seen so far, Conran Dark hated prying questions. She would not add herself to the crowd of females who swooned over him and wanted to know every single detail of his life.

She slanted him a look from beneath her lashes. He looked forbidding. No, definitely not a man to ask questions across the dinner table. She changed the subject to discuss a new device she had read about, a so-called Highland Helper that secured cows while the veterinarian worked on their hooves. She knew it would fascinate Mr. Allard sufficiently until the last crumb of the apple pie had vanished, and if it should bore Mr. Dark, well, so much the better.

It had gotten late by the time dinner was over.

Conran and Joanna left the house together. The wind howled at them and tore at their coats. It smelled of snow.

Joanna looked back.

Their hosts were standing side by side underneath the door frame. The light spilled out from inside, framing their silhouettes as if they were cut from black cardboard. Mr. Allard had placed his left arm around his wife's shoulders. She was waving at them. Joanna waved back, bundled her hair into one hand, so it wouldn't fly around her face like a cloud and turned toward her Jeep. “Good night,” she said to Conran Dark.

“Wait.”

Her heart made a somersault. Joanna shook her head. What a stupid thing it was. There was no reason to somersault. None at all. “What?” For some reason, her manners went into hiding whenever she had to deal with him. How embarrassing.

The wind whipped his ponytail over his shoulder. Behind him, the trees shook their dark branches against the sky, and clouds like foaming waves galloped past the waning moon. He looked like a Highlander, a man used to live outdoors, a man who dared the elements every day of his life. A man you could trust.

Great Joanna
, she mocked herself.
You'll start to drool any second now.

“Thank you.” He held out his hand.

“What for?” Joanna frowned.

“For a pleasant evening?” He made it sound like a question.

“Oh.” She took his hand. It was warm and strong, and for some reason, her hand felt just right inside his. “My pleasure.”
Scintillating conversation, Joanna. I bet they've never heard anything like it in Hollywood.

With regret, she let go of his hand and hurried to the Jeep.
Time to forget him.

The Jeep had not yet warmed up when her phone rang. Joanna suppressed a sigh.
Not an emergency. Please.
She switched on the hands-free kit and took a deep breath. “Joanna Damanti.”

“This is also Damanti speaking.” Her father's unmistakable accent bellowed through the car.

Joanna turned down the volume. “Hi, Dad. How are you?”

“I am well. I am really well, though I don't know why I tell you. You never call me; you never tell your old father anything. I learn from a stranger, yes, a stranger, that you got lost in the night.”

Joanna rolled her eyes. “The stranger was Bernice, and you've known her for almost ten years. I had a difficult foaling, got stuck in the snow on the way home, stayed the night in a vacation home . . . “
together with a celebrity, but I won't tell you that,
“. . . and the next morning, I had to rush to work as all my patients were waiting. That's all.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Because I was rushed off my feet. And then I was tired.”

“I see. The old father is not important.”

Joanna clenched her teeth. The old-father-routine was getting on her nerves. Time to change the subject. “How is the restaurant?” It should be a safe topic, just a few weeks before Christmas. He would be busy, and being busy made him happy.

“I am booked out.” Her father said with pride. “Booked out and running all day long. But it's heavy work. William didn't deliver the cod as promised, and the ducklings I ordered from Electra turned out to be stringy grandfather-ducks.”

Joanna shifted into a lower gear as the Jeep mounted up the snow-covered road. “So tell Electra you won't order from her again.”

“I can't do that; she's your mother's sister.”

“That doesn't mean you have to continue to buy bad stuff from her, Dad.” Joanna said with as much patience as she could muster.

Damanti senior sighed. “I can't do that, Cara.”

Joanna smiled when he used the Italian endearment “Cara”. It made her feel close to him, in spite of all his grumblings.

Her father continued, “She's all the family left from your mother; you know that.”

She barely remembered her mother who had died of cancer when she had been eight, but it seemed to her that ever since, her father had complained about Electra's fowl. “Then tell Electra that she has to give you younger specimen.”

Her father grunted.

Joanna knew that grunt well. It meant she could save the words; he had stopped listening. Time to change the subject again. “How are the preparations for the Christmas dinner going?”

“All is well.” Her father reported with pride. “They cleaned the barn and will put up the decorations soon. You're still coming the day before to help, aren't you?”

“Of course, Dad. Unless there's an emergency.”

He sighed. “Always an emergency. An emergency is more urgent than your old father.”

“Dad. I'm a veterinarian.” Joanna forced her voice to remain even. “I have to be available if an animal gets sick. That's part of the job.”

“Oh, and it's not part of the job to help your old father?”

“My 'old father' has plenty of friends who help him organize his big Christmas dinner. It's not as if you're doing this for the first time, besides, you've planned the menu in June already.” To get off the topic, she added before he could answer. “Anything else to tell?”

“Hugh was here.”

“Oh.” Joanna swallowed.

“He said you avoid him.”

“That's true.” Joanna clenched her teeth.

“I believe you should give him a second chance.”

“Dad.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don't want to discuss this.”

“You're a hard woman, Joanna.”

Yeah, I'm so hard, I feel like crying every time I see him.
“Absolutely.” Joanna cast about for a new topic. “How is Alexandra?”

“She says her knees are trouble. Always the knees, they make trouble when Christmas time comes. It's funny, eh? Me, I don't believe her knees.”

Joanna smiled. “Give her my love, and tell her she should get herself some Omega Three capsules. They'll help.” Alexandra had worked at the restaurant for fifteen years, and it felt as if she was part of the family, even though she had three kids and a husband on her own.

“Newfangled stuff.” Her father sighed. “But I'll tell her. Om. . . what?”

“Omega Three.”

“Right.” The line crackled in the sudden silence. “Where are you, Cara?”

“On my way home. I had to treat Mr. Allard's bull tonight.”

“You work too hard. Make sure you eat something tonight.”

“I will.” Joanna smiled. As long as she ate properly, her father believed all was well. “And you, don't work too late either.”

“But no. Good night, Cara.”

“Good night, Dad.”

As soon as Joanna came home, she switched on her computer and googled Conran Dark. When he screen came up, Joanna didn't believe her eyes. With open mouth, she perused the headlines.

I

Conran Dark disappeared! Is it a nervous breakdown?

Conran Dark gone into hiding. 

Where is Conran Dark?