No Christmas Like the Present by Sierra Donovan Page B

waiting to see if he starts a fight before Christmas the way he did right before my birthday. I swear some guys plan that stuff, just so they don’t have to shop for a present.” She boosted herself off Lindsay’s desk. “Well, I better get back to work. Want to do lunch at the Thai place today?”
    Lindsay hesitated. The Thai restaurant two blocks away was an occasional treat for her and Jeanne, a chance to eat the kind of “girl food” no man they dated ever wanted to try. What did men know of coconut soup and Thai iced coffee?
    In fact, Jeanne had introduced Lindsay to the food herself, the second week Lindsay worked here. The pretty blonde had known just what the stressed-out new girl needed while she struggled to adjust to her first full-time job. Jeanne had been reassuring and supportive, and Lindsay had been surprised to find how much she had in common with someone who was so outwardly different.
    A Thai lunch was tempting, but . . . “I’ve got Christmas cards to do.” She’d brought along a plastic grocery sack full of them, to work on during lunch. She’d barely gotten past the letter M yesterday. There were a lot of Millers in her family.
    â€œOh, come on. It might be our last chance before you go on vacation.”
    Jeanne’s tone held an imploring note. Maybe she was right. Lindsay was taking the week off between Christmas and New Year’s to visit her parents, so they were running out of work days. Plus, Lindsay remembered Jeanne saying that Brad’s idea of “out to dinner” rarely involved anything beyond ground beef in a bun. Not the most accommodating of males.
    And after all, what were friends for? “Okay.”
    Jeanne beamed and sashayed out the door.
    Later that morning, Lindsay paused as she walked by the fudge on the long table in the middle of the office, next to the coffee machine. After making eleven batches of fudge last week—which, naturally, had to be sampled for quality—she didn’t quite have her usual appetite for chocolate. But she picked up a piece of Fred’s batch with the almonds and took a bite. Sure enough, it tasted nearly as knee-bucklingly good as it had in her kitchen yesterday, when the fudge was still warm.
    Lindsay nipped a tiny corner off a piece of her fudge and took a quick taste. His was better than hers. But how? He’d stood right next to her, done exactly what she did.
    She took one extra piece of the almond fudge back to her desk to save for later, before it all ran out. She was glad she did. By the time she and Jeanne returned from lunch, both of the plates she’d brought were empty.
    Through the rest of the afternoon, the little square of fudge teased her from its hiding place, safely tucked in a coffee filter at the far corner of her desk. She made herself wait, forcing herself to focus on the stack of client statements that had to be done before she went on vacation. As the day stretched on, Lindsay tried not to glance at her old Timex watch any more than usual. Whatever Fred had in store for tonight, she’d find out soon enough.
    She told herself that. But it didn’t keep her mind from conjuring up the image of laughing dark eyes, filled with some secret promise. Lindsay tried not to think about it, the same way she tried to ignore that hidden square of fudge. No. Not until she’d gotten enough work done.
    At four-twenty-five, she finally decided she’d earned it. Lindsay went to the coffee machine and poured half a cup of late-afternoon brew to go with her chocolate. On her way back to her desk, she heard a deep, resonant laugh from inside her cubicle.
    Lindsay turned the corner, and there stood Fred, lounging against the filing cabinet beside her desk, eating her last piece of fudge, and chatting with her friend Jeanne.
    He was hatless once again, his dark hair slightly tousled as though he’d just been walking outside, and Lindsay wondered distractedly