Page 31 of Miss Christmas

Dee smiled and said, “I know. Or I’d guessed as much.”

Emily looked astonished. “You did? Two nights ago?” Then she shook her head in dismay.

“Why?” she pinned the young woman with a demanding stare and had to remind herself not to be angry with Emily no matter what she said, because she was innocent in all this. Of that, Scarlet was one hundred percent certain.

“It’s just that . . .” Emily shrugged.

“Out with it.” Scarlet took a calming breath even as her heart drummed in her ears. “It’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t be upset.” A fat lie.

“Will called me yesterday to ask me to dinner. We have a date for Saturday night.”

Chapter 8

It was already Friday morning after a roller coaster ride of a week. Will felt like the roller coaster had taken him through both heaven and hell. It was barely eight a.m. and he had his white starched sleeves rolled up and he was on his third cup of coffee. Black. He’d come in particularly early because he couldn’t sleep, so he might as well try to be productive. It had felt all wrong not to see or talk to Scarlet last night.

Instead, he’d called Emily to discuss where they should go to dinner. To make sure she was still going to dinner with him. She’d been delighted and maybe a little surprised to hear from him, and delightful on the phone, unmarred by the goliath presence of Scarlet.

He should be pleased that he was making progress toward his true goal, that he’d made an intelligent, sane decision. But if that was the case, then why hadn’t he been able to sleep more than an hour all night?

He stared at his screen, which was filled with the quarterly financial statement, but couldn’t concentrate to take in one line, couldn’t tell if they’d increased their profit or gone straight into the toilet. Leaning his head in his hands, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that would get rid of Scarlet’s ghost haunting his soul.

“Knock, knock.”

He looked up to see Margo paused at his open door, an out-of-place smile on her face—or it seemed to him that this was no place or time for smiling.

“What are you doing here? Go away,” he said.

She sauntered in belly first and sat in front of him, smile undiminished. In fact, she now grinned. The sadist.

“Did you get my e-mail about your pageant workshop today?”

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, then finding he needed more, he settled for a sip of the now lukewarm coffee, wishing it were a tumbler of Knob Creek. She waited patiently.

“Margo, of all the things you’d have me do for this pageant, speaking at a workshop for contestants about what a judge looks for in a contestant is the worst idea yet. It gives the impression that I have a clue about judging. It implies that I am a judge.”

“You have it all wrong, Will. You’re the one to give this presentation because you were a judge, but you are no longer.” She smiled, her sweet, innocent smile, the one he’d trusted in the time he’d known her. He realized now how wrong he’d been.

“You know this matchmaking business of yours—”

“It’s not a business.” She sighed. “It’s more like an interest.”

“Whatever it is, it’s made you devious. I don’t think I like it.”

She laughed. “Spoken like a true bachelor. Honestly, Will, I’ll introduce you as the first-round judge and emphasize that you’ve handed over the judging duties to the professionals.”

“Exactly. The real judges who know what they’re doing. Unlike me who has no business giving a presentation.”

Margo’s next sigh was more exasperated than good natured. “You’ve gained insights from your experience, haven’t you? You know what we’re looking for, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“I thought so.”

“About five minutes’ worth.”

“Fine. The rest of the lousy thirty minutes—that’s all I’m asking—you can do Q&A.” She turned and left his office.

Great. Now Margo was mad at him too. Could he turn himself from the most desirable bachelor in town to the least in one day? He seemed to be well on his way.