Mistletoe Maneuvers Read Free Page B

asked.
    â€œIt’s a little something to cheer you up.”
    Lessa opened up the bag. “Mistletoe?”
    â€œI thought it might help you enjoy the season.”
    â€œThanks, Gran, but I don’t think I’ll be doing much kissing this Christmas.”
    â€œBoth the Vikings and the druids believed there were special powers associated with mistletoe. That it was capable of miracles.”
    â€œYou’ve been talking to Mr. Chapman again, haven’t you?” Mr. Chapman was the owner of Chapman’s Market, where they typically did their shopping. He was an amateur historian and every time Lessa’s aunt went shopping, she returned home with a story. “It would be a miracle if I actually had someone to kiss this Christmas.”
    â€œMake a wish and we’ll see if it comes true,” Gran suggested.
    Lessa laughed for the first time that day. “I wish for my own company. A successful company with employees who actually like me.”
    â€œNow it’s my turn,” her aunt said, taking the mistletoe and closing her eyes. She opened her eyes back up and said, “There.”
    â€œYou’re not going to tell me what you wished for?” Lessa asked.
    Gran shook her head. “No. Now help me decide where I should hang this.”
    â€œHow about in the closet?”
    â€œNow, that’s not optimistic of you.”
    Lessa smiled. She appreciated her aunt’s enthusiasm. Usually, she loved Christmas, but this season was proving to be especially difficult. The stress of work was getting to her.
    â€œWhat else is in that box?” Lessa asked, spying the small black writing on the side. As she walked toward it, the words came into focus: Christmas Ornaments. She suddenly remembered that she had promised to pick up a tree on her way home.
    â€œWe were supposed to have our tree-trimming party tonight,” Lessa said apologetically. Every year she and her aunt celebrated the season by decorating the tree together. Lessa had been so distracted by work that she had completely forgotten.
    â€œWe’ll do it another time.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Gran. I feel terrible. I know how much you were looking forward to putting up the tree.”
    â€œOh, please,” her aunt said, brushing it off. “I don’t care about a silly tree. What I care about is you.” Her aunt sighed. “I’m worried about you, Lessa. You’reyoung and beautiful. There’s no reason you shouldn’t have someone to kiss under the mistletoe.”
    â€œMaybe next Christmas,” she forced herself to say. She didn’t want to disappoint her aunt but she knew the possibility of her having a boyfriend next Christmas was the same as it had been this year and the year before—slim to nil. As much as she might like to have someone special, it wasn’t in the cards anytime soon. How could she get involved with someone when she typically worked thirteen hours a day, six or seven days a week? “Not this Christmas, I’m afraid.” She absentmindedly picked up the mistletoe as she thought once again about her situation at work. “This Christmas I’ll be lucky to still have Lawrence Enterprises.”
    Her aunt sighed. “Well then, go do what you need to do. Go confront this Rick Parker in person.”
    â€œGo to his apartment?” She didn’t like the idea of going to see him in such a personal location. She had been there once before, a decade earlier, when her father had sent her to deliver some files. She remembered how nervous she had been, remembered the way her heart had jumped into her throat when he answered the door. He had just returned from a trip and his shirt was untucked and halfway unbuttoned. Stubble of a beard along his jaw added to his dangerous charm.
    Although Rick had been twenty-seven years old, eleven years her senior, she had fantasized about being invited inside. “I know you’re young,”