on the bare trees. The scene was as festive as one could imagine. A horse-drawn carriage passed them, the horse’s hooves clopping on the pavement, its harness jingling.
“Shall we?” Wynn asked.
K.O. noticed that the carriage was traveling in the opposite direction from theirs, but she couldn’t have cared less. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted a carriage ride. “That would be lovely.” Not only was Wynn a gentleman, but a romantic, as well, which seemed quite incongruous with his free-and-easy upbringing.
Wynn hailed the driver. Then he handed K.O. into the carriage before joining her. He took the lap robe, spread it across her legs, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in his embrace.
“I love Christmas,” K.O. confessed.
Wynn didn’t respond, which was probably for the best, since he’d actually put in writing that he wanted to bury Santa Claus.
The driver flicked the reins and the carriage moved forward.
“It might surprise you to know that I happen to feel the same way you do about the holidays.”
“But you said—”
He brought a finger to her lips. “We agreed not to discuss my book.”
“Yes, but I have to know....”
“Then I suggest you read The Free Child. You’ll understand my philosophies better once you do. Simply put, I feel it’s wrong to mislead children. That’s all I really said. Can you honestly object to that?”
“If it involves Santa, I can.”
“Then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
She was happy to leave that subject behind. The evening was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she didn’t want anything to ruin it. With large flakes of snow drifting down and the horse clopping steadily along, the carriage swaying, it couldn’t have been more romantic.
Wynn tightened his arm around her and K.O. pressed her head against his shoulder.
“I’m beginning to think LaVonne knows her Raisin Bran,” Wynn whispered.
She heard the smile in his voice. “And her cat litter,” she whispered back.
“I like her cats,” he said. “Tom, Phillip and...”
“Martin,” she supplied. The men in her neighbor’s life all happened to be badly spoiled and much-loved cats.
The carriage dropped them off near West Lake Center. Wynn got down first and then helped K.O. “Are you cold?” he asked. “I can try to find a cab if you’d prefer not to walk.”
“Stop,” she said suddenly. All this perfection was confusing, too shocking a contrast with her previous impressions of Dr. Wynn Jeffries.
He frowned.
“I don’t know if I can deal with this.” She started walking at a fast pace, her mind spinning. It was difficult to reconcile this thoughtful, interesting man with the hardhearted destroyer of Christmas Zelda had told her about.
“Deal with what?” he asked, catching up with her.
“You—you’re wonderful.”
He laughed. “That’s bad?”
“It’s not what I expected from you.”
His steps matched hers. “After this morning, I wasn’t sure what to expect from you, either. There’s a big difference between the way you acted then and how you’ve been this evening. I didn’t change. You did.”
“I know.” She looked up at him, wishing she understood what was happening. She recognized attraction when she felt it, but could this be real?
He reached for her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“Not for tonight,” she said with a sigh.
“Good.” They resumed walking, more slowly this time. She stuck out her tongue to catch the falling snow, the way she had as a child. Wynn did, too, and they both smiled, delighted with themselves and each other.
When they approached their building on Blossom Street, K.O. was almost sad. She didn’t want the evening to end for fear she’d wake in the morning and discover it had all been a dream. Worse, she was afraid she’d find out it was just an illusion created by candlelight and gorgeous food and an enchanting carriage ride.
She felt Wynn’s reluctance as he keyed in the door code. The warmth that greeted them inside the small lobby was a welcome respite from the cold and the wind. The Christmas lights in the lobby twinkled merrily as he escorted her to her door.
“Thank you for one of the most romantic evenings of my life,” she told him sincerely.
“I should be the one thanking you,” he whispered. He held her gaze for a long moment. “May I see you again?”
She nodded. But she wasn’t sure that was wise.
“When?”
K.O. leaned against her door and held her hand to her forehead. The spell was wearing off. “I don’t think this is a