Josh, breaking into his thoughts. “Mayor Langston is about to give the signal.”
Josh could not have cared less about the tree. All he had eyes for was the woman standing in front of him. The stubborn, unpredictable, intelligent—beautiful—woman.
And since she was clearly unaware of his personal interest, he was going to give himself the gift of indulging it by looking at her.
* * *
Whitney’s shivers were caused less by the winter temperatures than by her enhanced awareness of the man directly behind her. She imagined she could feel his warm breath tickling her hair. Could he really be that close? Surely not. Her vivid imagination was running amok, that was all. It was time to rein it in. And she would. Soon. Just not quite yet.
The mayor raised his cane and gestured toward the highly decorated tree. “Three...two...one!” He brought the cane down in an arc.
The expected brightness of the Christmas lights gave an added glow to the scene as townspeople oohed, ahhed, cheered and applauded.
Whitney felt her spirits lift and her sense of belonging swell until she was grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t it wonderful? Look how perfectly they’ve arranged all the lights. Every year it gets prettier.”
“I assume you’ve lived here all your life,” Josh said.
“Yes. Born and raised. I understand you’re from Missouri.”
“How did you know that?”
It amused Whitney to see him scowling and seeming unsettled. “I read it in your business application, of course. How did you think I found out?” She laughed lightly as he continued to give her a perplexed stare. “I may consider myself an investigative reporter but I must admit, you have me mostly stumped.”
The frown lines in his forehead relaxed. As far as Whitney was concerned, that proved he had something to hide. Something he didn’t want her or anyone else to know.
The first thing that came to mind was the possibility he was some kind of criminal. That silly thought didn’t last the length of a heartbeat. No. Josh Smith might be hiding his past for some reason but she was certain he was in no way disreputable. Enigmatic, yes. Evil, no.
She smiled up at him as the crowd around the gazebo began to disperse. “We’d better get back to your van. It looks like we’re about to get more customers.”
“Right. Can you stay to help until Matt shows up? I’d really appreciate it.”
Whitney said, “No problem,” aloud while silently vowing to spend the rest of this amazingly wonderful evening with Josh no matter what.
Yes, she was still a reporter at heart. And, yes, she still wanted—needed—to know a lot more about him.
But there’s no hurry, she insisted, satisfied to merely enjoy his company for the time being. The attraction she felt for the inscrutable man may have begun with curiosity about his past but it was far more than that by now. She liked him, actually liked him. That opinion was not dependent upon the life he may have once lived. It was based solely on the thrill she felt whenever he smiled at her or spoke her name.
“Uh-oh,” Whitney mumbled, acknowledging the depth of her folly as she followed Josh back to the coffee van. No level-headed woman, particularly a savvy newspaper reporter like her, would let herself become enamored of a virtual stranger without being more certain of his history.
Yet there she was, scuffing her way across the trampled grass and packed snow, following a person about whom she knew practically nothing.
Could she trust her instincts? Whitney wondered. Or was she already past the point where being sensible applied?
If she had known the answers to those questions she might have felt a lot better about her errant feelings.
Then again, she mused as she watched Josh striding along ahead of her, where that particular man was concerned she seemed to have little common sense left.
* * *
The immediate demands of the crowd left Josh no time in which to consider his attraction to Whitney versus her penchant for digging into his past. By the time the revelers were starting to drift off and return to their respective homes, he had managed to relax considerably. Whitney could not possibly know who he was or why he had come to Bygones. If she’d had even a hint of the truth, she would be peppering him with leading questions.
Therefore, he told himself, his secret was still safe. The question was, should he continue to pretend he was Josh Smith? He knew Whitney would be furious no matter when she learned his true identity. But, because he was starting to care about her opinion, he wondered if it might be advantageous to make an official announcement right before he left for good? Perhaps the grand opening of the old movie house would be a good time.
No. My original strategy is the most sensible course, he concluded easily. He’d thought it all through even before deciding to fund the town. There was no reason to change his mind now and take the chance of ruining a perfectly logical scheme.
However, his musings had reminded him of something he’d been meaning to do.
“Remember how I told you I was tinkering with the projection system in the empty theater next to my shop?” Josh asked Whitney.
“Vaguely. I haven’t heard much about it lately. How’s it coming?”
“Very well.” He slid the folded table into the back of the van with his other supplies and slammed the rear door.
“That’s great! Can I include it in my next article about the Main Street merchants?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d do a separate short feature as promo for the reopening. I thought I’d have a free screening sometime between Christmas and New Year’s. What do you think? Would people come then?”
“It’s more likely than if you schedule it before Christmas. What film are you planning to show?”
“It’s A Wonderful Life.”
“Oh, I love that one!”
“A lot of folks do, I guess.”
Whitney giggled. “Why am I getting the idea that you’re not one of them?”
“Beats me. I like that film better than the ones with Santa Claus in them.”
“Because your parents used to fool you about Santa bringing toys down the chimney?”
Josh’s brow knit. “No. Actually, I was never taught about Santa or reindeer or elves or any of that stuff.” When he saw Whitney’s mouth gape he had to laugh. “Well, I wasn’t. Of course I never heard much about the real Christmas story, either. If my mother had not taken me to Sunday school a few times I might never have heard of Jesus.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Not really. It’s hard to miss something you’ve never had,” Josh said flatly. “As I told you, my dad was a no-nonsense kind of guy.”
“What about your mother?
