Kiss Me At Christmas: Marry Me at Christmas. Сьюзен Мэллери
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He’d been smiled at and wished a good day more times than he could count. It was nice. Regular. At least out here. In LA everyone would be driving, even if they only had to go three blocks, and in New York, each person was in his or her own personal bubble. He didn’t have to worry about paparazzi. They’d shown up for about two days after he’d moved here. But once they’d realized there was nothing to report, they’d left him alone. Which was exactly how he liked it.
He’d spoken to his sister that morning. She’d had a good conversation with Madeline and was excited about her upcoming wedding.
He’d wondered if Ginger would ask Madeline about her credentials, but his sister had only raved about how Madeline understood exactly what she wanted. For his part, he needed a local connection because he wanted to use vendors from the area. While flying in someone from LA might be easier, working with Madeline gave him more control.
Ginger’s wedding was important to him. Since their dad had died nearly a decade before, it had been Jonny and his sister. They looked out for each other. Seeing her get married would be great. He liked her fiancé. Oliver was a good guy. Just as smart and focused as Ginger. They did well together.
He crossed the street, heading for Paper Moon. He was meeting Madeline in her store. As he turned a corner, a woman walked up to him. She was a tall, attractive redhead.
“You’re Jonny Blaze,” she said as she stopped next to him. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Talk about the inevitable, he thought, wondering if he had a pen with him. While it had taken longer here than most places, him being recognized and stopped was a part of celebrity life. Mostly he was fine with being asked for an autograph or picture even when he was between movies or publicity tours, like now. Because his fans didn’t care if he was working or simply enjoying a few weeks off.
He glanced at the woman’s left hand and saw a wedding band. Hopefully that meant she wasn’t going to come on to him. Although it didn’t always.
The fame thing was complicated. He had to admit, there were times when he liked not having to wait in line or always being able to get a table at a popular restaurant. But the downside could be dark, and for the most part he preferred to live privately.
“I’m Felicia Boylan,” the woman continued. “I run the festivals here in town.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, as well.” She offered him a quick smile. “We have a parade in town on Thanksgiving morning. Will you be here for the holiday?”
“I will.” Ginger was going to be spending it with Oliver’s family, so he was on his own.
For a second he worried this Felicia woman was inviting him to dinner. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy some company, but he wasn’t interested in hanging out with people he didn’t know. Then the comment about her job, along with the parade, clicked into place and he got it.
She wanted him to be the grand marshal. He wondered who had gotten bumped when Felicia had found out he’d moved to the area. And while he appreciated the offer, he wasn’t exactly a parade kind of guy. He would let her down gently, he told himself. No hard feelings and all that.
“Excellent. I heard you had a classic car. A 1956 Cadillac convertible. An El Dorado, I believe.”
Her stare was intense, as if she wanted to be sure she got all her facts right.
“That’s right,” he said slowly.
“And it’s red?”
He nodded.
The smile returned. “Perfect. I was hoping we could borrow it for the parade. The vehicle Mayor Marsha normally uses isn’t working and it appears the parts won’t arrive in time. I was hoping your car could be the backup. We have insurance. I would personally watch over your car. So can we borrow it for the parade?”
The car was in mint condition with white leather interior. He loved that car. But what he couldn’t wrap his mind around was the fact that Felicia wanted it, rather than him, in the parade.
“You want to borrow my car,” he confirmed.
“Yes. For the parade.” She drew her eyebrows together. “You do know what a parade is, don’t you? If not, I’m happy to explain.”
“I have a basic idea of what’s involved.” The car. Huh. He never would have guessed that. “Okay. You’re welcome to my car.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch to make arrangements.”
With that, she hurried away. Jonny stared after her, then shook his head. He was the one who’d wanted to be treated like everyone else. He should be grateful only his car was going to be in the parade.
He continued walking and saw Paper Moon up ahead. The big front windows displayed wedding gowns along with shoes and veils. When he stepped into the store, he paused to glance around.
A few years ago he’d dated a set designer. From her he’d learned how seemingly insignificant details could set the mood or ruin the moment. That a misplaced lamp could produce awkward shadows and that furniture created movement.
Now he took in the high ceilings, the plush furniture, the elegant armoires and shelves. Everything directed the eye toward a kind of dais placed in front of a half circle of ten-foot-high mirrors. He would guess that customers stepped up in front of those mirrors and immediately became the center of attention. Practice for the spotlight of the big day, he thought.
To his left were racks of wedding gowns. An open doorway led to another room, also filled with dresses, but they were for the bridesmaids, he would guess.
“Jonny.”
He turned and saw Madeline approaching. She was still dressed in black—this time a sweater and slim pants. Her hair was wavy, her makeup simple. She looked polished and capable. Reassuring, he thought. Brides would like that.
“Thanks for coming here,” she said as she stopped in front of him. Humor brightened her blue eyes. “All this girlie stuff making you sweat?”
He chuckled. “Not even close. You forget, in my job I have to wear makeup.”
“That’s right. Then I won’t feel guilty for asking you to visit my office.”
“Don’t. I like coming into town and this gave me an excuse.” He looked at the dresses. “They’re like costumes. A woman puts them on and becomes someone else for the day.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. It is a costume for a rite of passage.” She tilted her head as she smiled at him. “Although if I’m doing my job right, instead of becoming someone else, she becomes a better version of herself.”
“Good for you.”
She was smart, he thought.