Holiday Kisses

He picked up his copy of the station’s daily journal and glanced through it while he munched on the candy. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright. The six o’clock local news anchor would be moving to a managerial post, and the job was up for grabs. He put aside the candy and typed a note to the station manager, giving his credentials and stating that he believed he was the best person for the post. It was not a network position, but six o’clock anchor beat five o’clock in status and seven was even better than six. Telling himself to put his best effort on the table, he got busy editing material that he had planned to air the following week and when he went on the air that evening, he presented his program on Baltimore’s homeless and the rate at which their numbers were swelling.

At the end of the program, viewers’ calls jammed the station’s telephone lines, and he knew he’d done the right thing. Still, three days passed before he received a call from his superiors.

“Come in, Craig, and have a seat,” Milt Sardon, the station’s manager said. “I have your application here, and I’ve given this a lot of thought.” Those words sent chills down Craig’s back, but he didn’t flinch.

“I have to tell you that I never thought you capable of the kind of warm repartee in front of a camera that would make you a good ad-lib mixer with your on-camera colleagues or when conducting interviews. But seeing you sit on the ground beside those homeless people and talk with them as if you were one of them moved me. And your interview with that dental surgeon was an eye-opener. You displayed a lot of warmth and caring, and your viewers could see that. Although you asked her some tough questions, you wanted her to make a good impression.

“We think you deserve to anchor the six o’clock news. Congratulations. I’m expecting great things from you in the years to come.”

He resisted letting out a long breath. “Thank you, Milt. I’ll do my best.”

“That will be good enough,” Sardon said. “The office on the sixth floor is much larger and has a better view. I’ll have your things moved up there.” They shook hands, and Craig walked out into the hallway where, at last, he could let out a long breath of pent-up anxiety.

Kisha loved the six o’clock news. And seeing Craig in the chair that first night, surprised her, though she didn’t think much of it. The regular anchor probably had the night off. However, she took notice when he announced that he intended to change the program’s format and devoted a short segment to the questions that viewers wrote or called in about Kisha and the location of her office.

Hearing his voice when she answered her phone at around seven-thirty that evening stunned her. “Hello, Mr. Jackson. This is a surprise, albeit a nice one. Congratulations on your promotion to six o’clock news anchor.”

“Thank you, Dr. Moran. You were so formal when we last met that I wasn’t sure you’d welcome a call from me.”

“Come now. I just watched your program, and I want to thank you for airing the letters, questions and comments about my appearance on your program. You were very generous.”

“I…I was filling up my hour with the best material I had. You were a wonderful guest, quite a bit different from the Kisha Moran that I remembered, but that’s…I think we’ll just leave that until you and I are up to airing it out. Right?”

She laughed. So he got the drift of what she’d said. Good. “If you say so.”

“Say…look. What do you say we let bygones be bygones, and you have dinner with me. I want to celebrate my promotion, and I’d like to celebrate it with you.”

“I don’t know. Socializing could impair the doctor-patient relationship.”

“Don’t even think it. Good dentists are much easier to find than women who are intelligent, accomplished and beautiful, not to speak of some attributes that I’d as soon not mention. Will you have dinner with me? I’ll take you home the minute you say the word.” He didn’t know why he’d called her. To see her again was an easy answer, but did he want to prove to her that she couldn’t ignore him as she’d done at the station, even when she was looking at him? Or was there something else, something that he hadn’t defined?

Her answer surprised him. “No chitterlings, brains or rhubarb, please.” What a way to say yes. Nothing coy about this woman, he thought, feeling as if he’d had the benefit of a warm fresh breeze.

“How about seven tomorrow evening, Friday, while my promotion is still fresh?” He was pressing his luck, but he didn’t want to give her time to think about it. “I’ll be at your home at six-fifteen.” This time her answer was to give him her home address. If she didn’t like the word yes, she certainly was adept at avoiding its use.

When she opened her door to him, he wondered how many different Kisha Morans there might be. He’d heard that women wore green when they didn’t want to stir a man’s libido. But on her, green was as sexy as if she’d worn fire-engine red. He opened the front passenger seat of his silver Mercedes CLS 550 coupe for her and waited until she had fastened her seat belt, walked around and got in the car. “What do you think of Roy’s. I don’t have reservations, but I know the maître d’ will seat us.”

“I like Roy’s. If this one is anything like Roy’s in Naples, Florida and Philadelphia, I’m in for a treat. The crab cakes are to die for.”

If he made her happy, she’d have good thoughts about their time together, and he would at least have made amends for brushing her off. “Then that’s where we’ll go,” he said, opened his cell phone and dialed the restaurant. “This is Craig Jackson, I’d like a table for two at seven o’clock, please.”

“This is Maynard, Craig. Is your guest a woman?”

“Yes, indeed, brother,” he said, knowing that Maynard would get the hint and do his best to get him a table overlooking the water in spite of his having called at the last minute. At the restaurant, he gave his key to the parking attendant, went inside with Kisha and led her to the bar.

“Since I’m driving, I’m having lemonade. What would you like?”

“Tonic water with a slice of lemon over ice, please.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Anybody looking at that drink would think you liked gin and tonic or a Tom Collins, right?”

“You get the message. I honestly believe alcohol is overrated.”

“Yeah. I think you alluded to that right after you stuck that needle in my gum. Look, I don’t want to call you Dr. Moran, although I assure you I respect your title. My name is Craig.”

“I’d like you to call me Kisha, if you want to.”

If he wanted to. Laughing wouldn’t make sense, but he could hardly resist it. The waitress brought their drinks, and he focused on her as he sipped the lemonade, seeing more in her than he’d seen before, more that he wanted to see.

“I have a question for you. Is the maître d’ a close friend of yours? You have to make a reservation well over a week in advance to get a table here. I’m really impressed that you accomplished this with one phone call.”

“I like this place, so I try to stay on the good side of the maître d’, and it pays to do that.” She evidently didn’t know that he enjoyed a kind of celebrity status, and that made him feel special. What a joy it was to go out with a woman who agreed to have dinner with him because she liked him and not because of his reputation.

“I’ve never been here alone,” she said, “so I haven’t had that option.” She sat forward, devilishness dancing in her eyes.

“You’d only have to walk in here and look unhappy. Maynard would rush to you and get you whatever your heart desired.”

“You’re joking. I think I’ll try it one day. I’ve never been made to feel queenly. Not that I’ve minded, but it seems to wear well on the women who get that treatment.”

He looked hard at her. The woman was almost as frank as he. A straight talker. He liked that, and he liked her more and more. “The guys you’ve known must have been a few bricks short of a full load. Where did you study dentistry?”

“New York University. Where did you study and what? Actually, I’m more interested in what than where.”

It was a fair enough question, since he obviously knew more of her schooling that she did of his. “Howard University undergraduate, and I majored in Philosophy. Then I got a degree in journalism.” If she didn’t probe, he wouldn’t mention his law degree from Harvard.

“If I knew how to whistle, and if we were in the woods, I’d whistle,” she said. “As a philosophy major, I’ll bet you were what we used to call, ‘loaded.’”

“I can hold my own. What was your undergraduate major?”

“Chemistry. I began my freshman year by majoring in boys, but when I discovered that all the guys were in school to major in girls, I lost interest in the fun. I was orphaned the summer after my sophomore year, and that changed everything.”

“I’m sorry. Do you have older siblings?”

“I don’t have any siblings, so it was kind of rough. But let’s not linger on that.”

He looked at his watch. Precisely seven o’clock and a perfect opportunity to change the topic. “It’s time to claim our table. If you’re still enjoying the drink, leave it there, and we’ll get another at the table.”

She followed the maître d’ to their table and gasped in awe at the sun, a big, round red disc sinking into the Patapsco River. He had seen it from that table before, but somehow, it looked different, more magnificent as he stood beside her. If it was an omen, he wasn’t sure that he welcomed it.

Being comfortable with a man of whom she knew nothing about other than where he worked and what he’d told her should have made her question her sanity, but she could read people, and she liked what she saw in this man.

He asked her which chair she would prefer to sit in, something new in her dating experience. “I like to face the door,” she said, “but I suppose it would be better for you to sit in that chair so that you can see the waiters approach.”

“You’re the most thoughtful person I know,” he said. “I usually prefer to face the door. Thanks.”

The waiter took their orders. Both of them chose the Maryland crab cakes. For a first course, Kisha ordered a sampling of barbecued shrimp, baby back ribs, scallops and buffalo wings.

“Are you going to eat all of those ribs?” he asked her.

“Tell you what, you give me half of your Portuguese pancake, and I’ll give you one rib, two shrimp, a scallop and one buffalo wing. It’s too much for me anyway.”

“Sure you don’t mind?” he asked, but he was already dividing their appetizers. “Gosh, this is a real treat,” he said. “I get to have both of my favorites. Choosing is always a problem.”

“Here’s something to commemorate your promotion. Congratulations,” she said, watching him closely.

“You brought me a present? Really?” His eyes widened, and his face creased into a smile. “Can I open it?”

“Why not wait till later? I hope you’ll like it.”

“I know I will. I love presents. Any kind of present. Thanks.”

They finished their meal, walked out into the night air, and he held her hand while they waited for the parking attendant to bring his car. He walked with her to the front door of her house, opened the door with her key, entered with her and flicked on the light in the foyer.

“This was wonderful, Kisha. I want to see you again. I want to get to know you.” His gaze seemed to bore through her.

I should say something, she thought, but nothing came to mind. His elegant style, his charm and good looks were reducing her to a simpleton. She told herself to get it together. “I enjoyed the evening, too, Craig.” She opened her bag, got a business card and wrote her home phone and cell phone numbers on the back of it. “I look forward to hearing from you. I work late some nights, so if you don’t get me here, call my cell.”

He gave her his business card. “I’ll call you tomorrow evening. Thanks for a most pleasant evening. Good night.”

“Good night, Craig.”

She closed the door. “Well I’ll be damned. Not even a peck on the cheek,” she said aloud. She’d have to think about that. True, she took a chance when she allowed him to come inside, but she wasn’t one for making out in public. She had expected a light kiss, since he didn’t seem the type to make a nuisance of himself. But a simple good-night and may I see you again? Would miracles never cease!

She sat on the sofa in the darkened living room and kicked off her shoes. Would she have kissed him? Probably. A sensible woman did not get involved with a man who looked like Craig Jackson, a towering Adonis with long-lashed dreamy eyes, a well-toned body and a voice that could lull a woman into a stupor. She rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She had needed that to remind herself of her resolution to never again fall for a man who looked too good to touch.

Chapter 2

Craig sat in a big beige leather lounge chair in his living room with a bottle of cold beer numbing his fingers. He shook his head from side to side, wondering what he’d been thinking. He didn’t have time to get involved in a relationship with Kisha Moran or with any other woman. He knew that if he did, he’d focus on the relationship, giving it everything he had, and if he did that, his career goals would slide down the drain. In his business, a man had to be on his toes every waking minute. He had to keep his eyes open and his wits sharp, or he’d spend the rest of his life as a lawyer. Opportunities were rare. You didn’t have any friends at work, because it was every man for himself. He let out a long, sharp whistle. He’d been with her three times, and he’d need a hell of a lot of willpower to prevent himself from trying to see her again.

He looked at the small, elegantly wrapped package that she had given him in the restaurant along with her softly spoken congratulations.

He opened the package and gazed at its contents. He had several palm-size tape recorders, but when he read the information on the side of the small box, he gasped. None of his old recorders were equipped to download to his desktop computer.

He telephoned her. “Kisha, this is fantastic. Where did you find it. I didn’t know anybody had made one of these. This is…I’m speechless.” He actually whispered the words.

As if she’d given him a little nothing, she said, “My receptionist’s brother works for the company that makes them. They will begin marketing it next month. I ordered it from the company.” It wasn’t the cost, but her thoughtfulness in finding something unique and especially useful to him that made the gift so special to Craig.

It wasn’t Kisha Moran’s beauty or that suggestive body of hers that seemed to make his clock tick faster and louder. Physically attractive women were a fixture in his life. What set her apart was the sweet softness of her personality, her intelligence and that way she had of engrossing him in conversation. The woman was like a magnet. He put the bottle to his mouth and downed a swig of beer.

He’d watched her mouth all evening as it moved when she talked and at one moment, he’d imagined kissing it, but when he had the chance, he hadn’t. A schoolboy would at least have kissed her cheek, but all he’d done was bid her good-night. He finished the beer, took the empty bottle to the kitchen and disposed of it. Heading up the stairs, he stopped midway and chuckled. For once, his head had ruled his hormones. Still, he wouldn’t mind if he could get her off his mind one way or another.

After a rough, sleepless night, Kisha dragged herself out of bed, remembered that it was Saturday and took her time getting dressed. She liked the autumn. The crisp air, the trees’ paintbrush colors and the fresh apples made it her favorite time of the year. She made coffee and went out on her deck to drink it. Looking at her backyard, she remembered the thing she liked least about autumn. She disliked raking and discarding the leaves that drifted down from her tree and those nearby.

“May as well get to it,” Noreen King, her next door neighbor said. “There’ll be that many more tomorrow.”

“I know, but raking leaves was not on my agenda this morning. How’re things?”

“I’m firing on all cylinders, friend. I got that job, and I’m gonna be pitch woman for Dainty Diapers. I got a two-year contract. Would you believe that? Poverty go ’way from my door.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you. What does the job entail?” Kisha asked her.

“Some public appearances. I was one month from foreclosure. Girl, I’ve used up all my savings, and I’ve been eating grits three times a day. The Lord will provide.”

“I knew it was rough. Over a year out of work and a mortgage to pay…Well that’s over now. Maybe we should celebrate.”

“Sounds good to me. I thanked the Lord, and now I’m ready to kick up my heels. How about eating at Red Maple and then checking out the club?”

Kisha frowned and leaned against a post. “I hate going to places like that without a male date. Some guy always hits on you.”

“That’s not so bad. I met my ex-husband at a place like that one, and we stayed married for seven years, till he reached the age of forty and decided that he’d get all the use possible out of his happy rod while it still worked. Great, if he’d confined his fun to me, but he needed variety. I ditched his butt.”

She was not going to touch that one. “Nobody likes to have fun more than I do, Noreen, but I’m not sure about Red Maple. I like to dance.”

“Don’t be such a homebody.”

Kisha had no enthusiasm for Noreen’s idea, but she didn’t have a better one. “My coffee’s gotten cold. I think I’ll rake some leaves. Suppose I make a reservation for dinner at seven-thirty. Okay?”

“Works for me.”

She went inside, put on a pair of jeans and some sneakers, hooked her portable radio and her cell phone to her belt, got the rake and some black plastic bags from the cellar and began raking leaves. When the voice of Billie Holiday singing “Easy Living” drifted from her radio, her thoughts went to Craig and the impression he’d made on her after being with him only three times.

Even though he was something of a local celebrity, Craig seemed unaffected by his celebrity. On the air, he was sharp and assertive, but with her, he was more…well…lighthearted and personable and didn’t use so many four-syllable words. Not that she had anything against them. She prided herself on her vocabulary. She let the garden rake lean against her belly and threw up her hands. How much more time and energy was she going to waste mooning over Craig Jackson, she admonished herself.

She worked until she’d stuffed all the leaves into two big black plastic bags. “If any more fall,” she said aloud as she rubbed her back, “they can fertilize the garden.” She’d just sat on the edge of the deck to rest and breathe deeply of the morning air when her cell phone rang.

Thinking that Noreen probably wanted to cancel their date with a bizarre excuse, as she often did, Kisha rested her elbow on her knee, expelled a long breath. “Hi. What happened?”

“This is Craig. Who did you think it was?”

“Noreen. My next-door neighbor. She’s a drama queen. How are you, Craig?”

“You sound as if you’ve been up for hours. It’s just a little bit after eight. I’d planned to sleep until noon, but it wasn’t to be. I woke up at seven.”

“I got up early this morning, too. I just raked and bagged a gardenful of dry leaves.”

“If you had promised me a cup of coffee, I would gladly have done that for you.”

“Are you telling me you’d come over here on a Saturday morning to rake leaves in my garden?”

“I’d go farther than that to be with you, coffee or no coffee.”

Taken aback, she nearly dropped the phone. “Oh!”

“Is that all you have to say? A guy tells you he likes your company, and you show no interest. Lady, I am wounded!”

She laughed, more from nerves than from any humor in his words. “You’ve put me on the spot. Obviously I wouldn’t like to wound you. First time I saw you, you looked like a bird with only one wing. Far from me to bring about a repeat of that scene. Of course, the last time I saw you, your wings were in full strength and—”

He interrupted her. “May I see you tonight? I want to see you.”

The urgency with which he spoke it sent ripples of excitement through her. What was it about this man that made her want to stretch herself with him, do things she’d never done, see life through different eyes?

“What did you have in mind?” Surely that cool voice didn’t belong to her.

“We could go to dinner and dance later, or dinner and a concert, or we could go down to the harbor and watch boats. I don’t care what.”

She thought for a minute. The less money he spent on her the better. “Let’s see. We could go down to the harbor and watch the boats?”

“Are you serious?” he asked as if he hadn’t included that among his suggestions.

“Yes, I love the water.”

“In that case, I know a delightful restaurant on the edge of the Patapsco River, and it’s not too cool to dine outside at the river’s edge. If the moon is shining, it’s idyllic.”

The more he talked, the more eager she was to see him. “That sounds wonderful, Craig. What time…Oops!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I just remembered that I promised Noreen, my neighbor, that we’d go out tonight and celebrate her new job.” She pulled air through her front teeth. “Maybe we can do this another time.”

“Girl, you still out here?”

“Excuse me a minute, Craig,” Kisha said and covered the mouth piece. “What’s up, Noreen?”

“Girl, I just remembered a hot blue dress that used to be too small, but with these depression-era meals I’ve been eating, I’ve lost a lot of weight, and this baby fits perfectly. Let’s dress up tonight.”

“All right. I’ve got someone on the phone.” She removed her hand from the mouthpiece. “I like my neighbor a lot, but right now, I’d love to put her out of commission,” she said to Craig, her voice colored with laughter.

His deep and musical chuckle gave her a warm, feminine rush. “You don’t strike me as being a woman who walks on the edge, Kisha, but there’s something about you that leans that way.”

“I suspect that’s something you and I are unlikely to explore.” He was right, if he meant she didn’t sit on the side of the road and watch life dance past her.

“Kisha, there’s an old proverb that says ‘Never declare war, unless you mean to do battle,’ so don’t force me to demonstrate your recklessness to you. When I play, I play for keeps, and I like to win.”

And she believed him. He was determined, and very self-confident. “Craig, although I like games sometimes, I am not inspired to play Gotcha with you. But I would like to know why you think I’m reckless.”

“Your comment about Noreen and the joy you’d have in putting her out of commission slipped out. You said you love the water, so I assume you enjoy swimming.”

“I enjoy the atmosphere around water, not so much beaches as the vegetation, the natural aspects. And I love to fish. I’m just a so-so swimmer, but the laid-back attitude of the people and the wonderful life close to nature are what I miss about Key West.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I got tired of the storms. After my house was damaged during a posthurricane tornado, I decided to leave while I was ahead. I’m reasonably content here.”

“Big cities can really stress you out. Wrap yourself tightly in that contentment until I see you.”

“Craig, you’re like a whirlwind.”

“Really? You don’t know how wrong you are. I’m sorry I won’t be seeing you tonight. Promise me you’ll go with me to that restaurant on the banks of the Patapsco. I know you’ll love it, and I’d enjoy showing it to you. We have to do it soon, though, because it’s getting to be cool for eating outdoors. Will you go with me?”

“That should be a lot of fun. Ask me again. Okay?”

“With great pleasure. You mind if I call you?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then, I will. Bye for now.”

Craig hung up, and a feeling of pride washed over her. She could have canceled her date with Noreen, but she hadn’t, and something told her that it was good for him to hear the word, no. He’d brushed her off once, and although she wouldn’t give anyone the chance to do it a second time, her refusal to go out with him that evening was not payback. That would have been childish. But refusing to be convenient for a man reputed to be aloof wouldn’t hurt her relationship with him. And a relationship with him was high on her agenda. Something about the man moved her.