No Christmas Like the Present Read Online Free Page B

him out of Phil and Evelyn’s house, amid a greater-than-usual number of friendly farewells. Now they walked down the darkened street toward her car, which she’d parked several houses away because of all the arrivals before her. Fred had her hand tucked through his arm in that courtly way of his, and still showed no sign of menace. Screaming seemed silly.
    She stole a glance at Fred, who wore nothing warmer than his simple suit jacket. “You don’t have your coat.”
    â€œI figured I’d be indoors most of the evening. Don’t worry. A brisk walk on a chilly night always does me good.”
    It was more than chilly. The cold air had the harsh bite and gray, indefinable scent of threatening snow. But with her hand tucked into the crook of Fred’s arm, Lindsay felt warmer. She noticed the difference when they reached her car, and she disentangled herself to unlock the door. Instantly the wind seemed sharper, colder, harder, and she hurriedly twisted the key with numb fingers.
    Not fast enough to keep Fred from pulling the door open for her, though.
    Lindsay slipped inside quickly, hoping to escape Fred and the wind at the same time. Inside her car, it didn’t feel much warmer than it had outside; she bunched her jacket around her as she reached to pull the door shut.
    Fred still held it. He kept it open just a crack, shutting out most of the cold wind, while he leaned down to speak once more. “Good night, Lindsay. Drive safely.”
    And he closed the door for her.
    Well, that had been easy enough. He straightened with a little wave and stepped back to the sidewalk, giving Lindsay room to pull out of her parking space.
    She started to drive off, but as her car turned away from the curb, she saw him in her side mirror, hands deep in his pockets, arms gathered in and head slightly bent against the cold as he walked. He didn’t look back.
    She knew it was freezing out there. She’d been shivering even in her coat. Lindsay would have bet money that it would snow by morning.
    She stopped the car, engine still running. You’ll be sorry, she told herself.
    Lindsay pressed the button to roll down the passenger window, letting in a slice of biting wind. “Fred?” He lifted his head and stepped toward her window. “Where’s your car?”
    â€œOh, I don’t drive.”
    Of course not.
    â€œOh.” She should drive away now. But it was so cold. “Can I—give you a lift anywhere?” She couldn’t believe she was saying it.
    â€œYou could drop me off over by the Broadway Hotel.” He smiled at her through the opening in her window. “As long as it’s no trouble, that is.”
    She usually avoided Lakeside Boulevard because it was in such a busy section of town, but in reality, it was the shortest route home. And this time of night, the traffic wouldn’t be bad.
    She should pull away, tires screeching. But she couldn’t just leave him there.
    Lindsay opened the door, mentally rehearsing every self-defense move she could remember from the women’s safety videos she’d seen in high school. By now, though, she felt fairly sure she wouldn’t need them. After all, this was Fred, and if one of them was crazy, it was probably her.
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    It was a strange feeling, being wedged into Lindsay’s little metallic vehicle. His legs were bent far up in front of him, close to the front of the car. Still, he could find no room for complaint. She’d allowed him into her car, and that was progress.
    Lindsay flicked a little switch on the console between them. “The heater takes a few minutes to warm up. Sorry.”
    â€œNot a problem.” She had no way of knowing how true that was. Cold was something he felt from the outside, something that made the air bracing and invigorating, but it didn’t penetrate him. He had no idea how it would feel to be cold. He hadn’t been above using Lindsay’s