High Heels and Holidays by Kasey Michaels

the lawyer interrupted with all the delicacy of a charging rhino. “To hear how you liked the manuscript. Say around three?”
    Oh, great. Maggie looked around for help. Now who was going to save her ? “I . . . um, that is . . . I—”
    â€œWhat Maggie’s trying to say,” Alex broke in smoothly, “is that we’d be delighted to see you, J.P., but we’ll be out of town for the weekend. Most unfortunate. Tuesday, however, would be fine. Wouldn’t it, Maggie?”
    â€œYou picked a hell of a time to open your mouth, after standing there like a statue for five minutes. And I was looking at you so you’d rescue me, not set up a playdate with J.P. Cripes. You couldn’t have said after Christmas? After the New Year?” Maggie told Alex after J.P. had checked her date book and decided she’d deign to visit them at one o’clock on Tuesday and then walked away before Maggie could untangle her tongue to disagree. “How am I supposed to read her manuscript before Tuesday? I don’t even have the darn thing, for crying out loud.”
    â€œI’ll have it messengered over first thing tomorrow morning,” Bernie said helpfully, hanging on Alex’s arm as they continued their stroll and Maggie continued her stomp. “You’re such a good friend, Maggie. I owe you one. Oh, and let her down easy, all right? I don’t want to have her mad, and overcharging me.”
    â€œI hope she sends you a bill for a million dollars,” Maggie said in all sincerity. “How does this happen? We go out for a nice evening. A hot dog, some shopping—and bam . Let’s all sock it to Maggie.”
    â€œNow, now, my dear. As I recall, you did volunteer,” Alex soothed, not bothering to hide his smile. “And one never knows when one will require the services of an attorney, does one? With that in mind, as Bernice suggested—be kind.”
    â€œShe’s a criminal attorney, Alex. Why would I need her, if that’s what you’re saying?”
    â€œYes, exactly. One never knows, does one?”
    â€œOne never knows, does one,” Maggie singsonged, making a face at him. “I’m . . . I have to find a ladies room.”
    And she was off before anyone could follow her. It wasn’t a subtle exit, but she really needed to put some space between herself and her friends. Between herself and Alex.
    He made her so mad . And he did it deliberately, she was sure of it. She knew what he was doing. He was paying her back for bringing him here, for planning to desert him here, for—wait a minute. How would he know that?
    He’d hinted, back at the condo. Saying that business about not being able to lose her in the crowd. But that had only been something he’d said to goad her into changing, that’s all. He couldn’t know , could he?
    â€œOf course he does,” she told herself as she scooted past a couple pushing a stroller and ducked behind one of the striped tents and into the dark. “I know he’s sticking to me, and he knows I know and want to get away from him because I know—ah, hell, I don’t know anything .”
    â€œGot a dollar, lady? Betcha got more’an a dollar, huh?”
    â€œAh, cripes, this just keeps getting better and better,” Maggie said on a groan, turning around to see a fairly tall, cadaverous man who’d come up directly behind her. “No—no, this isn’t going to happen. You’re not going to try to rob me, Alex is not going to come out of nowhere to rescue me, flourishing that damn sword cane of his and playing the hero. Not this time. I’m sick and tired of playing Penelope Tied to the Railroad Tracks, you hear me, buster? Now get the hell out of here before I do something you’re going to regret.”
    The bum looked at her purse, which she’d raised over her head as if ready to bash it into his skull, and backed up two steps.