No Christmas Like the Present by Sierra Donovan Page B

Sounds like the fate of half the women in America to me.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “Are British men any better?”
    â€œYou’re forgetting. I’m not really British, or American, or anything else. And you’re changing the subject.” Rather smoothly, he had to admit. “Although I don’t have much use for television. Now, if I could figure out how to make the thing work, why then, there might be trouble.”
    She cracked a smile. Better. “It’s nice to make you smile,” he said, before he thought.
    Confusion crept into her face, and he remembered his abrupt visit to Headquarters last night. He had to be more careful what he said. And not let her distract him from the matter at hand, whether with that smile, or her little changes of subject.
    â€œLindsay, what’s really bothering you about this? Could it have anything to do with the fact that Jeanne is getting married and you’re not?”
    Her eyes flashed. “You’re way off.”
    â€œMethinks thou dost protest too much.”
    The stormy look in her eyes turned to utter frost. Fred rather admired the spirit behind that glare. Anything was better than the vacant, preoccupied look she’d worn when he first ran into her. He searched her chilly gaze without backing down, trying to ascertain what lay behind it. Begrudge a friend her happiness? No, it didn’t sound like the Lindsay he knew. But then, emotions weren’t always rational, and if Lindsay did feel jealous, she might also feel guilty about it. That could account for her mood, and her defensiveness about it. Fred studied her, weighing her expression as best he could.
    No. It was the obvious reaction, but it didn’t feel right. He said softly, still holding her gaze, “What is it then?”
    The troubled crease between her brows deepened. She ducked her head to take a drink from her cup. As her lips pursed around the straw, Fred couldn’t help imagining how a good kiss would help them both forget all this nonsense. He shouldn’t be thinking this way, and he knew it. He couldn’t remember ever—
    â€œShe’s my friend.” Lindsay’s eyes drifted past his shoulder, almost as if she were speaking to someone else. “I think she’s doing the wrong thing. But it’s not for me to say.” She toyed with her straw. “I don’t think she’s really in love with him.”
    Fred stayed motionless, almost afraid to speak out loud. “What makes you say that?”
    Lindsay shook her head, light brown waves of hair swaying slightly around her face. “Just a feeling.”
    â€œThen why would she say yes? There’s not that much social pressure on a woman to get married these days, is there?”
    â€œMore than you think. There’s the whole biological clock thing. And there’s just something about a diamond ring—” Her eyes remained fixed over his shoulder. “Just the fact that someone would give it to you.”
    She sat up straighter, drawing farther back from him. Her tone changed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a little jealous.” She searched out another breaded chunk of food from her tray.
    â€œYou know, I don’t believe you’ve ever lied to me before.”
    Her eyes came up to meet his. Her lips parted, as if to deny it, but nothing came out.
    He was close to something here. So close, he could practically step on it. But if he stepped too hard, he might crush it.
    â€œAll right,” Fred said. “Here’s a harder question.”
    She looked at him warily over her cup.
    He said, “What are those things in front of you?”
    She plucked up one of the breaded bits. “They’re chicken nuggets. I guess they take chicken and—”
    He frowned. “Grind it up? And cover it with bread? I thought this was a civilized society.”
    It had the desired effect. It made her laugh, and for the moment that