A Fairytale Christmas by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page B

She had been
more
when she was with him, and it was plain on her face. She’d had “soul,” or “fire,” or whatever it could be termed.
    The only thing that heated her now was her temper as she moved through the city room. Many of the staff had already left for the day. Derek and Brad and Jack sat around drinking sodas and chatting.
    As she approached them, her gaze wandered to their feet. Their
feet
, God help her. She was obsessed. She was losing it, checking to see if any of them had size-twelve feet.
    And one of them did.
    “Is this something new?” Jack Riley asked, following her gaze. “A foot fetish?”
    She glared at him. Yes, he had big feet. But the man never wore anything but the disreputable high-tops that were probably Salvation Army rejects.
    “All finished?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his comment.
    A phone rang. Derek dived for it, clutching it like a lifeline. Brad seized the moment to slink out.
    Without even glancing at the toxic-waste zone of his desk, Jack snatched up a pair of files. He shoved the first one at her. “Here’s your goddamned sewage scandal. Art and all.”
    Derek hung up the phone and escaped.
    “And this—” Jack slapped another file onto the first “—is the Santiago story. With art and a sidebar.”
    “But I didn’t authorize—”
    “Believe me, I know that, sweetheart.” His voice was harsh with venom. “Listen to me, and listen good. The story runs, every word of it. Page one of the city section. Pictures and all.”
    “And if I kill the story?” she demanded.
    He bent and grabbed a gym bag from under the desk. “Then I quit, Princess.”
    Whistling, he strode to the elevator bank.
    * * *
    Madeleine didn’t know how long she stood there. She felt stung raw by his attack. He seemed to enjoy needling her. Today his scorn had a sharp edge. Keen as the bite of arctic air.
    Shaken, she glanced over the sewage story. The man was good—she gave him that. He got people to say things they shouldn’t. To reveal things better kept secret. And he managed to make sewage sound fascinating.
    Then, reluctantly, she looked at the youth-center story. From the very first word, she was caught. For five years, the privately funded center had been a haven for troubled or runaway teens.
    Now, suddenly, it had lost its funding. Well, why hadn’t Riley explained all this? Of course, she would run the story. Who did he think she was, Ebenezer Scrooge? She started to scan for details.
    “Miss?” A voice interrupted her before she had read three more words.
    Now what?
She looked up to see a compact, dapper man coming toward her.
    “Yes?” she asked, smiling vaguely.
    Lifting his hat, he gave the slightest of bows, evoking images of bygone courtliness. The tip of his cane lightly thumped the floor. “You’re Madeleine Langston, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Harry Fodgother.” He set down his hat and a large parcel. He held out his hand. “Gentlemen’s clothier.”
    Madeleine shook his hand. “How do you do? Have we met before?”
    “Not in person.” He flashed her a charming smile, looking like a cherub with a bald spot. “I’ve seen your picture, though. That was a nice one in Saturday’s paper.”
    Lord. Had the whole world seen it?
    “Did you like the tux?” he asked, sparing nothing for false modesty. “I did the tux.”
    “It was very ni—” Her grip tightened on the folders she held. “You did the tux.”
    “I did indeed. Quite a piece of work if I do say so myself.”
    “Who is he?” she demanded.
    He cocked his head to one side. “Who’s who?”
    “John the Tux.” She blushed. “I—I’m just so curious about him.”
    “Then you should ask him.”
    “He sort of … disappeared before I could ask him much about himself.” Like his address, his line of work, she thought in self-disgust. Like his phone number.
    “He was just passing through town,” Harry said, not unsympathetically. “The tux was ready-to-wear. I made a few