Chance, fate, luck of the draw. Someone’s life was about to change with a random slip of paper. So what if the prize was only a Christmas shopping spree at the local Grab Mart?

Rae Randall adjusted the set of headphones and summoned her perkiest tone, as the "on air" signal flickered above the door."Welcome back, morning rush fans! The Silver Star Duo is on deck and ready to draw the big winner out of our lucky top hat!"

She tucked a wisp of blonde hair into her messy updo and grinned as she flicked the switch for a drum roll sound effect. Her co-host, Chip Bently, fished his hand into a coffee mug stuffed with slips of paper filled out with listeners' names.

“Congratulations to Mimi Andrews –you're our Grab Mart Giveaway winner!” Chip announced, scanning the chosen scrap of paper.

Rae summoned her perkiness again. “That gift certificate is practically in the mail, Mimi. Thanks again to all our listeners who called in for a chance to win.” She glanced at the clock above the door. Fifty seconds before the airwaves switched to Connecticut news and weather. “Well, folks, looks like it’s time–”

“Hold on guys.” The voice came from the sound booth and belonged to Tippy Paterson, Rae and Chip’s producer. “We’ve got a surprise announcement that comes directly from Mayor Douglas’ office.”

The mayor? Rae and Chip exchanged curious glances as Tippy’s voice purred through the microphone.

“As most of you learned yesterday, Rae will be co-hosting Silver Star’s annual Christmas Parade. It’s a job that comes with tremendous responsibility. And a few minutes ago the mayor announced the name of the lucky personality who will share those duties.”

Great. The honor of hosting the parade was a dream come true– but it came with a price tag unless you were lucky enough to share it with someone good. Rae sat up straight and looked her producer in the eye, willing her to say a name that was agreeable. If she was committed to this, it had better be good.

“This year's co-host is someone familiar to all of us,” Tippy teased, relishing the moment of suspense. “A person who started his career right here at Morning Star Radio before his big break landed him in television.”

Rae‘s breath caught with the words. There was only one person it could be, only one Morning Star employee from the past who moved on to greener pastures. No, not him. Anyone but him. Please, please, please….

“It’ Simon Harte from KTRP Channel Seven!”

Rae let out a squeal, then slapped the cough button to cover it. Chafing at the thought of another hosting stint with her former radio partner turned TV anchorman.

A devious grin spread across Tippy’s face. “That’s right folks. Simon and Rae, together again after three years! I know I can't wait to see them sharing co-hosting duties at the town's favorite annual event.”

You’re dead, Tippy. Completely dead. She hoped her glare conveyed the message. But then, Tippy’s smile grew bigger and more wicked by the second.

“So mark your calendars for December 20th, the live reunion of Rae Randell and Simon Harte hosting the annual Silver Star Christmas Parade.”

Rae dropped her head between her hands and let out a silent scream. Of all the TV anchors in the state of Connecticut, why did it have to be Simon Harte?

Cocky, conceited–and, yes, charming Simon Harte. Coffee colored eyes, broad shoulders, and a strong jaw with just a hint of stubble. Combined with the tousled hair and bronzed complexion, he would have looked more natural on a beach than behind an anchor desk.

Except his personality cancelled out the rugged good-looks.

Chip gave her shoulder a consoling pat. “An early Christmas present from Santa, huh?”

“Yeah. Just what I wanted.” She yanked off her headphones and prepared to unleash her scorn as Tippy entered from the booth. “You’ve got a lot of nerve announcing that on the air.”

Her producer shrugged and reached for a powdered donut. “It had to come out sometime. And wouldn’t you rather hear it from a friend than a stranger on the sidewalk?”

“I’d rather not hear it from anyone. Ever.” She rose from the swivel chair and shrugged on her pea green coat. Wrapping its matching scarf around the collar, she contemplated escape plans. “Maybe I’ll just tell the mayor I can’t do it. That I’m having emergency surgery. Or going to prison.”

Tippy snorted, scattering bits of powder in the air. “He wouldn’t believe it and neither would anyone else. Everybody knows about the tension between you and Simon.”

Rae blushed. Her producer made it sound like some steamy romance novel. When, in fact, Simon spent most of his time pushing her buttons on everything from the music she liked to the men she dated–which were few in numbers compared to his many glamorous admirers.

“We had a few disagreements,” she said, keeping her voice cool and surprisingly steady. “But I’m pretty sure I did my part to keep things professional.”

“Are you kidding?” Tippy arched her eyebrows. “That love-hate relationship was what made the show crackle. You guys were like fire and ice.”

“It was mostly a hate-hate relationship,” Rae said. Annoyed at herself for getting flustered over the memory of an irresponsible playboy. She forced a nonchalant smile as she glanced at her current co-host. “Don’t listen to her, Chip. You and I are a much better team.”

Chip merely grinned as he stretched a wool cap over his balding head. “Hey, I believe Tippy. I mean, I’ve seen that Harte guy on KTRP’s morning show. He's got a personality like fireworks.”

“It’s in the script,” Rae snapped, grabbing her tote bag. “Trust me, he's not that witty in person.”

With that, she stalked into the hallway, hands jammed deep inside her coat pockets. She kept her eyes glued to her brown suede boots, aware that everyone in the building must have heard the news. No doubt this little tidbit would stay the hot topic at the water cooler for days to come.

A few snickers reached her ears as she passed through the lobby, but she didn’t look to see if they were directed at her. But not knowing didn’t stop the heat from climbing her face as she pushed through the exit door. Imagining the whispers over her big reunion with Simon.

Did they have the same ridiculous notion as Tippy? That her rivalry with Simon stemmed from hidden feelings of a deep, intense attraction?

“Stupid,” she muttered. Then glanced around the parking lot as she unlocked the door to her sky blue Volkswagen Beetle. A raise would go a long ways on improving the car’s appearance and ride. But then Morning Star wasn’t the best paying gig in town, despite the morsel of fame that came with hosting one of its shows. Finger crossed, she turned the ignition key. Releasing a sigh as the engine groaned to life.

As the car rolled towards the exit, she turned the radio dial to the only station not playing Christmas music. The mayor’s bombshell had poured a bucket of ice water on the remnants of her holiday cheer. Childish, she knew, but Simon affected her like no one else. And it wasn’t for the reasons Tippy claimed.

Could she be jealous? Jealous he became a big time TV personality and left her stranded at Morning Star radio?

“We’re a team, right?” he always argued, during their worst conflicts over the show’s style. Funny how that slogan didn’t apply once he landed an offer with the area’s top-rated station. Now he spent his mornings covering light news stories and chatting with cake-baking guests or local celebrities. She spent her mornings pepping up sleepy commuters and giving away shopping sprees.

Don’t be a grinch. Christmas was supposed to be the jolliest time of the year, yet she was letting an old workplace grudge threaten to freeze the whole holiday over.

A version of Jingle Bell Rock streamed from the radio speakers and she found her fingers tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. Downtown Silver Star came into view, its old-fashioned shops festooned with bright red and green colors. A window for Attic Antiques displayed tinker toys, wooden soldiers, and an electric train. A sign for the ice skating rink boasted a free cup of hot chocolate for every customer until Christmas.

She eased to a stop as the traffic light turned red and a trolley swathed in Christmas garland made its stop at the Post Office. Her heart quickened as she recognized Simon’s smiling image pasted on the side in an advertisement for KTRP’s Early Bird show.

Her eyes traced the rugged jaw with its trademark five-o’clock shadow. This picture must have been taken recently. She didn’t remember seeing the sprinkle of early gray in his hair before. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t pretend it didn’t compliment him.

An explosion of horns jerked her thoughts back to reality–and the fact that the light had changed from red to green who knew how many seconds ago. She pressed the gas and the car jerked forward with unhappy groans, adding more embarrassment to an already bad situation.

“Way to ruin my day, Simon,” she muttered. And maybe my Christmas, too.

 

 

*****

 

 

Simon Harte adjusted his paisley tie and checked the dressing room mirror for any final traces of makeup. One of the biggest downsides of working in television as a guy–especially if he forgot to remove it before leaving the station. He grinned as a particular incident involving meeting one his fans at the airport flashed through his mind.

The sound of White Christmas echoed from his radio’s speakers and he whistled along. In ten minutes, he would join Mayor Douglas for an impromptu lunch at the Shooting Star. Why, he couldn’t imagine, though his station manager Jerry hinted it was something big. “You won‘t be disappointed by the news,” he promised, thumping Simon with his clipboard in the studio before air time.

A knock sounded on the door just as he reached for his coat. “It’s open,” he called, flipping the off switch on the radio. Thinking of the irony that the holidays left no time for seasonal cheer between the cameras and conversation.

“The mayor’s car is here for you.” The voice belonged to his co-host, Andrea Bates, a tall brunette with a luminous smile that smacked of whitening strips. Married to KTRP’s chief weatherman, she considered herself part of a power couple–and barely concealed her dislike for sharing the spotlight with Simon. Right now, her face wore a knowing little smile that sparked his suspicion.

“Why the smirk?” he asked, fishing a wool scarf from his briefcase. “Should I assume you and Brian cooked up something brilliant for the show?”

She merely grinned, showing off her immaculate teeth. “You’ll see.” With those ominous words, she turned on her stilettos and disappeared into the hall.

Leaving him full of curiosity and just slightly worried. Andrea and Brian wouldn’t mind if he got forced into a bad reporting gig, the kind that left a black mark on one’s career for a lifetime. But Jerry would never let that happen, right?

The ten minute drive to the restaurant didn’t give him much time to wonder. His old friend, Mayor Douglas rose from the window table, greeting him with a smile and a pat on the back. “Have a seat Simon. I caught the show this morning. Great zingers, as always.”

Simon grinned. “Hey, it’s all in the script.” Not exactly true, given Brian and Andrea’s knack for exposing themselves to ridicule.

The waitress arrived and took their orders, Simon choosing to go with a glass of wine and a light chicken salad. Until he knew the mayor’s news, he couldn’t summon the appetite for a big dinner.

As soon as the waitress disappeared, the mayor turned to business. “I can see you’re curious about this meeting, so I’ll cut right to the chase–I’ve chosen you as a host for the annual Silver Star Christmas Parade.”

Simon widened his eyes, surprise conquering the smooth persona he prided himself on. “Wow…” he murmured in response, running a hand through his hair with a sense of relief and elation. Silver Star’s annual Christmas parade was nothing short of local legend–something that confirmed his celebrity and fulfilled a personal dream all in one swoop.

“I thought you’d like that.” The mayor chuckled and motioned for the waitress to refill his glass. “Jerry said you’d jump at the chance.”

“I’m honored,” Simon answered. “I loved that parade as a kid. Especially the costumed characters. You know, the Wizard of Oz and Peter Pan.”

The mayor nodded in a way that told Simon he wasn’t really listening. “Of course, I had to round up a second spot. Someone more local, you know. But the radio station was more than willing to lend one of their own as a co-host.”

“Really? Who’d they recommend?” He raised his glass of water.

“Actually, it’s your old morning rush hour partner. Rae Randall.”

He choked on the water, coughing and hacking as he buried his face in a napkin. This had to be a nightmare. Or else Santa’s way of putting an early chunk of coal in his stocking.

“You okay?” asked Mayor Douglas, reassured only by Simon’s nods.

“Fine,” Simon answered hoarsely, which the mayor took as his cue to continue.

“You and Rae were so good together ... not to mention you’ve got a history with the town because of it. I just couldn’t resist the opportunity for you two to share a mike again.”

“Yeah, well …” Simon trailed off, incapable of finishing the sentence with anything that wasn’t a groan of pain. Overwhelmed by the fact he was once again paired with Rae Randall, the Ice Princess of Silver Star, Connecticut. He had a long list of reasons for never seeing her again, not the least of which was the frigid stare in those jade eyes whenever he was in sight.

Smart, talented, and undeniably gorgeous–but just thinking about her sent a shiver up his spine. And even though he would never, ever admit it, he wasn’t sure it was entirely because of her frigid personality.

Appetite gone, he toyed with his food as he listened to Mayor Douglas rattle off plans for the parade. Be a grownup and take your medicine. How bad could it be? It was just an hour spent in front of the camera, reading from scripts. It wasn’t exactly quality time, nor was there any need for one-on-one conversation that wasn’t already on paper.

“So, when can you review your schedule and get back to us about the commercial?” asked Mayor Douglas.

Simon’s train of thought returned to the station at once. “Commercial?” he repeated. The astonishment in his voice went unnoticed.

“You know, for promotion?” The mayor smiled. “We’ll need to coordinate you two for all the public appearances, the PR campaign, and so on. You guys have a lot of work to do together for the parade, you know.”

“Public appearances,” Simon echoed, weakly. “Of course. I’ll send your office a schedule of free time this week.” Inside, he felt as if his chest was squeezed by a giant squid.

“Sounds perfect,” the mayor answered. “This is gonna be quite an event. I wouldn’t miss it for a million dollars.”

Simon could barely repress the bitterness in his tone. “Me neither.”

 

 

*****

 

 

“Hold the smile guys. Keep holding it. Just a few more seconds…”

Rae resisted the urge to jerk her hand free from Simon’s strong grasp. The camera man was taking his sweet time with the newspaper photo and her fake smile wore thinner by the second. Simon kept his face angled away from hers, but she could swear she saw a glint of sarcasm in his hazel eyes.

All around them, the Silver Star Theater Auditorium had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Styrofoam candy canes and lollipops formed a path to a giant North Pole sign fashioned from gum drops. An old-fashioned sleigh waited on stage for the commercial shoot–another nightmare in the making–and various crew members strolled around in snowmen and reindeer costumes.

Snap! The camera flashed twice and left Rae blinking against a blur of yellow light. Yanking her hand free, she pulled away from Simon’s body, only to stumble smack into a candy cane decoration.

“Whoa, slow down there,” Simon remarked sarcastically. “You’ll wreck the North Pole.”

She glared at him as she stuffed the decoration back into a phony pile of snow. “You would enjoy that, I bet. Seeing me humiliated in front of all these cameras.”

“I’m pretty sure that kind of talk is banned in Christmas town.” He studied her with raised eyebrows and a resigned expression. “Why don’t you loosen up? We still have a commercial to shoot and it’s not easy getting in the holiday spirit when you’re co-host looks like she wants to strangle you. ”

“Let’s hope you’re a good actor, then.” She smoothed her winter wonderland outfit, a white prom dress from the cheap rack complete with boots and a shawl. Her curls were pinned back with sparkly star-shaped barrettes that pricked her scalp.

Simon, of course, looked dapper and carefree in a winter suit, a brilliant red scarf tossed casually over his broad shoulders. So unfair. The fact that he seemed so nonchalant about the whole event left her squirming with envy. He should be the one writhing with discomfort, given the circumstances that ended their partnership.

“I can’t believe the mayor thought this was a good idea,” Rae said, tying her shawl closed in an effort to hide the hideous costume. “I mean, Christmas parades are about celebrating love and peace. There’s no way the two of us can pull that off.”

An amused smile crept across Simon’s face. “Same old Rae. Afraid of a challenge, afraid of losing.”

Seriously? You as a challenge? She wrapped her hands around the candy cane, imaging it was his neck. “Just what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Morning Coffee? Do they even bother with a script for that show, or does your meaningless banter come naturally? That would be a miracle, considering what we had to go through on the morning show.”

“Oh, please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard your new co-host a few times. You could get a stuffed bear to sit in for that kind of commentary.”

“That’s it.” She hitched her skirt and turned to leave. “Have a nice time hosting the parade alone.” Let his perky TV hostess take this kind of abuse for the holiday season.

“Hey, wait a second.” Simon caught her elbow. The coolness in his dark eyes melted a little. “This is no picnic for either of us. But if we just put aside our mutual hatred for a couple of hours it’ll be over. Remember, we’re doing this for a good cause. ”

She bit her lip and looked away. There was no arguing with his point: the proceeds from the parade tickets were slated to go to the local children’s hospital. The previous year had been the nursing home, and the animal shelter the year before that.

“You’re right.” She glanced up from her snow boots and forced her lips into a tight smile. “We are two grown people after all. Perfectly capable of working together for a worthy cause.”

“Glad to hear it.” He patted her shoulder. “So no more drama queen stuff, right?”

Drama queen? She opened her mouth to fire back, but a crewmember interrupted, armed with a clipboard. “Let’s climb into the sleigh, guys. The director wants to see a read through for the commercial.”

A nervous tingle invaded her mouth and she stole a glance in Simon’s direction. Probably the hotshot TV anchorman wasn’t tense at all at the thought of a lens trained on him like a giant staring eye. Her only consolation was that he didn’t look any happier than she felt. Maybe they had more in common than she realized.

Climbing into the sleigh was no easy task with the gauzy outer layer of her skirt snagging on a jingle bell and every possible sharp corner. Simon extended a hand but she pretended not to notice. If he thought those remarks about her fear of confrontation were water under the bridge, he had another thing coming. She managed to cram herself into the seat, where Simon tucked the flannel blanket over her knees.

A cocky smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Close quarters, huh?”

“Too close.” She turned her face away, afraid he would see the slight flush in her cheeks. And interpret it as something other than a simple case of stage fright.

“Just like old times, Rae.” His voice was quiet with an unexpected note of bitterness. “That radio booth was always too small for us. I guess this parade is too.”

She kept silent as she flipped open her script. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Simon groaned as the director yelled “Cut!” for the fifth time. He and Rae had been stuck in this sleigh for nearly an hour, pretending to pass floats from Christmas parades past. The archive footage would be spliced in later, so all they had to stare at was a color screen and a shower of fake snow.

It was anyone’s guess how many more takes they could do this without coming to blows.

The director, a former station manager named Art, sent them a frown and scratched his head. “I’m sensing some distance between the two of you. We need to fix that, show a little human connection or something.”

Tell me about it. He didn’t dare glance at Rae, afraid some of that distance might be visible in her face right now. Unless the director had some magic fairy dust on hand, there was no quick solution.

Art broke into an inspired grin. “Here’s a thought. At the point where the sleigh is supposed to drive by the float with Scrooge and Jacob Marley’s ghost, Rae could look scared and dive in your arms.”

“Um…” Simon turned slowly in Rae’s direction. She looked scared all right, but it wasn’t due to any ghostly apparitions. Was the mere thought of being in his arms enough to send chills up her spine? She was looking as if Art suggested she embrace a giant lizard or maybe Frankenstein’s monster.

“What’s the problem?” Art snapped, seeing Rae’s eyes roll. “It’s exactly the kind of cutesy thing people expect from this sort of ad. We’re doing this, got it?”

“There’s no way I’m doing this,” Rae whispered, her face pale as her winter costume. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

At that moment, she could have easily passed for the damsel in distress. Beautiful, anxious, vulnerable. His combative edge vanished like a fresh snowflake as he fought the urge to defend her. Ironic, considering the reason she was upset.

“Just pretend I’m someone else,” he urged in a soothing voice. “Some dashing, heroic guy like Zorro or James Bond.”

A smile flickered across her face, the first he’d seen since they arrived that morning. “I don’t think my imagination is active enough to pull it off.”

“Okay then. Pretend you’re running from a monster. One with fangs and a set of claws that rival Edward Scissor Hands.”

“I’d have to be, wouldn’t I?” The words were harsh but the tone was unmistakably playful. Could it be that Rae Randall was warming just a little to his friendly persuasion?

He let his own smile crawl back in place. “Whatever it takes. Let’s just get this commercial done, all right?”

“All right. After all, it’s just acting.” Her voice carried a nervous tremor despite her outward disgust. She squared her shoulders and blew a stray strand of hair from her green eyes.

He cleared his throat and glanced away. Aware that he didn’t have a smart comeback line. And for once he didn’t care.

“Action!” Art yelled, prompting Simon to move. In the back of his mind, he knew each line brought him closer to embracing his former co-host, a gesture of familiarity he and Rae never showed each other in their two years together.

Well, almost never. Which was part of the problem.

When the moment came, Rae took her cue and dove against his chest with a squeal of fright. Her honey-colored hair felt soft and warm against his cheek. His pulse thudded in his ears as he wrapped a protective arm across her shoulders and held her tight.

A whiff of strawberry reminded him how she used to comb a little perfume through her hair on days she had a big date planned. Was she still dating stuffed suits or had she decided to take a chance on someone more adventurous?

“Cut!” The director’s words echoed through the spacious auditorium and cut through Simon’s memories.

An instant later, Rae had moved back to her side of the sleigh. Cheeks red, she covered her awkward appearance by smoothing her tousled hair. He thought he detected a tremor in her fingers, but it could have been his own rattled emotions playing tricks on his mind.

“Good job, kids.” Art’s eyes were focused on the monitor, watching playback of the footage. “That’s a wrap.”

“Great,” said Rae, adjusting her rumpled skirt. “We‘ve just given audiences another reason not to eat in front of the TV.”

And, we’re back. Simon frowned, wishing their one moment of partnership had outlasted the two minutes it took to film it. “Could have been worse, right?” he suggested, trying to gauge her feelings about the brief embrace.

She shrugged and turned towards the backstage area. “It’s over; that’s what counts. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get out of this winter warlock costume.” Without waiting for his retort, she stalked away to the dressing room.

He closed his eyes briefly, wondering if their spark of chemistry had been just that–a spark. The kind easily smothered by a mountain of personal and professional conflict. One thing was certain: it was going to take a lot more than a fake hug to melt the friction between himself and Rae Randell.

 

*****

 

 

“Don’t look!”

Rae leaped forward in an effort to block Tippy’s view of the TV–and more importantly the commercial for the parade. The two of them were putting the decorations up in the station break room. The afternoon movie from KTRP, Christmas In Connecticut, murmured in the background. And then smack in the middle of the holiday cheer came the image of herself and Simon on a pretend sleigh ride.

“Oh, my gosh!” Tippy snorted with laughter as the cheesy footage rolled across the screen. Then let out a shriek of mirth as the infamous hug flashed before their eyes.

“Shut up,” Rae said, pushing the “off” button on the remote. Her face flaming with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. No doubt Tippy’s wild imagination would twist this little scenario into a plotline fit for a soap opera.

“Looks like you and Simon picked up right where you left off.” Her producer grinned knowingly as she unsnarled a string of half-dead twinkle lights. “The chemistry between you two practically leaps off the screen.”

“Whatever.” Rae fiddled with her half-empty cup of hot chocolate, the swirling liquid reminding her of Simon’s dark eyes. Why did he act like a jerk one moment, then turn charming and helpful when she least expected it? He could have made the scene in the sleigh ten times more awkward if he wanted to. So why did he pass on the perfect opportunity to make her miserable?

“Earth to Rae.” Tippy pushed a cardboard box full of tinsel and old Christmas cards in front of her. “There’s no time for daydreaming if you’re filling in for Dr. Rick’s show this afternoon. Although I can’t blame you,” she teased, “seeing as how Simon’s as smoldering as ever in the looks department.”

Rae’s face burned as she struggled to think of a stinging retort. None came, so she busied herself digging through the box’s pile of holiday junk. Outdated Christmas cards stared up at her, depicting carolers, Christmas lights, and snowy landscapes. An unfortunate number of them involving couples on romantic sleigh rides and mistletoe.

“Shouldn’t you relax now?” Tippy asked, pouring herself another cup of cocoa. “You won’t see him again until Monday night for the parade.”

“If only,” Rae groaned. “We have to decorate a float at the warehouse tomorrow morning. Not exactly my dream Saturday, if you know what I mean.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Tippy, mischievously. “But then, I’m not fighting an attraction for an archenemy.” As she dodged a well-aimed cluster of plastic mistletoe, courtesy of Rae.

She couldn’t deny part of Tippy’s words were true. There was something about Simon that escaped her reason and even her harshest judgment. She argued with herself time and again, even when she found herself melting beneath the gaze of those dark eyes. How many arguments had she lost during their partnership because of that gaze? More than she was willing to admit.

Over cold tuna fish casserole in her apartment that night, she watched a rented movie to avoid the boring lineup of reruns. When she turned it off and the ten o’clock news appeared onscreen, she couldn’t help but anticipate the commercial’s appearance. Feeling a tingle in her spine at the thought of the moment in the sleigh.

“Oh, grow up,” she told herself, turning it off. As if spending her holiday season trapped with a self-absorbed jerk was anything to feel excited about. She was lucky this afternoon didn’t end with the two of them crossing swords via a pair of oversized candy canes.

How could she let herself get suckered into believing that smile again? Their on-again, off-again partnership taught her a thing or two in the past about where his priorities really lay. Each time an opportunity came their way, Simon was always the first to argue his side of the situation.

More than once, they threatened to break up their partnership over “irreconcilable differences.” And more than once, their relationship threatened to become something more than a morning stunt for ratings. The times they shared a touch or a glance that seemed like something more than friendship.

What mattered, however, was what he did. He dumped their partnership for the first big opportunity that came this way. Now that was loyalty for you.

 

 

*****

 

 

“If you ruin this day for me, I will kill you.”

These were the words that Rae planned to say when she confronted Simon at the parade float site on Saturday. She would look him in the eye and defy his charms with a freezing glance. Then she could turn her attention to the business at hand.

Funny how those words never made it out of her mouth. Instead, she found herself laughing at his jokes one minute, glowering silently the next as he flirted with the nearest cute volunteer.

When she arrived that morning, the parking lot was already full since parade preparation was in full swing. The warehouse was decked out like Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade on a small scale. Skeletal frames of floats were parked haphazardly in the building, with characters and sets frozen in stages of decoration. Volunteers and designers pounded nails and slapped paint across everything from the Queen of Heart’s court to a small-scale football field.

“Hi there! You must be Rae Randall from the radio.” The head of the volunteers sounded chirpy despite the early morning. Rae almost suspected she must have been a morning drive host at one time.

“Yes, I’m here for our float,” Rae replied. Her smile was partly genuine, since there was no sign of Simon anywhere.

The woman across from her beamed. “I’m Mrs. Michelotti–if you need anything today, just ask me, since I’m the one who coordinates this effort.” She took Rae by the elbow and steered her towards a float in the middle of the building. “I chose an absolute beauty for you two. It’s Aladdin’s Palace, complete with a flying carpet. Practically begging to be Best of Show this year.”

Rae stumbled over a pile of fake flowers as she followed along, her eyes glancing towards the elaborate scenes in progress. Someone was gluing shiny shingles all over Santa’s peaked roof, as pulleys swayed overhead for hoisting the chimney into place.

“Here we are,” announced Mrs. Michelotti. She handed Rae a brush and a can of gold enamel paint. “The photographer from the local paper said he’d be here at eleven. I’m sure Mr. Harte will be here any minute, won’t he?” Already, she peered past Rae as if expecting to see the handsome morning anchor strolling through the doors.

Simon was late, almost a half-hour late. Rae mentally cursed the charm that had the female volunteers practically eating out of his hand in the first five minutes. Already, two giggling college girls had fetched him coffee, while one middle-aged librarian was helping him locate an extra pair of work gloves, her eyes aglow with star fever.

“Excuse me, Mr. Celebrity, do you think we could get things rolling?” Rae’s foot tapped impatiently as Simon surveyed her with a casual smile.

“I think the palace is half-finished, so we’re not exactly launching the Sistine Chapel,” he pointed out. The plywood walls were coated with a single layer of paint, the colorful paper-mache domes mounted atop like upside-down turnips.

Rae scowled and dipped her brush in the nearest open can. “Leave it to you to make every little event a self-promotion,” she grumbled. The words were under her breath, but clearly audible to Simon. For a moment, his face registered a hurt look, which vanished as quickly as the wood beneath his paintbrush.

She regretted it for a split second, until Mrs. Michelotti appeared again. “I hate to trouble you, Mr. Harte,” she tittered, “but I wondered if you would mind autographing this for me?” She held out a pen and notebook, on which Rae could see scribbled various float ideas.

“Sure,” Simon answered. His pen flew across the page in an expert way that told Rae he’d done this before. “Glad you’re a fan of the Early Bird.” He looked at Rae with a helpless shrug of his shoulders that only irritated her further. Why not just wear a neon sign that said “Local Star Here”?

Once they were occupied with the float, things seemed a little better. Simon, in her estimation, was far less obnoxious when his hands were occupied with busy work. He helped the volunteers frame the scaffold inside the palace so the Princess could lean out the window and wave to the crowd.

Rae was busy stenciling an Oriental rug pattern on what she assumed was Aladdin’s magic carpet. It was a curved board affixed to a spring, resembling the preschool playground rides she remembered as a child.

“This thing ready to go for a spin?” Simon hopped up on the platform beside her and crouched next to the carpet.

Rae rolled her eyes. “How about spending some time on those flower gardens, pal?” She gestured towards the crews of high school volunteers, who were helping glue fake flowers around the palace.

“Listen,” Simon edged closer to her. “About all this. It wasn’t my idea, you know.” He reached over and dipped a second brush in the paint can. Something in his smile was irresistible; Rae found her defenses weakening.

“And it wasn’t mine, either,” she answered, carefully avoiding his eyes as she slapped a fresh coat of paint across the stencil. “So I guess there’s no reason to bring it up.” She wasn’t letting him twist this into surrender.

“I realize that the last time we saw each other was ... a little tense,” he continued. “I just want you to know that I didn’t mean it the way it seemed.” He sounded awkward, even a little guilty; something which caught Rae’s ear.

“You mean the part where you dumped our show for a bigger career?” she answered. “Yeah, I guess I always read that part as–well, sort of self-absorbed.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm; now she was in the zone, no danger of being wooed into believing him.

“It wasn’t about the job, Rae.” His paintbrush slowed to a crawl as he spoke. “You know what it was about.” He looked at her, those dark eyes trying to read her depths.

Resisting, she inched away from him. “Maybe you should give me a hint. Was it the money–or the fame?” There was nothing teasing about her tone, despite her best attempts to seem indifferent.

Simon’s face registered discomfort. “Don’t be that way, Rae,” he said gently. He slid his fingers against hers, a caress that sent a thrill through her frame. “It’s been over two years now. We’re not exactly the same people we were after the breakup.”

She tried not to listen, but the sound of his voice was so warm, so persuasive. She let her hand linger against his for a second.

“I wouldn’t call what we had a breakup, considering you pretty much called it quits on me without warning.” She glanced sideways at him, with a cool stare she hoped would chill his advances.

“I’ve been meaning to talk about that. Ever since the last time we saw each other,” he added. “But we kind of avoided each other after that, and it seemed like a wall that I just couldn’t climb. You know what I mean?” He glanced at her hopefully, as if trying to read the answer in her face before she spoke.

“You sound like you had plenty of time to practice this speech,” said Rae. Her voice trembled slightly. “I guess I haven’t wasted the last couple of years hoping you’d call and say you were sorry.”

His face grew dark as he listened. Before he could reply, she laid a hand on his arm.

“Let’s just forget about it for today, okay?” she said. “We’ve got a job to do, so it doesn’t matter how we feel personally. It’s just a smile for the camera, and then we can go back to being ourselves.”

She made her features relax and withdrew her hand from its close proximity with his own. No surrender today, she reminded herself; just a truce for the good of the town parade.

Simon sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he said, after a moment’s silence. He reached for the paintbrush again, giving her a camera-worthy smile in the process. “Why waste time catching up when there’s a worthy cause in need of attention?”

She pretended he was sincere, so they could move past this awkward moment. With an equally false smile, she turned her attention back to the elaborate carpet design.

He cleared his throat. “After all, why would you listen to me? You obviously have your mind made up about what happened two years ago.” He whistled under his breath as he popped open a second can of paint.

If he had been trying to make her angry, he couldn’t have chosen better words. Rae sprang to her feet as if the platform beneath her was a trampoline.

“Are you actually suggesting that I’m to blame for what happened?” Her voice rose to a high-pitched squeal before she remembered to lower it. “After practically humiliating me in front of the whole station?”

“Calm down,” Simon snapped, glancing around at the volunteers who were staring at them. “I didn’t accuse you of anything, Rae.” He scrambled to rescue a paint can which her foot nearly upset.

“You only made us equal partners in your treachery,” she said. As Simon climbed to his feet, she turned and jumped off the platform.

“Forget what I said,” he pleaded, grabbing her arm.

Rae yanked it away. “Just leave me alone.”

Pulling out of his grip threw her off-balance; she stumbled over a pile of cardboard boxes and fell into a group of volunteers assembled around Santa’s rooftop float.

“Watch it!” The volunteer she bumped into lost his grip on a rope. It snaked frantically through the ceiling pulley, its load suspended for a brief second before spiraling below. With a sickening crash, Santa’s chimney plunged through the roof, sending splinters of wood and roof tiles flying.

A low wail escaped Rae’s lips in the midst of the chaos. A few volunteers screamed, the ones closest dodging the shower of debris. The crewman struggled frantically to hoist his chimney out of the rooftop, slipping on a glittery roof tile and falling again.

Rae stared in shock, her eyes welling with tears. Santa’s rooftop ruined. All her fault that a cherished parade tradition was in shambles–all because she was stuck doing this assignment with the man she despised the most.

Simon leaped from the platform and disappeared in a tangle of volunteers crowding around the float. Rae felt Mrs. Micholetti at her side, trying to restore order.

“It’s all right, Miss Randall. Please, don’t worry about it, these accidents happen.” The woman’s hands flapped anxiously as she motioned towards the volunteers trying to scale the broken roof. “Wait a minute, everyone, we don’t want to collapse the rest of it.” She offered Rae a brave smile before moving on.

Before her tears blinded her, Rae caught Simon’s approach. Shaking her head, she turned and stumbled towards the door, the float, the charity, and the newspaper photographer forgotten. Nothing could possibly make this day worthwhile. Except never seeing Simon Harte again.

 

 

*****

 

 

A skill saw sliced through the frame of Santa’s roof, spraying the float with a layer of sawdust. Simon ducked beneath the new support being hoisted into place and pushed his way towards the exit. It didn’t matter that Aladdin’s Palace was neglected, nor that he was on the verge of stumbling into the plaster mixed for the new chimney. This day was over has far as he was concerned.

“Mr. Harte,” called a voice. He turned to spot a man in khakis and a polo shirt, sporting a camera around his neck. “I’m from the Silver Star Gazette, here to photograph you guys with your float.” His fingers toyed with the camera button as if threatening to snap pictures at any moment.

“Yeah, well...” Simon trailed off. He couldn’t think of a good excuse for abandoning the man. “I’m afraid there’s been a little delay. Ms. Randall had to leave.” His tone was vague, his eyes peering past the photographer to see if Rae was possibly still in the building.

“What time will she be back? I could snap some photos around two, maybe.” The photographer sounded disappointed. Simon shook his head and patted the man on the shoulder. “Just forget about the photos. Trust me, it’s not going to work out.”

Before the photographer could ask any more questions, Simon slipped past him and threaded his way through the busy crowd of workers.

How could he be so stupid? He wanted to kick himself for that snide little remark. Sure, Rae had been Frosty the Snowman for most of this experience, but he was the one who pushed things over the edge.

“Rae!” he called, scanning the break area for signs of his co-host. She must have left the building already. A group of girl volunteers gathered around the donut table giggled and stared as he pushed open the door. Exposing a parking lot occupied only by cars.

He slammed his hand against the side of the building in frustration. Rae’s clunker was nowhere to be seen. Muttering under his breath, he cursed this whole experience, from the moment the mayor bestowed the so-called honor of hosting the parade.

All it did was land him in the same trap he escaped before. The compelling attraction that drew him to Rae Randall.

 

 

*****

 

 

Cold leftover pizza and Love Story. That’s how Rae spent the evening following the parade float disaster. As soon as she hung up the phone with Tippy–who issued a general statement saying Rae Randall was “unwell” and forced to leave early–Rae submerged herself in self-pity and a bubble bath for the rest of the afternoon.

She phoned the parade organizers first to apologize for her absence, and the little mishap involving Santa’s rooftop. They were relatively understanding, especially since Rae volunteered to cover the cost with a donation. At least she wouldn’t have Santa’s float on her conscience for the rest of the holiday season.

Simon Harte was another matter, however. Sinking into the tub, she tried to block all thoughts of him from her mind. She couldn’t keep his words from pounding through her head: words that proved Simon was still the same career driven, insensitive jerk she’d always known.

The worst part was, she let it get to her. She let his words control her in ways she promised she never would, not after their partnership crumbled. He pushed all of her buttons and she responded by giving him exactly what he wanted: a solo spotlight.

Scowling, she buried her face in her hands and let the day’s disaster march through her thoughts unchecked. Reliving every moment, right up to the last glimpse she had of Simon’s face. Except the mocking smile she expected to see wasn’t there.

When her pizza arrived, she barely touched it. She stared dully at the TV screen as another classic romance unfolded. Reaching every few minutes for a new Kleenex, she told herself that crying was cathartic, the best way to free herself to face what was coming next.

A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. Muting the television, she crawled from beneath her blanket. No doubt Tippy had arrived in person for all the juicy details about today. As if Rae really wanted to think about the parade looming in her future.

She cracked the door open. Revealing Simon Harte instead.

Before she could slam it shut, he laid his hand on the frame, pushing back gently. “Rae, wait,” he said. “Please, just hear me out.” He looked at her pleadingly.

“Don’t, Simon,” she threatened. What possible reason could he have for showing up at her apartment, other than to make her angry? Pushing her buttons in person was more fun than doing it over the phone.

“Just listen to me,” he insisted. “I want to talk about what happened between us so we can get past this.” His eyes were locked with hers, forcing her to read those dark depths. “Let me in, Rae. Please.”

“Which occasion do you want to talk about?” she answered coolly. “The one where you broke up our partnership, or the time you laid all the blame on me?” Despite her bitter tone, there was a tremor in her voice she couldn’t control.

“That’s not what happened and you know it, Rae,” he answered. He leaned closer to the opening, the scent of his aftershave making her knees weak. “There were bigger issues at stake when I left. There was something between us that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard we pretended otherwise.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “I think you know what I mean.”

The look in his eyes was almost as compelling as physical touch. Despite herself, Rae shivered. “There’s nothing there but your imagination, Simon,” she answered. Her eyes broke away from his, looking anywhere but at his face. “All that happened was your ego boarding a runaway train.”

“You think that was all about my ego, Rae?” he snapped. “Let’s talk about your ego for a change. Let’s talk about the way you treated our partnership like a competition. Like I was a threat to your career the whole time I was there.” Emotion crackled in his voice with each word.

“Maybe it’s because you spent the whole time jockeying for first place,” she shot back. “You kept pushing closer, pushing me out of the picture.” There was no escape from the flames she felt consuming her cheeks as she remembered the tension in their partnership. She hoped Simon would read contempt into her blush instead of something deeper. Something she was afraid to admit.

Simon was silent for a moment. “Did you ever think that maybe I pushed because I wanted to be near you?”

His words shocked her. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird desperate to escape its cage. His fingers gripped the frame of her door as if clinging for life as he waited for her response.

Taking a moment to control her emotions, she answered quietly. “I think you should go before we both say something we regret.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. With a final glance, he turned away. She shut the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. Listening to the sound of his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he walked away.

She didn’t know what hurt more: finally closing the book on their relationship or knowing that she had just burned the last bridge behind her. Perhaps what hurt the most was the look in his eyes just before he walked away. As if she had crushed his heart between her fingers.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Thanks for joining us, folks, for the Early Bird Special.”

Simon faced the camera with what he hoped was a smooth persona that never hinted at last night’s conflict. “For a copy of today’s cherry surprise recipe, drop us an email using our special link on the station’s website.” He shuffled and restacked his notes, his personal signal that he was finished.

“Ooops, looks like you’re forgetting something, Simon.” Andrea’s toothpaste smile was spread evenly across her face. “Don’t forget, everyone, tune in tonight at six o’ clock to see Simon in his first-ever appearance as parade host for the Silver Star Christmas Parade!”

She purred as she flashed Simon a wicked smile. “He’ll be co-hosting with Morning Star Radio’s own Rae Randall, so tune in to see a reunion between Silver Star’s two favorite celebrities.”

Simon resisted the urge to strangle her as the broadcast drew to a close. Tossing his notes into the wastebasket, he marched offstage towards his dressing room. He could hear the sound of Andrea snickering behind him.

“...then he shoved her right into Santa’s roof!” A high-pitched nasal laugh followed these words, a sign that Andrea’s listener was the station makeup artist. Simon slammed the door of his dressing room to cover the sound.

Burying his face in his hands, he exhaled a deep breath. How could he be so stupid last night? Showing up at Rae’s apartment like that, trying to explain something that happened over two years ago. As if he could explain that relationship in ten minutes or less.

It was obvious that Rae didn’t believe he felt an attraction to her. She thought he was just an egotistical snake bent on escaping a two-bit town for something bigger. Until now, he had convinced himself she knew the real reason for their breakup.

Not only did she not realize the reason, she was obviously offended by the whole idea. He had fooled himself into believing that there was a mutual spark between them, causing the tension and strife that drove them both crazy. Turns out it was only my problem.

He glanced at the clock. Only eight hours until he was due at the parade site. The place he would be forced to face Rae one last time. Then it would be over and they could go their separate ways.

Squaring his jaw, he grabbed his coat and practiced a quick smile in front of the mirror. Lunch with the mayor was on the schedule, along with a local charity drive. No time for dwelling on memories of what might have been.

 

 

*****

 

 

No matter what anyone told Rae, she knew the worst was yet to come. As much as she’d like to think that it would all be over in a few hours–and Simon Harte would be out of her life forever–she knew a terrible price had to be paid to make it possible.

“Stop making it sound like the guillotine,” Tippy scolded. “And stop moving around so much or I’ll never finish fixing your hair.” She jabbed a hairpin impatiently into Rae’s updo.

“It’s two hours trapped with him, Tippy. Can’t you just lock me in a closet somewhere and tell them I’ve been kidnapped?” Rae moaned. “It was humiliating enough what happened at the float warehouse. And that was before he came to my apartment.”

“Maybe if you’d let him explain, he’d leave it alone.”

Rae was silent on this point. She wasn’t eager to share the idea Simon hinted at. Her feelings were her personal business and Simon had no right suggesting he could read her emotions like a book. Suggesting that’s what drove him away was even worse.

She yanked the hairbrush away from Tippy and swept up the second half of curls. “Simon is just a bigger jerk than I care to spend my evening with,” she answered. “And definitely a bigger jerk than I would want to host a parade with. Got it?”

The parade route began in front of the school basketball gym, which was where the hosts were supposed to meet and review the script. There would be a quick photography session shaking hands with the mayor and members of the city council. Then she and Simon would be left alone together. Trapped at a desk the size of a ping-pong table, with a camera trained on them every second of the hour.

Rae mentally reviewed her plan for staying sane as she trotted past rows of elaborate floats and performers in costume waiting for the start. The school marching band blared out a few half-hearted trombone notes in deafening practice as she squeezed between the Alice in Wonderland float and the classic car for the spelling bee winner.

“Rae Randall! Over here!” A man she recognized as Jerry Illis, the manager of KTRP, beckoned her over. Behind him was Simon, in a dark grey suit and brown trench coat. His five o’ clock shadow caught her eye, along with the cocky smile that dissolved the moment he spotted her.

“Miss Randall, I’m sure you’ve met Mayor Douglas a time or two...” As Jerry’s voice droned on, she found herself pressing hands with the mayor. All the while, her gaze was trained on Simon with a painful awareness that she should look away. Something in his face kept her attention–was it the lack of arrogance, perhaps?

“I’m sure you two have been over the script a million times, but if you want to run through it once more we can postpone the photos until afterwards.” The mayor’s words snapped Rae back to the present.

“No, let’s take them now,” she answered, giving the mayor a brilliant smile. Deliberately turning her back on Simon, she waved at the cluster of businessmen who helped finance the parade.

“Smile, people,” the photographer droned as he squinted through the lens. He had posed them in front of the school’s float, a giant paper mache reindeer constructed by the junior high and high school students.

To Rae’s fury, Simon had insisted upon assuming the pose they shared for the promotional photos. His body was pressed against hers, one hand intertwined with her fingers while the other rested on her shoulder. Close enough that she could smell the scent of soap and shaving cream.

“You could give me a little space,” she hissed.

She heard him stifle a cough; or was it a laugh? “If that’s what you really want, why don’t you just run away, like you did the other day?”

Without thinking, she brought the point of her high-heeled shoe down on his foot. He let out a stifled howl of pain just as the photo snapped.

“Perfect,” said the photographer.

 

 

*****

 

 

The broadcast booth for the parade was on a platform erected a few yards from the start line. Two matching rolling chairs were pushed up to the microphone, two separate earpieces ready for the hosting duo. They would switch periodically to Dizzy Dan, the evening weatherman whose nickname was derived from his city days in above-ground traffic reporting.

Rae plopped down in her seat and adjusted the piece in her ear. She avoided looking at her co-host on the right, who flipped open his script casually.

He cleared his throat. “So, you want to trade a little banter before this thing starts?”

“About what?” she asked. “What a diva I am? Or maybe about that irresistible charm you possess.” The look she shot him was enough to silence any further conversation.

The cameraman adjusted his angle as the director gave them the signal: five minutes to air. The faint sound of the high school band drifted from a distance. Hands trembling, Rae closed her eyes and imagined her confidence back in place. Be enthusiastic, be smiling.

She turned towards Simon one last time. His brooding stare was directed at the street below until he felt her gaze.

“Don’t mess this up for me,” she pleaded.

He looked into her eyes and nodded. “Sure thing.” Like a switch flicking to “on”, the director gave them the signal.
“Good evening and welcome to Silver Star’s forty-second annual Christmas parade! I’m your host tonight, Rae Randall from Morning Star’s favorite morning radio show...”

“And I’m your other host for the evening. Simon Harte, from KTRP’s Early Bird morning lineup.” Simon’s smile was perfectly polished for this on-camera experience, something which never ceased to amaze Rae.

“First up, is The Shoe, courtesy of the Silver Star middle school art class,” Rae began, keeping her eyes trained on the camera. “Looks like they’ve done a beautiful job this year, Simon.” With a big smile for her partner’s benefit as she turned towards him.

“Absolutely. And as if that’s not enough, some of the students are riding aboard in costume. I see more children than the Old Woman aboard knows what to do with, Rae.”

“The Old Woman aboard the float is no other than Mrs. Angela Fisher, the class’s art teacher,” Rae trilled in response. “This is her third year to appear in the Silver Star parade aboard her class’s float. Looks like another triumph for Silver Star’s always-spectacular middle school art program.”

They kept it up for the high school football team’s appearance, the space rocket float, and the Humpty Dumpty who marched with Mother Goose and friends. Rae felt her smile growing thin. Every time she turned towards Simon, he flashed her a grin more insincere than the last one. She felt mocked by his attitude, fueling her irritation.

“Up next, we have the Veteran’s Hall tribute to military pride–an eagle constructed from recycled paper courtesy of the local business paper drive.” Simon’s voice held a note of suppressed emotion as he rolled out the script without missing a beat.

“What a beautiful float design,” Rae said, aware of a slight tremor in her tone. “Do I detect the handiwork of the Silver Star art colony?”

“You sure do, Rae. Along with volunteers from local veterans’ groups and the local military recruitment office.” He turned from Rae to the camera. “And with that, folks, it’s time for a quick commercial break. Don’t go away–we’ll be right back.”

The moment they were off-air, Rae slumped in her seat, biting her thumbnail. Over half an hour to go. Could she make it that long? She checked her watch, calculating the exact minutes left of pretending to like Simon.

“I’m trying to be nice,” Simon interrupted her thoughts. “You don’t have to make it seem like we’re locked in a cage together.”

“That’s what we are, aren’t we?” she said. “A tiny little booth with only two big scripts to occupy our minds. I’m pretty sure they won’t let us out until seven.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “This, from a woman who claims she’s not a diva, but can’t endure more than thirty minutes without thinking about herself.”

Rae spun her chair to face him. “Since you specialize in self-absorption, I guess you’re qualified to recognize the signs.” She slammed her script shut. “It’s nice to know that no matter how far you go in life, you just can’t erase the past.”

“Even now, you can’t let go of what happened between us,” Simon argued. “Is it just because of the career, Rae? Or is it something else?”

He leaned closer to her, emphasizing each word. “I think you were glad to see me go. Glad you didn’t have to shove me out first.” His words dared her to make something of them and before she realized what she was doing, she took the bait.

The director gave the “one minute” signal, but Rae didn’t care.

“Just who shoved whom, buddy?” she snarled. “I’m pretty sure the one who walked out the door was you. At least I was the one everyone talked about at the station when you broke our contract and didn’t show up for work that day.”

“I didn’t show up because I didn’t think you wanted me there!” His voice rose with anger. “You didn’t leave me a choice, Rae.”

Her mouth was agape with shock as she fumbled for a reply. The director hissed at them as he gave the signal for commercial’s end.

Rae’s face was still burning with rage as she forced herself to smile. “And we’re back for the second half of the annual Silver Star Christmas Parade. Next up is the Barnum High Marching Band.”

“What do you say we go to Dizzy Dan for an on-the-spot report this time?” suggested Simon. It was fifteen minutes early, but the director took the hint. A split second later, Dan’s surprised face appeared for viewing audiences.

Rae yanked her earpiece out and tossed it on the desk. “I guess this time I won’t have to give you the signal, will I?” She turned and marched down the platform’s steps before he could say anything.

She heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs behind her as she picked up the pace.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I’m taking a break. Kind of like you did when you quit the station,” she answered. Marching past a handful of watchers gathered at the base of the platform, she made her way towards the parking lot.

Simon’s powerful grip wrapped itself around her arm. “Don’t even think about walking out on this, Rae.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Fighting back angry tears, she struggled to pull away from him as he steered her through the crowd, into a concessions tent nearby.

“Stop trying to run away from me,” he ordered.

Rae pulled away from his arm and moved to the other side of the table, keeping a steaming vat of hot chocolate between them. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have the parade all to yourself? No competition between partners, since I know how much you hate it.”

He moved around the table, closing the distance between them. “I don’t hate competition, Rae. I hated being your competitor. I hated the way you kept that distance between us the whole time we were partners.”

“Did it ever occur to you I kept that distance to protect myself?” she asked. “After all, you were constantly changing the show and arguing about our work. Maybe it was for the best that I kept you at bay, since it turns out I was just another rung on your ladder to success.” Try as she might, she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in her eyes.

“I never wanted to leave the radio show,” he said. “I only left it because of how I felt...because of how you didn’t feel.” He avoided her eyes, staring at the tent floor instead.

“I wish you would stop talking about my feelings,” she retorted, her face growing warm again. “I think this little problem was all yours, Simon.”

“I know,” he shot back. “Do you have to keep reminding me that I was stupid enough to be in love with you?”

His response left her breathless. Eyes widening, she stared at him in disbelief.

“You weren’t in love with me,” she answered, helplessly. “All that sniping...”

“You and I both know the reasons behind that tension,” he interrupted. “The reasons we pretended every little spat was about the show was to cover up for the moments that weren’t about the show.”

His eyes met hers, his dark glance smoldering as he drew closer. “If you had ever given me an opening to tell you how I felt, I would have stayed,” he whispered. “But I couldn’t go on with things the way they were. I know you didn’t feel it in return–”

“That’s not true.” She couldn’t fight the tears any longer. “I just didn’t want to be the only one who felt it.” She reached across and touched his face.

“That makes two of us,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. As their lips met, she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him against her so no more space remained between them.

 

 

*****

 

 

“And we’re back, folks.” Rae’s voice held a cheery sound that she wasn’t faking this time. “Thanks again to Dizzy Dan for those amazing reports from the crowd.”

“What’s in store for us next, Rae?” Simon glanced at her, a teasing question in his eyes.

She grinned. “Well, it looks like we’re just in time for Christmas. Because unless I’m mistaken, that’s Santa and his reindeer Up on the Rooftop.”

“It certainly is,” he answered, with a subtle wink for her benefit. “I guess all we’re missing now is a little snow on the ground–and a little mistletoe.”

Despite the presence of the camera, Rae couldn’t help but let her cheeks flush. “I’m sure next year, they’ll be sure to include those extras in the parade,” she quipped. “Until then, folks, Merry Christmas from all of us at the Silver Star Christmas Parade!”

 

 

*****

 

 

Simon held Rae’s hand tightly in his own as they paused beneath the warm glow of a lamppost near the parking lot. Not a sign of a decorated float or costume character remained, with most of the crowd slowly drifting towards their cars or the city lights below the gym.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?” Rae asked. “I mean, I know you dreamed of this night for years.”

“Absolutely,” he answered, kissing the tip of her nose. “I was pretty sure that winning you over would be a worthwhile experience.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Not us, Simon. I meant the parade.” As he released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“I’m just glad it gave us a chance to undo the past,” he said softly. “Otherwise, I might’ve gone through life knowing Rae Randall thought I was a career-driven scumbag.”

“And I might’ve gone through life knowing Simon Harte thought I was jealous of his career,” she replied. “At least we don’t have that on our conscience anymore.”

White flakes brushed against her cheek and hat as she spoke. Pulling off her glove, she extended her fingers as a fine white powder swirled around them. “It’s snowing,” she said through a breath.

Simon grinned as he brushed a few flakes from her hair. “Right on time.” Glancing up at the lamppost above them, he gestured towards a cluster of green just above their heads, tied on with a red ribbon.

“What do you say?” he asked. “Should we take advantage of this opportunity? Nothing so perfect ever comes along twice, you know.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “That’s why the answer is yes.” Without any hesitation, she sealed the deal with a perfect kiss.