How could that possibly pertain to her working as an elf? "Not really. Why?"

Simon paused. "Maybe you should ask me your question, after all, before I explain."

"I'd rather hear what you have to say first."

He sighed loudly. "I talked to the mall and-"

"Yes, yes, we've been through this."

"I did mention that a uniform-a costume-is required."

"Yes." His reluctance to get to the point was beginning to concern her.

"I wasn't aware anything like this would be asked of you, but I'm encouraged that you don't have any fear of heights."

"I don't have to swing from the top of the s.p.a.ce Needle, do I?"

"No..." He exhaled slowly, staring down at his desk. "The mall wants the first elf-that would be you-to arrive by wire."

Ca.s.sie swallowed hard. "You're not referring to a telegram, are you?"

"No."

"A wire...from where?"

Again he avoided meeting her gaze. "The ceiling."

Ca.s.sie frowned, attempting to picture it. "You mean they want me to fly in like Peter Pan?"

"Exactly."

"You're joking!" This was the most preposterous idea she'd ever heard.

"The reindeer will follow you."

"Live reindeer?"

"They're plastic, but the mall wants to make a real production of Santa's arrival."

"And," she said, swallowing again since her mouth was so dry, "I'm part of the production."

"Yes. Are you willing to do this?" he asked.

Ca.s.sie's fingers tightened around her purse strap. "Would I still meet John if I decline?"

Simon hesitated. "This wasn't part of our original agreement, so I'd need to find a replacement task. That might take a few weeks."

"I don't want to wait any longer than I already have to."

"Then I'll inform the mall there won't be a problem and they can expect you on Sat.u.r.day morning around nine."

Her complete lack of reaction must have alerted Simon to the fact that she was having second thoughts.

"No need to worry," Simon a.s.sured her. "I've been told it's quite safe. The wire will hold up to four hundred pounds."

"Oh." Ca.s.sie couldn't believe she'd agreed to this. When she glanced up, she thought, just for a moment, that she saw a smile on Simon's face. She leaned forward. "Were you smiling?"

"Pardon me?"

"You were smiling, weren't you? You're enjoying this." The man should be arrested for deriving pleasure from her humiliation.

His mouth quivered, but Simon had the good grace to look away. "Actually, I was thinking you're going to manage this quite well. You're a woman who's destined for high places."

Unfortunately, his vote of confidence didn't excite her. And his joke didn't amuse her.

Chapter 9.

Simon says: The best match for you is the one I arrange-because I know you better than you know yourself.

"T his must be a joke," Ca.s.sie said, staring at the limp green tights. No way was she going to stuff her hips and thighs into those.

"Dr. Dodson gave us your size, miss," said an elderly woman, whose name tag identified her as Daisy.

"He did?" Well, if he a.s.sumed she wore a size four, then who was she to enlighten him with the truth? Besides, the material did stretch.

Daisy handed her the elf costume, which consisted of a short green dress, like a skater's, with white faux fur edging the hem and a wide red belt. A green Santa-style hat with a white fur ball dangling from the end completed the outfit. But the piece de resistance was a gold-painted pair of slippers with curled-up toes.

"The changing room is this way," Daisy said as she guided her down the dimly lit mall corridor.

Ca.s.sie followed, clutching the uniform, the hat and shoes.

"I can't tell you how pleased we are that you agreed to do this," Daisy was telling her. "You already have an audience of children waiting."

This wasn't news Ca.s.sie wanted to hear. "Where will Santa be while I'm floating through the air?"

"Oh, he'll be right behind you."

"Great." So she wouldn't be doing a solo flight. If she was going to descend from the clouds, Santa should do the same.

"Only...Santa will be on ground level," Daisy explained.

This was unfair.

The woman stopped and, frowning, bent down to pick up an empty beer can. "Oh, dear," she grumbled. "I'm afraid Floyd's been at it again."

"And who is Floyd?" Ca.s.sie asked a bit fearfully.

Daisy's voice was a low whisper. "He's Santa."

Was she saying Santa was a drunk? Outrageous!

"Santa?" Ca.s.sie cried.

"Don't misunderstand me," Daisy hurried to say. "Floyd's a wonderful Santa and the kids love him. The problem is, the children can be a bit wearing...as you'll discover for yourself in a few minutes." Daisy led her through a dark tunnel to some kind of alleyway deep inside the mall. "There's a ladies' room back here where you can change into your costume. I'll wait outside and once you're done, I'll have one of the technicians help you into the harness."

Ca.s.sie gaped at her.

"We want you to be as safe as possible," Daisy said in a confiding voice. "The wire will lower you from the top level of the mall to the ground floor."

"Oh." Ca.s.sie couldn't recall if the mall was two or three levels. One thing was guaranteed-she'd have her eyes closed the entire flight.

As if reading her mind, Daisy added, "You have to play this up, you know."

"Play this up?" Ca.s.sie asked skeptically. "What do you mean?"

"To the crowd. We want you to yell out that Santa's on his way and all the boys and girls will be getting a gift from him."

"We're giving them gifts?"

"Candy canes. The children look forward to receiving those."

A cheap candy cane was a gift? That seemed to be an exaggeration-but who was Ca.s.sie to quibble over truth in advertising?

They finally got to the ladies' room and Ca.s.sie went inside. She removed her shoes and then her jeans and sweater. She hung what she could on the hook of the stall door, then sat on the toilet in order to slip on the tights. Force them on was more accurate.

The fit was so tight, they felt like an extra skin. Unfortunately they didn't reach all the way to her waist. One wrong move, and Ca.s.sie feared they'd roll down and reveal features-like her b.u.t.t-that she'd rather keep private. It helped a little to jump up and down and then prance around, pulling on the waistband as she did. She also did a couple of squats. Still, the tights didn't stretch quite as far as she would've liked.

"Is everything all right in there, dear?" Daisy asked.

"Just fine," Ca.s.sie told her. Thankfully, the minidress fit. The shoes were good, too. She adjusted the hat in the bathroom mirror and realized she'd need to secure it for the flight. Digging around the bottom of her purse, she located two paper clips, which worked-sort of. How long those paper clips had been there and where they'd come from would forever remain a mystery. Ca.s.sie could only be grateful for their presence.

She opened the restroom door, feeling more than a little foolish.

Daisy stood back and brought both hands to her face. "Oh, this is just perfect."

"I look okay?"

"You look wonderful. The children are going to be so excited." Daisy glanced at her watch, then led Ca.s.sie to an elevator. Silently they rode to the second floor, where a crew of men seemed to be waiting for her. Eight-or was it nine?-life-size plastic reindeer were lined up against the wall beside an authentic-looking sleigh.

Before Ca.s.sie had a chance to ask any questions, two of the men stepped forward and strapped her into a harness. They moved her arms, each grasping one, lifting them up and down.

One of the men murmured something in Spanish. She couldn't understand what he'd said, but got the gist of it when he made the sign of the cross and raised his eyes heavenward.

"Don't look down," the other man advised her tersely.

"You don't have a thing to worry about," Daisy said with a grandmotherly smile.

Suddenly a voice came over the loudspeaker system. "Boys and girls, moms and dads-is that Santa's sleigh I hear?"

The man next to her jingled bells and everyone looked up to where Ca.s.sie stood.

"Okay, boys," Daisy whispered and stepped back.

Suddenly Ca.s.sie was hoisted from the ground. Her feet made running movements as she scrabbled to find her footing and instead found only air.

"Play to the crowd," Daisy instructed in a loud stage whisper.

"Santa's on his way!" Ca.s.sie called out, doing her best to sound enthusiastic although she was absolutely terrified. "I can see him now! Look, here comes Santa."

And then it happened. Ca.s.sie gasped as her tights rolled down, catching on her thighs. She didn't know what to do. The tights slid farther down and everyone in the entire mall seemed to be staring up at her.

"I can see the elf's underpants," a little boy called, pointing at her.

Suspended above the ground, Ca.s.sie watched as several mothers covered their children's eyes.

"Get her to the ground fast," Ca.s.sie heard Daisy hiss.

The men released the rope and Ca.s.sie plunged downward. "Yiiiiiii!" she screamed, all the while struggling to pull up her tights. She'd partially succeeded-then saw that she was about to make a crash landing.

Just when it seemed she was destined to slam into the ground, a tall man emerged from the crowd and deftly caught her in his arms. The impact would have been enough to send them both sprawling to the floor if not for the fact that he'd braced his feet. Together they staggered backward until her hero recovered his balance.

Ca.s.sie opened her eyes to see that the stranger who'd rescued her wasn't a stranger at all. Her startled eyes met Simon's, and they both breathed a sigh of relief. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Ca.s.sie's arms were tightly wrapped around his neck. It took time for her to find her voice and, when she did, it came out in a high-pitched squeal.

"You're paying for this," she told him, her pulse hammering in her ears. Why she'd ever agreed to this ridiculous scenario she'd never know. One thing was for sure; there wouldn't be a repeat performance.

Simon lowered her to the ground. "A simple thank-you will suffice," he said calmly.

Fortunately the audience was distracted by the flying reindeer, and no one could hear her X-rated response. Santa made his appearance, slipping out from behind a curtain. Santa Floyd carried a large bag over his shoulder, presumably filled with candy canes.

Santa ascended to his special chair, a huge cushioned monstrosity set up on the curtained dais, and Ca.s.sie took her place beside him. She looked around for Simon but he was nowhere in sight. The boys and girls lined up with their parents, and the photographer was ready with his camera.

The first boy clung to his mother. "He's a little scared," the woman explained, prying her son loose from her leg.

The poor kid was panic-stricken. Ca.s.sie couldn't understand why the mother felt it was so important to make him sit on Santa's lap.

"There's no need to be frightened." Ca.s.sie crouched down and tried to rea.s.sure the boy, who couldn't have been more than four years old.

"Go away!" he shouted.

Ca.s.sie straightened and stepped back. Her timing was perfect. The boy, without even a hint of warning, vomited on one of her shoes.