by C J Burright
“If I were you, I wouldn’t go either,” he continued in a silky tone, “not with such odds involving me, mistletoe and thirty-second kisses. Since you’re not in charge of the decorating at the party, you’ll be at a distinct disadvantage, and there’s nothing preventing a more competitive person from carrying a spare sprig around”—he smirked—“to increase the odds.”
Just when she’d thought he might possess some humanity… Gia narrowed her eyes. “Get over yourself, O’Connor. Yes, I’ll be there. And I suggest that instead of putting your money on that bet, you give it to charity. It’s better that someone in need benefits, since you’re going to lose it.”
“I don’t lose, Ms. Hellman.” Challenge sparked in his eyes. “Ever.”
“There’s plenty of time to remedy that.” She smiled sweetly again.
He held her gaze for a moment longer—long enough to be impolite—before strolling onward. “Careful where you stand, ladies.” He glanced up at the mistletoe hanging in her doorway as he drifted by. “Druids believed mistletoe berries represented the sperm of the gods—a fun fact to consider while you’re setting your kissing traps.”
Smirking, he disappeared around the corner.
“Gross.” Gia tore off the white berry from the sprig in her hand and threw it in the direction where Ian had gone. It bounced on the carpet and rolled into a corner.
“Do you think he was flirting with you to get to me?” Karen asked in a dreamy tone.
“How should I know what goes on in the mire of Ian O’Connor’s mind?” Gia gathered up the remaining mistletoe and ribbons, already considering all the evil and creative places to hide them. She was going to need more decorations to distract from the true threat—lights and tinsel and trees. The entire building was going to look like a Christmas department store gone insane.
“I can’t believe he refrained from sinking his teeth into your ass. I could tell he wanted to.” Karen’s lips pursed. “Maybe he prefers not to play in public.”
Gia paused and said, “Or maybe he realizes that biting my butt at our place of employment would cost him a lot more than a stomp on his foot with my stilettos.”
Karen winced. “Ouch. But seriously, G.” She poked her in the arm with her pencil eraser. “Are you honestly saying you’d resist kissing Ian if he happens to find you under the mistletoe? He’s the finest male specimen in Graywood, and I’d bet my wine cellar that when he kisses a girl, she never forgets it.”
Tossing the decorations onto the floor, Gia strode into her office, pulled twenty bucks from her purse and shoved it to Karen. “My bet that I’ll have no problem resisting that which is Ian O’Connor. Zero kisses from me, no matter the manipulation.”
“Betting on yourself isn’t allowed,” Karen repeated. She studied Gia for a moment then shrugged, her grin wicked. “But in this case, I believe it warrants an exception.”
“Damn straight it does.” Gia retrieved the mistletoe once again and marched down the hallway, Karen close behind with the tinsel.
But the grin she wore was genuine, and for the first time in months, easily brought to life.
Chapter Two
After kicking the winning goal for Team Law at the weekly Friday post-work soccer game with the boys, Ian bent over and braced his hands on his knees. The crisp December air burned his throat and lungs as he sucked it in, catching his breath.
The day had turned out to be more stimulating than he’d anticipated, and only in small part due to his morning victory in the courtroom and the goal against Team Fire a few seconds before. He always expected to win.
He hadn’t expected the auspicious run-in with Gia Hellman in the hallway outside her office. Straightening, he set his hands on his hips and closed his eyes, forcing his breath to steady.
Damn. That woman had him strung tight and ready to snap without even trying.
He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what characteristic she possessed that kept luring him past her office. It could be her blonde waves, which were always sleek and classy, no matter the style. Her entire face, from her blue eyes to her perfect-pink mouth, was enough to give any man an instant urge to do wicked things. Day in, day out, her lovely curves were accentuated by glamorous, colorful ensembles, set to make his pulse jump to an unhealthy speed. He’d swear she did it on purpose, if not for the hint of unassuming innocence always flickering beneath her surface.
Steps squelched near, and Ian opened his eyes.
“Well done, Boy Wonder.” Roman, his teammate, friend and local cop, clapped him on the back and shook his head, scattering flecks of sweat. “I have no desire to buy pizza and beer for Derek and his fellow smokeholes tonight.”
Ian drew a long breath and released it, his heartbeat slowing, his legs aching from the long runs down the field. “I never have that desire—another reason I refuse to lose, especially to long-winded firemen.”
“Long-winded is a necessary skill when fighting fires, suit.” Derek jogged by, his sweats dark with mud up to the calves and in all the various places marking the times he’d slipped—or had been pushed. Their soccer games weren’t always civil. “Not that you’d understand. Entering blazing buildings isn’t comparable to the dangers that you face, like schmoozing clients, getting paper cuts and eating too many doughnuts.”
“Do not speak of the sacred doughnut,” Roman protested mildly. “You’re not worthy.”
“And you underestimate how deeply a paper cut can wound.” Ian gave Derek a superior look. “I have the scars to prove it, and the hours I’ve invested in my schmoozing expertise far exceeds the time you actually spend working. Lifting weights, tugging on your hose—not necessarily the one that puts out fires—and determining various ways to slide down the firepole while waiting for an alarm hardly amount to labor.”
“It’s okay to admit you’re jealous, counselor.” Derek pivoted, jogging backward long enough to sneer. “See you at Antonio’s for pizza, Scobberlotchers. And no fancy vegetarian, gluten-free, dairy-free orders. You’re getting whatever’s on special.” As a cold sprinkle fell from the sky like shards of crystal, he sprinted for his pickup.
“Fumebag.” Roman gave Derek’s retreating back a death glare and lowered his voice so only Ian could hear. “What’s a Scobberlotcher?”
“Nothing complimentary. I believe more contemporary terms are sluggard, wastrel and ne’er-do-well.” Ian didn’t bother wasting any energy on Derek and his insults. If he had his way, Team Fire would ditch their captain for someone who didn’t use the chip on his shoulder so freely.
“Jump back into your Shakespeare, O’Connor. He called us modern-day slackers. I’m deeply insulted.”
Ian smirked at his friend’s monotone. Nothing ever ruffled Roman’s feathers. It was one of the reasons they made a great team, since Ian had a tendency to pluck rather than smooth. Not for the first time, he wondered what could get beneath Roman’s skin enough to truly rile him.
“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Roman swiped his damp black hair from his forehead, his dark eyes always alert and watchful, even among friends.
“Of course.” Ian turned from the field and walked toward the parking lot. Every Saturday was spent with Roman on his secret community project, and even though it cost him some drinks and female companionship for a night, the cause was worth the sacrifice. “But not the following Saturday.” At Roman’s questioning look, he added, “Work Christmas party.”
“Awesome. I’ll be your date, since you won’t have one.” Even teasing, Roman didn’t smile. Mud flecked his pale face and beneath the gray, winter sky with the field lights just starting to glow and the rain falling faster, he looked like he belonged to the gloom. “I promise I’ll look all pretty when you pick me up, but don’t bother stopping if you don’t have a corsage. I prefer roses.”
“If you’re that bored, Baconbits, feel free to tag along.” Ian stomped his cleats on the pavement, trying to free some of the mud.
“I could use a change of scenery, and Hamilton knows how to t
hrow a good celebration.” Roman lifted his shirt and rubbed the sweat and soil from his face.
Ian snorted. “You mean he has an open bar.”
“That too.” Roman’s mouth twitched.
“I have a feeling this year’s party will be…productive.” If he had to honest with himself—and he was always honest with himself—he would have gone to greater lengths than a challenge involving mistletoe to entice Gia to the Christmas party. Since the day she’d been hired at Hamilton & Associates, he’d been intrigued by her, from the sexy stilettos she wore every day to the golden hair meant to carry a crown.
And she’d been thoroughly and unconditionally taken.
Despite his heartless reputation, there were some boundaries he never crossed, and cheating was one. As much as Gia unknowingly tempted him, he’d refused to do anything about that pull while she’d been devoted to Joey, no matter the uncountable times she’d haunted his fantasies, invaded his dreams and—to his great chagrin—intruded upon his daytime thoughts. No woman had ever managed to disturb his concentration.
But now she was free, and he had every intention of eliminating the fascination she’d unwittingly infected him with. All bets aside, he’d coax her with kisses, mistletoe or not, convince her to leave with him, then he’d spend until dawn bringing all his Glitter Girl fantasies to life. He’d make sure they both enjoyed every second, and in the morning, they’d return to being casual co-workers, no harm done, only a pleasant memory wrapped up in Santa hats and Christmas lights.
He couldn’t afford to be infatuated with any woman, not with his father’s darkness running through his veins. A single night with a woman was a rule he never broke, and it had never failed him. One night with Gia would douse the fire she’d stoked in him for the last year and he could move on, all his secrets kept tucked away, safe.
The anticipation was sweetly killing him.
“Why are you smiling like you’re plotting some complicated, evil scheme?” Roman narrowed his eyes. The man missed nothing.
A chill slipped down his back with the winter rain and Ian pushed his thoughts of Gia aside for later. He picked up his waterproof duffel bag from the sidelines and dug out his keys. “No need to be alarmed.” He smirked. “I’m simply feeling extra lucky.”
“No need for alarm?” Roman snorted with a shake of his head. “I’ll keep my duty radio on and turned up so I’ll know when you need to be bailed out.”
* * * *
The Christmas lights, wreaths, tinsel, trees and people in colorful hats and sweaters filled the mall with a holiday cheer that infected Gia. For the first time in months, she almost felt like herself again. She breathed in air infused with fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and coffee and sighed.
“Wasn’t this a good idea?” She glanced at Adara, who sat beside her on the bench, her coffee clutched between both hands as if someone might try to steal it. Gia had an urge to hiss ‘my precious’, just to see what Adara would do.
“Yeah, fabulous.” The sarcasm in her friend’s tone was impossible to miss, but Gia chose to ignore it. “I’d forgotten how much fun it is to be jostled by rude strangers who will do anything to buy their bratty kids the stupid toy of their dreams that they’ll forget in a week. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”
“You weren’t doing anything, Dar.”
“Not true. Watching cat videos in my pajamas is extremely important.”
“Point taken.” Gia smiled. At least Adara’s sense of humor was making a comeback. Losing her brother Joey had been rough on her. She only left her house to go to her teaching job at the elementary school or run for hours. With her sleek, dark hair and pale skin, she looked like a ghost trapped among the living. It didn’t help that she wore black twenty-four-seven.
Joey had known what he’d been doing when he’d asked Gia to drag Adara on social excursions of any nature after he was gone. And if he hadn’t made Adara promise to accept Gia’s invitations—no begging or manipulation required—she wouldn’t be here now.
“You should come with me to visit my family on Christmas, Dar. I’m only staying a week and I could use the backup.”
Adara pulled her gaze away from the miniature train carrying squealing kids around a track and gave Gia a flat stare. “Is that a nonnegotiable invitation?”
She shook her head. “A solid suggestion, and I’m not kidding about the backup. You know my family. They’re intense.”
“I can only stomach talking about guns, criminals and cops’ glory days for five minutes, and even thinking about politely discoursing with your mother about social subjects, pretending to be prim and proper, makes me want to puke.” Her gray eyes softened, as though she belatedly realized how rude she’d sounded. “I appreciate the offer, G. I do. But I just…” She shook her head and her grip on the coffee cup tightened into a white-knuckled hold. “I can’t.”
“You’re my family, too, Dar. But I get it. Just know the offer is open if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Adara looked off into the distance and, for a second, she looked so much like Joey that Gia’s heart squeezed. She was the quiet and serious version of her wild and colorful brother, and yet they shared the same sharp gray eyes, the same raven hair and the same twisted sense of humor. The expression on Adara’s face, poignant and almost lost, was the same one Joey had worn when he’d found out he had cancer, like there were only questions with no answers.
“You know how there’s a betting pool at my office?” Gia said, needing to break the moment before the tears in her eyes swelled to unstoppable. She didn’t wait for Adara to nod. “There’s a bet on me this year, that I’ll kiss this arrogant, womanizing lawyer—Ian O’Connor. He’s absolutely…incorrigible.” She’d almost said ‘tempting’, and a guilty twist coiled in her chest. Her love for Joey remained, as strong as ever, and finding someone else even remotely interesting stabbed like a betrayal.
But Joey was gone. She was still here, human, her heart still beating. He’d told her to live, no regrets, no guilt. How could she do that when all she’d ever wanted was him? He was irreplaceable…and yet without him, the loneliness was slowly eating her alive, the space he left behind too big and echoing. If she stayed there any longer, she might wander too far and never find her way back. Maybe that was why she’d accepted Ian’s challenge. Ridiculous as it was, having a goal, something to focus on beyond the emptiness for even a short while, might provide the lifeline she needed back to the real world.
She couldn’t talk to Adara about it. The mere hint of anything Joey-related sent her into a shattering silence and her friend absolutely wouldn’t understand Gia’s response to another man, unintentional or not.
“People are idiots.” Adara watched her, almost as if searching for signs that the fact her co-workers would place the bet had hurt Gia.
“True that, but I made a bet of my own and sabotaged the Christmas decorations in a way that will make Ian sorely regret bothering me. Do you remember Lisette?”
Adara lifted her dark eyebrows. “She’s still alive? She must be at least a century old. Are you sure she’s not a witch or vampire? No one could live that long without some supernatural devices.”
Gia laughed. “She’s only seventy. Her mind is as sharp as ever and she’s still got it going on. She’s absolutely unapologetic about her physical needs and goes after what she wants.”
“Too much detail.” Adara grimaced.
“Every year, Lisette uses the mistletoe as an excuse to corner Ian into a kiss or two. The bets on her are crazy. Since I took on the great burden of decorating the office for the holiday, I’ve arranged ample opportunities for Lisette to get her Christmas wishes with Ian by concealing mistletoe everywhere—and providing her a map.”
Adara nodded in approval. “I hope she lands a few wet ones on him. He sounds like the deserving type.”
“Absolutely he is.” And for reasons she didn’t want to explore, she couldn’t wait to see it happen. Ensuring she won her own b
et—and beat Ian O’Connor by avoiding both him and mistletoe simultaneously at the office Christmas party—would be a thrill of its own.
And now it was time to give Adara the bad news. She straightened her shoulders, preparing for battle. “I actually have a valid reason for inviting you shopping, Dar. We need dresses.”
“We?” The suspicion in Adara’s tone made Gia want to wince.
“Yep. Gird your loins. Nonnegotiable social invitation coming up.”
Adara narrowed her eyes and Gia suspected that if she’d been anyone else without deathbed promises to use as both weapon and leash, Adara would have already been off and running.
“Hamilton & Associates’ Yuletide Party is next Saturday. You’re going.” She rose from the bench, smiling brightly. “Which means new party dresses and we have a salon appointment in ten minutes. Let’s go.”
“I hate you, Gia.” Adara stood so abruptly that she almost bumped into a passing teenage couple, who were obliviously entwined in each other. “You know that, right?”
“You’ll feel better after being pampered for an hour.” Gia looped her arm through Adara’s and pulled her into the steady stream of shoppers. “And I love you too. We’re going to have so much fun. Trust me.”
“I don’t believe my definition of ‘fun’ is the same as yours, and I definitely don’t trust you.”
But not even the growl in Adara’s mutter could dampen Gia’s mood. Surrounded by color and lights and laughter, she couldn’t deny a sense of anticipation that she was on the cusp of something exciting that only needed a sprinkle of holiday magic to make it happen.
Chapter Three
At the sudden splash of dark color in her office doorway Monday afternoon, Gia paused in her typing and looked up from her computer screen.
