The Christmas Fix

by Kristen Kelly

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CHRISTMAS FIX

  First edition. December 10, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Kristen Kelly.

  Written by Kristen Kelly.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  The Christmas Fix (The Craving Christmas Series)

  The Christmas Fix | By Kristen Kelly | Preface | Six weeks ago | Charlotte

  Zac

  Chapter 1 | Charlotte

  Chapter 2 | Charlotte

  Chapter 3 | Zac

  Chapter 4 | Charlotte

  Chapter 5 | Zac

  Chapter 6 | Charlotte

  Chapter 7 | Charlotte

  Chapter 8 | Zac

  Chapter 9 | Charlotte

  Chapter 10 | Zac

  Chapter 11 | Charlotte

  Chapter 12 | Zac

  Chapter 13 | Charlotte

  Chapter 14 | Zac

  Chapter 15 | Charlotte

  Chapter 16 | Charlotte

  Chapter 17 | Charlotte

  Chapter 18 | Zac

  Chapter 19 | Charlotte

  Chapter 20 | Charlotte

  Chapter 21 | Zac

  Chapter 22 | Charlotte

  Chapter 23 | Zac

  Chapter 24 | Charlotte

  Epilogue | Five years later | Zac | Christmas time

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  The Christmas Fix

  By Kristen Kelly

  Preface

  Six weeks ago

  Charlotte

  I WAS WAITING FOR MY best friend Abby in the lunch room; she was late, but what was so unusual about that?

  Barely able to keep my eyes open, I leaned my head into the cool glass window overlooking the city, trying to ignore the headache I had from lack of sleep, in addition to back pain, from bending over to dust offices for the last two-and-a-half hours. It was a lowly job. I knew that, but I couldn’t afford to be choosy. Without any credentials—no work experience or history—this was all I could find so I took it. It did have its perks. I could be my own boss, make my own schedule and reading books on tape while I flitted from room to room kept my very active mind busy. Besides, I loved the view up here.

  It was November already. Too early for snow, I was told, but I’d never get sick of watching those fine white flurries that fell like feathers from the sky. They sparkled in the sunlight looking like diamonds if you looked closely enough and what woman didn’t love diamonds? “So lovely,” I muttered to myself.

  I moved to New York six months ago, having given up my name, my social standing, the money, to start over. And I’d not left a blueprint for a very important reason, which meant I couldn’t get credit cards, a checking account, or anything until I had some job experience.

  After I tore myself away from the window, I got a coffee from the vending machine. Abby usually popped in around seven. If I sat here long enough, we could have a chat before I left for home and she started her day. Abby was my best friend. My only friend.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced over at her husband, but didn’t make eye contact. As the President of the company, Chase Remington was deep in conversation with a man I’d never seen before.

  I rose from my seat, moved to the opposite side of the table. Thankfully they didn’t notice me. I wanted to listen to their conversation. Fodder for my brain, I told myself. Something to roll over in my mind so I wouldn’t go completely insane those eight long hours when most people were sleeping.

  “I’m giving you the hard-cold facts, Remington. If you want to get in on the ground floor of this phenomenon, make a bundle in the process, just say the word.”

  My interest piqued, I peered over the rim of my cup, watched what Remington appeared to be pondering while a portly looking gentleman wearing a grey suit stabbed at some papers before him while he ate a burrito. A burrito, for God’s sake. At six a.m!

  Chase laughed. “Come on, Stevens. Beefalo? Really? Next you’ll be telling me I should invest in that crackpot artist, Marcel something-or-other.”

  “Who?”

  “You know. The French guy. He turns urinals into what he claims is supposed to be works of art.”

  “Duchamp,” I muttered under my breath. The French American artist featured in Bloomberg Magazine claiming to have made a return for his investors of 93.8% over the last three years.

  Portly guy licked something off his lip. “It’s no joke, Remington. I for one will be making a bundle. You should too.”

  “I think I have better things to invest my money in. Things that can’t up and die on me. Like gold or maybe soybeans. I’ve been thinking about soybeans lately.”

  “Soybeans boy beans,” said Stevens. “Ground floor. Fifteen dollars a share. Get in now before the stocks go up. I’m telling ya, Remington. This is the next hot thing. Don’t let it pass you by.”

  “Sorry, Stevens. I make it a rule to never and I mean never invest in crackpot schemes. You’ll have to find someone else.” He sipped from a large mug with the company logo written on the side, then took a bite of toast.

  Cradling my cup with two hands, I watched Stevens face turn candy apple red. “Crack pot! You calling me stupid, Remington? Perhaps I shouldn’t work with you after all. I could just pull out of all our deals if that’s the way you’re gonna be.”

  “Come on Samuel, don’t be that way. I’m truly sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just tired I guess. Listen, here’s my bottom line. I need facts before I consider something I know nothing about. You got some facts for me in that pile of stats?”

  “You mean on beefalo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I...Well...”

  “For instance, what does it taste like? And don’t tell me chicken.”

  “I...I never tasted it myself.”

  “Hmmmph.”

  “Okay, then answer me this. What makes a beefalo so different from beef then?”

  “Well um...”

  “Because I cannot see a couple sitting down in a high-priced restaurant ordering that, instead of a nicely prepared, medium rare juicy prime rib. Tell me. Is that what you would order? A beefalo?” He said the word like it tickled his tongue.

  “Well I...I don’t know.”

  “Right. Because you’ve never tasted it.”

  “And if you saw it on the menu, you still wouldn’t order it. Because it isn’t better than beef. End of story.”

  “Actually, it may be,” I said.

  They both looked over at my table.

  “I think I can shed some light on this subject,” I said, holding up a finger.

  “Oh yeah?” said Mr. Remington, sounding interested. “How so?”

  “Well for one. Beefalo received the best steak award from the Royal Steak Competition last year.”

  Remington turned his chair around, straddled it backward with his arms draped over the top. “And that was because...”

  “Oh lots of things.”

  “Go on,” coached Remington.

  “They’re smaller for ease of calving. Superior vitamin levels. Higher protein than beef. Seventy-nine percent less fat. Sixty-six percent less calories. They adapt well to most climates and they’re disease resistant.”

  “That’s a lot of facts, but is it cost effective?”

  “Forty percent less waste while beef on the other hand...” My explanation, interrupted by a commotion involving a man followed by several women chattering like school girls as they strolled into the lunchroom made me roll my eyes.

  Mr. Remington stood up. “Zac. When you can
tear yourself away from your harem, we have a little discussion we’d like you to be part of.”

  So that was his name. I’d seen him before. Dark hair. Broad shoulders that looked like they could hold up the universe. Blue eyes like sapphires. Strong confident jaw. Growly full lips I could so see myself smashing into.

  The women, each laughing or smiling, buzzed around while he set pastries on the counter. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but when he strolled over the refrigerator and opened the door, I caught sight of a scar on his left ear that did nothing to mar his smashing good looks.

  “Be there in a sec,” Zac said. “Excuse me, ladies. I just have to put this cake in the frig for later.” He swung the refrigerator door open and exclaimed, “Shit. Who rearranged my condiments? Again.”

  The way he leaned forward had me riveted to his backside. Me and every other woman in the room. I could just about hear a chorus of female heartbeats, sense the blood pumping through our veins. The way those trousers skimmed over his hips had me fantasizing about what else he had in that package.

  Then he smiled at me.

  Oh my freaking God!

  I looked down then back up, glanced around the room to see if anyone noticed my face turning scarlet. I placed a hand to my cheek. My temperature had spiked. “Hello,” I managed to say.

  “A little early huh,” the man said.

  “Early?”

  “For snow don’t you think?”

  “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Early.”

  What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t usually get tongue tied around strange men. I’d been around enough as a child, what with the sons of businessmen visiting my father all the time.

  A short brunette walked over, swaying her hips, which were ample, all over the place. “Sorry,” she said in a little girl voice. Seriously? What was she, five? I wanted to slap her upside the head. “I didn’t know you had a system, Mr. Taylor. Forgive me?”

  Zac took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her chubby knuckles. “No. Forgive me. You can take the man out of the military but you can’t take the military out of the man. Or something like that.”

  She giggled then walked over to the Keurig Coffee Maker, placed a cup on the little ledge and pushed the button. When it was finished filling, she brought the cup over to Zac. “Hot chocolate. I know it’s your favorite.”

  “Why thank you, Cynthia.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Taylor.” She batted her eyes, practically bowed before him like some sort of royal underling, and sashayed off across the room. I watched Zac’s eyes follow, then sip at his steaming cocoa.

  Harem was right.

  Zac

  I grabbed her hand just as she was about to leave the room, and in the nick of time too, because Chase’s wife, Abby had just turned the corner, probably to set her bags down in his office before joining him for coffee. The last thing I wanted was her telling this lovely lady I had the clap or something equally as disgusting. “Um, Miss, I believe I have something of yours?”

  “Oh,” said the woman, peering down at her hand clasped inside mine.

  I grinned, rustled for something in my pocket. Anything to keep talking to her before she got away. I pulled out the woolen scarf I’d worn around my neck not fifteen minutes earlier.

  Had she felt what I felt upon contact? Yeah, sure she did. I could see it in her eyes and she hadn’t let go of my hand. Not yet.

  “I didn’t get your name...” I said, staring into the biggest, darkest, chocolate brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Her hair was incredibly thick, shiny and exotic. It hung loosely about her shoulders. Not messy though. More like it belonged exactly where it lay, waiting for just the right hands to appreciate its texture.

  When she didn’t answer I said, “Hi, I’m Zachary Taylor.”

  “I know who you are,” the dark-haired beauty replied. Taking her hand back as if stung, she said, “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Taylor. We all know who you are.” She tipped her head toward the lunchroom.

  Shit.

  “And you are...” I tried, waiting for her to respond.

  “You can call me Miss Davis. Now if you don’t mind, I have to go home, I’ve been up all night.”

  “All night, Miss Davis. My, you are dedicated.”

  “Not really. I’m up all night every night. If you’ll excuse me...” And she was gone.

  “WHO THE HELL WAS THAT beauty and why didn’t anyone tell me we had a new employee?”

  “She’s not a new employee,” Chase said. “And get your dick back inside your pants, Taylor. This one is off limits.”

  “Off limits. That’s funny, Remington. Since when do you get to tell me who I can and cannot date? That, my friend is Margo’s job. Or she likes to think it is.”

  Chase rubbed the whiskers on his chin, eyes darting toward the hall, obviously scanning for the Misses. He lifted his coffee cup and said, “She’s out of your league.”

  “Say what?”

  “You heard me. Out of your league, so forget about her. Go back to your fan club. Don’t you have enough women on your plate anyway?”

  “Come on, man. You know that was just harmless flirting.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Seriously. That’s all that was, but her... Shit, that’s the mother of my children right there.”

  The coffee Chase had put to his lips, spurted all over the man across the table. After much grumbling and apologizing, I followed him to sit on the other side of the room.

  I leaned across the table. “There’s something about that one. I can feel it.” I wasn’t about to divulge the very real sense I was getting, because it was embarrassing, but I could picture her with my baby in her belly, serving me coffee every morning, and fucking my brains out every night. I’d never fantasized about a woman like that before. Maybe the fucking part but not the rest.

  “Listen,” Chase said low, so nobody else could listen, “she’s Abby’s friend. Break that one’s heart and I’m the one who suffers for it. Understand?”

  My teeth ground inside my jaw. “What makes you think I’d break her heart? I’m a sweetheart. Everyone thinks so.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I leaned forward, placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder.“Name. Remington. Now, before I tell that wife of yours we were playing poker the other night instead of...”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Charlotte. Her name is Charlotte Davis, but you didn’t hear it from me. She cleans the offices every night.”

  “Ah. A working girl and I do not mean that literally. Just that she works for a living.”

  “Not like the party girls you usually date you mean.”

  I shook my head, disgusted at the reference. “Anything else you know about her?”

  “Moved here six months ago from somewhere in the Caribbean. Has one sister. According to Abby, Charlotte is brilliant and I don’t mean just smart. She’s like some sort of child prodigy. Abby says she makes her throw out these complex math problems at her for fun. Charlotte gets them right every time. The girl’s probably got an IQ over 200. Unlike you, Taylor who probably scores three points above celery.”

  “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

  “Take it from me. That one won’t be here long. She’s too smart to be doing what she’s doing. If I could get someone like her on the board...”

  “Hey, maybe you hit on something there. We have a position opening up.”

  “Ah no. Something isn’t right. Gotta be something in her past that made her take such a lowly job. I’d bet money on it.”

  “Now you’re ready to spend some money,” said the man beside him in a condescending tone of voice.

  We ignored him.

  “You think she’s in hiding? That’s absurd.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’d rather not take any chances. Got enough problems with those three other companies trying to steal our stocks.”

  “Well, I for one am up to the challenge.” I placed my hands on my hips like Superman, puffed out
my chest. “If there’s a secret needing guarding, I’m your man. Let me see if I can wear her down a bit.”

  I’d make her mine before the end of the week, then we’d see what Miss Charlotte Davis was hiding under that maid’s uniform.

  “Just be careful, Taylor. Like I said, she’s Abby’s friend. Don’t make this backfire onto me or I swear you’ll regret it.”

  “Hey, you got nothing to worry about. If Miss Charlotte Davis has a match, it’ll be me who’s jumping into the fire. Not you. That girl is mine.”

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte

  Much as I’d tried for weeks to resist Zachary Taylor’s charms, he’d eventually worn me down. What woman wouldn’t fall for a man with that much charisma? He seemed to know just the right things to say to make me laugh. Listened attentively as I rattled on about history, mathematics, the latest scientific discovery. How and why we needed to protect our rivers and streams, and not just so we could catch a big juicy salmon, although I had nothing against salmon, what with it being rich in B vitamins, selenium, and Omega-3 fatty acids. But how many men would be interested in the theoretical framework of string theory? Plus he liked cats.

  We hit it off immediately. Our friendship began the night he scared the shit out of me at two in the morning. The next time he arrived, we had breakfast together. Well, his breakfast. My lunch. It became a weekly thing. Then biweekly. I hated to admit it, but just like everyone else, I was drawn to Zac Taylor and I think he knew it.

  This is what I get for teasing.

  You play with fire, you get burned.

  At this very moment, my head was spinning, heart thudding against my ribs, oxygen depleted. Working in the same facility, had its risks, but if this was wrong, I didn’t care. I was going to kiss Zac Taylor, get him out of my system and move on to something more important to my future. What was it I needed to ask him again? Some sort of request.

  It was the sort of thing one didn’t bring up in conversation. The request, that is. Not now. Not like this.

  My backside pushed up against God knows what, in a room the size of a dog house. Were we in a broom closet? Some sort of supply room? Is that what we’d fallen into so quickly?