Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  She shifted back in her chair and reached down to the floor to pick up her purse, which of course was close to his foot. Her wild mass of curls skimmed against his thigh and he ground his molars together and held his breath. First, she pursed those full lips and reapplied her scarlet lipstick and it took every ounce of his control not to watch that wand caress her mouth.

  Then, she fluffed her hair and readjusted it, so it fell like a cloak of gilded copper ringlets around her bare shoulders. Everything about her beckoned for his touch, but then she peeked back at him, one auburn brow arched. One-hundred percent haughty Ice Queen expression in place.

  He nodded and scooted to the far side of his chair, as far from her as possible without falling off the edge.

  Her coldness should be enough to douse the heat she stoked in him, damn it. This evening, he’d been charmed and attracted to a warm beautiful brilliant woman who could give as good as she got. And holy hell, their chemistry was like nothing he’d experienced before.

  But she’d made it clear that she could flick it on and off like a faucet. Why had she been surprised he’d assumed they’d finish what they started tonight? They’d both been into each other and they were both single, consenting adults. She took compartmentalizing to a whole new level. How was he supposed to keep up?

  Whatever. This was why he kept his dating life simple and casual. After the speaker finished, they’d wrap up with the clients and the evening would be finished. And then it would be good riddance Ms. Hollingsworth.

  If only they didn’t have to share the limo home.

  5

  Phoebe stared out of the limousine’s long window into the blackness of the winter night. Rancho Santa Fe’s winding roads were lined by trees and hedges, the sprawling estates set far back from the road, without many streetlamps. She studiously ignored Rafael’s presence, which wasn’t difficult because he sat on the other end of the ten-passenger vehicle. She should have just taken an Uber like she had on the way to the event, but no need to alert Cliff to any issues between them.

  Nope, just act like the night had been a huge success and not an earth-shattering disaster.

  In terms of their business purpose of building connections with the prospects, it had been a resounding triumph. In fact, right now, instead of huddling against the window, she should be sipping some of the excellent champagne resting unopened next to two crystal flutes. Not one, but both of the couples the Harmons had invited this evening had all but assured her and Rafael that they would be coming on board as clients. They’d promised to set up appointments first thing Monday to visit the office and sign on the dotted line.

  So why was Phoebe’s brain whirring in a ceaseless loop of the wine cave encounter? From the visual of standing together in front of the mirror with his strong square-palmed hand spread across her belly to the soul shattering orgasm on his lap and back again. Where was her compartmentalizing talent when she needed it most? Maybe it had simply flip-flopped because she was trapped in her mind’s vault with images of Rafael’s mouth on her skin, his hands bringing her pleasure, and the thrill of his bossy commands. Why did she have to have mind-blowing, romance-novel-worthy chemistry with him of all people?

  For the rest of her career at Trident Wealth, she’d have to work with him with tonight’s episode imprinted in her body and heart. Would she be able to do it?

  At least she had the weekend to gather her composure. She’d meet her girlfriend Kimberly to thrash out her frustrations on the tennis court and catch up on client files since she’d left work earlier than usual today. Career had always been her happy place, where she excelled and received recognition for her hard work. How difficult could it be to settle right back in like nothing had happened?

  Maybe tonight was a wake-up call and she’d finally set up a dating profile because apparently, she really was in a sexual drought. The one year and one month and four days since she’d last had sex were the primary culprit in her over-the-top response to Rafael. She just needed to get laid and he’d been the man to remind her. Keep telling yourself that, Phoebe.

  “Earth to Phoebe.” Rafael’s voice was husky in the shadowed interior of the limo.

  She exhaled an unsteady breath. They had to be almost to La Jolla, right? She could handle herself for a few minutes longer.

  Her eyes firmly glued to the window, she said, “What is it?”

  “Will you at least look at me?”

  She turned her head and instantly realized her mistake. He’d loosened his tie, exposing his tanned throat where he’d unfastened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt. If he weren’t so damn handsome, this entire debacle would be easier. Well, if he weren’t so damn handsome, she’d likely not be in this awkward position. She interlaced her fingers in her lap and raised a brow in question.

  He stared at her, his dark eyes gleaming, before he spoke. “Look, I think we should talk about what happened tonight. We’re almost to my house, so why don’t you come in and we can get everything straightened out before we’re back in the office Monday.”

  She squeezed her hands together. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  He sighed. “I disagree. Everything’s different after tonight and we should talk about it like adults.”

  She cocked her head and stared at him. “Tonight was a mistake. We just forget it. It never happened. We got the clients, Cliff will be thrilled, and that’s it.”

  His brows drew together. “Look, I don’t think what happened is nothing and you’re not like the other women––”

  She huffed out her breath. “That’s right. I’m not like all the casual hook-ups you specialize in. I am not looking to hook-up. There. We’ve had our discussion. Feel better now?”

  He shook his head. “I know you aren’t looking for a casual hook-up and neither was I. But you and I––”

  Why couldn’t he drop it? Why was her heart pounding against her ribs? “There is no you and I. Look, you’re a guy, you should be thrilled I’m making this easy for you. We had a hot moment, but for a million reasons, it cannot happen again. We’ll simply ignore each other at the office, which has worked well so far. So there’s nothing to discuss and no reason for me to come inside your house. Got it?”

  His eyes cooled and he shifted back against the smooth burgundy leather seat. “Sorry I asked. Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake twice.”

  The limo pulled to a stop. “And here’s my house. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ms. Hollingsworth.” With that parting quip, he yanked open the door and closed it quietly behind him.

  Phoebe pulled off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn’t understand what he was trying to do. They really didn’t have to talk about being professional in the office. They’d landed the clients and their boss would be thrilled and there wasn’t any additional competition between them. And so there was no need to rehash tonight. Ever.

  Truth be told, she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him again. The bottom line was she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man before. And her crush-from-afar at school was no longer a distant memory now that she’d seen this different side of him. Not just the blazing chemistry but learning he wasn’t a superficial jerk like she’d assumed. In fact, he was the total package, and didn’t that just make it all worse. Talking herself out of her physical attraction was one thing because she’d assumed he was a man slut.

  Now that maybe he was a good guy who, like her, worked hard and didn’t have time for a serious relationship or hadn’t met the right person either? They were both thirty-three years old and single. And obviously they’d each held deep-seated erroneous judgments about each other.

  Tonight, she’d allowed him to see beyond her “all business all the time” mask. Allowed herself to be vulnerable with him. And then she’d totally shut him down when he’d suggested they talk like adults. Because she was afraid of being alone with him and losing control again. So who was acting shallow now? And immature.

  Phoebe straigh
tened up in her seat. She didn’t want to be this kind of person. A person governed by fear of rejection or fear of abandonment after one night. She liked and respected the Rafael she’d seen tonight, the man beneath the charm. And why wouldn’t he assume they’d pick up where they left off tonight? It wasn’t like she would have stopped him if they hadn’t been interrupted. She wanted him.

  They did need to talk and handle this situation like grown-ups. She snatched up her purse and fished out her phone. She’d text him and invite him to have coffee in the morning and go from there. At the very least, they could be friendly toward each other. There was no reason to act like he was her nemesis.

  She’d always pursued what she wanted in every other area of her life and now she wanted Rafael. Or at least to see if there was more to them than that incredible physical connection and snarky banter.

  Before she could start typing, a message from Rafe popped up.

  I respect you didn’t want to come in tonight. I still want to talk. Meet me at Brick and Bell at 10 tomorrow?

  Phoebe stared at the text for a moment––okay, she’d been about to ask him to meet her at her favorite coffee place, Brick and Bell in downtown La Jolla. Uncanny. She started to reply then stopped. Squared her shoulders.

  What did she want? To toss and turn all night and replay the evening or go for what she desired? At this point, she couldn’t tell if she and Rafael were meant to be together or if maybe they were simply meant to hook up. But if she allowed this window of opportunity to slip away now because she didn’t know the answer, she’d be a fool.

  She dropped the phone onto the seat next to her and scooted forward to knock on the panel separating her from the driver. When the opaque screen slid noiselessly down, he glanced back. “What can I do for you, miss?”

  “Could you please turn the limo around and take me back to Mr. Cruz’s place?”

  He nodded, his expression revealing nothing. “Of course. We’ll be back there in no time.”

  “Thank you.” She lifted the divider again and gazed around the luxurious limo they’d wasted on the way home. If Rafe were half as talented on a long stretch of leather seat as he was standing or perched on an armchair…Heat rose in her cheeks.

  She pulled out her compact and lipstick from her purse, reapplied her scarlet pout, and skimmed her hair away from her flushed face. Nerves fluttered along her skin and her pulse thrummed in her temples and throat. Anxiety notwithstanding, she’d see Rafe, have a grown-up discussion with him, and whatever happened, happened.

  The limo purred to a halt. Phoebe blew out a breath. Showtime. The gleam from the champagne bottle caught her eye. May as well bring it inside since they hadn’t celebrated yet. If nothing else, they could toast to landing two new major clients for the firm.

  But if she had her way, she’d take charge this time and Rafael wouldn’t know what hit him. And if he wanted to boss her around a little bit, who was she to stop him?

  6

  Phoebe clutched the chilled champagne bottle in one hand and sauntered toward the enormous turquoise front door of Rafe’s cream Mediterranean home. The house had beautiful curving lines, a terracotta tiled roof, and clusters of fuchsia bougainvillea. La Jolla shared a lot of similarities to the South of France and Rafe’s house perched high on a gently sloping hill on Mt. Soledad didn’t disappoint.

  Ignoring the trembling in her legs, she took a cleansing breath and knocked. She hadn’t even lowered her hand before he whipped open the door. For a moment they simply stared at each other. He’d changed out of his black tie and wore low-slung gray sweats, a faded blue San Diego Padres t-shirt, and thick wool socks. Of course, he looked delicious, even in ancient loungewear.

  His dark eyes were wide, but she couldn’t read his expression. “You’re here.”

  She nodded and cleared her throat. “Um, I was about to text you back, but I thought it would be better for us to talk in person. Is that okay?”

  He stepped back and waved her inside. “Better than okay. And you brought champagne?”

  She shrugged a shoulder and smiled sheepishly. “Well, Cliff had it in the limo for us and we did win those clients tonight, so I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

  He closed the door and they paused in the foyer. “I just started a fire in the living room. We can talk in there.”

  She swallowed the nerves thrumming in her throat. She followed him down the wide hallway that boasted wide-planked honey colored hardwood floors, soaring ceilings, and brightly colored paintings that brought the cream walls alive. Scents of evergreen filled the air when they entered a broad open doorway, a Christmas tree that had to be fifteen feet high sparkled with lights and colorful ornaments.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the far wall of the large but surprisingly cozy living room. An enormous caramel-color L-shaped couch and two leather armchairs were set before a tall white-bricked fireplace. Still chilly from the cool San Diego evening air, she crossed to warm her hands in front of the crackling fire. And take a moment to gather her composure.

  “Do you want a sweatshirt or should I open the champagne now?” Rafe’s words were polite, even careful.

  “The fire is just what I needed. I don’t know when I’ll get used to how cool it gets at night here––the days are so mild.” And she really needed to stop babbling about the weather.

  “That’s the best part of Southern California, warm days and cool nights. Have a seat and I’ll grab a few glasses and be right there.” Rafe crossed to a wine cabinet against the far wall, popped the champagne, and poured it into a couple flutes.

  Phoebe sank into the comfortable sofa and accepted the champagne from Rafael. When their fingers brushed, goosebumps erupted on her upper arms. Again.

  Rafe grabbed a velvety soft burgundy throw and tucked it around her shoulders. “There, you’re all wrapped up now and won’t freeze. So, do you want to go first or should I?”

  Although Phoebe’s intention had been to charge in and explain why she’d been so harsh, now that she was actually here with him, her nerves were kicking in. She wasn’t any good at talking about her feelings––she’d grown up in a loving family, but she’d been one of the guys with her brothers and nobody was particularly demonstrative.

  For whatever reason, that hadn’t really been an issue before. Granted, her past romantic relationships tended to be short-lived because she’d literally not had the time to get past certain points with most of them. And twice when she’d dated guys she could imagine a future with, they’d wanted her to choose between her career and them.

  Career had always won.

  Somehow she didn’t think Rafael would ever ask her to choose. If it came to that point.

  Rafe’s lips quirked. “How about a toast first. Then I’ll start.” He leaned forward and clinked his glass against hers. “To a productive business event and interesting developments.”

  Phoebe relaxed and sipped the spectacular drink. “Look, Rafael, I appreciate you texting me, but let me start, please. And I agree on the business and the…umm…developments. So, I tend to be more successful at work than in my personal life. I don’t know how you manage to do both.”

  Rafe shook his head. “If you could talk to my brother and sister-in-law, they would assure you I definitely am not successful in my personal life. I know you think I’m a player and yeah, I’ve dated a lot of women. But work has always been my number one priority and it was just easier to keep things on a casual level. I think my longest relationship was in college and that was about a year.”

  Phoebe nodded. “Same for me. College was easier, because, well, I was twenty. The pressure to be on top doesn’t leave a lot of energy for much else. And grad school…” A vision of drooling over Rafael from afar popped up and her cheeks warmed.

  Rafe cocked his head. “And grad school?”

  Damn it. She’d lay it on the line. “Well, I had a crush on someone who didn’t know I existed, so I buried myself in work. And then––”

  Rafe hel
d up a hand. “Whoa whoa whoa. A crush on someone?”

  Phoebe ran her tongue around her teeth. Now or never. “You. I had a crush on you. And you never noticed. When coincidence or fate or whatever had Cliff recruit me for Trident, I almost turned him down because you were there. But it was the opportunity of a lifetime and I took it.”

  Rafael rubbed his hand along his jaw. “I had no idea.”

  “All it took for you to notice is me wearing my hair down.” She smiled wryly. “But, let me finish. I was ready to leave the east coast. None of my relationships lasted longer than three or four months.” She exhaled and sipped her champagne.

  “Yeah, I think my longest has been about the same. We’re on the quarter system. So we’re really actually alike, but I’ve just been more public.”

  She nodded. “And that’s part of why I freaked out tonight. I’ve made assumptions about you because of all the women, and I realize that isn’t really fair. As a female, especially in our industry where I’m one of a few, I can’t afford to have anyone make assumptions. In this day and age, there shouldn’t be a double standard, but there is. And it stinks. So I’m sorry for how I spoke to you tonight. I freaked out. I wasn’t expecting to like you so much and I definitely wasn’t expecting what happened…”

  He flashed a wicked grin. “I don’t think either of us expected what happened to happen.” He reached one hand out and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. “And I’m sorry about the hickey.”

  Phoebe laughed even though her heartbeat accelerated, and heat spread down to her center from his gentle touch. “I cannot believe I have my first hickey at thirty-three years old.”

  His eyes widened. “Your first? Lucky me. Can I say a few things now?”

  She nodded.

  He reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry about being an ass at work. I’ve been there my whole career and Cliff starts raving about this east coast dynamo joining our firm and you arrived and barely spoke to me. I assumed you were a snob and ignored you. Not very professional, but for some reason you got under my skin.”