“Yes,” I amuse my best friend and narrow my eyes at her. “It is a bit warm.”
“You never know, it could also be warm out on the balcony, too,” Hannah say. “If you head out there, maybe you will find some company to keep you warm?”
“I don’t need any company to keep me warm, Cupid,” I throw back at her under my breath.
“Tiff, there are heating lamps all along the terrace, so you won’t get too cold,” Gage says, not having a clue about our undertone amongst Hannah and me. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Tiffany. I want to dance with my beautiful wife to this holiday song.”
I exit through the glass door and I tug my shawl tighter as the ice-cold air hits me. Thank goodness for the patio heaters, making it tolerable to be out in the icy sky. I sip the chilled alcohol and it warms my insides as I take in the radiance in front of me.
In the distance, the Statue of Liberty and all her confidence shines brightly. Below is the commotion of yellow cabs inching their way on Fifth Avenue, and the twinkle of red, white, and green lights illuminate the city.
In the corner of my eye, I see a waiter making his way to me as I sip the last of my drink. “Would you like another?” the waiter asks. I rest my empty glass on the tray.
I really shouldn’t. I’m a lightweight. But when I see Michael through the window as he stands next to his date, all I do is nod. Because I need to calm the nerves bubbling up inside me. Remembering my hand engulfed in his strong hand for a beat too long, the scent of Michael’s cologne still lingers in my nose, and the sound of his voice sends goose bumps all over my body.
“Oh, yes. Cosmopolitan. Thank you,” I answer the waiter.
“You got it. I’ll be right back.”
I take in a deep breath and welcome the chill filling my lungs. I turn to face the city and watch a soft dust of snowflakes begin to fall onto the city below me.
Michael
There she is. On the terrace. I shake my head, trying to jog my memory and sift through my mental rolodex. Where have I seen her?
A waiter passes me with the same drink Tiffany had been drinking all throughout dinner.
“Excuse me,” I say to the waiter.
“Yes,” he says.
“Where are you taking that?”
“To the lovely lady in the red dress out on the balcony,” he answers.
Perfect. This is my chance to talk to her. Alone.
I pull out a twenty from my pocket and hand it to him. “I’ll take it to her, if you don’t mind.”
Of course the waiter’s eyes beam as he gladly takes the bill as he hands me the glass of pink-red concoction. I exit onto the balcony and holy shit it’s cold out here. At least the overhead heating lamps give some warmth and make it tolerable.
I walk up behind Tiffany as she looks out to the city. A breeze wisps the tawny strands of Tiffany’s hair and a sweet floral scent fills my nose. Damn, she smells nice.
She lifts her foot as she hovers over the railing and I can’t help staring at her long toned legs. My dirty mind imagines them wrapped around, making my dick twitch in my slacks. I’ve had my fair share of women, but something about her is making me go crazy for her, and this is unlike me.
My eyes move up from her dainty ankles to her . . . Do not stare at her ass. But I can’t help it. She’s got a nice firm ass and those legs for days. She must work out.
It’s been a while since a woman made me react this way and it’s happened twice in a matter of a few days. Maybe it’s the season that’s making me feel lonelier than I should.
“Your drink, miss,” I say to Tiffany’s back.
When she turns, her breath hitches. “Michael.”
“Hi. I thought I’d take the liberty and save the waiter a trip since I was on my way out here too.” I hand her the glass and she takes it.
“Merry Christmas,” I say as I raise my tumbler of amber liquid and we clink our glasses.
“Thank you,” she replies, looking up at me through her dark lashes. She turns to face the lights of New York. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It most certainly is,” I say, gazing at her profile. Not because I’m trying to remember where I’ve seen her, but because she’s absolutely stunning. “And the city is not so bad either.”
“I bet that’s what you say to all your girlfriends or at least your date.” She rolls her eyes and snorts under her breath.
Did she seriously snort? She’s fucking adorable.
Tiffany juts her chin toward my sister. “And I don’t think your date would like it too much that you ditched her and hanging out here with me.”
“Actually, Sybil would encourage it,” I say.
“Your date likes to share?” she asks as she looks at me with disgust.
“Who, Sybil?” I laugh. “You think my sister is my girlfriend?”
“Sybil is your sister?” Her eyes go wide. “I am so sorry, I assumed. She’s a model and stunning . . . I thought. Oh my God, she’s your sister?” she asks again, then covers her face with her palm.
That’s when I notice her bracelet. A dainty silver chain with an ice-skate charm dangling from it, reminding me of the woman from the boutique.
“Yes.” I chuckle. “Sybil may be stunning in magazines, but she is annoying as hell.”
Tiffany giggles as she tucks her hair behind her ear, and fuck if that sends a jolt straight to my dick when she exposes her neck, making me want to taste her skin.
What the hell is wrong with me? I just met this woman for crying out loud.
“But you don’t look anything alike,” she adds.
“Sybil is the spitting image of our mom. And I take after our dear ole’ dad.”
“That’s like me and my brothers. Chase, my younger brother, blond and blue eyes who is all Mom. Then there’s me and Axel who take after my dad.”
I tilt my head and run my hand through my hair. “Did you say Axel? As in Axel Carr? The goalie from the . . .?”
She raises her hand and the ice-skate charm catches my eyes again. It makes sense now. She’s a hockey fan. “Guilty,” she says.
“Wow. He’s an amazing player,” I compliment.
“That he is.” She takes a sip of the pink liquid.
“And what about you,” I inquire.
She opens her mouth, closes it as if she is thinking before she speaks. “I don’t do hockey.”
“Too much of a guy sport?” I assume as I eye the red dress hugging her curves.
She raises a brow. “Hmm . . . something like that.” She smirks, and I wonder if I said something to offend her.
I need to change this subject. Women and sports don’t mix. At least when it came to Daniella. She hated being in the house when I had football, baseball, and hockey on the big screen. It was all the more reason for her to take my American Express and be gone for hours out of the house.
I clear my throat. “So, tell me, Tiffany. Why are you here without a date?”
“Hannah insisted I come.”
“Well, I’m glad you gave in.”
“And why’s that?” Tiffany takes a sip of her Cosmo.
“I wouldn’t have met you this evening,” I say. “And my father raised me to always give a compliment when I see a pretty woman. And you, Tiffany, are not just pretty; you are absolutely beautiful.”
“Well, Michael”—she looks down at herself and looks back up at me—“this is all the work of Dimitri. I don’t normally dress like this, I don’t normally look like this, and I certainly don’t belong here.”
“Oh and you think I dress in a tux as an everyday thing?”
She laughs and I love that I put a smile on her face. “I suppose not.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t like coming to these shindigs either. But since I work for this company, it’s only right I show my face.”
“And why are you dateless?” she asks. “I mean, let’s be honest. Now that I know Sybil is your sister, the women of New York would be curious why a handsome man like your
self would be dateless to one of the most exclusive social events of the year.”
I take a sip of my bourbon thinking about the woman with the lavender eyes. “There was someone. But by the time I got the chance to ask her, she took off. She probably would have said no to me anyway.”
“She left you?” she assumes.
“You could say that,” I say. “Now she’s gone like the wind and I learned my lesson.”
“And what lesson is that?”
“Never let a moment pass me by again.” Our eyes lock as I look into her hazel eyes. But they’re not quite hazel, as if another color of gray or maybe lavender traces her irises. Either way, I can’t stop staring at them.
But it’s not just her eyes. There’s something about her, a connection between us.
I step closer, wanting to feel her warmth. “Regardless of your façade, I bet under all that makeup, you are just as stunning.”
A flush of pink covers her cheeks and I know it’s not from the icy breeze that is blowing.
“Thank you,” she says shyly, then tucks her bottom lip under her teeth.
“So tell me, Tiffany. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Why do you ask?”
“If you do, I’ll back off. If you don’t, then I’d like to ask you out on a date.”
“I am not going to go on a date with you,” she says as a matter of fact.
“So you do have a boyfriend,” I confirm.
“I had a boyfriend.”
“The operative word I hear is had. So, why won’t you go on a date with me?”
She stands straighter and groans when she looks back at me. “Because men suck and so does Christmas.”
“You hate Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
She sighs. “He dumped me via text on Christmas Eve last year and I haven’t spoken to him since. I thought he was going to propose to me under the mistletoe. I misread all the signs. The tickets to Fiji and the little black box with a ring in it that I found in his jacket was clearly not for me.”
“Ouch. And how long were you with him?”
“Three years.”
“Wow. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Me, too.” She turns to face the city below us. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
“To be married to him?” I prompt.
“Yes. No. I mean . . . Yes, someday I do want to be married. But not to him. I wasn’t sure if I was even ready to settle down if he asked me. All I wanted for Christmas was for Carson, my ex, to meet me under the mistletoe so I could finally get that kiss. Weird, right?”
“You mean to tell me. This boyfriend of yours—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she clears up quickly.
“I stand corrected. But let’s call him Douche-canoe,” I say, and I love the giggle she emits. “Back to what I was going to say. He’s never kissed you under the mistletoe?”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Have you ever been kissed under the mistletoe?”
“It’s something I’ve wished for ever since I watched some TV show on the Hallmark channel.” She shakes her head again. “I know I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic. Actually, I think you’re adorable.”
“Great! Now I’m adorable.” Tiffany’s palm flies to her face to cover it.
I pull her arm down to see her gorgeous face. “Well, you are, Tiffany. I know you said no earlier, but I need to ask you the question.” My stomach is doing some weird somersaults and my chest tightens as my heart thumps erratically. “Will you go out on a date with me?”
“Listen, Michael.” She clears her throat. “I’m not who you think I am. Under all this glitz and glamour, I’m just an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life.”
“Tiffany . . . under this tuxedo and past the executive façade, I’m an ordinary guy, looking for the girl who doesn’t care about the glitz and glamour.” I step closer and the back of my hand grazes her soft cheek. “So what do you say? Go on an ordinary date with me.”
Tiffany’s mouth opens, and before any words slip past her lips, a jingle rings from her small purse. Tiffany breaks our connection, holds up a finger. “Sorry. Let me see who this is.” She takes her phone out and raises it to her ear.
Tiffany
“Hello?” I answer as I rest my glass on the table.
“Tiff. Honey, it’s Mom.” Her voice is shaky, and a chill creeps up my spine.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
“It’s Chase. He’s in the hospital. He got into a car accident.”
A gasp of cold air catches in my throat.
I turn to Michael. “I have to go.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks with concern in his voice.
“It’s my brother. He’s been in an accident.” Without another second passing, I’m rushing inside the venue and toward the elevator. “Mom, is he okay? What happened?”
“I’m not sure. The doctors won’t let Daddy and me see him.” She lets out a breath, then begins to ramble on about what her and Daddy were doing when they received the call. “We’ve been in the waiting room for over an hour.”
“And you’re just now calling me?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mom says. “I needed to be sure your brother was fine. But now, I’m starting to worry.”
“I’m coming now.” The three-word sentence is all that comes out of my mouth. I can’t think straight. This is my baby brother and all I can do is send a silent prayer above.
“Just be careful, sweetie,” Mom says.
“I will. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
It’s like watching paint dry as the numbers light up and the elevator descends to the lobby. “Come on, come on,” I say aloud, willing for the car to go faster.
The ding sounds in the small space and the metal doors slide open. The doorman recognizes me from when I arrived with Gage and Hannah.
“Hello, Miss Carr. Leaving so soon?” he asks.
“I need to go home. There’s been an emergency. Is there an available car?” I ask him.
“Say no more. I will have Benny take you.” The doorman whistles at a town car waiting on curbside and it slowly drives up in front of me. He opens the door and I climb in. “Thank you. And if you happen to see Michael Zander, please tell him the answer is no and I am very sorry.”
“Will do,” he says and closes the door after I climb in.
The drive to Staten Island feels like forever. I sent a text to Hannah letting her know I left to the hospital and that I will keep her posted on Chase’s condition.
The moment I arrive, I rush through the double doors of the hospital and straight to the nurses’ station.
I’m out of breath. “My brother. Chase. Carr. He was in an accident,” I say, catching my breath and realizing how the combination of the words sound ridiculous.
“What is your brother’s name,” the nurse asks calmly.
“First name, Chase. Last name is Carr. I know the paradox of his name is ironic considering he got into a car accident. But can you please tell me where he is?”
The nurse smiles and taps on the keyboard. “Ah, yes. He is in room 303,” she says as her eyes meet mine.
I dart for the elevators, and right on cue, the doors open up as I approach. Once on the third floor, I’m searching the room numbers, and when I find it, I hear Daddy’s deep voice.
I enter the room and the sight of my brother staggers me. His arm is in a cast and he has a few scrapes on his face. Although I am grateful the accident was not as bad as I imagined, I would really like to break his other arm and his legs for making me leave right when the most amazing man was asking me out on a date.
Even though it felt so good to me around Michael, I would have said no to him anyway. As a matter of fact, I did. I told the doorman to relay the message to him.
Michael is way out of my league. I did that because once he found out who I am, not only would
he be disappointed discovering I was the one in the store, but I would be disappointed too. Despite his plea of wanting to date a simplicity.
“Woo-wee,” Chase whistles. “What runway did you just catwalk off of?”
“Seriously?” The breath I’d been holding shoots out of my lungs. “You scared the shit out of me, you jackass!”
“Is it Tuesday already? Oh wait, it’s only Saturday, so that means you’re a couple of days early to insult me, Tiffy,” Chase throws back.
“Mom, you made it sound like it was really bad,” I reprimand her.
“Hi, angel,” Daddy says, and walks toward me and kisses the top of my head. “You know your mother.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. When the doctors wouldn’t give me any information, I panicked,” Mom says.
“Panicked?” I grip my mom’s shoulders with both my hands and look in her eyes. “Mom, I love you, but do you realize I just left the most amazing party, having an amazing time—”
“With an amazing man?” she finishes.
Even though it’s true, I don’t plan on telling her that.
“I was having an amazing time. Let’s leave it at that,” I say, then turn to my brother. “So are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Two words. Black ice,” he says. “Then I tumbled down the embankment and the car ended up on its side.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” I ask.
“No, thank God,” Chase says. “But now you got yourself a dilemma, dear sister.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that, Chasey?”
“You’re down another player,” he says. “And you know what that means.”
A groan escapes as I shake my head. “The hockey game."
“Yup. And that means, you’re up!”
Michael
“Are you nervous?” Gage asks as we gear up in the men’s locker room.
“It’s been a while since I’ve played. But it’s all fun and games . . . right?” I ask, cracking my neck side to side to relax my tense shoulders. It feels like forever since I’ve played and yet the adrenaline still gets me.
Christmas Wishes: A Christmas Romance Anthology Page 3
