by Alina Jacobs
Because they were all very different elements, the flavor profiles would need to work in harmony. To go against the spice of the eggnog, the baked Alaska truffle would have chocolate sorbet. The molded gelatin would be cape gooseberry, a flowering plant that produces tart orange berries hidden in little translucent husks.
First up was the gelatin, since it needed to set. I wanted to display the molded dessert in the husk just to make it a little more interesting.
“That looks toxic,” Fiona joked as she looked over at the bright-orange liquid I was stirring.
“I know, right?” I said, adding in several gelatin sheets. I poured the thick liquid into the mold then started on the eggnog custard. In my Christmas world, eggnog should be thicker than heavy cream and contain copious amounts of rum. I grated nutmeg and cinnamon into the double boiler while I stirred.
Now that I was comfortable with my desserts, I couldn't help but notice that Owen was still in the room. Normally he hightailed it out of there as soon as the camera crew took their shots of the judges. Except there he was, studying me.
I took a sip of the rum. I still wasn't sure where we stood. He had kissed my neck, and I had made excessive jokes about his dick then fled like a teenager when he tried to kiss me.
“Stop staring at my boyfriend!” Amber screeched, causing me to almost spill the hot eggnog custard all over the table.
“He's not—you know what, never mind,” I said, trying to keep my hands steady as I poured the last of the hot liquid into the last mold.
“You do realize,” I said, turning to Amber after I jiggled the molds, “that you're not the only person trying to lay claim to him, right?”
“You—”
“Not me,” I said, holding up my hands. “This girl named Sloane.”
Amber's eyes narrowed, and she went back to furiously chopping walnuts.
“Setting crazy after crazy,” Fiona remarked. “Nice.”
“Hopefully they'll keep each other occupied,” I said.
“So you can slip in there.”
“I don't know. He's a judge.”
Fiona shrugged. “It's the holidays. Everyone knows things can be wild. There's all those memes about people going sexually crazy at holiday parties.”
32
Owen
I knew I should go up to my office and work, but Holly was so mesmerizing.
Walker: Earth to Owen. Were you kidnapped by the elf on the shelf?
Owen: I'm at the bake-off.
Walker: Seriously? What about the TechBiz contest? We still need to figure out what we're doing. They're going to start doing surprise walk-throughs any day now.
Owen: Relax. I have it under control. I hired Holly.
Walker: Uh sure ok so that seems like it's going to turn into a problem. She's going to be working for you, but then you're also sleeping with her.
Owen: I'm not sleeping with her.
Walker: Could have fooled me.
I wanted to, though. The fifties had really known how to dress women. With every motion, the full skirt swished around her legs, her ankles delicate in the heels, her waist cinched in that hourglass figure. She looked like a Christmas present I wanted to carefully unwrap. Her motions were expert yet feminine, but when she used a blow torch to caramelize the sugar, the way she stood with her legs spread made her look ever so slightly dangerous.
I felt as if I could stare at her for hours. When I looked up at the clock, I realized I had.
“I’m excited to see these desserts,” Nick said. “It seems like everyone's found their groove.”
Unfortunately, I had to sit through several desserts before Holly's.
“Fifties housewives were very proud of their cakes,” Amber said. “And it was in vogue to make them shaped like animals, trains, or flowers.” She presented each of us with a cake shaped like the head of a reindeer.
“Did you go out and decapitate these poor animals yourself?” Nick deadpanned.
“Is all the fruit sauce around the bottom supposed to be blood?” I asked her.
“Only the blood of my broken heart, Owen,” she said.
Anu raised her eyebrows. “Let's cut this open and see how it looks inside,” she said, sticking a fork into the reindeer's head.
“This isn't made out of Rice Krispies, is it?” I asked Amber, tapping the antlers. “Correct me if I'm wrong, Anu, but aren't the contestants supposed to do better than Rice Krispies treats?”
“These are special Rice Krispies,” Amber insisted. “They're made with almond flour, and there's a surprise inside.”
“It's all you, Mr. Badass Billionaire,” Nick said.
I broke one of the antlers, and red sugar spilled out.
“That's very upsetting.”
“The cake tastes pretty good though,” Anu said. “If you just ignore the packaging. I do like the moistness of the cake and the way you layered it with the black current liqueur frosting, the ganache, and the fudge. The fifties did like hokey stuff, but at least it's tasty. You have the flavors, and you don't taste pure sugar or cardboard like you do with a box cake.”
The rest of the desserts were all along the same vein. There were several variations of Jell-O cakes. Fiona at least had an imitative take on a French 1950s dessert called poached pears belle Hélène. She had made a perfect trio of French pear dumplings with cinnamon chocolate sauce and salted caramel ice cream.
“With Julia Child, Americans were just waking up to the joys of French cooking,” she told us as we sampled the dessert.
“Very rustic,” Anu said. “But refined. The chocolate sauce is the perfect consistency, and the caramel ice cream is actually very good.”
“You know how tired I am of ice cream,” Nick said. “But I feel like I could eat this all day.”
“You did have all day though,” Anu said, “and while this is tasty, we would expect something more with the time you had.”
“And for the final contestant,” Anastasia said. “Holly.”
“Ready for another taste of my Christmas cookies?” Holly said, winking at me. “Though today it's not cookies. Instead, this dessert is a reimagining of the perfect 1950s Christmas. We have a baked Alaska truffle, with chocolate sponge cake and dark chocolate and sea salt sorbet surrounded by a layer of chocolate and then a layer of scorched meringue.”
“How did you manage to keep it round?” Anu marveled, picking up the truffle.
“A good housewife never tells her secrets,” Holly said with a playful smile. “Also on the plate is an eggnog custard and a cape gooseberry gelatin.”
“This is magnificent,” Nick said. “I seriously need to take a picture. This is crazy!” He snapped photos with his phone then took a bite of the gelatin. “Lovely. I love that you took the crappy processed fifties food and completely reimagined it while still keeping the essence. It's brilliant.”
I scooped up several of the golden balls on the plate.
“Those are spice peach and rum spheres,” Holly said.
They burst in my mouth.
“The sauces are excellent. This is an award-winning dish,” Anu told her. “After those Christmas cookies, it's nice to see you strive for more.”
“There wasn't anything wrong with the cookies,” I growled. Holly smiled at me sweetly.
“I think the winner is pretty clear here,” Anu said after Holly went to the greenroom.
“Who are we getting rid of?”
“That reindeer head was disturbing,” Nick said. “I'm going to have nightmares.”
“It was better than the Jell-O layer cake with the fruit,” I said.
“I know. And you know me, I like my alcohol,” Anu said, “but with all the liquor Farrah put in the Jell-O, I felt like I was back in college doing Jell-O shot after Jell-O shot. Bad decisions all around.”
Holly clapped her hands and bounced up and down when we told her the news.
“Congratulations, Holly, and thank you, judges,” Anastasia said as Farrah was led off, sobbing, to gi
ve her postshow interview.
I wanted to nab Holly, but the production crew whisked her away to give the postcontest rundowns that the producers would edit into the episode. I should have at least gotten her number. Then I could text her under the pretense that we should plan for the TechBiz visits.
I went back up to my condo, absorbed in how I was going to reel in Holly. I wanted her begging and pleading for me. I didn't notice the life-sized elf leaning seductively in the condo entryway until I almost ran into her.
Sloane. She sauntered over to me. The elf costume was really more in the direction of lingerie, I decided.
“Just the man I wanted to see,” Sloane said, unlacing the bodice of the elf costume. Suddenly she grabbed me. The elevator dinged just as Sloane pressed her mouth to mine.
“I, uh—I’m sorry,” Holly said as I scrambled to push Sloane off. Holly stepped back on and mashed the door close button before I could yell out to her.
I shoved Sloane away.
“Her? Honestly, you can't be serious,” Sloane sneered, looking between me and the elevator. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m the perfect woman for you.”
“You need to leave,” I said, wiping my mouth. I was covered in her red lipstick. “I don't know how you even snuck up here.”
“Holly has you under some sort of spell,” Sloane said angrily.
“No,” I said, furious. Stay cold. I could not afford to have her bad-mouth me to the TechBiz people.
“I have work to do. I'll talk with you another time,” I told her. I went into my condo without waiting for her to answer me.
I was angry that Holly had seen Sloane kiss me. Calm down. You can explain to her what happened.
I couldn't have ruined my chances with Holly. I hadn't even kissed her yet. Well, not on the mouth.
33
Holly
“Celebrate?” I asked Morticia, desperate for anything to keep me from showing up at Owen's condo like a stalker. I wanted him, but he was so intense, and it really wasn't a good idea, especially if I was going to be working for him.
But I wanted to see him. Maybe I could pretend I wanted to talk about the holiday party? But then I really should schedule a meeting. Workers don't just show up at their boss's house in the middle of the night to “work on a project.” That would earn a serious eye roll.
“I have to work,” Morticia said with a dramatic sigh.
“Fiona?”
“I'm meeting a friend from college for drinks.”
I went down to the lobby to be as far away from Owen's condo as possible.
Do not think about Owen.
I tried making a list on my phone of all the things I wanted to do for Owen's holiday party, but the reality was that I was too wound up about Owen to think of anything coherent.
My phone buzzed with an email notification, and I almost dropped it. The message was from Walker, detailing the TechBiz contest and his thoughts. I wrote him back with my ideas. In the back of my mind, I wished it had been Owen to write me.
You're obsessed and crazy.
Yes, but I wanted him.
Holly: I'm going up.
Morticia: To the great Christmas tree farm in the sky? I'll throw a nice funeral for you.
Holly: *Eye roll* no, to see Owen.
Morticia: No don't do it, you're too young! You have so much more to live for than a dickwad billionaire. He doesn't even like your holiday.
Holly: I can make him like it. I have all those super-duper sexy outfits I bought drunk shopping. I can make even the most hard-core grinch sing Christmas carols if I walk up wearing a sexy candy cane outfit.
Morticia: Oh right, the candy cane stripper outfit with the matching pole. Honestly, for someone who complains they never have any space or money, you sure have a lot of stuff.
Holly: It's a collapsible pole. I use it for exercise.
Morticia: You hear that? That's the sound of me choking because I’m laughing so hard.
Holly: I'm going if only because I need some positive affirmation that I am a sexy desirable woman.
Morticia: I was in the studio today. He definitely desires you.
I swiped the key card and pressed the button for Owen's floor. What was I going to say to him? “Hi, I need you to light up my Christmas tree?” “Hi, I'm Holly, and I'm horny?”
But when the elevator doors opened, it looked as if Owen had already found someone to not just light his Christmas tree but set it on fire. There was Sloane, in a super-sexy elf costume with thigh-high stiletto boots, locking lips with Owen.
“Well then,” I said, stepping back on the elevator and mashing the buttons until the door closed. “That's awkward. And unexpected.”
Holly: Owen's making out with Sloane.
Morticia: I knew he had bad taste.
Holly: What do I do?
Morticia: Key his car.
Holly: I'm not going to key his car. That's crazy! Ugh now it's going to be awkward.
Morticia: When are you not awkward?
Holly: I was dreaming of a white *cough* Frost Christmas *lonely warbling intensifies*
Morticia: 315 days until Halloween, 315 days until Halloween.
I paced around in the penthouse living room, nursing a glass of Owen's expensive liquor that I had stolen from his bar. I felt stupid for even thinking I had a chance with him. Then I was angry. He had definitely been flirting with me in his condo. He kissed my neck first and did that thing with his tongue on my hand. I wasn't going to be the one moping around like a sad sack. Owen needed to be taken down a peg. He was like one of those self-absorbed alphahole billionaires in those romance novels I always told myself I was never going to read another one of and then totally did.
I marched to the elevator, tapped my foot as it slowly took me to the next floor down. Sloane wasn't in the foyer when I stepped off the elevator.
“I guess they took their little Christmas sex pageant to the bedroom,” I fumed and pounded on the door and mashed the doorbell. I was mid mash when it swung open. Owen was rubbing at his face with a towel.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” I said in my best sassy voice. “Did I interrupt?”
“No,” Owen said, frowning.
“Oh.”
My whole speech went out the window. I had been expecting drama, fireworks, maybe even a girl-on-girl fight, though in this corset, I figured my odds weren't that great.
“Well, I—” I looked up awkwardly at the ceiling.
Owen licked his lips. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his deep voice flowing round me.
“I, um—I was just going to—” I panicked and flailed. “Ask you about the company holiday event because I'm working for you now.” I looked down at my feet. “And I guess that means I shouldn't sleep with you.”
“Am I supposed to pretend I didn't hear that?” he said, voice dropping an octave.
The corset was getting a little tight. I fanned myself, trying to get air down the bodice.
Owen stepped through the doorway. His large hands encircled my waist, caressing me. He bent down so that our mouths almost touched.
“You know you want to kiss me,” he stated.
“Full of yourself much?” I whispered, mesmerized by his mouth.
“Always,” he said. “I was waiting to hear you beg for me, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Then he closed the distance between us.
His mouth was soft, making me melt like a marshmallow over a fire. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He tipped my head slightly back as he lazily explored my mouth. I could see now why Sloane had jumped him in the hallway. I didn't think I'd ever be able to find any man who was a better kisser.
Owen leaned back, looking slightly smug at my expression.
“I can't even imagine why I didn't do that two days ago,” I said.
“It's really all I could think about,” Owen replied, cupping my face.
34
Owen
My phone rang just as I was starting to tug Holly inside.
&nb
sp; “I should go,” she said, the spell broken. “It's late.”
“Please—” But she pulled away. I had expected that she would simply fall into my arms and into my bed. It seemed that Holly was a slightly more difficult puzzle, however.
“What?” I growled into the phone. “This better be an emergency.”
“Hi. How is everyone's tenth-favorite CEO?” my brother Jack asked. “The Svenssons have been asking if you reviewed the report about the gene therapy center in Harrogate. They have to submit paperwork to the FDA.”
“I can't believe you interrupted—” I snapped my mouth shut.
“Interrupted what?” my younger brother practically yelled into the phone.
“Never mind.”
“Tell me,” Jack demanded. “Is it the baker? Walker said you were after one of the contestants.”
“I'm not after her. I—look, drop it. Tell the Svenssons I'm working on reviewing the report.”
“Really? Because apparently Walker sent everyone your IT logs, and it says you haven't opened an email since two p.m.”
I did actually work the next day. Rudolph lounged out on the balcony off my office while I reviewed the reports. My company was making a huge investment in the gene therapy business.
While usually I prided myself on being able to be one hundred percent focused under any circumstances, today it was difficult. My thoughts wanted to wander to Holly and the kiss. It was everything I’d thought it would be. Now I wanted more.
My phone beeped. If it was Jack…
Unknown number: Santa's sleigh to HQ. Do you read me? Over.
What the hell?
I texted Walker.
Owen: Do you know this number?
Walker: Yeah that's Holly. I told her to get with you on the TechBiz holiday party stuff.
Walker sent me her contact card, and I added it to my phone.
Owen: Do you ever get tired of Christmas?
Holly: How'd you know it was me and not one of your crazy stalkers?
Owen: Tech genius and billionaire.
