My Christmas Darling

by Vivien Mayfair

  She could give back the money.

  Quit her job.

  Confess.

  “There’s my hot babe!”

  She spun around near the lobby Christmas tree. Mark Roland barreled toward her with a gargantuan bouquet of holiday roses in red and white, tied with a silky green ribbon. He opened his arms to envelope her.

  “Mark, what are you doing here?”

  “Haven’t you received my calls? The Harry and David box? My letter?”

  “And, the chocolates.”

  “Vosges Haut, your favorite.” He kissed her cheeks, putting the flowers in her arms. “You look incredible. Why wasn’t I invited?”

  “It’s a work party. How did you know?”

  “I called your house, your mom told me. I miss you, sweetheart.”

  Lucy’s body convulsed from his sweet talk. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy.”

  “We left off on an important topic last week. I’d like to finish our conversation.”

  “About?”

  “You marrying me.”

  It occurred to Lucy that Heather’s acting career could be forever ruined if their hoax got out. Nobody would ever offer to publish one of Lucy’s books again. Their names would take a public trashing.

  All her fault.

  Looking into Mark’s hopeful eyes, she wondered why destiny had her back. She was never one to believe in signs or karma or heavenly intervention, but the timing of Mark’s appearance had to be a sign.

  There was nothing more to think about.

  “Mark, I need…”

  William wanted Bibi then. Why else bring her? Worse, he wanted somebody who looked like Heather.

  Not her.

  “My love, Lucy?” He placed a hand on her neck. “What’s wrong?”

  Closing her eyes, she took a breath for courage. There were no more choices now.

  Just Mark Roland.

  She said with all of the life drained out of her, “It’s about this marriage thing.”

  A downright bloody fool.

  That’s what he was.

  William berated himself mentally as he slunk away from his date. He wished with all his heart and with every quality that made him a human, that he had never called Bibi’s house and begged her to attend.

  Big mistake.

  Lucy was all he could think about. He tried everything to forget the arcade, blaming it on his father, his job, his failures, even the spiked Irish coffees in mugs that he carted around like a women’s purse that night. No, that wasn’t it.

  Lucy was it.

  He wanted more and more, like a bear craved honey or horses wanted sweet, juicy apples. He reveled in every soft curve he felt that night as he kissed her, even obsessing about the youthful suppleness of her body while visualizing what it would feel like to cuddle with her on a sheepskin rug.

  What must she think of him flashing the beautiful and lanky Bibi Roquette in her face? He may be known as the ice-fish of the publishing industry, but the title of chauvinistic Jack Frost didn’t sit so well. He could only hope that she would believe he invited Bibi for the book.

  Not a complete falsehood.

  He wanted Bibi for the emotional depth their email relationship provided. Beyond that, Bibi at his side during the party would give him an excuse to avoid his humiliation in Lucy’s presence. Waking up in his bed the morning after the arcade, he couldn’t recall arriving there.

  Good thing for cameras.

  He rewound his penthouse security tapes and watched them drag him in. Then he saw how Lucy tended to him for hours like a mother would a sick child, with twice the kindness and thrice the patience. She even kissed his cheek before leaving when Iris arrived to take over.

  What have I done? This isn’t you, Will. You have to get over this thing with Dad.

  “Have you seen Ms. Carpenter?” he asked the receptionist walking the hall.

  “Lobby.”

  William headed that way. He couldn’t wait to talk to her, see her, smell her, touch her. To apologize for the virus and sugar delirium and beg for her love (and, thank goodness that he had a power immune system). He longed to confess his feelings, which undoubtedly pointed to true love for Lucy Carpenter as something deeper than he ever felt before.

  Moving slowly due to still recovering from sore joints, his heart nearly burst with eagerness.

  Please let her forgive me.

  She was the one.

  He came out one floor up on a landing that overlooked the lobby and main doors out to Fifth Avenue, hearing the undertones of voices. An elevator bell dinged. The carolers from the party echoed down and drew the interest of people from the lobby.

  Then he saw them.

  Wished he hadn’t since it felt like being wide awake for heart surgery with nothing he could do about it.

  What on earth is this? How did I miss this?

  He gripped the banister.

  Narrowing his eyes, he watched Lucy throw her arms around a man’s neck and kiss him fervently. The man responded in kind while helping to hold a batch of holiday roses that she balanced.

  “Well, color me shy,” he grumbled, aware that every part of his body suddenly ached. “I guess I’m the idiot.”

  Despite the anger, or maybe even jealousy, his lungs sobbed for air. It was bad enough thinking that he made the mistake of moving in on a woman taken by another, yet far worse than that for thinking that he may never have a shot with her. At least he didn’t have to feel guilty about Bibi now.

  “So much for that.”

  Good riddance.

  Who was he kidding?

  He wanted to be the one kissing Lucy and longed to kiss her until there were no lips on her face to kiss off ever again. You blew it, Will. You fool.

  When Lucy pivoted for the stairs after her man waved goodbye, William dodged for the party. He couldn’t get there fast enough without running into her at the top. Instead, he sprung over a mezzanine hallway hoping to avoid her.

  Bathrooms.

  Drinking fountain.

  He paced up and down the hallway waiting for her to re-mesh with the party, detecting a waft of bleach. What had he been thinking? Of course, Lucy would have a boyfriend. She was smart, talented, delicious, and peppy.

  You’re being an imbecile. Bibi’s here with you. Go to her.

  Yet, he couldn’t get himself to go back in there.

  He scratched his head, reeling over why he felt so awkward in Bibi’s presence when her emails gave his soul a megawatt illumination. Something hurt inside every time she signed offline or sent her final email of the night. Like she took all the light inside off his soul with her and held it captive.

  And, the bubbly blonde woman inside?

  She had nothing he desired in any way. Of course, she writes good emails. She’s a writer. What made you think any of it was real? She was playing hard to get in order to generate more money.

  “Are you going to hide here all night?”

  Lucy’s voice caught him off guard. He buzzed around, tripped on his own foot, and then bounced into the water fountain. His hip hit the push button, spurting it on, soaking the side of his coat.

  Imbecile. Degenerate. Moron.

  “Hiding? Don’t be absurd,” he defended, wiping the water off, which really meant squeezing out his suit.

  “Why are you pacing in front of the bathroom?”

  “I’m waiting for a friend.”

  “But we have bathrooms up on that floor. He can’t find his way back?”

  Great.

  Now he was a liar.

  “Actually, I think he already went upstairs,” he said, awkwardly.

  They stood gawking at each other as if unsure who should walk away first. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t bring up his rock bottom at the arcade. Her lovely facial features sagged liked popped balloons. An air of depression hung over her, almost like there was nothing left inside.

  He distracted with, “Lovely party, I have to say. You did an excellent job.”
r />   “I hope it’s not too extravagant.”

  “Not at all. There’s a lot of Christmas in you.”

  She smiled, rubbing her arm nervously. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little bit of the flu, I guess. Worst I’ve had in years.”

  “I see you brought Bibi.”

  Ah snap.

  “Right, well, she’ll be our biggest client once we move to the new company. I wanted her to meet everybody who will be working on her books. Figured it’s the only time she’ll have an excuse to come out.”

  “Why this time?”

  “Well, she loves Christmas, right?”

  “Does she?”

  “She wrote a Christmas novel.”

  “They do tend to have a market. But, I suppose you’re right. So, it was all business?”

  “I’m trying to prepare her for the book launch event at the Plaza.” He watched as a red flush crept up her neck. “Are you all right?”

  She scratched at it, turning around to walk away. “Too much champagne.”

  “Lucy, wait!” he took hold of her arm.

  “I have to host the secret Santa.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say hello when I came in. My company’s in shambles. Word is out and everybody knows I won’t be their boss come January, and I just wanted to look professional.”

  Her words came slowly. “I realize how hard this is for you.”

  “Yes, well, no excuse. I did notice your beautiful dress and your hard work.”

  With that, she turned away with her head down. Something was wrong.

  Why did I bring Bibi? But she has a boyfriend, so what’s the issue?

  “Hey, Lucy!” he called her back, unsure what to say. “Shopping.”

  When she swung around at his ridiculous blurt, her head tilted. “I don’t see any credit cards.”

  “Sorry, I mean, I need to go shopping.”

  “Now, in the middle of your Christmas party?”

  “What I mean is, for my family. I received your note. Rather, your updated list.”

  More blushing. “I hope it wasn’t too forward of me.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I was wondering if you’d go shopping with me.”

  Her face brightened. “You want me to help you?”

  “Please, since I’ve no clue what I’m doing. I haven’t celebrated in years.”

  He could have thanked her for tending to his illness and apologized for passing out. For some reason, it felt like they both preferred to pretend the event never happened. His current approach to life didn’t work.

  A hard fact.

  It occurred to him if he just accepted the transition into his father’s company and worked for his dad, at least he wouldn’t have to feel like a failure when all of his actions were squashed. Nothing worse than building empires only for them to crumble into a heap of stone and dust.

  Silver linings.

  What Bibi taught him more than once. The silver here was that working for his dad again would be a safe return to the familiar. Letting go of the battle to impress and outshine his dad felt like a blessing.

  “Very well then,” agreed Lucy, holding her head high as she did it.

  He wondered why he wasn’t professing his love or doing something a man should do to keep the woman he loves? Did she really want the man she swapped saliva with in the lobby? If Lucy had a boyfriend, why did she never mention him? Something felt wrong.

  Maybe she dumped him. Or, wants to make me jealous?

  Ha.

  Wishful thinking.

  He noticed her body cringed from head to calf and hoped it wasn’t because of him.

  “You really do look pale,” he said, feeling her cheek. “I hope you didn’t get my flu.”

  “I’m fine, it’s just the champagne.”

  “You’ll help me then? Because I really want to spend time with you.”

  That seemed to stun her a little. “You do?”

  “More than you could know. I want to be with you, Lucy.”

  Sadly, and with the most devastating tone, she shook her head. “You have Bibi.”

  “It’s you I want to go shopping with.”

  “As friends, you mean?”

  Marbles lodged in his throat as he remembered the man in the lobby.

  “Of course,” he choked out, painfully. “Just friends.”

  Chapter 13

  “When you realize Christmas isn’t in a store, why not eat a little bit more?”

  With Love, Vivien

  * * *

  Lucy ran the stairs two at a time until her heart couldn’t take it. Hundreds of stairs, the Empire State Building, a challenge from William to see who could get to the top first. She knew he could beat her in a heartbeat. He was an athlete, strong and agile, full of battery charge.

  No size fourteen rolls.

  “Watch it!” some guy snapped.

  She dashed past him, silently cursing Richard Simmons for starting the workout craze. Stopping just to catch her breath when close to the top, she peeked out a window, seeing nothing but blue and white. The storms had passed and clear skies and white-topped buildings remained.

  Her heart soared.

  “Hurry up, slow poke.”

  When she heard William’s shoes thump as he hollered above, she set off running again. Her lungs burned fire. All she could think about was how unattractive it would be if she keeled over from a heart attack.

  No.

  She refused to appear weak in front of him. Her image was fragile in comparison to Bibi Roquette, a.k.a Heather. Her spirit was already tarnished in need of sprucing with a dust rag. She wanted him to like her as her.

  Rolls and all.

  Crazy, you’re crazy, Lucy, darn right psycho multiple personality loon.

  “I’m almost there,” she forced out.

  As she ran, feeling nauseated, she understood he went slow on purpose.

  He’s going slow on purpose, but at least I’m doing it.

  Up and up, she charged. Around and around, the cement steps never ended. When she saw the door at the top, she stopped, huffing hard for breath. Wasn’t the man supposed to be the one to chase the woman?

  Times were changing.

  Then he was there, calling her name only one flight above. She plunged the last flight almost on hands and knees, flinging past a young teenager lingering at the top and crashed through the door to the viewing deck.

  “Jeez Louise…” Her lungs squeezed like a vice. “Holy holidays.”

  Crisp icicle air slapped her cheeks, yet she could smell mild exhaust. To start, she had resisted taking his challenge. William insisted earlier on treating her to lunch after their shopping adventure. They had a blast in the toy shop scouting the rows of giant stuffed animals. They looked at the dolls at her insistence where she bought one for herself; a little Madame Alexander.

  Then they hit up the Christmas Cottage on Seventh Avenue. He picked up a mixed box of ornaments galore for Iris. She even convinced him to buy a Tommy Bahama shirt for his father at Macy’s, since William commented on how they used to take vacations to Hawaii. For her mom, she purchased a Thomas Kincaid music box of a miniature Christmas town that reminded her of Snowdrop Valley.

  A magical day.

  As she tried to catch her breath now, she felt a splash of dizziness. Her heart thumped hard, eyes stinging from wind velocity, knees weak and rubbery. The door whooshed open behind her as more people emerged.

  “There you are,” said William by the railing.

  He laced an arm around her shoulders and rubbed his hand in small circles on her back. She caught a shrill cry of a little girl in pink ruffles, tugging at her mother’s skirt. The refined woman picked her up, cuddling her neck.

  The tender scene, a mother and daughter, forced a pain in her chest. If she didn’t play her cards right, her mom would never get a view of New York City like Lucy had now.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Not so terrible, right?”

  “Never again,�
� she said into the crook of his arm, snapping out of it. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I should have warned you that I’m competitive.”

  “You realize I let you win.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  With a wink, he walked slowly to the railing, which was secured by crossed wire to prevent jumpers. Then he turned, held out an arm, and invited her to his side.

  She stood frozen in place.

  “You’re perfectly safe,” he promised.

  She took a step forward instead, then stopped. Another step, then the vertigo set in. She paused and counted to ten. William’s arm remained outstretched behind her. The two people on the deck disappeared as a group of school kids flooded the far side in search of Santa roaming the deck.

  “You can do this,” he promised, cool as the air turning her nose numb. “Just swear you won’t jump.”

  At least they decorated the viewing platform for the holidays. Each coin-operated spy-glass was wrapped in a big red bow. A six-foot tree stood in the center decked out with blocky, vintage color bulbs. Strangely, holiday jazz piped out from the center of the tree and drew gazes that way.

  “I’m just catching my breath,” she assured.

  He smiled and looked down at his feet, athletic shoes now muddy from their shortcut through Central Park earlier. It was another thing that surprised her about this man. When he wasn’t trying to run a tight ship, he actually let his hair down a little. Loose jeans, high-top shoes, a black athletic jacket with a green scarf tucked into it.

  A normal person.

  She took his hand. “I was a kid the last time I came up here.”

  “Pretty, isn’t it? All that leftover snow.”

  She saw the Hudson River and New Jersey, the edge of Ellis Island, the snowdrifts of Central Park, spotting lower Manhattan all the way to Brooklyn, with clusters of gray lookalike buildings that were almost surreal, straight out of Batman’s Gotham City under a mist of crystal fairy dust.

  “Are you smiling, finally?” she asked.

  He was.

  “You were right before,” he admitted in a tone that sounded like a different person. “There’s more to life than work.”