Mistletoe

by Lyn Gardner

  Theodore Phelan’s expertise was criminal law, but his clients weren’t just any criminals. Hiding behind their three-piece suits, chains of gold and rings encrusted with diamonds, these were the men who made their living off of other people’s pain. Their millions had been earned by the promises of protection offered to those less fortunate, and by the illegal drugs their workforce sold in alleyways and office buildings. Women walking the street in stilettos and miniskirts also contributed to their fund, as well as politicians needing a bit of help in swaying their constituents’ votes.

  These were the men who ruled the underworld, and by the looks of some of the women accompanying them, Diana couldn’t help but wonder if a few of the ladies hadn’t made their home on street corners at one time in their lives.

  In sequined dresses plunging low in the front and high in the hem, the women who had their arms hooked through those belonging to Phelan’s clientele had been nipped and tucked to perfection. Their over-amplified bosoms strained against the glittery fabric holding them captive, and their makeup had been applied in a thickness equaling grout. Sipping their champagne from hollow-stemmed glasses, they giggled and tickled their way through conversations they didn’t understand, but no one seemed to care.

  The only knowledge they were required to share would come later in the night… and it would be carnal.

  With the room overflowing with people, Diana glanced back at Gwen for directions to the bar, but when she saw the false smile painted on her friend’s face, Diana slowly turned around.

  Confidently striding toward her was a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying brown hair and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be locked on Diana as if she was a beacon in the night.

  He had noticed her as soon as she walked into the room. With the help of three-inch high heels, her calves were stretched and shapely, and her dark-brown hair, worn loose and flowing, shimmered in the light. Compared to the other women attending his party, her garb was plain, but the more he ogled, the more his mouth watered, and the more he realized that she didn’t need silks, satins and rhinestones to get attention. She did it in a simple black dress that hugged every curve she owned.

  “Now, who do we have here?” Ted Phelan said, leering at Diana.

  “Mr. Phelan,” Gwen began. “This is my friend, Diana Clarke. Since Adam’s out of—”

  Brushing off Gwen’s statement with a shake of his head, he extended his hand to Diana. “Ted Phelan. Pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

  “Thank you,” Diana said, taking his hand. Trying not to blanch at the damp palm pressed against hers, she smiled back, and as soon as he let go of her hand, Diana straightened her dress in an attempt to wipe off the sweat. Watching as he tried his best to undress her with his eyes, Diana fought the urge to scold the man for his rudeness. However, remembering that he was Gwen’s boss, she bit her lip and forced herself to smile.

  “I must say, that dress does things to me. If you know what I mean,” Ted said with a wink.

  Raising her chin, Diana looked him in the eye. Debating for only a moment, she replied, “I’m afraid they probably wouldn’t have it in your size, Ted, but I’ll be more than happy to give you the name of the shop where I bought it, if you’d like.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he quickly glanced in Gwen’s direction and then back at Diana. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that,” he said with a smarmy leer. “But I’m a man who loves the challenge of the hunt.”

  Without missing a beat, Diana said, “Yes, I noticed all those poor dead animals hanging on your walls. Did you chase them down and kill them with your bare hands?”

  Straightening his shoulders, Phelan looked around the room. Refusing to allow his agitation to show, he returned his gaze to Diana, and then again, blatantly allowed his eyes to take in her view. His annoyance growing when she didn’t blink an eye at his perusal, he decided to cut his losses. “Perhaps later, you and I can talk more, but right now I need to go take care of my guests. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course. Please don’t let me keep you,” Diana said, displaying a half-hearted smile.

  Without saying another word, Phelan walked away, and immediately Diana turned to Gwen and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “He’s your boss.”

  “True, but he’s also an ass, and by the end of the night, he’ll have enough scotch in him to sink a ship. Trust me, Diana, he won’t remember a thing. Now, let’s go get a drink.”

  Chapter Two

  A little man wearing a floppy, pointed cap and dressed in an outfit of red and green pranced into the house unnoticed. He smelled of peppermint and sugar cookies, and the bells on his clothes jingled with every step he took, but those around him were completely ignorant of his existence. Even though he had the ability to become visible to the men, women and children who lived outside of Santa’s village if he so desired, tonight his mission was stealth.

  Being slightly shorter than a yardstick, on his back, he carried a small sack filled with the essentials of someone vertically challenged. After weaving his way through the legs of the people who filled the room, he reached the fireplace and opened his backpack.

  Taking out a magic ladder, he extended it to the mantle and quickly scampered up the rungs. Perched on the shelf, he pulled a small photograph from his pocket and looked out over the room.

  His eyes darted from one woman to the next, and frowning that none matched the lady in the picture Santa had given him, he put it back in his pocket and sighed.

  Ever vigilant, he remained sitting cross-legged on the shelf until he finally saw her walk into the room. He smiled. She was pretty.

  His intention had been to stay on the mantle until it was time for her to leave, but the cigar smoke in the air had risen around him, encasing him in a smelly, hazy cloud. Noticing that Diana had taken a seat in the far corner of the room to enjoy some appetizers, he leapt at the chance to get away from the second-hand smoke for a few minutes. Sliding down the ladder, he took a deep breath of the slightly fresher air. Catching a whiff of the hors d’oeuvres being served, his stomach began to grumble, and nimbly scurrying through the crowd, he stepped up to the table of food and quickly perused the selection. Curling his lip at the sight of the vegetable tray, he ate a few bits of cheese from a platter before dipping some chips into a taco dip.

  Shrugging his shoulders at the remaining selection, he stuffed a few bread rolls in his pocket, and was about return to his lookout point when he felt something being poured over his head. Jumping back from the table, Percy looked up to see the host of the party weaving above him with an empty glass in his hand.

  Taking a sniff of the liquid covering his outfit, Percy smiled. Scotch.

  Even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to drink on duty, Percy was an adult, albeit a very small one, and he was thirsty. Deciding that a few sips wouldn’t hurt, he picked up an empty glass, rung out his cap and returned to the fireplace mantle with the dregs in hand. It wasn’t much, but it was, after all, scotch. Sipping the liquor, he snacked on the dinner rolls and watched as the evening progressed, patiently waiting to complete his task.

  ~~~

  Finding Diana hiding out near the table filled with finger-foods on silver trays, Gwen asked, “Where’s your drink?”

  “I decided that I best stay sober,” Diana answered, her eyes darting around the room.

  “Why? I can’t get drunk because technically, I’m working, but there’s no reason why you can’t have some fun.”

  “Gwen, in the past two hours, I’ve been called honey, darling, sweetheart, cutesy, and little lady. Six men have asked for my phone number. Two tried to get me to go upstairs, and one patted me on my ass!”

  “Sorry, but now you know why Adam didn’t want me to come alone,” Gwen said with a snicker.

  “Well, at least you’re married! I feel like any minute I’m going to be put up for auction!”

  Giggling, Gwen gave Diana a hug.

  “I’
m sorry. I guess I owe you one – huh?”

  “Yes, you do, so how about paying up now, and let’s get out of here.”

  “Oh, I wish I could, but I have a few more meet-and-greets to do. I’m sorry.”

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, Diana was about to plead her case when a loud, cackling laugh overwhelmed the room. Flinching at the noise, she looked over her shoulder and saw a dumpy woman wearing an overly tight, green satin dress.

  “Let me guess, Lillian Willoughby?” Diana said quietly.

  “How could you tell?” Gwen answered with a grin. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

  Playfully shuddering, Diana said, “Not if you value our friendship.”

  Returning her attention to the bar area for a second, she asked, “So, who’s the other woman?”

  “Which one?”

  “The blonde by the bar.”

  Looking in that direction, Gwen smiled. “Oh, that’s the other partner, Jamison Nash.”

  For the past hour, Diana had been intrigued by the woman. She seemed an anomaly in a room filled with pomp.

  Dressed in a gray, double-breasted tailored suit, she had an aura of elegant simplicity about her. There was no man on her arm, nor did she appear to need one, and although she was surrounded by bling, she didn’t seem to notice.

  Apparently more at ease chatting with the bartender than mingling among the guests, she stood sipping her wine, occasionally glancing at her watch as the evening slowly moved along.

  Diana’s eyes slowly found their way back to Jamison Nash. Scrutinizing for a moment, she turned and looked at Gwen.

  “So, what’s wrong with her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Phelan is a lecher of gargantuan proportions, and Willoughby is…well, Willoughby, and since Nash has been sitting over there by herself for almost an hour, I just assumed she had issues, too.”

  “The only issue Jamie Nash has is that she’s as honest as the day is long, and she’ll give you the shirt off her back if you need it.”

  “Then how did she end up with Phelan and Willoughby?”

  “The firm was started by their grandfathers, and in Jamie’s case, her father. They all inherited their shares of the business from them.”

  “Oh.”

  “There’s a rumor going around that she wants to leave the firm, but I doubt that it’s true. It’s one of the best in New York, and with the income the three divisions generate, it helps pay for all her pro bono work. Personally, I think Willoughby just started it in hopes of grabbing up some of Jamie’s paralegals.”

  “Pro bono?”

  “Yeah, it means—”

  “Gwen, I know what it means.”

  “Oh, right,” Gwen said with a guilty smile. “Anyway, Jamie has a lot of causes, and when she’s not dealing with the corporate law side of things, she spends her time righting the wrongs of those less fortunate.”

  “Sounds admirable.”

  “It is. It’s actually the reason I wanted to work for Phelan, Willoughby and Nash. I’d love to work in her division, but since she’s the nicest of the three partners, the jobs aren’t readily available.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Noticing Phelan waving for her to join him, Gwen said, “Ted’s calling me again. You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think maybe I’ll go outside and get some fresh air.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Gwen said, giving Diana a quick smile before she headed in Phelan’s direction.

  Seeing a clearing in the crowd, Diana made her way to the patio doors, and quietly slipped outside. Filling her lungs with clean, crisp winter air, she walked over to the iron railing surrounding the porch, and taking another deep breath, she looked up and smiled at the sight of the blue-black sky, dotted by hundreds of stars. A slight breeze caused a shiver to run down her spine, and briskly rubbing her arms, Diana was about to go back inside when she felt something being draped over her shoulders.

  “What the fu—” Diana said, whipping around. Assuming that it was Phelan or one of his over-stuffed clients, when she came face-to-face with Jamison Nash, she stopped her sentence just short of embarrassing.

  “Oh, sorry,” Diana said, offering the woman an apologetic smile. “I thought you were Mr. Phelan.”

  “Well, in that case, I should consider myself lucky that I didn’t get slapped in the face,” the woman said with a chuckle, extending her hand. “I’m Jamie Nash.”

  “Diana Clarke,” Diana said, returning the gesture. Impressed by the mixture of strength and softness in the woman’s grip, the slightest hint of sadness washed over Diana when their hands finally parted.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Jamie said, cupping her hands against the breeze to light her cigarette. “But you looked like you were cold.”

  Diana’s eyes flew open. Realizing that she was still wearing Jamie’s suit jacket, she took it off and held it out.

  “Oh, here, this is yours.”

  Shaking her head, Jaime took the coat and again, draped it over Diana’s shoulders. “I’m fine. You’re the one that’s shivering.”

  Although Diana welcomed the warmth of the satin-lined, worsted wool jacket, as she pulled it closer around her body, she half-heartedly tried one more time. “Are you sure?”

  “Consider it my attempt at chivalry,” Jamie said with a wink.

  “They say it’s dead…chivalry, I mean.”

  “Well, there you go then. Because of you, it’s risen from the grave and will live for yet another day.”

  Noticing the sleeves of Jamie’s crisp, white silk shirt billowing in the breeze, Diana snickered. “Yes, but will you? It’s freezing out here.”

  Taking another drag of her cigarette, Jamie hunched her shoulders against the cold. “I’ll survive long enough to finish this.”

  “Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

  With a snort, Jamie nodded her head.

  “Touché.” Debating on how to keep the conversation going, Jamie’s thoughts were interrupted when a strong gust of frigid wind whipped across the patio, its iciness slicing through her blouse in an instant. Turning her back against the force of it, she blurted, “Holy Mother of God!”

  Trying to hold back her giggle, Diana said, “You okay?”

  “Yes, but I think chivalry just died again. Do you mind if we go back inside?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Diana said, flashing a quick grin as she headed for the door, but before she could reach for the knob, Jamie was there to open it.

  “Allow me.”

  “I thought chivalry just died?”

  “It did, but you’re moving too slow.”

  Once inside, Diana returned the jacket to its owner, and as Jamie slipped it on, she asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I thought they were free,” Diana said with a twinkle in her eye.

  With a laugh, Jamie tried again. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Finding herself enjoying the woman’s company, Diana said softly, “Yes, please.”

  Managing to get through the throng of people standing in the middle of the room, as they reached the bar, Jamie asked, “What would you like?”

  “Red wine, I think.”

  Turning to the bartender, Jamie said, “Tony, two glasses of my wine, please.”

  “Your wine?” Diana asked.

  “I’m afraid that Phelan’s taste in wine matches his taste in decorating. I always bring a bottle,” Jamie said, handing Diana a glass. “I hope you like Syrah. It can be rather intense if you’re not used to it.”

  Intrigued by Jamie’s description, Diana’s eyes never left Jamie’s as she brought the glass to her lips. Inhaling the bouquet of blackberry and cloves, she took a sip and smiled as her palate was pleasured by not only the flavors of the aroma, but also a hint of licorice and black currant.

  “It’s marvelous,” Diana said, taking another sip.

  A radiant smile graced Jamie�
��s face.

  “I’m glad you like it,” she said softly, gesturing toward two empty barstools.

  “Shall we?”

  For the first time since she had walked into Ted Phelan’s house, Diana felt at ease. No longer concerned with the men leering at her, or the sound of Willoughby cackling somewhere in the room, Diana’s attention was focused on only one thing. Jamie Nash.

  Unlike the rich and infamous milling about the room, and the pompous host who could be heard over the rest, crowing about his latest kill, Jamie seemed to be much like the wine she drank. Intense, but with just enough spice to make her interesting, and a teasing finish that kept you coming back for more…and Diana wanted more. Jamie’s air of charismatic confidence was refreshing. Captivated by her easy-going nature, Diana found herself looking forward to spending the rest of the evening sipping wine and chatting with the lawyer who was wearing an Italian suit tailored to absolute perfection.

  Diana wanted to know the significance of the small signet ring Jamie wore on her pinky, and the name of the unbelievably provocative cologne she was wearing. As Diana was unconsciously breathing deep the fragrance, there was one more thing she noticed. Jamie Nash was gorgeous.

  Tall and slender, with short golden-blonde hair and eyes the color of sapphires, Jamie’s beauty was flawless.

  In direct contrast to the buxom brunettes and bouffant redheads roaming the room wearing obnoxiously large jewels on their fingers, wrists and necks, Jamie didn’t seem to need any enhancement to be beautiful. She just was.

  Lost in her thoughts, Diana took a sip of wine. Totally unaware that she had just spent the last few minutes perusing Jamison Nash from head to toe, when she raised her eyes again and found Jamie smiling back at her, Diana’s cheeks flamed instantly.