by Starla Night
A strange frisson tingled over his skin.
Like the tingle when Karmel had pressed the pumpkin spice coffee into his hand, and when she had ordered his martini. She was trying to guess at his desires. She wanted to know him. She didn’t think he was dull — or unworthy.
She liked him?
The recriminations that had plagued him dissolved like the fizzes in his martini.
Karmel had said she liked him in front of the restaurant. But she also liked dinner, Christmas, her family, and the last Corgi she’d groomed.
He wanted her to like him.
The more she revealed, the more he craved.
But what if he opened himself to her as she wished and showed his true self?
It was risky.
When he had tried to express his honest regrets, Star Sapphire had snarled in his face. And his mother and brothers had agreed. “I knew you would fail,” his younger brother had sneered. “You are too hidebound and duty-driven to entice a female.”
He did not want an exotic woman like Karmel to agree.
Meeting her had caused a shocking glimmer of hope to crack into his world.
The day he disappointed her was the day that crack would close and hope would die, leaving him alone in a shell of eternal darkness.
Chapter Seven
Peridot was looking angry again.
He stared at the table, pensive, as if he regretted how late Karmel had kept him out and how very far they were off schedule.
To be fair, it was late, and she still had a night of baking ahead of her.
“I’m sorry,” Karmel said as the waiter cleared away their dishes. “I’m not earning my dinner, am I?”
His gaze flicked up to her. “No?”
“Maybe if I spoke to your boss myself, I could get an idea of what ‘Christmas spirit’ he needs.”
Peridot puckered like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You wish to speak with Sard?”
“Is that a problem?”
“He is a heavyweight aristocrat.”
“So, yes?”
Peridot looked away. “He is very attractive.”
Too attractive to deign to speak with Karmel? But she was wearing a new dress. And shoes. And … huh.
“We could talk on the phone. Then we wouldn’t see each other’s faces.”
Peridot darkened.
“I just want to help,” she muttered.
Luckily, their dessert course arrived. Adorable chocolate tea cakes in the shape of Christmas trees nestled inside a white Pavlova wreathe dotted with candied cherries.
She picked up one tree by its flat cookie base. The tree-shaped tower of marshmallow dripped still-wet chocolate down her fingers. “These are too adorable to eat.”
Peridot’s eyes narrowed.
Oops, she’d made it worse. Like earlier when he’d tried to leave the restaurant because she’d said the wrong thing.
“But I’m eating it. I promise. Look.” She took a sweet, gooey bite. Every chocolate fantasy exploded in her taste buds. She didn’t have to fake the moan of appreciation. “Oh. So good. So cute and so good.”
“Karmel.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Do you want Chinese food?”
She swallowed. “Now? No. Why?”
“You keep rejecting this meal.”
“Oh.” She finished the rest of the cake, chewed, and swallowed, washing it down with a refreshing sip of the smooth ice wine. “It’s the nicest meal I’ve ever eaten.”
“And yet you reject it. Like the dress you desired and the COACH bag you ‘do not deserve.’ But this payment is for your aid. You are assisting me.”
“Not very well.”
“That is for me to decide. And I say you do deserve it.”
She snorted. “Okay.”
“You disagree. Why?”
Her heart thudded.
She shrugged and tore off a piece of the Pavlova. Sweet crunchy meringue with a fluffy interior like freshly fallen snow. “Probably a misplaced try at being humble.”
“Why does humbleness require you to deny your desires?”
“I’m not denying anything. I have more than enough. That’s why I volunteer and give to charity. I shouldn’t be selfish.”
“It is not selfish to wear well-fitting clothes and solid shoes that prevent injury.”
“If I’d changed into the nicer outfit I brought to the pet salon we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” She tore off another piece of Pavlova. “Every time I try to show up on time and prepared, I misread the assignment and the bus breaks down. It’s a curse.”
“Ask a friend to verify your work and avoid public transit.”
“If I could do that, of course I wouldn’t have a problem.” She blew air up at her curly bangs. “But I always take on too much, like you said.”
“You should not be forced to work alone.”
“I have to.”
“Explain.”
“Christmas is a great example.” Karmel sipped the sweet wine. “My grandma made every day of December magical. She decorated a special tree. She hung mini stockings. Her advent calendar sent us to serenade the neighborhood, string popcorn, and watch movies. I had no idea how rare her enthusiasm was. When she passed away, she took Christmas with her.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah.” She teased the rim of her glass. “I tried to keep her traditions alive. But my dad always worked holiday overtime and my siblings only wanted their presents. The year I hung all the ornaments alone was the last year I insisted we get a tree.”
He studied her.
Heat coiled around her like a drug.
He was doing it again. Seducing her just by looking in her direction.
This whole dinner was a seduction.
If she didn’t drive Peridot up the wall, she might actually make a play for him. His ex had treated him like a thing. He deserved to know the healing power of love. Karmel could generously teach him.
Fall into his powerful arms. Taste his firm lips. Draw his shirt out of his slacks and delve beneath his belt. Encircle his male shaft. Draw him to her hot, throbbing slit.
She was so charitable. A regular Mother Teresa over here.
Karmel touched the cool, wet glass to her heated cheek. “And when I complained that we never did anything as a family, my mom shut me down. I couldn’t see they were already doing so much for us. My dad had to work overtime to afford our presents.”
The pain of that realization had chilled her like an icicle slid between her ribs.
“The thing is, I would have given up all my concert tickets, Xbox games, and makeup sets if my dad would stay home that day. I would have given them up.” She snapped her damp fingers. “In an instant. So all this is nice. The dress, the shoes, the meal. But I don’t need it. I don’t.”
He leaned forward. “You reject my offerings because you fear I cannot afford them and accepting them will drive me away?”
“Oh, er, not you personally.” She didn’t want to insult him. He was a billionaire. “Living frugally lets me travel and give to charity. Self-denial is a habit.”
That was why she’d silenced her protest when she’d realized the “expensive” thirty-dollar meal had a couple extra zeroes tacked on.
“My family doesn’t even exchange gifts anymore. And that’s why I’m organizing the charity cookie exchange. Trying to start my own traditions with people who might actually enjoy them. But…”
But here she was, the night before the exchange, struggling on alone.
“I will help you.” His green eyes intensified their color. “With your cookie exchange.”
Her heart jumped and floundered.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You are not asking.” A slight growl entered his tone. “I am telling you.”
“You have to report to your boss. I can’t drag you in because of my bad decisions.”
“Karmel.”
Hearing her name on his tongue, with
the possessive growl, sent little flickers of hunger shivering down her spine.
“No!” She thumped the backs of her heels against the puffy white bench. “Even as recent as this morning, instead of working on the cookie exchange I wasted my time on a project to impress my boss.”
“What project?”
“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out.”
“You will overcome this setback. You have unusual resilience.”
Her chest tingled with warmth, and it wasn’t from the iced wine. “Thank you. But lots of people have resilience. I’m not that unusual.”
“Your attitude is consistently bright. Such positivity is rare. And precious.”
Wow. He wasn’t pulling his punches.
She swallowed. “Thanks. I think you’re doing great, too.”
“With?”
“Being here. On Earth. Coping with us crazy ‘humans.’ We must be strange.”
“You are,” he admitted. “But not bad. I want to help you.”
“I can’t let you. You’re so sweet to offer. But I was the one who made this bad planning bed. Let me be the one to lie in it.”
His green eyes intensified. “How can I convince you to let me into your bed?”
Her belly pinged. Arousal flooded her feminine center. She squeezed her thighs together.
Well, if he asked so nicely, who was she to deny him?
Bzzz. Her phone rattled in her new purse. She took it out.
The salon owner’s name flashed.
Her stomach dropped. She answered right away. “Monica? What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry to bother you so late.” Her boss’s voice was shriller than usual.
“No, I’m still out.”
“You locked up tonight, right? Are you sure you set the lock?”
“I’m sure,” she said, suddenly not sure. “Why?”
“The police called me. The salon is trashed. Broken glass, product everywhere.”
“They? Who?”
“Some homeless person. We don’t know. I’m wading through shampoo now.” Her boss’s voice trembled. “It’s a disaster.”
“I’ll be right there.” Karmel ended the call and stood.
Peridot was at her side in an instant.
Her stomach churned. The delicious food pulverized to a lump in her guts. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll fly you.”
She didn’t protest. The flight would be faster. She didn’t know what she would say to her boss. Just that she was sure she’d locked the door.
But she’d let the woman inside…
No, she’d locked it again after the woman was outside. Had she tugged the door just to be sure? She hadn’t. So, maybe the door hadn’t latched. Then, a criminal had pushed in and wreaked havoc.
Her stomach rolled.
Peridot paid at the front, helped her into her wool coat, and escorted her out. He was grim. Right now, his silence was what she needed. Chattering would only make her more nervous. She put her arms around his powerful shoulders. They rose into the icy air.
The city floated below. Ice pricked her cheeks. The low clouds tasted like snow.
“I hope it doesn’t snow tomorrow,” she said idly. “If we get a foot of snow like they’ve been predicting, I’ll have no choice but to cancel the cookie exchange.”
He grunted.
They descended to the pet salon. Her stomach rose into her throat even though his descent was gentle. He touched the ground.
His shoes crunched glass.
He lifted up again. His arms around her tightened.
She did not ask to be let down. Not this time.
The glass had been broken out of the front door. Its frame was propped open with a rock. On the street beside her rested an overturned monitor. Farther was the salon’s appointment computer. Its wires trailed helplessly.
Peridot floated through the propped door.
Inside, her boss was hugging her elbows and answering questions for a police officer.
“Karmel.” Her voice broke. “Look what happened.”
Monica looked as broken as her salon. She’d pulled her black hair into a severe bun and wore a puffed coat and grimy sweatpants instead of her usual tailored pink or yellow pantsuits. Tortoiseshell glasses shaded her worried eyes.
Peridot let Karmel down on a clean spot on the inside floor.
She crossed through the shampoo and hugged Monica. “I’m so sorry.”
Her boss took a deep, shaky breath. “What are we going to do?”
The police officer answered. “First, I’d cover up the door. If you have a board…”
Peridot yanked the sheet of plywood Karmel had painted for the holiday backdrop from the wall. The Instagram camera flickered. In the meager flash, his hands shimmered green. He pulled out the nails she’d tapped to hold it into place.
“That’ll do. The next thing is to contact your building insurance.”
Peridot positioned it over the doorway.
“We’ll do our best to find your vandal but if you’re not sure the door closed, it could have been any transient.”
Monica pulled back. “Did you shut everything down? Did you lock the door? Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
“Think?” Her boss’s lips trembled. “I trusted you.”
Karmel wanted to die.
She was a screw-up. She tried to do too many things and when her irresponsibility crashed around her, her stupid positive attitude didn’t help anyone.
“Forensics will not help us here.” The police officer folded her notebook. “With no security cameras, the odds of us finding who did this are low.”
Cameras. Security cameras.
“The Instagram camera,” Karmel said.
Monica looked at her. “What?”
“I did not shut everything down. A woman came in to argue with me and I forgot to shut down the Instagram camera.”
Monica bit her lip. “Mmm. Could that dinky camera capture anything?”
“It flashed just now. It got a picture of Peridot.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“It’s not a strong flash. Here.” The salon’s Instagram account loaded onto her phone starting with the most recent. A gray blur with a hint of green. “There. Peridot’s arm.”
The next figures were blurry, but the place was already trashed so probably they’d been triggered by Monica and the police officer. Then…
“Here we go!” She clicked through the incriminating pictures.
Darkness. Blurry darkness.
Her heart sank.
The intruder was a shadowy, blurry figure in a dark-ish suit with light-ish hair. He was skinnier and shorter than a man like Peridot, but so was most of the population.
“We’ll never identify the criminal,” Karmel admitted bleakly.
Peridot grunted. “It is her.”
“Her! Her who?”
“The female who kept you late.”
“What?” Her heart raced. The mere mention of that entitled older customer made her sweat. “How do you know?”
“What woman?” Monica asked.
“She brought in Rose Pudge,” Karmel explained. “Or, her granddaughter brought in Rose Pudge. She forced her way in after closing to demand I comp her grooming for free.”
“Free! I hope you gave her my card.”
“I did, but that wasn’t good enough. She wanted it ‘stricken from the record.’”
“Stricken? Whoah, whoah, whoah. Is this Legal Lori?”
“Navy suit, white heels.” Peridot pointed at a corner of the last photo. Karmel zoomed to a reflection in the grooming suite glass. The image was arguably a navy suit and white shoes.
Karmel scrolled through the pictures again. She zoomed in each one to the reflection. The woman walked closer to the grooming suite window. The older woman’s face was blurry but almost visible in the last one.
“That could be Legal Lori,” Monica mused. “She’s a retired lawyer. I don’t know
if she took a turn after retirement or if she’s always been a fruit loop, but she’s in a custody battle with Olivia’s parents. The mother told me all about it.”
“Poor Olivia,” Karmel murmured. “That woman should not be around children.”
“The custody battle is over Rose Pudge.”
“Oh! Uh, or dogs.”
“She’s reported them for animal cruelty several times. She’s never supposed to have the dog and I’m sure she’s never supposed to have Olivia, either.” Monica called over the police officer. “This woman is a customer of ours. Last month, I refused to release her custody-disputed dog and she threatened to burn my shop to the ground.”
“Did you file a report?”
“No.” Monica grimaced. “I thought they were empty threats.”
“These photos are not rock solid.” The police officer was grim, but she took Monica’s client card for Rose Pudge and got the location for Legal Lori. “I’ll speak with her and see if she wants to incriminate herself.”
Monica thanked her. The police officer left for Legal Lori’s residence. They secured the shop with Peridot’s plywood.
It wasn’t fair. Monica had worked hard to get a business loan and open her own salon, and two days before Christmas a customer on Karmel’s watch had destroyed it.
Her boss’s shoulder sagged. “I might have to skip your cookie exchange.”
“I understand.” Karmel stood outside the dark shop on the crunchy glass. “I’m sorry, Monica. I’m sure I locked up.”
“I’m sure you did. She probably threw a brick.”
They hadn’t found one. And even if they had, it was on Karmel. “I should have handled her differently.”
“Oh, come here.” Monica pulled her into a hug. “I’m just glad you had a friend here to keep you safe.”
She hid her face in the white puff. “Sorry.”
“I’m serious. That woman is clearly dangerous and if the police don’t arrest her, we don’t know what she’ll do.”
“She wouldn’t dare come back.”
“I dismissed my gut feeling before. Never again.” Monica patted Karmel’s shoulder while looking at Peridot. “Do you have a ride home?”
Karmel jerked her finger over her shoulder. “My apartment’s only a few blocks.”
“Yes,” Peridot said.
“Good. Have a safe night.” Monica got in her hybrid and drove away.
