Mistletoe and Mr. Right

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  More times than she could count, Lana had sat at in a conference room, recrossing her legs so the pointy end of her high heel could jab into the offending leg of a man sigher getting his spread on. But when stuck on the far side of the table, or worse, on a video call that spanned multiple cities across three continents, a toe nudge and an unimpressed look couldn’t cut it.

  And boy, were there a lot of men sighing now. Just none as emphatically as Silas.

  “Ms. Montgomery…” their chief financial officer, Travis, started to say.

  “Just Lana, Travis.” She waved off Travis’s phrasing with a little flap of her hand. “We’ve known each other forever.”

  “Since you were in diapers.” The old man’s lips curved.

  “Nonsense. I came out in Gucci or not at all.” Her comment earned a look of annoyance from her cousin Silas. Silas, who had been annoyed since the call started. Silas, who wouldn’t. Stop. Sighing.

  Travis scrolled through a document on his phone—the same document they all had access to. “I’ve been looking at the budget for the Moose Springs project, and I’ll admit to having some concerns.”

  “This is ridiculous, Travis.” Silas’s tone was sour. “Forget the numbers. Lana’s pet project is already making more work for the rest of us. I already had to cover for her at the investor meeting in Brisbane.”

  “You weren’t covering for me,” Lana said firmly. “You were at a party on a yacht, holding a glass of champagne. All you had to do was represent the company and keep your mouth shut.”

  “I’m fairly sure that’s why there were so many models on the boat,” race car Killian said, hiding a smirk behind his fist. “To keep you distracted from ruining Lana’s hard work.”

  The man sigher turned into a man sputtering in indignation.

  “I’m in charge of acquisitions, Silas,” Lana said. “If you’re going to step on toes, I’d prefer it to be ones that turn less of an eye toward foot care.”

  “Meaning stay off her Jimmy Choos, cousin,” polo Killian added.

  The problem with a family business was that everyone was family. And family gave a certain level of familiarity that could quickly derail these sorts of meetings. Lana pushed ahead, refocusing the conversation.

  “I’m not asking for the Moose Springs account to be made a priority, only that the cash inflow be adjusted for some unforeseen conditions.”

  “Lana, what exactly are these unforeseen conditions?” This strong female voice could cut through any sigh, even those offered so expressively and generously.

  Lana focused on the screen where her mother was sitting.

  While both her parents had made a very positive and very lasting impression on Lana’s life, Jessica had been the most influential. Theirs was a family that cared about one another, but they always—always—put the business first. They might hug at family gatherings, but they had no problem cutting one another off at the knees if it was for the good of the Montgomery Group. No one’s job was secured; it was earned by hard work, dedication, and loyalty. Like a honeybee’s nest, each of the worker bees had a part to play.

  And working hardest was the queen bee herself, Jessica Madison-Montgomery.

  In a world where self-made millionaires and billionaires could be found every time one turned and sneezed, Langston Montgomery was old money. Much older than the Madisons, who had practically built half the city of Chicago after branching beyond their European estates.

  Lana had never known if her parents had married for love—although she knew they loved each other now—or if they were part of a subtly arranged marriage in a time when such things were going out of style in their social circles. Maybe it was a mutual appreciation of each other’s shrewd intelligence and extreme business savvy. Either way, when the Montgomery and Madison money came together, under the watchful eye of Lana’s mother, the Montgomery Group exploded overnight.

  Theoretically, with the wealth gathered by the Montgomery Group’s holdings, no one in the family should have ever needed to work a day in their lives. But that was not the way they operated. The group’s money wasn’t hers. A bee’s hive was where the hardest work happened, not a place to sit and let squander.

  Lana would still be negotiating a deal the day they put her in the ground.

  “I need to tread lightly,” Lana informed her mother. “The town hasn’t taken well to the project, and I need to bring them on board. Or somewhere in the vicinity of the ship at least.”

  “Who cares?” Adrianna—polo Killian’s new wife—asked with a derisive snort. “Moose Springs is small potatoes.”

  “Neglecting small investments in favor of the larger ones is a mistake,” polo Killian disagreed, not unkindly. Adrianna’s background in marketing was strong, but she had a habit of coming into these meetings trying to flex her muscle. As much as polo Killian adored her, he was a Montgomery through and through. Business always came before emotional attachments.

  “Your inexperience is showing, Adrianna,” Lana told her, causing a frustrated expression to flash across her features.

  “And so is your hangover,” Adrianna shot back.

  “Lana doesn’t get hangovers; it would require her to stop drinking long enough to feel bad,” Silas said with a smirk.

  Okay, so that comment might have been somewhat unfair. Just because she had developed a bit of a party girl reputation by throwing parties at the Tourist Trap in her downtime didn’t mean Lana drank to excess. The constant low-level jockeying for position in the company always upped itself when Jessica or Langston was present.

  Maybe they weren’t bees. Maybe they were scorpions…willing to turn and sting one another to death.

  Lana opened her mouth to tell Silas where to stick that particular comment, but Jessica spoke first.

  “Enough, children.” Lana’s mother sighed. “If my daughter was overimbibing, I’d be the first to know. I know everything that happens in this family. Besides, she wasn’t the one making a fool of herself in Australia last week, Silas. Really, dear, try to be a little more professional when there are attractive people around. We do have a reputation to maintain.”

  The man sigher turned a bright shade of red. Race car Killian snickered, earning an amused look from polo Killian and a nasty one from Silas.

  Polo Killian had been sitting in on these meets for his parents for years now, while Lana’s aunt and uncle spent most of their time in Beijing and Singapore, facilitating Chinese investment opportunities for the Montgomery Group. Her aunt and uncle always had thrown a fabulous party, and for as much time as polo Killian spent on his Argentinian estates, indulging in his favorite pastime, he was the first to jump on a plane and join them.

  The entire family’s heart was in the region.

  Lana knew the feeling. Her heart was in a region too. Only her region was much smaller, much less wealthy, and could do very little to increase the wealth of a conglomerate used to massively complex, billion-dollar business deals.

  Moose Springs didn’t matter to the Montgomerys, which made Lana nervous for the town.

  “Hold on. Langston is joining the call,” her mother said. “My aide has been sending him the meeting minutes, so he’s abreast of the topic.”

  “I’m not sure Father is going to be interested in our extracurricular activities,” Lana murmured.

  “And yet I get informed of them constantly,” a male voice said drolly, the audio feed patching through before the video of Lana’s father became visible on the conference chat screen. He was seated in a leather bucket chair on the company’s private jet, sipping a cup of coffee despite the low-level turbulence shaking his image.

  Lana’s father, Langston, was almost—almost—the powerhouse his wife was. The fact that both were on this call had everyone sitting up straighter.

  “I might be on a delay.” Her father’s voice was the same calm, authoritative baritone t
hat commanded the attention of those around him. “We’re flying near the Andes.”

  Of course he was. Because it only made sense for her mother to be in Chicago while her father was somewhere in between Buenos Aires and Lima. Next week, he’d be in New York, and she’d be in Paris. The following week? No one knew except their assistants.

  Even though her parents loved each other, Lana never understood a life where the person you were supposed to come home to was always thousands of miles away.

  “We’re discussing Lana’s pet project and how much her current level of distraction is costing the company in man-hours,” race car Killian informed her father in a lazy drawl.

  “Woman-hours, dearest.” Lana knew he was teasing her but was unable to keep from rising to his bait. “And I’m handling my business fine. Good morning, Father.”

  He was a man who rarely showed his feelings, but she knew him well enough to know the watch on his wrist was a birthday present from her when she was seven. The tie was from her mother last Christmas. The affection was there. They just struggled to show it to one another.

  “Lana, Jessica.” Langston nodded, his sharp mind focusing instantly on the heart of the problem even from half a world away. “Lana, tell me why you’re physically in Moose Springs. All this could be handled remotely.”

  Rattling off her many responsibilities was easy. Convincing her parents someone else wasn’t equally fit to cover those responsibilities was harder. By the time her father’s plane began to descend in altitude on approach to Lima, she was ready to throw her hands up in disgust.

  “It’s the holidays,” Lana said, her tone indicating she wasn’t willing to discuss this anymore. “No one is doing much until the start of the fiscal year. I’m going to stay and attend to affairs in Moose Springs until Christmas, then I’ll reevaluate where I’m needed by the first.”

  “They must really like you in this place,” Travis said, tapping his pen against the side of his laptop.

  Race car Killian almost managed to cover his laugh. “Something like that,” he said.

  He’d spent time in Moose Springs too, and he was more than aware of Lana’s lack of supporters in town.

  As soon as the video call ended, Lana’s laptop immediately pinged with a second—entirely expected—call. “Yes, Mother?”

  “You look tired,” Jessica said. The words weren’t meant unkindly and instead were an expression of concern. Still, Lana forced herself to ignore an instinctive reaction to touch her hair in response to the comment.

  “Really? I thought I’d paid the beautician enough to make sure I never look tired again,” Lana quipped. Free of other eyes, she leaned back in her chair. “Do you agree with them?”

  “I agree your Moose Springs project is distracting you, which is a concern in the long run. We need you in the European markets. You know how well you and Killian work together.”

  “Silas is doing fine.”

  “Silas is a snot. If he sighed one more time, I was going to have Travis duct-tape his mouth shut.”

  Lana laughed. “Someone needs to.”

  “Did you meet someone?”

  Lana blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “It would explain some things. I know you’ve always loved Moose Springs since we were there on vacation when you were a child, but you keep finding reasons to stay around. I don’t mind diversification of your portfolio, but these condominiums require very little hands-on attention. Your father and I think you may have met someone.”

  Of course they did. Because they somehow always knew everything.

  “I’m here for the town. This place is important to me, and I want to handle things right.” Lana drummed her pen against the desk, waited a moment, then admitted softly, “And I think ‘met’ is a strong word. I may have made a new friend in town, but as much as I travel, there’s no point in starting a relationship with anyone right now. It’ll just lead to disappointment and hard feelings.”

  Jessica shrugged. “True. But it isn’t healthy to spend all your time alone. Casual dating isn’t the end of the world.”

  “Zoey’s here now,” Lana added. “If I get lonely, I go bother her.”

  “It’s not quite the same.” Intelligent eyes looked right through her, even from thousands of miles away. “This person isn’t Jackson Shaw, I’m hoping?”

  “Oh goodness, no. He’s more overdramatic than Silas and runs through money worse than Killian.”

  “Which Killian?” Jessica asked.

  Groaning, Lana said, “Why? Why do they have to have the same name?”

  “Because your father’s relatives are insane, darling.”

  They shared a grin.

  “So tell me more about this someone you’ve haven’t quite ‘met.’” Jessica leaned in, her interest piqued.

  He was sweet. He was kind. He was really good at pool and really bad at meeting her eyes, but when he did…his were the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen. Lana opened her mouth to say it all, but she gave her mother a little smile instead.

  “His name is Rick.”

  Chapter 4

  Jackson Shaw was new money.

  As she sat across from him at a little bistro table in Dirty Joe’s, Lana hated that the thought had popped into her head. Her opinion of him wasn’t affected by his wealth, not in the least. But the reality was new money approached business differently than old money. At most, Jax was third generation and probably the first to have grown up thinking he could live off a trust fund. Unfortunately, business wasn’t good, and his parents had made mistakes with their investments. Whether he liked it or not, Jax had to work for a living.

  Considering every Montgomery was put to work for the family business from the time they were old enough to stand, Lana didn’t have too much sympathy for him.

  “Someone needs to take care of the penis,” he said. “It’s bothering the guests.”

  Lana wasn’t buying that. “I’m surprised you have such little appreciation for snow art, Jax.”

  She’d heard more than one comment about the penis on the mountainside, and after mulling it over, she said, “Most of the guests are convinced it’s a serious piece of art from a local artist.”

  Jax rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding.”

  Lana took a sip of her drink. “I don’t suppose you know how it got up there, do you?”

  His smug smile was all the reply she needed.

  She could easily believe Jax would be party to snow graffiti next to his own family’s business. What was harder to buy was the idea that Jax would invest the effort in creating it. Jax had access to the equipment needed for such endeavors, but he probably hadn’t put in a full day’s work in his life. Most likely the idea was his, and he’d outsourced the labor.

  “Anyway,” Lana continued, resting her hand in her lap to hide the fact that it had started to tremor lightly. “I doubt the other guests are so prudish as to care. I’ve attended enough parties in your hotel to know a little debauchery isn’t uncommon.”

  “The folks want to make a push toward being more family-friendly.” Jax shrugged one strong shoulder, his eyes flickering over the room. “I don’t make the rules around here, Lana. I only enforce them.”

  Jax was a smart man and more than a little easy on the eyes. But he would rather be lounging in his flat in New York or drinking in town than sit in a business meeting. Which made keeping his focus on the matter at hand more than a little annoying.

  Lana was very appreciative of Rick’s tip about Dirty Joe’s. They’d managed to procure a table, but the tiny coffee shop was constantly crowded with tourists and locals alike. It was beyond clear that allowing tourists into a business was the key to financial success in town. By the harried expressions of the baristas, it was also deeply stressful.

  Apparently, when one was a business owner in Moose Springs, one could either drown in debt o
r drown in stress. There was no in between.

  Every few minutes, someone would bump their arm or purse into Jax’s shoulder. Even though the accidental nudges were met with a “sorry, Jax” or a “hey, Jax,” she could tell that he was getting annoyed.

  “Have you thought about my offer?” she asked, shifting away from snow art and back toward the reason for this meeting.

  “The folks want at least four percent more for access to the resort amenities.”

  “That’s five and a half percent higher than the standard.”

  Jax sat back in his seat, an indulgent look on his face as he crossed his arms behind his head. His elbow was promptly bumped again, and Lana had to hide her amusement behind her drink.

  “We’re not the ones with something to lose, honey,” he told her. “The guests are already coming here.”

  Lana raised an eyebrow at the endearment but otherwise let it pass. “And when they aren’t anymore?”

  He tilted his head, the smirk shifting to confusion. “Why would they stop?”

  “Because it’s overcrowded, and the locals are dead set on keeping everything out. Do you see a fast food restaurant in sight? A gym?”

  “There’s a gym at the resort.”

  “In the basement? The one that hasn’t been updated in over twenty years, since the resort was built? It doesn’t count.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Because I stay here all the time, Jax. I have eyes. It was a clever idea, limiting access to indoor sports to encourage money spent on outdoor activities. But it backfired. People want a place to get their CrossFit on.” Lana took a sip of her coffee, recrossing her legs. “Trust me. There’s very little about this town I don’t know.”

  “Except how to catch a moose.” Jax’s eyes sparkled in amusement.

  It annoyed her when his eyes followed the movement of her legs, although she didn’t think the action was conscious. Jax saved his flirting for Ash.