The letter was snatched out of her hands. “Another one for my stack.” AJ turned to Annie, “Are the more generic ones in the database?”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned.
“Good, then we’d better get to work and let Ms Morrison go about the business of running her cosmetics company, right?”
“Are you sure?” Chanti asked. “I can help.”
He shook his head. “That’s what the hired help is for.” He turned and walked toward his office. “Later.”
Annie sighed behind her. “Isn’t he just absolutely wonderful?”
“I thought you and Jake were dating,” Chanti said.
“Oh, we are. I meant he’d be wonderful for you.”
“Annie,” she said in warning, but without heat because she was having very similar thoughts.
That night Chanti tried to talk AJ into going ice-skating with her.
“Can’t. While I’m here in Chicago, things have been piling up at the office down home. I need to get some business work done tonight.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
His voice stopped her at the door. “Are you driving home?”
She hesitated, not wanting to lie.
“Or are you sleeping right next door again?” His voice had dropped to a sexy whisper and Chanti’s stomach pitched.
She turned to find him closing the distance between them, his expression fierce and predatory. She backed against the door, but two more steps and he had her blocked in, his palms flat on the wood panel, his hard body looming over hers.
“How did you know?” Her voice shook.
“I can find out anything. That’s my job and,” he paused, his lips hovering a scant breath away from hers, “I’m very good at what I do.”
Any comeback she may have voiced, and she seriously doubted she could even think of one, was swallowed as his mouth covered hers. His kiss started out tender but quickly escalated to a nerve tingling, body grinding devouring of her senses. She clung to his shoulders, her knees weak in the face of such an assault.
Endless minutes later she was on the verge of a climax and he hadn’t even touched her intimately. Just his lips, and his hard body pressed next to hers had her wanting it all and then some. As though he sensed her near capitulation, he slowly released her lips, but continued peppering kisses across her cheeks, eyes and brow. It wasn’t until she had time to regain her equilibrium that he finally stepped away from her, shoving his hands in his pockets. She wanted to cry out at the loss of contact; the hot, erotic sensations gradually subsiding into sensual warmth.
When she could finally raise her gaze to his, his eyes told her that whether they had made love or not, he was staking a claim. She was his, and he would have her when the time was right.
“You’d better make sure that door is locked tight, sweetheart,” he softly drawled, and Chanti knew by his fierce expression that she’d better not ask or what?
Chapter 7
Chanti did talk AJ into going out the next night. They took a cab down the Magnificent Mile and looked at the thousands of holiday lights, then went to Riva’s for dinner at Navy Pier. Later, she took him to a Christmas musical at the Shakespeare Theatre after which they walked hand in hand down the Pier, drinking cappuccino and admiring the decorations.
One night they ordered Chinese carryout and sat in the conference room eating and talking about everything and nothing in particular. She was well past the point of thinking AJ was after her money and each night it was harder and harder for her to say goodnight. She had to keep reminding herself that AJ would be going back to Texas soon.
Friday morning she gathered the team together to check their progress.
“We’re still getting letters, but not as many as that first week,” Jake said. “I’ve got the invitation letter to the parent or guardian written, and here’s what I thought we’d do for the kids.” He slid two papers across the table to Chanti.
“How adorable,” she said, picking up the Santa cutout with the children’s invitation printed on his round belly. She read the parent letter, which nicely explained the error in advertising and that Mori Cosmetics had decided to honor the ad and have a party for children. It also gave the times and locations of busses that would pick everyone up. “You have the busses lined up already?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded. “Since it needed to be on the invitation, I went ahead with the requisition. Was that alright?” He looked at her, worried.
“I love it when people take the initiative. It saves me a tremendous amount of work.” She smiled at him. Jake would do a good job in public relations. “Are we ready to send out the first batch?” She turned to AJ and Annie.
She watched AJ nod at Annie, deferring to her for their part in the plan. He was letting the young people take the credit, even though Chanti knew how long and hard AJ worked. This job wasn’t going to make or break his career, but she still thought it sweet of him.
Annie passed out the database, sorted by what the children were requesting. “We have over two hundred names entered, although we don’t have addresses for all of them yet. The colors indicate different groups. For example, the yellow is the group AJ is working on because they all want to see their dads or moms come home. There’s apparently a large group that’s deployed with the military at the moment.”
“I see lots of dolls and bikes and coats,” Chanti scanned the list. “I thought kids were into I pods and X-boxes?”
“These kids just want the basics, not the luxuries.” Jake replied. “They write Santa because they’re hoping for a miracle. The rest just leave their list for their parents.”
“Well, let’s make sure they get their miracles.” Chanti looked over at AJ with a smile. “Are you up for a trip to the toy store?”
“As one of your official Santa’s helpers, how can I say no?” His gaze was warm, his smile sensuous, and Chanti had the feeling he wasn’t talking about buying toys.
“Santa?” Annie cried. “Oh, my gosh, we need a Santa! Did anyone have that on their list?”
Everyone shook his or her head. “We’ll never get one from an agency at this late date.” Chanti looked at the three of them. “AJ, would you—”
He held a hand up to stop her. “My contract doesn’t say anything about dressing up in a red suit for a bunch of munchkins. Why not ask Charlie? He’s more the Santa type.”
Chanti made a face but knew he was right. AJ was trim and all hard muscle whereas Charlie already had a pretty good Santa belly going. “Okay, I’ll visit with Charlie and we’ll save the shopping for later. What else, Annie?”
“The stockings are ordered and the caterer I spoke with is giving us a super price on all the food because I promised to use her for our next Board meeting.” At Chanti’s raised brow, she added, “After all, we have to use someone, so I really wasn’t giving anything away.”
“Good job.” Chanti took another look at the list. “What are we going to do with all the requests we can’t possibly fill?” There were requests for baby brothers and sisters, jobs for their parents, one little girl in foster care who had been separated from her siblings and wanted a real home where all of them could live.
“We’re still working on some of those,” AJ said. “There’s time yet to think of something as a suitable replacement.”
“Okay, let’s get to it,” Chanti stood, ending the meeting. She had a mass of paperwork to get through in her own office, and all of them had job responsibilities along with the party plans. But when Jake and Annie left, she moved down to the end of the table to visit with AJ.
“I have a favor to ask,” she hesitated. They’d been spending a lot of time together, but it had always been in rather private circumstances. Tonight she wanted him to go with her to a very public event.
He gave her a look, his gaze traveling slowly from her crossed ankles as she leaned against the table, up over her breasts, pausing at her lips before catching her ga
ze. Chanti could feel her face heat in a blush.
“It’s going to take a lot to get me into a Santa suit,” he drawled, his voice soft and deep, his meaning very clear.
“That’s not what I need,” she hastened to reply and thought she saw disappointment in his gaze. Was it because she didn’t need him for Santa, or because it wouldn’t earn him a favor in return? And what favor could she possibly do for him? When she didn’t answer him right away, he tapped her arm.
“I was just kidding. You know I’ll help you anyway I can. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
“This isn’t a paid engagement,” she said. “It’s more like a date…tonight.” She didn’t know why she was hesitant to ask him.
“Chanti, we’ve been seeing each other after hours for over a week. What’s the big deal? Of course I’ll take you out.”
“Do you have a tuxedo?”
“No.” Now he was the one hesitating, his eyes narrowing.
She had his acquiescence, so she decided to scoot before he could rescind his offer. She headed for the door, throwing her comments over her shoulder. “Ask Annie where you can rent a tux. A car will be here for us at six.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Nutcracker.” She was almost through the door to safety.
“A ballet?” His words roared across the distance and she didn’t dare look back.
She hurried across the reception area and caught Annie grinning at her. “You asked him?”
“Oh, yeah. If he comes looking for me, tell him I’m out and I’ll see him at six.” She trotted into her office and closed the door, leaning back against it with a sigh. What was it about men and the ballet? Her dad had always reacted the same way no matter how often he and her mother went to the Chicago Festival Ballet performances, but he always enjoyed himself.
Her mother had served on the CFB board, and it was a charity Chanti loved working with. Tonight was their annual holiday performance at the Harris Theatre and the board was hosting a reception in hopes of building a more substantial contributor list. Chanti felt it would look better if she had an escort, so the matrons of Chicago society could discuss their donations instead of trying to set her up with their grandsons, as had happened in the past.
As she settled down to work, she only hoped AJ would enjoy the performance and meeting various people from the area. He seemed at ease around people and she wasn’t worried that he would say the wrong thing. What consumed her thoughts when she should have been working was what he would look like all dressed up in formal attire.
* * *
AJ smiled at his reflection in the mirror as he shaved, recalling how hesitant Chanti had been asking him to attend a ballet. He’d given her the response he knew she expected, when in actuality he enjoyed the occasional theatre or dance performance. Another personality quirk that set him apart from his brothers, who were Texas cowboys from the get-go and thought the rodeo championships were the height of entertainment.
He slapped on some cologne and combed his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. Too late now. He reached for the black tuxedo laid out on the bed. The last time he had dressed up this fancy was his brother’s wedding, although he wore suits and ties all the time because of his work.
He gave himself one last look in the mirror, then rubbed the toes of his boots with the shoe cloth. Tuxedo or not, he wasn’t about to give up his boots for patent leather shoes. Shrugging into his coat and draping a wool scarf around his neck, he reached for his Stetson, then dropped it back on the bed. Better not, he thought, but neither was he going to wear the Bulls stocking cap, regardless of the weather.
He arrived back at the Mori building just as the elevator door opened and Chanti stepped out. She didn’t notice him standing to the side and he took the time to soak in her beauty. Her hair was swept up, the style sleek and sophisticated. She wore a red dress that hugged every curve she had and AJ ached just watching her walk across the lobby. A ruby choker and dangly earrings accented her pale skin.
He must have sighed out loud because she turned in his direction and her eyes widened.
“What?” He glanced down, wondering if he had forgotten to zip. When he looked back up, she was still staring. He took a step toward her and she gave him a brilliant, sexy smile.
“You look quite eloquent,” she said as he helped her with her coat.
“You were thinking perhaps I’d show up in jeans?” he drawled.
“No, not at all. I…” she stammered then stopped, taking a deep breath while AJ watched what that did to the plunging neckline of her gown. “Thank you for the flowers you sent earlier,” she said, changing the subject.
He leaned close, kissing her earlobe. “I shouldn’t have teased you. I’m sorry.” Putting a hand to her back, he guided her toward the doors. “By the way, you look breathtaking, stunning, and totally ravishing.”
“My, such a way with words. The Chicago matrons are going to love you. In fact, I think you will make the perfect secret weapon.”
AJ settled in the car beside her, for once glad he wasn’t driving so he could concentrate on her. “You’d better explain. I take it this is more than a performance of Tchaikovsky’s fairy-ballet?”
She looked at him accusingly. “You made me think you hated ballet.”
“No, I just reinforced your assumption.”
She wiggled cozily closer, and AJ draped an arm around her shoulders.
“You’re right. Dad always grumbled but he actually did enjoy the CFB performances.”
“CFB?”
“Chicago Festival Ballet. I’m on the board and the reception after the performance is to schmooze potential contributors.”
AJ nodded knowingly. “Ah, yes, the art of fund raising. Mom is on several charitable boards in Houston.” He turned to capture her gaze. “How about putting me on commission tonight – say, one kiss for every ten thousand I get for your ballet?”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Ten…that won’t earn you much.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Hide and watch, darlin’.”
* * *
Von Heidecke’s presentation of The Nutcracker was a tremendous success and that certainly contributed to the festive mood at the reception afterward. Chanti sipped champagne and watched as the smooth talking, utterly charming Texan, who just happened to be her date, wrangled his way into the hearts of every woman there, young or old. He smiled and they swooned; he asked and they nodded, signing the pledge cards and getting a kiss on the cheek as they returned the velum to him. And every one of them would blush and in turn introduce him to one of their friends, where the process would start all over again. She was going to owe him quite a few kisses before the night was over, she thought, actually quite pleased with the prospect until a familiar voice spoke her name and a hard grip on her elbow turned her around.
Dennis Dean, reporter for the Chicago Tribune, gave her an oily, practiced smile. “What are you up to these days, Ms Morrison?”
“Let go of me. If you’d done your homework, you’d know I’m on the CFB Board and this is a purely social event. In fact, I’m surprised they let a reporter in.”
“Oh, I’ve done my homework. That’s how I heard there may be a little mail scam going on at your company.”
“A…what?” Chanti’s voice rose and she glanced quickly around to make sure he hadn’t been overheard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hissed, but her heart pounded and her hand shook as she set her glass down on a nearby table.
He put a hand over his heart, looking offended. “You placed an ad in our paper, and my boss was very concerned when he learned you were collecting letters to Santa from little kiddies.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned close, his hot breath smelling of cigars. “What are you doing? Going through kids to get their moms to buy your cosmetics?”
Chanti backed up on shaking legs. She had dealt with Dean before when her father died and his estate, which became the basis for a fou
ndation, came under public scrutiny. Dean had made everything sound sordid and underhanded. She rarely talked to the media, leaving that to her public relations department, and now she remembered why.
She wondered if Tillman had spoken to the newspapers, but since it had been his error in the first place, she didn’t see that it would have gained him anything.
Dean pressed close, crowding her against a table. “You might as well tell me, or I’ll write what I know.” He paused, then added what she could only perceive as a threat, “And what I know doesn’t look good for your company.”
“Excuse me, Ms Morrison, is there a problem?” Her gaze was suddenly filled with a crisp white shirtfront as AJ stepped between her and Dean, deliberately putting his back to the man. “Are you alright?” His softly whispered question had Chanti on the verge of tears.
She lifted her gaze to his. While he blocked Dean from her view, she took a breath, inhaling AJ’s unique scent, which had a very calming effect on her. Or perhaps it was his mere presence and size. When she had herself under control, she nodded, and he stepped to the side, but remained close.
Dean gave AJ a speculative look, a smirk on his face. “Maybe there’s another story here? You know, something about one of Chicago’s rich bachelorettes?”
Chanti was suddenly angry at the man’s insinuations and suggestive remarks. “You don’t write the society page, or have you been demoted?”
His eyes narrowed.
“If Ms Morrison has anything to say, she’ll issue a press release – to all the papers at the same time,” AJ stated quietly and Chanti noticed no trace of an accent in his words. He wasn’t giving Dennis Dean anything else to speculate about.
“Alright.” Dean shrugged and turned to leave, but Chanti couldn’t have him making up lies about her company. It would be better to tell him what was going on rather than trying to undo the damage the wrong story could create.
“Wait.” She called him back. She could feel AJ’s hand tense on her back. “I have to do this,” she said quietly to him before Dean came back.
If Wishes Were Magic Page 7
