Santa Baby Maybe (Kane Christmas Book 2)

by S Doyle

And I was, very altruistically I’d thought, going to do the brave thing and give him an easy out. No fuss, no muss, no drama. I’d believed I could even get us to a place where we might be able to actually relax and have dinner. Two adults who had mutually decided to simply be coworkers and friends.

  Except I kept forgetting that W.B. was one part asshole.

  “We had door sex on Monday, then you went out on a date last night even though you knew you were coming here today?”

  He nodded, his lips tight.

  “It had been prearranged,” he explained. “But I didn’t cancel.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he offered.

  I set my glass down on the coffee table and stood, walking away from him and back to the kitchen.

  “Joy,” he called after me. “I don’t know why I started with that. I just felt like…I couldn’t not tell you. But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

  I wasn’t listening. I was, instead, pulling out several different plastic to-go containers I’d saved over the years from any time I’d ordered delivery or takeout. Because it was important to recycle. I opened the lid on the pot of garlic and mashed potatoes that were still warming and spooned what amounted to half into one container.

  I’d left the baked chicken on the stove also, on a low heat, along with the green bean casserole. I’d taken those out, right before putting the pie in, knowing that by the time we had dinner, the pie would be done and still warm, which would be perfect with vanilla ice cream.

  Because that was the trick to Thanksgiving dinner. It was about getting it all out on the table and still warm.

  I opened another container and tipped half of the green bean casserole into it. That was easy, but the chicken was going to be harder. Maybe just wrap it up with tinfoil and then throw it at his head?

  “Joy, what are you doing?”

  “I’m packing up your dinner to go. I spent a lot of time on this food and you spent money on this food. It shouldn’t go to waste when there are people out there in this country who are going to spend this day hungry. If you would like to find one of those people and give them your half, that is your choice.”

  “Joy, please. Just hear me out. I know I should have canceled last night. I just thought…I thought if I went through with it, today would be easier.”

  “Easier for whom?” I asked, even as I started stacking the containers on my small kitchenette table. I moved to the pantry where I pulled out the tinfoil. I rolled out an arm’s length and set it on the counter, then used two large forks to pull the chicken out of the skillet and onto the tinfoil.

  “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Look, we both know that there could never be anything between us. We’re too different. What happened the other day was just…”

  “A temporary lapse in judgment,” I supplied.

  “Yes! We both felt something at the time. Obviously. But if we step back and are objective about it, it’s obvious that it was a mistake.”

  “We work together,” I provided, even as I covered the chicken completely in tinfoil. I needed a large bag.

  “Yes! Also that. Office romances can be complicated for everyone in the office, not just the two people who are involved. Especially when things don’t work out.”

  “And of course you and I would never work out,” I finished.

  I grabbed a paper bag with handles from where I kept my stash at the bottom of the pantry. I loaded the chicken, the mashed potatoes, and the casserole. I hadn’t made the crescent rolls yet, because they were last minute. The pie had another thirty minutes to bake so he was out of luck there too.

  Instead, I moved to the freezer and pulled out the soy vanilla bean gelato.

  He caught me around my upper arms with his hands when I turned back to him.

  “Joy, please. Don’t be this way. Let’s just logically discuss this like two adults.”

  I raised my eyebrows in warning and he dropped his hands. I stepped around him and added the gelato to his bag. Then I picked up the bag and handed to him.

  “I hope the chicken is to your liking as, for obvious reasons, I don’t ever make it. The pie is not done, and the crescent rolls aren’t made yet so this is all you get. I gave you the gelato to split the difference.”

  Then I changed my mind.

  “You know what? Fuck you. You don’t get the gelato. I get both it and the pie. So there.” I pulled the pint out of the bag and then handed the bag back to him.

  He closed his eyes. Guilt and sadness distorted his handsome features. For a moment, just a moment, I had that urge again. To hug him, give him comfort and tell him it was okay. Because he so badly needed it. But he didn’t want that. Not from me.

  “Joy,” he whispered, but then nothing else.

  “I thought we could have done this amicably. I really did. But you going on a date after what happened between us before we even had a chance to talk?” I grabbed at my chest where it physically ached. “I don’t know why it hurts. It shouldn’t. It’s not like we were even dating. I just don’t know why you bothered with today and the groceries…”

  “I wanted today with you,” he said hoarsely. “I thought maybe we could find a way to be friends.”

  I barked out a laugh. “You are so hot and cold, W.B. I don’t think I could ever be friends with you. Never knowing which one of you I was going to get. The guy who brought me veggie dogs and held my ankle up all night. The guy who took me hard against the door. Or the guy who came here today after he’d gone out with another woman the night before. Did you kiss her?”

  His suddenly flushed cheeks gave away the truth. “I wanted to…”

  “Forget me?” I handed him an answer when he paused. “Remove my taste for the taste of someone else? I hope it worked for you. I’ll be sure to give it a try as soon as possible. Now take the bag and go.”

  “Joy,” he tried again, but swallowed.

  “Go. Now.”

  Reluctantly, he took the bag. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. But I have pie and soy gelato to comfort me. On Monday you’re just the CFO of Kane Co., and I’m the head ornament designer. Unless you have design issues or budgeting issues, there’s no reason for us to speak.”

  He nodded, as if accepting a punishment he thought he’d duly earned.

  I didn’t follow him out, just waited until I heard the front door close before I started to cry.

  Damn it! He wasn’t even worth my tears! There was absolutely no reason to be sad over a judgmental, stick-up-his-ass finance guy. I wiped my eyes dry and looked around the kitchen, thinking of the mess that needed to be cleaned.

  Instead of doing that, I took the bottle of wine and the pint of gelato with me, and I went to bed at exactly two thirty in the afternoon.

  11

  The Christmas Party

  W.B.

  “For someone who has saved my ass, and the asses of a lot of people in this room, you look entirely too grim.”

  I glanced up from the drink in my hand to see Wes standing in front of me with a huge grin on his face.

  “Dude, we did it. Look around. The champagne is pouring, the people are happy. And I got fucking married tonight. How about that for an announcement?”

  My lips twitched, which was the closest I could get to an actual smile. Then I considered the bombshell Wes had recently laid on me about the merger. “I can’t believe you did that. ”

  Wes shook his head. “Trust me, there was no backing out of that deal. At least now this merger will happen with some honor in my company and the knowledge that my father’s dirty hands have been irrevocably removed from it. Thanks to you.”

  I shook my head. “I was just doing my job.”

  “Hmmm,” Wes said as he took a sip of whatever he was drinking. “You’re being awfully humble right now. In fact, don’t think it’s gone unnoticed that you haven’t been yourself these past couple of weeks. With everything that’s been going down, I haven’t had a lot of time to check i
n with you, but are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I clipped.

  “Make any progress on finding Mrs. Darling?”

  No. I had definitively and deliberately not made progress on that front. In fact, I’d canceled every date that had already been scheduled and told my matchmaking consultant I was unavailable for the foreseeable future.

  If only I’d canceled that last date…

  No. I stopped the thought before I could have it. Because as soon as I let myself go down that road, I thought about what Thanksgiving might have been like between me and Joy. How that day might have ended differently.

  We could have talked, been honest with each other. We could have been friends. She could still be in my life. Except I’d done everything in my power to make that not possible.

  I’d had her. I’d fucked her. I’d been inside of her and made her come. Two nights after that I’d kissed someone else. It had felt like a mouthful of sawdust. I’d barely touched the woman’s lips before I was nearly choking on the guilt and shame of what I was doing.

  Joy had been right. I’d been trying to purge her from my system.

  It hadn’t worked. It had only served to remind me that the person I wanted to be kissing, tasting, was Joy.

  I’d spent the Wednesday before Thanksgiving shopping for our damn holiday dinner, then confirming with…what was her name? Kim something, that yes, we were still on for that night.

  I was every bit the asshole Joy had once accused me of being and the worst part was that it hadn’t worked.

  I didn’t think about Joy any less. I didn’t want Joy any less. Even though every argument she’d offered on Thanksgiving, and in hindsight I could see she’d been prepared with those arguments, was valid, it didn’t change how I felt.

  “Let’s just say I’m reconsidering my options.” I answered his question elusively.

  My gaze wandered over Wes’s shoulder as Joy walked into the throng of partygoers, my eyes instantly finding her. It was everything I could do to keep my jaw from dropping.

  Gone were the flowy blouse and loose skirt. Instead she was in a strapless, black party dress that was going to make every man in this room salivate to have her. Her breasts. Her beautiful, big, luscious breasts were on display and suddenly I had this desire to throw my coat over her shoulders and get her the hell out of there before anyone else could see what I’d had the fortune of touching.

  Her.

  No matter what I did. No matter how I tried to control my brain into thinking a certain way, any time I saw her, all I could think of was…her.

  Sensing he’d lost my attention, Wes turned and looked behind him. “Well, my my my. I was not expecting Joy to come dressed like that. Oh my goodness!”

  He turned back to me and I could see every lascivious thought in his head.

  “You just got married tonight,” I reminded him.

  “I did,” Wes agreed. “And I don’t want my wife knowing I appreciate my head designer’s beautiful…taste in clothing. That can’t get me in trouble with HR can it?”

  I scowled. “I think you’re safe.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve got to go make the rounds. Do yourself a favor W.B. and lighten up. It’s a party after all.”

  This was not a party for me. This was an event where I was expected to make an appearance and I had. I watched as Wes engaged with Joy. She seemed nervous about something, given the way she was holding herself, not at all ready to embrace the party atmosphere either.

  I needed to talk to her. It was, in truth, the only reason I’d come tonight. I didn’t want to wear fake smiles and make small talk with the employees and their spouses. I wanted to fix what I’d broken with Joy.

  I’d wanted to fix it for four weeks, but every time I’d approached her in the office, she’d given me that look that reminded me there were rules. We were colleagues only. We weren’t supposed to speak about anything other than business.

  But that was in the office and we weren’t in the office tonight.

  She looked in my direction and our eyes locked. Again there was an odd sense of fear in her expression. That didn’t make sense. Disgust, loathing, disdain. All of those expressions I’d seen over these last few weeks. Now she looked like a deer in the headlights who was about to sprint.

  I needed to get to her. I needed to tell her that I had fucked up. I needed to fix what I’d broken and beg for permission to start over. Setting my glass aside, I moved in her direction with a purpose.

  Only she immediately turned in the other direction and bolted. Pressing through the crush of people, I followed her path through the lobby to the elevators. The doors opened and I could see a group of people get out while she stepped into the empty elevator. I only had a few seconds, and barely made it by shoving my arm in between the doors to stop them from shutting.

  Stepping inside as the doors closed behind me, I looked down at her incredibly beautiful face.

  “Joy, please, we need to talk,” I said softly.

  She lifted her chin. “Do you have ideas for a new ornament?”

  “This isn’t about Christmas ornaments.” I sighed.

  “Or issues with my next quarterly budget?”

  I scowled at her.

  “Because I said…”

  “I know what you said,” I clipped. “I know what I said. I just think…maybe I was wrong to agree to your terms.”

  She pressed the L button for the downstairs lobby, only the elevator wasn’t moving yet.

  Then she glanced over her shoulder. “Wait. Are you admitting to me you were wrong about something? Who are you? And what have you done with W.B.?”

  I scowled again. “Look, I think we should talk.”

  “How about tomorrow?” she suggested. Only I didn’t believe her. She was putting me off and I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “I don’t want to let this linger,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I wanted, I needed, to fix us now.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  She was still fussing with the buttons, not looking at me. I was desperate to say something, anything that would take away that defeated tone she had. Like all hope was lost. But I was stopped when I heard a collective groan.

  “Hold on,” I said. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  Then a voice cut over the groaning.

  “Don’t worry, everyone it’s probably just a temporary outage because of the snow. We should have the power back on shortly.”

  No power, I thought. We were stuck. The idea thrilled me. Joy wasn’t going anywhere. We were going to be stuck in this elevator for a finite amount of time and she was going to damn well listen to what I had to say.

  “This can’t be happening,” she whispered.

  “It appears we’re stuck,” I said, stating the obvious, trying to hide how pleased I was by that fact. “I know it’s not ideal but at least this gives us a chance to talk.”

  I thought of all the arguments I wanted to lay out. The mistakes I’d made. The reason I’d made them. A thoughtful, logical progression of our relationship over the last six months that would ultimately culminate in…what, I wasn’t sure, but something other than what we had been these past few weeks.

  I was about to lay all of this out when she suddenly blurted.

  “I might be pregnant!”

  We were sitting on the floor of the elevator on opposite sides, facing each other. It could have been ten minutes or an hour. I’m not really sure how long the silence lasted while I processed what she said.

  Pregnant. Baby. Hers and mine.

  I shook my head and tried to formulate some basic questions.

  “Are you sure?” Fuck, was that the right first question to ask?

  She shook her head. “No. Sophie and I were getting all glammed up for the party. I got my clutch and checked for a mirror and my extra lipstick, and that’s when I saw it.”

  She paused, but this was no time to build the suspense. “Saw what?”

>   “My emergency tampon,” she whispered. She must have seen my confused expression because she continued. “I always keep an emergency tampon in all my purses because you never know. But when I saw the tampon I realized I hadn’t had my period this month, which I should have had. Last week.”

  “So you’re late,” I determined.

  She nodded.

  “And that’s why you think you might be pregnant. You said it was the wrong time of the month,” I told her.

  “It was!” she screeched.

  “Okay, hey, relax. We can work through this.”

  “What we?” she shouted. “We’re not a we. We’re a you and a me. That’s not a we. That’s not what a baby needs.”

  She was clearly panicking and at a visceral level it bothered me. I stood and crossed the elevator to sit next to her. I put my arm around her shoulders and she didn’t fight me too hard. Eventually she rested her head on my chest, and I thought I’d won a small victory.

  “First,” I said calmly, “we’re not sure if you’re pregnant. You’re late, and there was a brief moment I was inside you unprotected. So we need to be sure.”

  Don’t think about how hot that was. Don’t remember what that felt like. Now is not the time.

  “I was so freaked out when I realized, I didn’t know what to do. Now I just want to go get a test and go home.”

  “We’ll do that together,” I said.

  She sighed and lifted her head, but I wouldn’t let her pull away from me.

  “W.B., you can’t. We’re not…I have to do this on my own.”

  “Like hell you’re doing this on your own,” I said. “I did this. I was inside you without a condom. This is my responsibility. And even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t let you go through something like this alone. If nothing else, I consider you my friend, Joy.”

  “Friend?”

  “Yes!” I said loudly. “No. More than that. You’re Joy. You drive me crazy. You make me laugh. I’ve missed you these past few weeks in ways you can’t imagine. Being with you, being inside you, was the most amazing experience of my life.”

  Then she hauled off and punched my shoulder. Hard.