Unbidden tears swelled, ready to fall. She scrambled for an excuse. “I gotta go, someone is at the door,” she lied. She hung up quickly after offering her mother and her new lover her best wishes, when what she really wanted to say was why?
Why bother? The very words soured a caustic path in her belly. When had she become so cynical, so negative?
You gave him up, Brooks.
Mandy didn’t need to continue the stupid internal conversation. She had given Tate up, believing she wasn’t ready and because she had been too weak to stand up to his mother. Scared of repeating her mother’s mistakes, she’d run. And for five long, lonely years, she hadn’t allowed love to enter the game.
Now, in the space of twenty-four hours, on the day when she had cast love aside, it came thundering back.
Was she ready?
And more importantly, did she want to play?
Still desperately tired, she pulled the cashmere throw up from the end of the sofa and snuggled beneath its comforting warmth. She reached for the TV remote control and flicked through the channels.
Everything about Christmas. Carols and movies.
Movies!
Mandy bolted upright. “Shit.” Her curse echoed around the empty room. “Surveillance.” She jumped from the sofa and reached for the phone, then held back.
The power had gone off at Wentworths. She battled to remember what the new security company had said when they’d displayed the updated system to her and Maxwell. No power, no security cameras...surely?
She bit down on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. Could she risk it? If the cameras had continued to work and videoed her and Tate... Oh, dear God. Her head dropped into her hands, a scalding heat burning right to her scalp at the thought of being taped while they made love.
She had to do something about it. She couldn’t let it come out in the open. Everything would be ruined, and damn it, she’d worked too hard to let that happen. Not now, when she was close to promotion. Close to everything she’d dreamed of.
Everything?
Shut up! Just bloody shut up!
Desperately she prayed the surveillance tapes hadn’t continued despite the power failure. At the thought, icy sweat slicked her body beneath her fleecy robe.
What if it got into the wrong hands? She snatched up the phone. Who could she call? Maxwell? Sorry sir, but have you seen the tape? Yeah, right how would that sound?
Fingers poised above the phone keypad, she hesitated. Who?
Tate?
Mandy knew the direct dial to his office had already been set up and hoped it would forward to his mobile. She punched the numbers, hope and dread tangling deep down inside, warring for supremacy.
Dread won out.
The phone rang, and her dread upped a few notches on the one to ten scale. She blinked hard, tears close. The phone continued to ring, the electronic tone jarring in her ear. “Please, Tate. Answer the phone. I need...”
She dropped the phone to the floor as if it scalded her flesh. Her gaze swiveled to the clock on her mantel. A gift from her belated grandmother it ticked loudly in the silence.
Tick. Tick…
Sex. Sex. Sex.
Seconds passed. Long, slow seconds filled with indecision.
Her promotion, days, nights, weekends doing work that no one else wanted to do, backing up a manager who couldn’t support himself, but always took the credit.
She had reached the pinnacle...just about.
And now look what she’d done. Destroyed it and all for a few stolen hours of passion, a walk down memory lane.
“Stupid.” She wasn’t like her mother. Her mother’s sycophant and needy ways had shaped Mandy’s childhood. One ‘uncle’ after the other, her mother always whining she couldn’t help herself. She needed a man to do it for her.
And that’s why you ran!
Got that right.
Mandy raced to her bedroom, dressing in double quick time. She loved her mother, but didn’t respect her. That the two could go in tandem had shocked her.
She grabbed her car keys and handbag, making sure the department store keys were where they should be.
The engine purred, tires sliding gently over the ice-slicked roads.
Get the tape, then what?
She didn’t have a clue. Tate Sullivan was her new boss. How was she going to work with the man she’d just slept with? The man had made her body zing and come alive for the first time in years. She slammed a hand against her head and bit back the tangle of panic burgeoning up her throat. “Stupid, stupid,” she reiterated, as if saying the words would correct the disaster.
She wished. Nothing would ever be right again.
What are you going to do about it?
Who the hell knew?
She felt like a sneak as she unlocked the security system. The moment she stepped inside, the night’s events flooded back.
Liar. They hadn’t ever left one inch of her brain...or her body.
Battening down her wayward thoughts, she headed through the department store. For the first time ever, Mandy didn’t want to be at work. She didn’t crave the sense of satisfaction it gave her. Instead as she wove a path through the racks of lingerie…and remembered...and craved. Him. His touch. His kisses.
“No!” She jerked gaze from the teasing vista of Santa’s grotto. Away from memories.
Don’t look. Don’t tempt! But not looking didn’t douse the heat raging through her body, or the need those memories stirred.
“Damn you, Tate Sullivan,” she whispered into the darkness. And damn her traitorous body.
But it wasn’t simply her body that betrayed her. Her heart was guilty of that too.
Seeing Tate had brought to the surface too many emotions to cope with at once, while making love had simply escalated them. Now, as she moved through her beloved store, through the place that had become her only world, something much more profound stuck at her core.
Making love.
It hadn’t been simply sex. Could never be. And that changed everything. But Mandy wasn’t sure she wanted change.
The security office was housed on the fourth floor where it nestled in one corner of a row of offices. She took the stairs two at a time. Get in. Get the tape. Get out.
Easy.
“Jeez,” Mandy wheezed as she hit the fourth floor foyer. “Remind me to take out a gym membership.”
Huh! When is that, Brooks? You never have time for anything but work!
She came to a halt outside the security office and for a moment hesitated, guilt rising from her over cautious sense of duty to the store.
Store? Or save butt?
No contest. She yanked the door handle down, but it didn’t budge.
Locked!
Retrieving the swag of keys from her bag, she held them up in the faded hall light. Minutes ticked by as she struggled with hands suddenly clammy and tried nearly every key on the bunch before she hit pay dirt. The key slipped in easily and turned without a hitch and her sigh of relief was audible as she slipped into the small room. A row of monitors lined the wall. They could be switched to different channels and were linked to the cameras around the store. Santa’s grotto was linked to lingerie.
“Quel surprise,” she whispered. Sitting at the desk, she flicked first one monitor, then another, and another. Nothing. None showed tapes of the grotto.
Mandy frowned. The grotto tape simply showed the grotto. No people. Nothing.
No sex!
She should have been relieved. She was, but something wasn’t right.
“You’re being paranoid, Brooks.”
Was she?
Give up. Go home. Oh…and get a life.
Retracing her path through the store, she exited a side entrance and ensured the building was again secure. She glanced at her watch. Christmas was nearly over.
A quiet sadness enveloped her as she unlocked her car, and simply sat there. She had, she realized with a deep shock, reveled in the whole kit and caboodle of Ch
ristmas this year. The adrenaline rush of preparation, seeing the excited and hopeful faces of the children as they whispered to Santa.
Seeing Tate!
In the past, he and Christmas had become synonymous. How could she have continued celebrating a special day when she’d hurt the person she loved the most on that day by turning her back on him?
The rush of a snow plough passing brought her up sharply.
What now? Now it was back to normal. To her life. She had work to do. But for the first time in years, the thought of work didn’t have the same appeal it used to.
Listen to your mother, Mandy Brooks.
Four hours later, Mandy entered the store to the welcome of tired eyes of the other staff. “Morning Mrs. Santa. How was it?”
Mandy rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask is best,” she advised Violet the junior in the fragrance department.
“Shame. I wanted to know all about you and Santa.”
A furious blush stained Mandy’s cheeks. She looked away. How did she know?
“Always had a fantasy of finding out what’s under Santa’s suit,” the girl giggled.
Fantasy. Lordy, Mandy didn’t want to even think of the word.
But your fantasies came true.
“Be quiet.”
“What?”
Mandy slammed her lips closed. She offered Violet a nonchalant grin, well at least as relaxed as her wired body would allow. “Sorry, just waking up.”
Yeah, really waking, baby. Waking to what you’re missing with Tate Sullivan, her sub-conscious goaded.
Shut up! Shut up!
Tugging at her jacket as if it would close off her heart, she battled to ignore her head and made her way across the ground floor welcomed by the friendly staff. She didn’t want to be rude, but she just had to get to her office. Everywhere she looked there were reminders of Christmas, of Santa, and of Tate.
And she did not want to be reminded of him.
Spoil sport!
Outside her office she glanced towards the end of the hallway. The door was closed, the light switched off. She hesitated, teeth grazing a path over her bottom lip. Should she go and... What? Apologize? Tell him, sorry we had sex, but I want my job.
Dear God, what could she do? She’d made the biggest blunder of her life. She’d had sex with the boss. Trouble was, she wanted more.
Mandy flung the door to her office open and slammed it shut behind her in quick succession. Shame she couldn’t close off her heart. Those walls had definitely been breached.
As the day wore on and Tate’s office door remained closed, Mandy’s fractured nerves began to disintegrate. He wasn’t coming.
So this was it. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.
She should have been pleased she didn’t have to face a boss who knew her far more intimately than any boss should, but for the umpteenth time she found herself standing at her doorway. She opened it a fraction and leaned out, peering down the hall towards his office.
“Looking for someone?”
Mandy jerked backwards, slamming her head against the doorframe. “Ow.” A hand went up to her head, rubbing the spot. “Do you have to sneak up on a girl?”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She pulled back, suddenly aware of his closeness. Aware of far too much. Her heart thudded in her chest, beating out a chaotic tattoo as she looked up into dark mysterious eyes. She stepped back and wrapped her arms across her chest, utterly alert of her nipples beading hard beneath her shirt. Damn. Why had she taken her jacket off?
Tate’s gaze lowered and she colored instantly. Could the man read her mind?
Hell, she hoped not. Those thoughts were downright horny.
“You’re here.” Well, duh! Is that anyway to impress the new boss? But she didn’t want to impress him. She wanted to keep her distance, only that way would she survive.
“Sure am. Miss me?”
“No, Mr. Sullivan, I had far more important things to do than worry about your whereabouts.”
“Really? And here I was thinking you were pining for me, needing to check on me. I mean, Ms. Brooks, peering into the hallway.” Humor sparkled in Tate’s eyes, firing her indignation.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He shook his head, but it in no way diminished his humor. She needed to get away. “Well, this is very nice chatting, Mr. Sullivan, but I must get back to work. Post Christmas sales,” she said, dragging up any excuse she could think of on the spot and turned tail and shut the door on him.
Way to go, Mandy? And you expect to get Brownie points for that?
With her back pressed up against the closed door, she breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t tried to follow her.
Liar. It was relief tinged with more than a hint of disappointment.
The rest of the day however passed in a blur and the fact that she couldn’t concentrate and achieved nothing, rankled. She prided herself on her efficiency. “Action woman, that’s me.”
Well right now, she’d had enough. She glanced up at the clock hung high on her wall. Six thirty. Time to go home.
Home. Somehow, home didn’t appeal. Home meant cozy comfort, her fireplace and books, her music.
She was proud of her tiny workers’ cottage, built so many years ago when the railway workers required accommodation. She had worked hard to renovate the cottage, giving it back its dignity. But the thing she was proud of most was that it was hers. All of it. Bought and paid for with of course some help from the bank.
A childhood spent living in rented rooms; she wanted more for her adulthood. Security. Something she could control herself.
Suddenly, home seemed synonymous with being alone.
So invite him over.
No way.
A teardrop slid down her cheek and fell onto her gloved hand. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. Crying for the things she’d lost, not believed. And for love.
About to enter her house, key in one hand and her bag tucked under her arm, she stilled. The door wasn’t locked. Scrambled thoughts tumbled through her brain. She’d locked it. Surely? But then, after...well, enough said. Fear slid down her spine rooting her to the spot. Call 911, or go in? Reason said wait, but rash actions had been her modus operandi of late, so why stop now?
She pushed the door open, expecting any minute to be bludgeoned.
Nothing. Only silence met her, surrounded by the roar of her heartbeat. She flicked a light on ensuring all the time she kept the point of her key firmly wedged between her fingers, ready to strike anyone who came near.
Still nothing and with every step she took she began to relax. To breathe. She switched on one light after another, illuminating the house to match the Christmas lights that lined the street.
“Wine to help you unwind.”
Mandy spun to the right, arm up, ready to attack.
“Whoa, hold on.”
“Tate? What the hell are you doing here?”
He stood in the doorway to her lounge, leaning against the wall. He looked good. Dressed totally in a black, his dark hair touched with a smattering of gray she hadn’t noticed before. It gave him a distinguished appearance.
Didn’t notice it because you were too busy bonking the man!
Shut up!
Mandy pressed her lips firmly together and rested the flat of her palm against her chest. Her heart raced, but it was the rest of her body she was mostly aware of. It zinged with a pulsating heat. “What are you doing here, Tate?" she repeated, taking a defensive tone.
“Trying to be nice.”
“Nice!” she shouted. “You’ve forced your way in, scaring the life out of me.”
Tate’s brow rose. “Sorry. But see you do need to relax.” He proffered the glass of burgundy towards her. “Drink up. We’ve lots to do.”
“Do? What are you talking about? I’m tired. It’s been a...a difficult day,” she said petulantly. “I just want to be left alone.”
Really? That wasn’t what she thought five m
inutes ago.
“Just like the last five years, Mandy?”
Damn it. Again he seemed to be able to read her mind.
Needing the wine more than she realized, Mandy took a sip relishing in the fruity flavor as it slid down her throat. She took another and another, and then fixed her gaze directly at Tate. “Don’t do this, please.”
“Why not?”
Yeah, Mandy, why not?
But she couldn’t find any answer.
Tate continued. “We’re good together, sweetheart. I know you want me.”
“Good! Want?” Mandy struggled to find the right words. Actually any sentence seemed impossible. “It was sex, Tate. Just sex.” But even as she said the words, Mandy knew it wasn’t just anything. It was love.
Oh, dear God. What now?
She sank down on to the sofa behind her. Then she noticed it. “Christmas,” she said in a soft accusatory tone. She lifted her graze from the towering Christmas tree in the corner, decorated to the nth degree, and back to Tate. “You did this?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t have time for Christmas yesterday what with...ah,” and he shrugged, the twinkling in his eyes glistening as bright as any decoration on the tree. Mandy couldn’t help but smile. Tate glowed like the best decoration.
“I told you I didn’t do Christmas.”
“You did, but I didn’t listen.”
Mandy bristled, indignation firing. “Are you trying to control me, Tate?”
“No.”
Suddenly she wasn’t sure about anything and she stared at him, suspicion warring inside of her with a desperate need to believe him.
“Now be patient and don’t burst a blood vessel. I figured Christmas doesn’t have good memories for either of us,” he explained. “I also figured it was time to make some good memories. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? New beginnings. New life.”
Tate sat down beside the tree and Mandy found herself thankfully able to breathe. Slowly. One after the other she sucked in lungfuls of air.
Breathing was good. She could do breathing. She just wasn’t sure she could do anything else, let alone think, or speak.
Nope. Don’t think. Relax. Do the here and now. Baby steps.
Desparately Seeking Santa Page 8
