The Mistletoe Effect

by Melissa Cutler

  “And will there be ten lords a-leaping, too?”

  She flashed a you guessed it face. “That’s why I’m the best at what I do. And now it’s all ours tonight.”

  The words weren’t said with pride or her usual weariness but sarcasm, as if she, too, couldn’t quite believe the farce they were presently embroiled in. He supposed that as long as he wasn’t one of the lords required to leap he shouldn’t be surprised by the extravagance, but still—“Are you serious about the lords a-leaping?”

  Her sage expression morphed into a smile. “God, no. Not that there’s anything wrong with leaping lords. Or maids a-milking, for that matter, but there’s a fine line between tasteful and over-the-top and I drew it at the vodka tasting station with a bar made out of ice.”

  Was that another jest out of the buttoned-up Carina? He looked into her twinkling eyes. It was a jest. Well, damn. As he’d first glimpsed with her secret Halloween underwear, he was discovering there were many hidden layers to his new faux bride—layers that he planned to peel off one at a time. But first they had to get through the reception.

  He shook out his jacket, then draped it across her shoulders. “I suppose we should get this snow pelting over with. Our vodka bar awaits.”

  Two steps outside, something hard and cold exploded against Decker’s cheek, followed by a snicker from Cord McGraw, one of Wendell’s groomsmen. Carina squealed and pulled the edges of the jacket over her face. Amid the actual snowballs, other guests tossed white flakes into the air, hooting and calling their congratulations.

  Decker took Carina’s elbow. “Let’s pick up the pace.” He hustled her through the crowd, spitting out the flakes of fake snow that flew into his mouth as they jogged.

  “What is that fake snow made of, anyway? Tastes like sawdust,” he said.

  “A biodegradable paper that dissolves in water.”

  One of the groomsmen clobbered Decker’s back with another icy snowball as he followed Carina, who dodged away from the open carriage door and around to the back of it.

  “Why didn’t you get in? You’re not planning to fight back with snowballs, are you? Because I’d really rather get to the vodka bar.”

  “I’m with you on that, but I’d rather walk.” She patted the dark green garland that adorned the white-and-gold open-top carriage. “This was Haylie’s idea. God forbid that a bride be tasked with walking, like a mere mortal.”

  From the chapel, it was only a short distance across the grounds to the reception. Already the same guests who’d stayed behind for the snow-throwing fiasco were filing along the well-lit path. The winter wonderland garden glowed in the distance beneath a huge, lit Star of Bethlehem that rose from the top of the highest hill at the edge of the resort.

  Clusters of carolers strolled amid the guests, as they did every night throughout the Christmas season, singing holiday songs a capella. White and blue twinkle lights were everywhere, lining the path and wrapped around nearly every tree and shrub. To top off the extravagance, the event-catering staff passed out mugs of hot cider for the guests to sip along the way.

  Truly, Decker would’ve been happy to stroll along with Carina to the reception amid such festive cheer, except that he was eager to have her away from the prying eyes of the guests and all to himself for a few minutes before the craziness of the reception kicked in.

  “Normally, I’m all for doing what a lady wants, but I was looking forward to being driven around by Manuel.” He gestured to Manuel, the carriage driver and one of Decker’s most reliable workers at the stable, who’d followed them around to the back of the carriage. He already had the right-side carriage door open and a step stool ready, all the while doing a terrible job hiding his shit-eating grin.

  Up until then, Decker hadn’t given a moment’s thought to how much flak he was going to be taking at work the next day from his employees. They were all going to get a lot of mileage out of this, but it was a small price to pay for the time with Carina.

  With a finger out to Manuel, he said, “Give us a sec.” Then he tucked Carina’s arm around his elbow and walked her a few feet away. “I bet you’ve been on your feet all day.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. Manuel is going to get paid either way, and you, um …” He ran a finger along the fluffy white material lining the top of the dress. “You need to save your strength for later.”

  She didn’t seem to notice his finger on her dress but instead grimaced, her expression filling with panic. “You better not be talking about dancing at the reception, because I don’t remember that being part of our agreement.”

  That wasn’t what he’d been referring to, which left him two choices—clarify his X-rated train of thought or tease her about her distress over the idea of dancing. The pathetic truth was that Decker hated dancing, too, but she didn’t need to know that yet.

  “You’re mine for the better part of the month. If I want to dance with you, then you have to dance.”

  The appalled look on her face let him know he’d made the right choice. “I agreed we would live together as husband and wife, not master and servant. Marriage doesn’t work like that.”

  If there was one thing he’d learned tonight, it was that he loved watching Carina’s cheeks pink and her expression turn earnest when he teased her. He leaned against the nearest tree, enjoying her reaction. “How do you know? Are you so experienced at it?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “You’ve got a lot of buts in your vocabulary.”

  She squared her shoulders, looking defensive. “I guess I do, but—” With wide eyes, she met his gaze, then smiled. Those defensive shoulders relaxed again. “Touché.”

  That was enough teasing for now. He offered her his arm. “Mrs. Decker, please allow me to escort you to our fake wedding reception in a manner befitting a knight.”

  After a brief hesitation, she took his arm and walked with him to the open carriage door. At the foot of the steps, she turned to face him, a sly smile on her lips. “If I’m the knight, then what does that make you?”

  He let his gaze rake over her fine, fine curves. He might’ve chosen to tease her about dancing, but that didn’t make his thoughts—or his plans for her—any less X-rated. “You haven’t figured that out yet?”

  She cocked her head, considering.

  It’d been a while since he’d been moved to give flirting his all, but he pinned her with his most smoldering gaze. “I’m the dragon, of course.”

  He was expecting her delicate sensibilities to get flustered, but she surprised him with a burst of laughter. Much like Manuel was doing.

  Decker gave Manuel a playful shove. “You, shut your trap. You know the rule—what happens at the wedding stays at the wedding.”

  That only made Manuel laugh harder, but at least he had the good grace to walk away. Carina continued to chuckle as she flounced her red dress onto the black leather bench seat. Decker followed her in and shut the carriage door.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but that was—” She covered her mouth and giggled behind her hand as Decker took a seat next to her.

  At the sound of Manuel’s subtle click of the tongue, the horses pressed forward and the carriage started a slow roll along the trail to the side of the walking path, past one of the strolling a capella trios they passed, this one singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” in vibrant harmony.

  Decker picked bits of fake snow out of Carina’s wavy chocolate brown hair. She rarely wore it down while she was working, and he loved the way it framed her face tonight, bringing out the hint of freckles on her pale cheeks. “Dragon was a corny answer, wasn’t it?”

  Her lips pursed into a strawberry smile. “I liked it, even though we seem to be mixing up the themes of the night. Christmas wonderlands and knights who marry dragons.”

  “If you want to talk about jumbled-up themes, then I only have two words for you: Halloween underwear.”

  Her smile turned luminous. “I happen to
like my underwear, thank you very much.”

  So did he, but he was going to like it a whole lot better when it was crumpled on the floor. “It certainly trumps the plain black boxer briefs I’m wearing.”

  “Maybe I should make you a pair of Halloween boxers, then we could secretly be one of those matchy couples.”

  In a twisted way, that sounded fun. “I never thought I’d be the sort of husband to wear matching clothes with his wife, but matching underwear could get interesting. What did you mean by make? You know how to sew?”

  “I do. It’s my hobby. I make a lot of my own clothes.”

  “Well, that settles it, then. I guess you’d better make me some Halloween underwear. And maybe some shamrock boxers to match your thong.”

  Not that he was going to still be working at the resort come Saint Patrick’s Day, but it’d be a fun memento of their time together.

  “Consider it done.” She set her hand on his knee, and before he knew what he was doing he was covering it with his own hand.

  “May I ask you a question?” she said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why don’t you go by James? I’ve always been curious.”

  He sighed. That question always brought him down. He wasn’t against telling her the whole sad, complicated story, but not now, while they rode in a carriage through the peaceful December night, listening to the horse hooves clomp and the clusters of singers harmonizing Christmas carols. “That conversation is going to require some vodka first.”

  “Luckily that’s an easy fix. When we get to the reception, the first round’s on me.”

  He couldn’t help but let out an amused snicker. “I do believe every round’s on you—or your parents, anyway—since it’s a hosted bar.”

  “That was me making another joke.”

  “I like it.”

  She cuddled in closer, so he draped an arm around her to let her know that was just fine with him.

  After a long stretch of companionable silence, she asked. “Why did you agree to this, tonight?”

  He’d thought his demand that they live as husband and wife made that obvious, but since his comment about her saving her strength had sailed over her head, maybe her general lack of guile kept her from reading between the lines about what he wanted from her—unless she was only asking because she wanted to hear him say it aloud.

  If that was the case, then he was going to make sure she heard him loud and clear this time. He slid his hand around her waist and brought her body up tight against his. She came willingly, splaying her hands on the lapels of his jacket, her face upturned at the perfect tilt to receive a kiss. Her lips parted like she was waiting for him to do exactly that. Which he’d been planning to, but gazing down at those dewy eyes and flushed cheeks, thinking about the way Carina let everyone in her life push her around, he was struck with an even better idea.

  He was going to wait for her to kiss him. He wanted to bear witness to her taking control of some aspect of her life, even if it was their romantic affair—even if he’d all but commanded her to move in with him. He tamped down the flare of irritation at himself for backing her into a corner, much like her family did. Too late for regrets. All he could do now was vow that whatever happened between them from this point forward depended on Carina to make the next move.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t make a tempting case for the move he wanted her to make. He let his hand slide up her back until his fingertips hit skin. In response, her body gave the slightest shiver. With his other hand, he stroked her cheek. “I agreed to this because I’ve been wanting to get you alone for a long time.”

  “You didn’t need to bargain for it. You could have been alone with me any time you wanted.”

  Not so, but he wasn’t going to spoil the heady euphoria of her confession with the truth. He leaned in as though to kiss her. Her eyes closed, her fingers curled, clutching his jacket, and her parted lips waited. So, so tempting …

  He gathered her nearer and stroked a hand over her hair, returning the nervous smile she gave him. He lowered his nose to her hair, drinking in the sweet, fragrant scent as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a glass wall of doors through which a sweeping, red-carpeted staircase would take them up to the second-floor ballroom.

  The next moment, as they embraced, a loud whistle cut through the air, followed by the crack of an explosion. Fireworks. Of course. Because no expense had been spared for Eloise and Ty Briscoe’s princess.

  Decker paid the bursts of red, green, white, and blue only a few moments of attention, because what man in his right mind would want to watch explosions in the sky when he and Carina were creating their own kind of fireworks? Turning her face in, she brushed her lips along his cheek with the slightest audible hum. Her labored breath fanned over his skin.

  “Those are some impressive fireworks. Do you feel like a princess yet?”

  Rather than swoon at his murmured words, she backed up to regard him, her eyes sharp with self-deprecating humor. “No. Still the dragon slayer. Because I know exactly how much each of these fireworks costs and what a pain in the ass the pyrotechnic company was to deal with when it came to nailing down a contract.”

  So much for the sexy mood. That had gone over about as well as his dragon comment.

  She poured out of the carriage, waving off Manuel’s offered hand to assist her. That’s when it hit Decker that she didn’t think of a dragon slayer as a hero but the kingdom workhorse—the behind-the-scenes figure who kept the kingdom running smoothly and safely. And the reason she’d laughed at his corny dragon remark was because, to her, slaying a dragon wasn’t sexy but just another duty in her never-ending list of responsibilities.

  “Your bride’s getting away, Senor Dragón,” Manuel said with a smile.

  He flipped Manuel the bird as he got out of the carriage. “If that’s your way of asking for the rest of the night off, then you got it. My bride and I will find our own way home.”

  “You’re the boss,” he answered, which would’ve sounded far more respectful had he not said it while laughing.

  With as much dignity as he could muster and with a renewed determination to coax Carina into kissing him first, Decker hustled after his new bride, ready to face a crowd of hundreds in their first appearance as husband and wife.

  ∗∗∗

  “Is it true? Please tell me it’s true, because I already texted Xavier.” Alex, Carina’s right-hand man, regarded her with a delighted gleam in his chocolate brown eyes. He’d snagged her arm not a minute after Decker had left on a drink quest for them both at the vodka bar once the lavish formal dinner had concluded.

  Carina was still reeling from the stream of guests who’d swarmed her and Decker from the moment that they entered the room and all through the meal, asking questions and offering congratulations, as though they thought Carina and Decker had really and truly gotten married that night. Adding to the illusion, the photographer and videographer were documenting the wedding festivities as though they weren’t merely a hoax. Carina hadn’t had the chance to pin down her father and make sure he’d prepped the wedding guests on what had actually happened, but it was tops on her list.

  She straightened Alex’s baby blue necktie and dusted off the shoulders of his black suit jacket as she debated what to say. She could handle the lie of omission in letting the guests believe she and Decker were really married until she sorted matters out with her father, but she refused to lie to her closest friends and colleagues.

  She opened her mouth to respond to Alex’s giddy question, but before she could do more than draw a breath he smushed a finger over her lips. “Wait. Don’t speak yet. Emily told me to bring you over to her because she wants to hear the story, too, so let’s go.”

  He dragged Carina by the arm through the crowd of guests to the edge of the room near the hors d’oeuvres and cocktail servers’ staging hall where Emily was surveying the crowd and adjusting the items on the trays of sweets being carried out of the kitchen by the
servers under her management.

  Clad in a pristine chef’s jacket and with her chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail, Emily bounced in her clogs when she noticed Carina and Alex. “Okay, finally. Alex and I have been waiting to get you alone forever. I didn’t think dinner was going to end, even if that was the best rack of lamb I’ve ever created.”

  “Dinner was divine,” Carina said.

  “Yes, yes, we all know Emily is brilliant,” Alex said with a dismissive wave. “Now tell us everything, Cee.”

  “It can’t be true,” Emily said. “There’s no way you stood in front of a minister in a house of God and pledged eternal fidelity to the man you and I once found passed out in the east lawn fountain along with two models after what appeared to be a night of bubble bath wrestling.”

  Emily was the special event chef at the resort, handling everything from weddings to business meetings in the executive suites. They’d been thick as thieves for six years, since Emily was hired straight out of a culinary academy as a sous chef during Carina’s first year as an executive at the resort following her graduation from Texas A&M. They’d bonded over their dating disasters and in the years since had weathered everything from the ups and downs of the hospitality industry to family drama and even more dating disasters.

  “Not eternal fidelity because it wasn’t a real wedding,” she said.

  Alex clutched his clipboard to his chest, looking equal parts spellbound and delighted. “This is going to be good. So, you said ‘I do’?”

  “I did.”

  “And he … he …”

  “Yes. He said it, too.” Carina averted her gaze, fighting a wave of memory that shook her all the way to her toes. Those two words said in Decker’s deep rasp had sounded like pure sin to her, the sealing of a fate she hadn’t fully grasped when she’d made the deal to pretend to marry him for the sake of the resort, but which she was very much on board with now. If their charged exchange in the carriage was any indication, then Carina had just embarked on the wildest ride of her life—and the perfect distraction from the Christmas season.

  With a skeptical narrowing of her eyes, Emily picked up Carina’s left hand and studied the wedding ring meant for Haylie, but which now graced Carina’s finger. The thick platinum band with a braided heart pattern with each of the ten hearts inlaid with a diamond to signify the ten months Haylie and Wendell had dated was gorgeous, even if it wasn’t Carina’s style. Haylie was the hopeless romantic; Carina would’ve gone for a wedding band that was more modern.