The Mistletoe Effect

by Melissa Cutler

  Decker had yet to show, but he’d texted her an hour ago with the warning he might be late due to, as he’d simply written, resort guests. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to because Carina knew the score. They were in the hospitality industry, after all.

  Carina had given Alex the night off, his first in over a week, but once the reception had gotten rolling there wasn’t much that needed doing as long as the booze flowed, the music played, and Emily kept the stream of simple yet sophisticated holiday sweets and savories flowing from the kitchen.

  The best part of the night wasn’t the décor or the food—not even the anticipation of the down and dirty fun she and Decker were going to have after the reception. No, the best part was getting to reconnect with some of the happy couples whom she’d helped over the years by giving them their dream weddings. Tonight, she made a point to introduce the Wedding World journalists to each couple and coax the stories of their wedding and the resort from them, which the journalists recorded on both the video camera and a small digital recorder. It’d proved a fun trip down memory lane, even if she was increasingly impatient for Decker’s arrival.

  As she was listening to the Linderhoffs recount the story of their wedding day to Addison and the cameraman, Emily came out, as she usually did, to get a read of the room and how her menu choices were being received.

  Carina tiptoed out of range of the camera’s microphone and waved to Emily. “Hey. Great job. Those roasted chestnut pastries are the bomb.”

  “Thanks. It’s the bacon crumbles I mixed in. I’m telling you, any time you throw me a curveball like this last-minute party, I just make a bunch of stuff with bacon in it and people go nuts. Bacon’s like culinary duct tape. It fixes everything.”

  Very true. Carina snagged another pastry from a passing server’s tray and popped the whole thing in her mouth. So, of course, as her mouth was way overfull, Decker showed up. She wiggled fingers at him in greeting, and he started her way. Though he was looking debonair in a charcoal gray suit, black Stetson, and crisp white dress shirt that was open at the neck, his eyes looked tired.

  Emily snagged a champagne flute from a passing server, then shifted her attention to Decker and sighed. “I wish you could marry him for real. That man is a stud.”

  Carina pressed a finger to her lips in warning as she swallowed the last of the pastry. “Not so loud. The journalists are here, and you know my dad and Granny June told everyone we were really married.”

  “What does your mom have to say?”

  Carina sipped her champagne. “Very little. You know how she shuts down whenever there’s a whiff of unpleasantness. She’s been holed up in the resort’s spa all week fighting the good fight against wrinkles and tense muscles.”

  Emily snorted. “I thought her expression looked especially vacuous tonight. This whole situation is such a joke.”

  “I wish.” Then again, did she wish things had gone down differently at Haylie’s wedding? Not tonight, she didn’t. Not all week, in fact.

  Her attention dipped to his pants. She couldn’t decide if she detected extra bulging thanks to the cock ring or if she was imagining it in the play of light and shadows as he walked. Either way, she planned to wipe the fatigue from his eyes at the first opportunity.

  With an eyebrow flicker of greeting to Emily, he lassoed an arm around Carina’s waist and pulled her into a quick kiss. “You look terrific.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You do, too,” Emily said in a flirty voice as she fluttered a hand over her chest.

  Carina gave a good-natured kick to the toe of her chef’s clog. “No flirting with my husband.”

  “No worries there,” he said. “I’ve been flirted with all damn day, so I’m immune to it now. That’s why I was late.” While he talked his hand was busy roving over Carina’s lower back, his fingertips clearly searching for something beneath her silver, knee-length party dress. When he felt the T-top of her thong, he gave a barely perceptible hum of approval.

  Carina flitted another discreet glance at his crotch. His goods did look more, um, obvious than usual. “You were waylaid by flirting?”

  “Big-time. A bridal party got ahold of me this morning and wouldn’t let go. They threw a fit until I personally gave them riding lessons, then a trail ride. Then they still wouldn’t leave the stable. They went down the line, asking questions about every single horse and trying to convince me to accompany them to San Antonio tonight to go clubbing.”

  Emily kicked back the last of her champagne, then pointed the flute at him. “That’s why we call you Johnny.”

  Carina unsuccessfully tried to stifle a groan. “Not cool, Em.”

  “What’s she talking about, Carina? Why Johnny?”

  “From Dirty Dancing,” Carina said. “Patrick Swayze is a favorite of all the rich ladies staying at the resort.”

  Emily leaned in. “He’s the resident hottie.”

  “So, what, that’s me? I’m the resident hottie around this place?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Cocking his head to the side as though rolling the title over in his mind, he pulled Carina close. “Well, this resident hottie is off the market now, for all the good this ring did to save me from those bridesmaids today.” He indulged in a goofy full-body shudder, then snagged a bacon-wrapped filet mignon skewer from a passing server.

  “Well, I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Emily said. “Catch you lovebirds later.”

  Before Decker and Carina could do more than share a private, heated gaze loaded with arousal and anticipation, Carina’s parents and Granny June appeared before them. Though Granny didn’t look up from texting on her smartphone and muttering to herself as she typed, Carina’s parents smiled dotingly at her.

  “Great job on this event, Carina,” her dad said. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

  Decker’s lips twitched with disapproval at her father’s words, and Carina could tell he was barely holding himself back from issuing a scathing retort. She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was unfazed by her father’s backhanded compliment.

  When she was younger, she’d longed for her father to tell her he loved her, to act like he cared about more than the business. It’d taken time and a lot of growing up for her to understand that the praise he gave her for a job well done and his confidence in her business skill were all he was capable of giving. Most of the time, she was at peace with that truth, but sometimes, in her most vulnerable moments, it hurt that she was constantly teetering on the line between disappointment and approval, rather than enjoying unconditional love.

  Decker’s words from that morning came back to her. I know what you want for yourself, for your life. He doesn’t know because you won’t tell him.

  He was right. She hadn’t done herself any favors by not being honest with her father. If it was true that you taught people how to treat you, then it was time Carina took ownership of her role in her relationship with her parents. Tonight, with Decker at her side, bolstering her, knowing he had her back, she felt more comfortable in her own skin and confident than she had in a very long time. Maybe even confident enough to start getting real about what she wanted and who she was.

  “Good. You’re all here.” Carina, Decker, and her parents turned to see Addison and the cameraman.

  “Getting a lot of good stories from all the couples here?” Carina asked.

  “Absolutely. This party is a gold mine for my cover story. And now, guess whose turn it is to get their story on record?”

  The cameraman pushed a button and the red “record” light came on. Addison lifted her digital recorder toward her lips.

  “James and Carina Decker, congratulations on your recent nuptials,” she said in a clipped, official tone that felt different—more formal—from her tone with the other couples.

  Carina tensed. “Thank you.”

  “There’s been speculation that your wedding was staged because of Granny June’s concerns about a mistletoe jinx,
but that you’re not married in the eyes of the law. We spoke to a few employees who had no idea that you two were even dating, much less engaged. This is your chance to address those rumors publicly and in print.”

  She held her digital recorder out to Carina. Carina’s mouth flopped open, but she couldn’t figure out a darned thing to say. It was one thing to lie by omission in not correcting her father and Granny June’s assertion that she and Decker were really married, but it was a whole new ball game to commit to the lie on tape.

  Decker took Addison’s wrist and moved the recorder toward him. “For the record, it’s not the business of our employees what we do in our personal time. It’s comforting to know that our discretion was successful.”

  Nice. Smooth. The tightness in Carina’s chest eased a smidge.

  “Can you tell me on record right here, right now, that you two are lawfully married?”

  Granny June plucked the recorder out of Addison’s hand and held it close to her mouth. “Oh, hush. Of course they’re married. I’ve seen the marriage license myself.”

  Carina’s mother downed the last of her champagne, then excused herself to the bar for a refill. Carina’s father smiled, his eyes calculating. Decker’s hand, twined with hers, tensed.

  Granny June continued. “What happened was, Carina, here, had been planning this wedding surprise for a while, but she didn’t want to overshadow her little sister. Isn’t it romantic that she decided to throw caution to the wind? A modern woman is what she is, the way she wooed her man into agreeing to a surprise wedding.”

  Addison blinked back, her brows knitting together. “But I thought it was Mr. Decker who—”

  Granny waved dismissively. “Oh, now, you weren’t sitting in the front row of the chapel like I was, so you missed out on the important details. I’m telling you, she just couldn’t stand to be without him any longer, even though he was hemming and hawing and not thinking he was ready. But there’s no denying the influence of the Mistletoe Effect. Even the couples who aren’t planning to get married find themselves swept away with love when they come to Briscoe Ranch Resort in December.”

  Addison sent Granny June a sidelong glance. “So, then, it was Mr. Decker who was hemming and hawing?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He was.”

  “Granny,” Carina cautioned out of the corner of her mouth.

  But Granny was on a roll. She waggled a finger at the video camera. “And you make sure you put that in your magazine. Carina, here, proved that if ladies have a man with cold feet, they ought to bring him to Briscoe Ranch Resort to get a little bit of that mistletoe magic for themselves. That’s Briscoe Ranch Resort, at dubya-dubya-dubya-dubya dot Briscoe Ranch Resort dot-com. Ladies, this is the place to get that special man down on bended knee.”

  Carina’s dad indulged in a brief roll of his eyes heavenward. “They got the point, Ma.”

  Addison wrenched the recorder out of Granny’s hand. “I think that’ll do for now. Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been most accommodating this week.”

  Granny June smiled and waved her phone in the air. “All right, now. It’s time for a photo.” She pushed and prodded until the journalists, Decker, and Carina’s family were bunched close. Carina played along because, frankly, she was still stunned at Addison’s line of questioning and Granny’s blatant lies in response.

  Granny held her phone out for the selfie. “Okay, gather in and get your chins up for them neck wrinkles. And smile!”

  After the flash of the picture, the journalists begged off before Granny June could take a second one. Carina stared at Addison’s and the cameraman’s backs as her mom escorted them to another pair of newlyweds, still processing the exchange.

  “Granny, I love you, but you can’t tell lies to the reporters,” Carina said. “What if they go to the county clerk’s office and look into it? Marriage licenses are public record and we don’t have one.”

  Granny June patted Carina’s cheek. “Sometimes lying is okay when it’s for the greater good.”

  Carina looked at her father. He looked mildly distressed but said nothing, just sipped his Jack and Coke and scanned the room with restless eyes.

  Carina couldn’t decide what made her madder, that her father and Granny had forced her and Decker to lie to everyone they knew plus an international magazine or that Granny believed the lies were worth it for the greater good—which really meant for the greater good of the business. Not Carina. Not Decker. Not their family. Everything, all the time, was about the business.

  Enough was enough. It was time to teach her family a new way to treat her. “For the greater good of who, Daddy? Why don’t you tell me and we can get it out in the open.”

  Carina’s mom scanned the crowd, probably searching for some excuse to beg out of the confrontation. Carina’s dad and Granny June gaped at Carina, like they couldn’t believe their eyes that their mousy, meek girl had it in her to stand up for herself. Well, they’d be in for a rude awakening one of these days, because she was tired of being the family doormat.

  Decker took her hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

  He led her toward the doors, lifting a full champagne flute off a tray and handing it to her.

  “For the greater good, my ass,” Carina said with a huff. “Did you hear them?”

  “I did, and I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, but right now, the greater good for me is getting you naked in our marriage bed. If lying accomplishes that in the fastest way possible, then I’m all for it.”

  She took a sip of champagne and rolled it over her tongue, forcing herself to calm down. Getting naked with Decker was definitely a perk of the lie. From that thought, it was just a hop, skip, and a jump in her mind to the cock ring she’d given him to wear at the reception. “I’m all for that part, too.”

  He kissed her temple, then pushed through the lounge doors into the hall. “Good, and you should know I’m not going to stop lovin’ on you tonight until I have you screaming ‘holy matrimony.’ ”

  She had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to distract her from her frustration at her family, and she had to admit, it was working. Not his dirty talk, but that he was taking care of her, whisking her away from her parents, calming her down, and making her feel cared for. The more she considered it, the more her troubles sloughed off, left behind at the party she’d never wanted to host anyway. Maybe Alex had been right when he’d said that everybody needed someone to look out for them. She liked the idea of Decker being that someone.

  In the hall, she set her half-drained flute on a decorative table, then grabbed Decker’s hand and pulled him onto a balcony just off the hallway, leaving the last of her worries behind and getting into the sexy spirit of things. The air was bracingly cold on her bare legs and face, though she counted her lucky stars that it wasn’t snowing or raining. As soon as the door flapped closed behind her, she pressed him to a dark corner out of view of the glass door and copped a feel on his crotch.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I’m holding up my end of the bargain.”

  She smoothed her hand along his erection. “It feels to me like you’re up right now, bargain or not.”

  “Very funny.”

  Next thing she knew, his hand had worked its way up her skirt and onto her bare butt. “You’re not wearing much under this. What if a strong breeze came along and blew up your skirt?”

  “I would be the talk of the party.”

  He hummed his approval, then moved his hand higher until he found the thong. “These are the mistletoe panties, I’m guessing. If I’m remembering them correctly, then around to the side here I’m going to find—bingo.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the sound of ripping Velcro echoed through the air. The thong sagged against her inner thighs. She squeezed her pelvic muscles, giving in to the deliciously wicked realization that with one more flick of his wrist there would be nothing standing between her body’s most intimate flesh and the air surrounding them. The idea of being so exposed, of walking
back into the party on Decker’s arm, panty-less, turned her on in a low-down, dirty way.

  “Now for the other side,” he said. He made short work of it and caught the thong before it passed her knees on its way to the floor.

  The feel of his hand between her thighs and the air against her hot flesh left her dizzy with anticipation and need.

  When Decker straightened to his full height again, his expression was dark, his jaw tight. He slipped the thong into his pant pocket. “I guess we’d better make extra sure we don’t encounter any bracing winds on our way home,” he said.

  “Two can play at that game.” She worked his belt open, then plunged her hand below the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

  His breathing labored, he leaned against the brick wall. “You say that like I should be trying to stop you from doing something dastardly.”

  Her hand grazed over the cock ring. She loved the way it jutted his dick and balls out in front of his body, brazen and proud. Then again, he should be proud. He’d been blessed with one of the finest male bodies she’d ever had the pleasure of fondling. At her first tug up the length of his shaft, stretching his skin, he groaned. His head lolled back to rest against the wall.

  “See, it’s there, just like you commanded me. I might have gotten a ring on your finger, but you got two rings on me—my finger and my family jewels. That’s staking quite a claim on the resident hottie.”

  She looked up from where she was admiring the crown of red, swollen flesh breaching the top of his boxers to enjoy his self-deprecating smile.

  “We’ll see if you’re still singing the praises of marriage and rings in a few minutes.” Assuming an evil smile, she slid her hand back down the length of him and pressed the vibrator button at the top of the cock ring. The ring hummed to life.

  ∗∗∗

  “You play dirty, Mrs. Decker.”

  Judging by her proud, naughty smile, she agreed.