Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday RushPlaying GamesAll Night Long

by Samantha Hunter

  * * *

  AFTER A HALF hour of companionable silence, Carrie said, “You know, I bet we were supposed to be on the same flight to Portland. Leaving at seven-ten?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Maybe we’d have wound up seated next to each other. Maybe fate had it in for us all along.”

  “How long are you in Grafton for?” he asked.

  “I fly out the day after tomorrow. All the time I could get off, sadly. You?”

  “Same.” Three days had sounded like ages when he’d made the promise to his grandma, but seeing how he’d lost nearly an entire day, he was grateful for it now. “Early flight.”

  “Mine’s not until dinnertime.”

  “You mind if I return the car at PDX?” Daniel asked. “It’ll save me having to ask one of my parents for a lift. And spare me their company. And spare you the headache of telling the rental people we’re returning it short a headlight and side-mirror and a load of paint.”

  “No problem. Shawn was planning on taking me.”

  “Cool.”

  “Actually, no doubt he’ll want to go to the bar while we’re both home. So tomorrow night I’ll probably be playing designated driver, in case you wanted to hang out at Paulie’s, not drinking. Check out how old our fellow GHS alums have gotten.”

  “Maybe... Late, maybe. I, um, I’m going home mainly to spend time with my grandma. She doesn’t think she’s going to see another Christmas, so I may just hang out with her playing cards and watching movies.”

  “Oh, sure. Of course.” As they passed by the big wooden sign, she read, “‘Welcome to Grafton.’”

  “But if my grandma goes to bed early, maybe I could swing by,” Daniel added. Could be really weird, though, if Matt happened to be at the bar, or any of their old classmates, he thought as they drove past the high school. If people saw him and Carrie there together, the news would surely spread like a rash.

  Whatever. It’s time to start making some nice memories in this town for a change.

  “We’ll swap numbers,” Carrie said. “I’ll let you know what I end up doing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She laughed softly. “And every thirteen years on Christmas, we’ll return to the Evergreen Motor Inn, cicada-like, and resume this...whatever it is.”

  That got his pulse pounding, left his throat dry. He met her eyes for a moment, then looked back to the road, nervous.

  “What?”

  “We don’t...I mean, we don’t live that far apart, really, in the grand scheme of things. Maybe three hours’ drive.”

  Carrie kept her voice light and level. “Hour and a half apiece if we met in the middle.”

  His chest filled. “Good old I-5. Maybe we could meet up in Modesto or wherever, sometime.”

  Did she have any clue how fast his heart was beating waiting those two seconds for her reply? It felt like a hummingbird between his ribs.

  “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” she asked.

  And here he’d been hoping she’d want to see him in the next couple months. Next week? Shit, yes. “Nothing.”

  “I RSVP’d for a friend’s party already. She has an amazing apartment with a view of the bay. Would you have any interest in coming up for that?”

  He answered honestly. “You could invite me to come and pump your septic tank and I’d say yes.”

  She laughed, the best sound in the world. “I’ll bear that in mind. And if parties aren’t really your thing, I can just cancel. We could do whatever we wanted.”

  “No, I’d love to come.”

  He wanted to see where she lived and what her life was like. He still wanted all the things he’d had when they’d both been living in this little town—a glimpse of her bedroom, a snoop through her bookshelves. He wanted to sit at her kitchen table or on her couch and drink coffee with her in the morning. Go out to eat with her. Shower with her. Run errands with her. Walk around her neighborhood or along the cold beach. Make a meal with her. Watch a movie. Take her to bed. Get taken there himself. He wanted to spend such a perfect January first with Carrie that the rest of the year could be complete misery and it wouldn’t even matter.

  “I ought to warn you,” she said. “It’s a one-bedroom.”

  He snorted. “Scandal. Also, this is all barring a fire, obviously.”

  “Sure.”

  “Though this time of year, luck’s probably on my side.”

  “Let’s hope California doesn’t take a page out of western Oregon’s book and order an ice storm.”

  “No kidding.”

  When he glanced her way, she was smiling, attention aimed forward as they drove through the town’s center where the trees twinkled with white lights. He doubted he would’ve even noticed those lights without this woman beside him.

  “You’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he told her, feeling naked in the nicest way.

  She met his eyes with her dark ones and Daniel looked back to the road, feeling shy.

  “Thanks.”

  He swallowed. “Sure.”

  “You probably need both hands on the wheel, huh?”

  “Definitely.”

  She leaned over and rested her palm on his thigh. Daniel felt his neck and face flush with pleasure, and he hazarded a quick rub of her knuckles.

  “Thanks for driving,” Carrie said.

  Daniel remembered the miles and miles of grit-messy dangerous asphalt, the endless trees drooping and depressed under coats of ice. The speed limit-signs that had made a joke of their progress. The flat gray winter sky, now dark.

  “Thanks for the best Christmas of my life,” he replied. He punched the stereo button and filled their ridiculous little car with the bright chaos of pop music.

  * * * * *

  ALL NIGHT LONG

  Debbi Rawlins

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  1

  “HEY, WOULD YOU please keep it down?” Carly Wyatt glared at her coworker sitting across the gleaming mahogany conference table, but Mavis didn’t even look up. She just kept humming “Silent Night” while she read the deposition in front of her.

  Kevin, the newest paralegal to join the firm, was sitting next to Mavis. He tapped her shoulder and she yanked out an earbud. “The grouch wants you to hum to yourself.”

  Mavis automatically looked at Carly. Not Susan or Patti, neither of whom had been the embodiment of Christmas joy. Susan hadn’t cracked a smile in a week. Not that Carly blamed her. The grueling fifteen-hour days searching for a tiny piece of evidence that could exonerate their client was getting to all of them. Maybe Carly most of all, but, dammit, she was supposed to be on vacation—her first in three years.

  Working full-time as a paralegal while attending law school at night meant virtually no opportunities to go home. And now it seemed she’d be lucky to make it to Pittsburgh by New Year’s Eve, much less Christmas.

  “I said please,” Carly muttered and dragged another file out of the rows of boxes stacked waist-deep along the glass wall, all courtesy of the Manhattan Assistant D.A.

  The smug little jerk had bombarded them with paperwork at the last minute hoping they wouldn’t find what they needed before returning to court the day after Christmas.

  Sometimes she hated attorneys. Seriously. With all their courtroom theatrics and sneaky legal maneuverings. Sure, it was all for the good of the client. Yeah...yeah...she got that.

  Or at least she’d better since she would be taking the bar in
six months. Hopefully, she’d pass the exam the first go-round so she could be one of those despised lawyers and not the poor dope sitting here so bleary-eyed she could barely focus.

  But then Susan was a first-year associate. That hadn’t spared her from being thrown into the pit of overworked and underappreciated paralegals. Not unusual for first-years. They got dealt the grunt work. As for the paralegals, Carly was top dog. The senior partners, Mr. Abbott and Ms. Flynn, always demanded she work on their cases.

  She doubted that would exempt her from paying her dues as a newbie attorney. If anything, she worried they’d still treat her like support staff and not consider her one of them. But Abbott and Flynn was an old, prominent Manhattan law firm so it was a risk she was willing to take. Assuming they didn’t turn their noses up at her night-school law degree. At least she had Ryan Dunn in her corner. Last month he’d made equity partner and he’d sworn he would go to the mat for her when the time came.

  “Am I the only one thinking about food?” Kevin asked, which had everyone glancing at the clock—7:30 p.m. It felt like midnight.

  “We should order something.” Mavis rose and stretched out her back. “I’m up for Thai or Chinese.”

  A pair of groans were cut off by the door opening.

  Ryan stuck his head inside. “How’s it coming?”

  “Really?” Carly glared at him. “Either that was a brave or stupid question. I’m thinking the latter.”

  She heard some muffled chuckling but Ryan didn’t seem amused. “I’d like a word with you,” he said looking directly at her. “In private.”

  Sighing, Carly pushed to her feet, and tried not to think about how much her ass hurt from sitting so long. She supposed she shouldn’t have said that in front of the others. Few people knew about her short fling with Ryan over a year ago. Or maybe she was kidding herself and everyone knew... Though he hadn’t been her boss at the time, the mutual split wasn’t particularly juicy gossip. They’d decided they were better off colleagues.

  “Don’t wait until I’m back to order dinner,” she said, pausing to squeeze her tired feet into her heels. “Just get me something veg.”

  Kevin barked out a laugh. “What about the half-pound cheeseburger you wolfed down last night?”

  “What about it?” she murmured, distracted by Ryan waiting for her in the hall.

  Something was wrong.

  She watched him through the glass, pacing and rubbing his left temple as if he’d forgotten they could all see him. Ryan prided himself on keeping cool under pressure.

  “Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Your office?”

  He stared past her into the conference room, where, she imagined, all eyes were on them. Without a word he turned and walked toward the elevators. The whole floor was quiet, the silence kind of eerie. Normally half the staff would still be working. But this close to Christmas a lot of employees had taken vacation. Like her. Except here she was, staring at the back of Ryan’s head.

  His office was on the next floor up, and the elevator door had barely closed when he turned to her with his charming Ivy League smile. “How would you like to get out of working on the Emerson case?”

  Carly might’ve been amused if she wasn’t so tired. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. I’m not letting you off scot-free. I have another task for you.”

  “Scot-free? I’m supposed to be on vacation.” She realized the car hadn’t moved and she jabbed at the button. Scot-free.

  “I know. That’s why I’m getting you out of that conference room and home for Christmas.”

  “You have my attention.”

  “Why the suspicious frown, Carly?” He nudged her chin up, and she moved her head just enough to break contact. “Can’t you believe I want to do something nice for you?”

  “Frankly, no.”

  “That hurts.”

  “You’ll get over it. What do you want, Ryan?”

  “I need you to fly to Chicago.”

  “Chicago? Are you kidding?”

  The elevator door slid open. Olivia was still at the reception desk. Carly managed a smile as she walked briskly past the older woman. He was crazy if he thought she was flying all the way to Chicago four days before Christmas.

  “Do me a favor, Carly, don’t talk,” he said once they were in his office and he closed the door. “Hear me out before you say anything.”

  “Don’t talk? Really?” She folded her arms across her chest. “You thought that would soften me up?”

  He sighed. “Look, this is a quick, no-brainer assignment. I need you to get a couple signatures. You fly in, fly out. Go straight to Pittsburgh on the firm’s dime.”

  She’d been dreading the seven-hour trip, but a bus ticket was all she could afford. “Why not use a courier?”

  “I’m trying to give you a way out.”

  Carly relaxed her arms. She wanted to believe him, but Ryan wasn’t known for his charity. And he knew better than to give her special treatment. “It’s not fair to everyone else.”

  Shrugging, he went to his glass-and-chrome desk. Files and briefs covered the surface. Quite a mess considering he was a neat freak. “They aren’t supposed to be on vacation.”

  True, which made it easy to rationalize accepting the offer. Though she wasn’t convinced being nice was Ryan’s only motive. She liked him as a friend, and so far he’d been a decent boss, but he was also ambitious and tended to look out for number one.

  “First class,” Carly said. “Make it a first-class ticket and you have a deal.”

  He looked up with amusement. “I can’t approve that.”

  “Sure you can.”

  The charming smile was gone. “All right. But you have to leave first thing in the morning.”

  “I can make it by noon.”

  “Jesus, Carly, I’m giving you a gift here.” He stabbed a finger in the air, vaguely pointing in the direction of the elevator. “You want to spend Christmas Eve in that conference room?”

  “We could find what we need in the next five minutes.”

  “Maybe,” he said in a cocky tone.

  They both knew the odds of that happening were slim to none, but she waited him out. He’d given in too easily on the first-class ticket. Whatever this errand, it was too important to haggle over.

  “One at the latest,” he ground out while tugging his tie loose. “Check flights and get back to me. Now.”

  She’d never seen him so disheveled, so worried. “Whose signatures am I getting?”

  “Jackson Carrington. Both senior and junior,” he said, averting his eyes. “You understand why I want to keep this quiet.”

  A sick feeling came over her. The sale would be final and the switch-over scheduled to happen at the end of the year. All documents should’ve been signed and filed by now. “What else should I know?”

  “No one’s returning my calls. Carrington senior has been anxious to sell from the beginning. I assumed the son was on board. He’s the company’s only counsel so he’s handling things on their end. He should’ve sent everything back by now.” Ryan sighed. “I don’t know what to think.”

  This wasn’t good. Abbott and Flynn represented the buyer, Luxury Lighting, also the firm’s third largest client. Ryan would be crucified if he messed up this sale. She checked the time. “Look, I’ll take the first flight out I can get tomorrow,” she said. “But why aren’t you going yourself?”

  “I considered it. Frankly, you’re the better bet.” He paused. “Now, don’t get in my face for this, but I noticed the way Carrington eyed you last time they were here.”

  “The old man?”

  “The son.”

  Her heart thumped. Jackson Carrington was hot. And rich. Half the office had come to a standstill when he’d shown up in Receptio
n. She’d exchanged a few words with him. Strictly work-related. But other than that, he hadn’t paid any attention to her. “Are you crazy? He barely knows I exist.”

  Ryan laughed. “Ah, Carly, that’s one of the things I like about you.... Yeah, Carrington did more than notice. Trust me.”

  2

  BY 6:00 P.M., the Carrington Lamps’s employee Christmas party was in full swing. No one seemed to mind that they were still at the plant. Over a hundred people were in attendance, some of them spouses, most of them decked out in their holiday finest. So many sequins, so much velvet...

  So much perfume...

  A cloying whiff of jasmine wafted up to where Jack Carrington stood on the twelfth-floor balcony of the executive offices and he reared back. He had to admit, whoever had decorated had done quite a job of transforming the eleventh floor.

  It wasn’t used for much—the supervisors’ cubicles and displaying the original equipment his great-grandfather had used back in the early ’30s. Mostly, though, the floor served as a buffer between the factory noise from the lower stories and the executive offices.

  White lights and blue-and-gold ornaments glittered from three giant Christmas trees blocking off the cubicles. Fresh garland and large foil-wrapped poinsettias had been strategically placed to hide cords and areas of neglect. In the corner a DJ played a mix of oldies and Christmas carols. Two portable bars had been stocked with premium liquor. The champagne flowed freely, not the cheap stuff either...Jack had seen to that.

  His father had been outraged over the top-grade prime rib and seafood Jack had approved for the party. He smiled. Remembering those little things would help him get through the evening.

  That, and getting smashed.

  He held up his glass. Not much left of his second scotch. He drained the last of it when he saw Eli climbing the stairs with a refill sitting on his tray. The waiter was no dummy. He’d been quick to figure out Jack would be the person passing out tips at the end of the evening, and the man had been shrewdly attentive.