The Spirit of Christmas

by Liz Talley

  Brennan’s eyes deepened slightly before he shuttered the emotions. “Shall we toast my grandfather and the woman who has captured him?”

  “Hear! Hear!” Ellen said, lifting her goblet.

  “Hear! Hear!” Ernestine popped her head into the dining room, holding a diet soda.

  They laughed and toasted Judy, and all Malcolm could hope was that each Henry at the table would find what he’d found—peace, joy and love.

  Sappy, sentimental and optimistic, sure, but he wished it all the same.

  * * *

  MARY PAIGE STRAIGHTENED the sheer black maxi dress, wondering for the third time in ten minutes if she were bold enough to pull off this outfit. Beneath the fitted see-through sheath she wore black satin hot pants and a matching bustier. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever put on her body, but the way she’d felt over the past few weeks had emboldened her. Something about spending time with Brennan made her forget she’d beaten Brittany Bolden in the corn-shucking contest at the parish fair when she was fifteen. She felt worldly, sophisticated and very much Spanx-free.

  Mitzi clasped hands to her cheeks when she entered the bedroom. “Holy crap!”

  “Oh, God. It’s too much,” Mary Paige said, casting a desperate glance at the mirror. She’d thought the Victorian-style dress covered enough, but Mitzi’s reaction said it all. “I’m taking it off.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Mitzi shrieked, tossing the dark tresses of the wig she wore over her shoulder. “You’re smoking hot and sweet at the same time. Don’t know how, but you are. If you take that off, I will hold my breath, fall on the floor and pitch a fit.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll go in this even though it’s probably not appropriate. The invite said party attire, and it’s supposed to be a Christmas in the Attic theme. I didn’t really think things out when I bought this dress.”

  “Where did you get it?” Mitzi asked, walking around her, plucking at the material.

  “I found the maxi at that new vintage shop on Magazine. It’s obviously not true vintage, but it’s not brand-new, either. And then I went to Frederick’s of Hollywood for the bustier and hot pants. I’m no fashion genius, but I knew it would look awesome.” Mary Paige looked at her reflection critically and had to admit her instincts were right. The outfit was fabulous…but was it her? Could she wear this in public?

  Mitzi met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m almost speechless.”

  “Now I know I need to take it off.”

  At her friend’s narrowed eyes, Mary Paige laughed. “Guess there’s no time to change?”

  Mitzi grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. Mary Paige caught the sheen of tears in her friend’s eyes and pulled away fast. “Is everything okay? I know you went to see your doctor today.”

  Mitzi shook her head. “No, nothing like that. In fact, the PET scan was good and I don’t have to do any more treatments this spring.”

  “Whee!” Mary Paige embraced her friend. “That’s the best news I’ve had in forever.”

  “You won two million dollars less than a month ago. Surely this isn’t better than that.”

  Mary Paige released Mitzi and gave her an affectionate shove. “Yes, it is.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you,” Mitzi said, an embarrassed flush on her cheeks. “You’ve been glowing for weeks. Being with Brennan has unleashed you. You’re bold and wonderful. You, but like ten times better. It’s really cool to see the power of love right in front of me. Makes me believe it can happen for me one day.”

  Love? Mary Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to be that obvious in her feelings for Brennan. It made her feel more naked than this dress. Could everyone see the way she felt? Could Brennan?

  “I’m not sure it’s love, Mitzi. I’m just enjoying being with him. It’s been easier between us at all these charity things we’ve gone to. But, there has been no talk of anything more once this whole campaign ends.”

  “So why not ask him about the future?”

  “Says the woman who won’t even return the calls of her old friends. Honesty’s hard.”

  Mitzi’s warm glow disappeared. “Maybe I don’t want to hang at biker bars anymore. Maybe I don’t want to drink beer and smoke cigarettes and sleep around with guys who don’t care about me.”

  “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” Mary Paige had been friends with Mitzi long enough to know that she never faced anything until she was ready to. And it didn’t take a genius to add up all those Saturday nights with her mother as company and come to the conclusion that Mitzi wasn’t ready to return to the social life she’d had before the diagnosis. “Guess I hate seeing you sitting home alone when you have so much to offer.”

  Mitzi crossed her arms. “I never bothered you about not getting out after Simon left you. I brought the ice cream, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And for your information, I’m trying. I actually accepted a date with Robbie Theriot for this weekend.”

  “The guy who fixed the transmission on your mom’s car? The one with the Sylvester the Cat tattoo?”

  Mitzi’s nod seemed hesitant, as though she were braced for Mary Paige’s reaction. Well, no judgment here. She couldn’t be happier for her friend.

  “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there.” Mary Paige embraced Mitzi again, letting the action convey how she felt about this brave woman who was her friend.

  “I know.” After a long moment, Mitzi pulled away and blinked suspiciously fast. “Now, you better get going. Is the B-man picking you up?”

  “I’m taking my own car since it’s at the flagship store, which is, like, three blocks away from his place.”

  “He’s changed, you know?”

  Mary Paige’s hand stilled. “Brennan?”

  “No, the Easter Bunny. Of course, Brennan.”

  “How would you know? You’ve never met him—only seen him when he’s come to pick me up.”

  “He has to be better just for knowing you, Mary.” Mitzi smiled sweetly. “I’m so glad you came across the street to borrow an egg from Mama after you moved in. I don’t think I’ve had a friend like you.”

  Tears pricked Mary Paige’s eyes, which would never do. She needed to be flirty and fierce, not misty and maudlin. “Don’t you dare make me cry.”

  “I can’t help you’re an angel,” Mitzi said, directing her toward the door.

  “You so know I’m no angel. I’m just a person who does what a person should do, Mitzi. I’m kind of tired of being painted as some paragon of perfection. I’m not. I have a wart right here on my left thigh.” She pointed at her leg. “And I once poured milk on a kid’s head because he called my mother Farmer Freda and made a milking motion at pretend boobies. And one year I paid my taxes late. And I barfed in my mom’s begonias after drinking vodka then lied about it.”

  “The horror!” Mitzi called behind her as she grabbed the sparkly red clutch Mama Cascio had found in her trousseau trunk and loaned to Mary Paige. “Go have fun. Tell Brennan you love him. Be bad, Mary Paige!”

  Mary Paige rolled her eyes and trotted down the steps, heading toward her faithful compact car and a night of possibility.

  She’d never been happier. Never. Brennan had been attentive, humorous and fun these past few weeks. They hadn’t fought once over any issues, and he’d rolled his eyes only twice. Once when a volunteer at the Mr. Bingles Jingle Run wanted him to invest in some exercise program she’d created. And the other when his grandfather had introduced her as the mild-mannered sweet servant who’d raised him from the depths of wet cardboard and destruction. She wasn’t sure if that eye roll was the result of Mr. Henry’s dramatic embellishment or the fact he’d called her mild-mannered. She was fairly certain it was the latter.

  Marshmallow? Check. Naive? Check. Mild-mannered? Not really.

  Just the thought of their shared enthusiasm when they were in bed, coupled with the fun they had working together, made her smile as she reversed out of the drive and headed toward the glitte
ring city and the party that waited.

  And the man who waited.

  As she drove, she contemplated Mitzi’s challenge.

  Tell him you love him.

  Before she did anything so drastic, she had to define her own feelings. Did she love him?

  Smitten was the word that came to mind. On some level, it probably went deeper than that. The potential for something great hovered beneath her heart, bumping against it, nudging her to open and risk so it might come to fruition.

  She was afraid.

  Plain and simple.

  But wasn’t everyone afraid of getting hurt? Anyone who took a risk stood to get trampled, shoved and broken by failure.

  She and Brennan had stumbled into something that, at the moment, felt right. But what would happen when reality set in? When they weren’t dressed in fancy clothes, tasting lobster dip and living in some campaign that, for all intents and purposes, was some fairyland for her?

  No matter how well she’d handled it thus far, Brennan’s world was not hers.

  And that was the one thing squashing the hope brushing against her heart.

  * * *

  BRENNAN WATCHED THE people who worked at MBH Industries mix, mingle and engage in forced conversation—or so it seemed to him. Same old company party scene even if the setting was fantastical. The entire top floor of the store had been turned from a wasteland of old racks and mannequins into a unique winter wonderland, utilizing the holiday accessories and window settings from years past. Huge stage lamps tilted toward the vignettes and walking through the room was like walking through time. Large old-fashioned Christmas lights traversed the unfinished ceiling, brightening a party that still felt same old, same old....

  At least until Mary Paige arrived.

  Two and a half weeks of wonder, of feeling like a different man, had resulted from their one unscheduled date. They’d broken away from “have to” and explored “want to.” He couldn’t remember being as content as he’d been since they’d made love. It was an odd feeling.

  Since then, he hadn’t wanted to stay at the office and read reports until his eyes crossed. Not when there were little Italian restaurants where they could share a delicious meal, Christmas lights strung in parks to stroll through hand in hand and beds that beckoned to be wrinkled from vigorous, mutually pleasurable, hot, dirty, sweet, wonderful—

  “Who are you looking for?” Asher said, arriving at his elbow as the word sex reverberated in his brain.

  “Mary Paige.”

  “That Spirit of Christmas person Uncle Mal told me about?” Asher drawled, one hand in pocket, the other cupping likely his third or fourth drink. “Shouldn’t she arrive on a cloud with a heavenly chorus strumming harps?”

  Brennan smiled at the image. He’d have to tell her about it. Then they’d laugh about her lounging on a cloud in a white satin bra and thigh-high hose and garters. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Asher eyed him with a steely look. “You like this girl.”

  Brennan met the gaze with his own forthright one. “I do.”

  “She must be gorgeous, then. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you slumming. You slept with her yet?” Asher’s questions were inappropriate and the words were slurred slightly. He hadn’t been the same since he arrived a few days ago. He’d seemed sad, at odds with the man who would usually work the room with a charming smile and biting wit.

  “Haven’t you had enough to drink?”

  “I’m on my second scotch, and I’m fairly certain I can handle my liquor. But you, if I remember correctly, should be drinking ginger ale.” Asher smiled and in the blink of an eye, he was once again the man Brennan knew.

  The kind of man Brennan had always aspired to be—bold, fearless in the business world, respected by all and married to such gorgeousness it was almost a crime. Asher had always been Brennan’s ideal in manhood.

  “I was seventeen, Asher. No one holds his liquor at seventeen. Besides, I think that was actually a stomach virus that swept through Newman that week.”

  Asher grinned. “Yeah. Right.”

  Brennan ditched his whiskey and accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Lifting his glass, he murmured, “To our misspent youth.”

  “Whose misspent youth?” Mary Paige asked, swiping a glass before the waiter disappeared into the crowd.

  Brennan turned and his mouth gaped. Jesus, she looked… He wasn’t sure there were words.

  She wore a black sheer dress that covered her from wrist to neck to towering stilettos. Yet he could see right through the gown to the satin bustier and short panty-looking things she wore beneath it. Little black satin bows trailed ribbons down her thighs and mimicked the ones along the front of the dress. It was both stunningly original and fascinatingly sexy. He was certain his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  “Well, now, you must be the intriguing Mary Paige.” Asher’s gaze flicked over her with lazy interest.

  Brennan felt his radar rise and beep…and if he hadn’t been among his coworkers, standing next to his cousin, something else might have risen and, well, not beeped. But risen. Definitely risen.

  Mary Paige gave a smile worthy of any silent-screen film goddess. “And you must be the charming Asher Henry.” She held out a hand and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d murmured, “Enchanté.”

  In fact Brennan almost muttered it for her.

  In true continental fashion—or maybe it was Asher simply being Asher—he brought her hand to his lips.

  “Charming is such an overstatement.” Asher smiled, holding her hand a little longer than necessary in Brennan’s opinion.

  Something flared in him, something he hadn’t felt in so long he almost didn’t recognize it. Jealousy.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Mary Paige said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Brennan has warned me about your lethal charisma.”

  “But he did not warn me of your absolute deliciousness. Bold choice, Miss Mary Paige.” Then his shark of a cousin swept his gaze down her body as bold as an eagle or another such predatory bird with no shame.

  And with that, his sweet, gentle Merry Sunshine turned on the ball of her foot and executed a nonclumsy pirouette. Where had that awkward blonde in the ill-fitting skirt and Lycra gone? This woman taking her place flirted with his cousin with a skill he’d never seen her use outside of the bedroom.

  “You have been holding out on me, cousin,” Asher said, not bothering to even toss a glance Brennan’s way as he muttered the accusation.

  “No, I haven’t and why would I? You’re married, remember?” Brennan didn’t feel so happy anymore. He felt grumpy. Why did he have to be here gabbing endlessly with the same people he saw every day about where everyone would spend Christmas? Watching Asher eyeball what belonged to him? He wanted to grab Mary Paige, take her home where they’d snuggle on the couch, eat extra-butter popcorn and watch CSI reruns.

  But duty called.

  As it often did for him.

  So he’d endure the party, the cousin who wasn’t quite himself and everyone taking in the sexiness Mary Paige had on display. Then later he could have Mary Paige to himself.

  That thought both excited him and alarmed him. When had she started meaning so much to him? When had he started putting her above his company on his personal priorities list?

  Maybe they were moving too fast. Maybe he needed some distance from her instead of spending every moment he could with her.

  The woman ever in his thoughts flashed dimples and said, “And your wife didn’t get to come to New Orleans for Christmas. You must be so disappointed to be without her.”

  Asher nodded. “Of course, but I’ve found once a woman makes up her mind, it’s hard to steer her in a new direction. I’ll miss her.”

  Perhaps Brennan imagined it, but there was a lack of sincerity in Asher’s words.

  “Can I get you a drink, Mary Paige,” Brennan said, touching her elbow. He could feel the warmth of her body, and all he could think about wa
s stripping that dress off of her and indulging in the naughtiness of what was evident beneath. Only a few more hours of chatting, dancing and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth and they could leave and go back to his place.

  Or maybe he should start inserting that distance between them?

  Mary Paige looked at him with smiling eyes and he decided he’d think about getting space from her next week. Tonight he needed her beside him. “I’m drinking what you’re drinking.”

  He looked at the glass in her hand and felt stupid.

  “But we were toasting something, weren’t we?” she asked, linking her arm through his.

  Pleasure flooded him. It was the first time she’d staked her claim on him publicly. Until now, they’d squirreled themselves away, keeping their personal relationship private while maintaining a friendly, yet polite distance in public.

  Asher seemed to notice the gesture and something about his expression altered. An acknowledgment of what her touch meant. An understanding of the intimacy, the claim.

  “We’re toasting my cousin—” Asher lifted his tumbler “—and his excellent ability to choose so wisely.”

  “Choose what?” Mary Paige asked.

  “Everything,” Asher said.

  Brennan dutifully sipped, but an unpleasant feeling sat with him. For some reason, Asher’s words seemed like a warning. But a warning of what, Brennan had no idea.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MARY PAIGE SURVEYED the buffet, snagging some delicious crawfish-stuffed meat pies and some sort of soft-shelled crab with a coconut coating, while she watched the employees of MBH laugh and freely partake of the free wine and champagne circulating the room. She’d seen a line of cabs waiting outside and knew many of the people surrounding her would need them when the party ended.

  She caught Judy’s eye as she conversed with a woman wearing Elvis Costello–style glasses and a dress made of ivory lace with a neckline that plunged almost to the navel. A black patent and rhinestone belt cut the simplicity of dress and added the appropriate holiday sparkle. Obviously the woman had been waiting for an introduction because she dragged Judy over to Mary Paige.