Corporate Christmas Page 3

  Her father rose when he saw her, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. The sensation filled her with a warmth that she knew she would carry back to the city with her.

  "Hey, peanut," he said as he eased back and took a long look at her. "She looks fine, Evie."

  So, also to be expected, her mother was calm in front of her, but she’d worried aloud to Chloe's father.

  "I said she looked tired. Don't go making me sound like a worry-wart."

  Chloe's aunt Janice stood and hugged her tightly as well. "You look good. How is big city life?"

  "It's good. It keeps me busy and very social."

  "That's good then."

  Her cousin Roz hugged her next. The much younger Richardson only smiled at her when they pulled apart.

  "How's college?" Chloe asked.

  "Hard. Harder than I thought it would be."

  "You’re a freshman. It'll get harder, but you'll get tougher, too."

  "My roommate is a slut."

  Chloe held in the laugh that wanted to break free, and Roz was too busy to notice Chloe's expression when Roz’s mother smacked her on the shoulder.

  "I have a plate of waffles for you right here." Chloe’s mother handed her the plate and shooed everyone out of her way to sit down.

  Chloe sat down at the table and her father excused himself to the other room to catch a football game. Roz, phone in hand and head down, followed him. She was left alone with her mother and aunt, and she could tell they both wanted to chat.

  "Mom, I miss your waffles in the mornings."

  "I'll send you home a bag so you can freeze them."

  Chloe expected no less. Each time she visited, she went home with a bag of waffles, frozen spaghetti sauce, and whatever frozen vegetable her mother had a bumper crop of that summer.

  "Any new men in your life?" Janice asked and even Chloe's mother shifted her aunt a look of confusion. "Seriously, you're almost thirty, I just thought I'd ask."

  "I have a lot of thirty-plus friends who don't have a man in their life."

  "That's the city talking."

  Maybe it was, but Chloe wasn't looking for a man.

  Chapter 5

  The glory of having Thanksgiving dinner on a Saturday was that Chloe could head into town and shop the stores that lined Main Street. She'd been given explicit instructions to be back by two o'clock.

  She'd yet to tell her mother that she was going to head back to the city as early as six the next morning so that she could work that contract for Pop! Cosmetics. No matter what her employment status was the following day, her conscience said that she needed to do what was right. She trusted the team at Mason Arts, so there was no reason not to continue with the contract.

  She’d come to that conclusion while her mother and aunt discussed Roz's ever-changing hair color, her father's knee problems, and the neighbor's cat, had seemed to ease the tension Chloe was feeling. Tomorrow she would walk into her office and conduct herself in the same manner that she always did. When the entire staff was introduced to the new Account Manager, she would be cordial. And, when it was said and done, she would go directly to Byron Mason and ask why. Depending on his answer, she would either work very hard to bring in the next big client, or she'd have exactly two weeks left to work for Mason Arts and she'd be sending out resumes.

  Stopping into the first store on the street, Chloe was greeted by name and that brought a smile to her face. Her friend from high school, Melanie Peet, owned the store.

  "You look fantastic," Melanie said as she pulled Chloe in for a hug and then held her at arm's length to get a good look at her. "You just look great."

  "Well, thank you. You look well too, and your store is beautiful."

  Melanie looked around and admired it for herself. "It's a dream come true. You know how I always wanted a store filled with pretty things. Now I have one."

  "You sure do."

  "What can I help you find? Are you Christmas shopping?"

  "I'm just looking really. I didn't make it for Thanksgiving dinner, so Mom has it in the oven now."

  "That's sweet."

  "I would like to get her a little something though. What would you recommend?"

  Melanie pursed her lips in thought. "Are you thinking something personal, like bath salts or lavender soap? I have a nice gift basket with lotions too. Or maybe some handcrafted earrings. Those are a hot item now, too."

  "Let's look at the earrings. That sounds fun."

  Melanie had showed her a perfect pair of earrings, wrapped them, and was sending Chloe on her way.

  With a smile on her face, and a sample of fudge between her frozen fingers, Chloe walked down the street where every window was decorated for Christmas.

  Oh, the windows in the city were infamous for their decorations, but nothing beat a small town at Christmas—nothing. Chloe thought it looked like a painting. The streets and trees were covered in snow. Red bows and wreaths hung from the lampposts. The Christmas windows and bundled shoppers added to the mystique. Christmas music was piped through the town, and she could smell chestnuts from the little cart that appeared on Saturdays during the holidays. People wrote books and movies about places like Aubrey Heights. And it was insightful times like this that Chloe wondered why she'd ever left.

  Would she be happy like Melanie Peet selling soaps and earrings? What about serving people coffee every day in a quaint coffee shop?

  No, her mind just didn't work that way. The bustle of the city drew her in too. The noise from her apartment window. The small specialty shops where she did her grocery shopping instead of the local grocery store, that had a pull. She was glad she'd been raised somewhere simple like Aubrey Heights. It made her appreciate the entire world.

  She had made it to the end of the street when her cell phone rang. Admittedly she was surprised to see Gloria's face pop up on the screen.

  "Gloria, how are you?" Chloe asked as she crossed the street and headed toward the coffee shop.

  "Chloe, I was waiting on those contracts. I thought I'd have them last night."

  The festive feeling drained from Chloe's chest. "Yes, you should have had them."

  "I'm sure it was the courier. They are never reliable."

  Guilt twisted in her gut. "I will hand deliver them to your office on Monday morning."

  She heard the sigh on the other end of the phone. "That's why I want to work with you. The personal attention to detail. I just can't get that anywhere else."

  Right. That personal attention to detail. "I'll take care of it."

  "Wonderful. Did you go home for the weekend? You'd mentioned a late Thanksgiving."

  Had she? She must have felt comfortable enough to talk about personal things, which in business, she tried not to do. Though, sometimes it was nice to have a friend who wasn't in the same business, because in the city, all she knew were people with the same interests.

  The thought bummed her out a bit. How had she gotten so stale?

  "Yes, I'm home for the weekend. My mother has the turkey in the oven right now. I'm walking through town and soaking in the Christmas spirit."

  "Sounds heavenly. Sister, I have to go. But you get me those contracts on Monday, and we'll get to work. In fact, bring them by about eight-thirty and I'll cater in breakfast."

  And then there were the perks. "I'll be there at eight-thirty."

  "Ciao!" Gloria said before the line went dead.

  Chloe rubbed the ache that had started between her brows. Now she had to head back to the city, go to the office, pull up the contracts, and redo them. And that all had to be done on Sunday. Her mother was not going to be happy.

  Going through the boxes that he'd brought from his last office, Jason couldn't believe the crap he'd collected over the years. Seriously, why did someone need a magic eight ball, a Slinky, a stress ball that looked like a little yellow man, and a paper weight that looked like someone cut off a piece of metal and left it on his desk. He didn’t have enough paperwork and comput
er parts on that desk, he needed trinkets too?

  He'd almost narrowed down all the things to one box that he could take with him on Monday morning and put in his office. It would make him look more professional, and it would be a little more homey that way too. And, if he didn't come up with anything better to do tomorrow, he'd go in and set everything up. Why not? William had given him a key to the building and elevator, as well as his new corner office.

  As he sat on the floor of his home office, his phone rang. The picture that came up on the screen had him holding off on answering. Deborah King's long blonde hair and those deep blue doe eyes stared at him as the incessant buzzing echoed. He hadn't told her that he'd left the firm. Surely she'd find out on Monday with the rest of the staff—only she might take it personally, and she should.

  Her advances, innuendos, and temper tantrums had made working at the firm too hard. He felt like a wuss for even thinking it, but men could be manipulated too, and that's what Deborah had done to him.

  She'd used him to get a promotion, to wiggle her way into claiming accounts, and all under the veil of a relationship.

  No more. He would never do that to someone, and he'd never let it happen to him again. There was no room for relationships in the workplace.

  Mason Arts was a fresh start for him. There was no looking back. Deborah could call his phone as much as she wanted, but he wasn't going to answer.

  He winced when it alerted him that he had a voice message.

  Setting his phone on his desk, he rose from the floor, and walked toward the kitchen to make a sandwich. He'd get to the message when he was ready, not a moment before. Right now, he just wanted the silence within his apartment.

  Chapter 6

  It was still dark when Chloe drove out of Aubrey Heights with a latte in the cup holder and Christmas music on the radio. She wasn't sure if she should be upset that she had to leave at the ungodly hour of six in the morning to get back to the city, or that her mother didn't seem all that surprised that she was heading out.

  What did that say about Chloe? People expected her to miss holidays or hurry in and hurry out. That wasn't the person she wanted to be. But there was no way around it, not now. She'd worked her tail off to get the Pop! Cosmetics account, she sure as hell wasn't going to hand it over to be run without her. But then again, wasn't that what she was thinking when she shredded the damn contract?

  It wasn't until the sirens behind her blared that she realized her head was in the clouds and she was well exceeding the posted speed limit sign on the side of the highway. Perhaps she was in a bigger hurry to get back to the city than she'd thought.

  To make matters worse, when she rolled down the driver's side window to speak to the officer, she instantly recognized the face.

  "Well, well, well. Chloe Richardson. It seems as if you're in a hurry to leave our part of the world every time you visit."

  Of course it would seem that way. This would be her third ticket from Officer Johnson—Officer Curt Johnson, ex-boyfriend from high school.

  "Hey, Curt. My head was somewhere else I guess."

  "That's going to get you or someone else killed. License and registration."

  "Do you really need that? You know who I am. You know I've owned this car forever."

  The smirk on his face didn't ease. "License and registration."

  Reluctantly, she pulled the items from her purse and glovebox and handed it to him.

  "Where you going so fast?"

  "I have a big contract I need to work on in the city. I was thinking about that as I was driving."

  "In a big hurry to get it done?"

  "You have no idea," she said in nearly a whisper. "I'll slow it down."

  Curt nodded. "I still have to run these. It'll just be a minute." He turned and walked back to his car.

  She watched as the cabin of the car illuminated when he turned on the overhead light. Anyone within a mile of the highway knew someone had been pulled over with the lights flashing into the dark woods.

  She could have nearly calculated, to the minute, how long it would take him to get back to her. By the time he had, she'd nearly sipped down her entire latte and could certainly use a bathroom.

  "You're clear to go," he said as he handed her back her license and registration, along with the ticket he'd written up. "You can just pay the fine. No need to come back and zip through town to go to court."

  He had the upper hand here, and she knew he liked that little bit of authority. "Thanks."

  "Take it slow," he drawled out the words as he walked back to his car and waited for her to pull away.

  There was a reason she'd chosen to go to college in the city and get out of town. There was something to be said about being anonymous when you went somewhere every day. It wouldn't be even dinner time before her mother called and scolded her about the ticket. News, even though it was only between her and Curt at this point, would travel fast.

  Minding the speed, and the need to pee, she turned up the music and headed toward the next town at the correct speed. She'd be damned if he got the satisfaction of stopping her again.

  Sundays in an empty office had always been one of Jason's favorite times. All business—all to himself.

  He was a bit of a glutton that way. He liked his work. Early mornings, late at nights, and weekends were when he thrived. During the day he got caught up in watching the masses work. Everyone had a different method—a different style. There was the meeting maker who just loved to organize people into one place at one time. How many meetings had he been to where nothing had been covered? Then there was the one with the day planner in hand who had everything color coordinated. Did they spend more time on highlighting things than they did on the actual events? His favorite was the chaos organized. The people who had papers all over their desk, looked as if they'd been tasered, and yet knew right where everything was—those were the people he enjoyed the most. They weren't looking for his approval, they were there to get a job done.

  He supposed, in a sense, he was the latter of the organized, however, usually being the supervisor or boss, he had to look like the color-coordinated person. Maybe that was why he liked working when everyone else was gone. He could live in his chaos and no one could see it.

  As he went over the list of potential new clients that William had provided him with, he heard the sound of the elevator and a door. Maybe he wasn't the only person who coveted Sundays in the office.

  Pushing back from his desk, he slowly walked to his office door and listened again. Yes, someone was on the floor, and it didn't sound like housekeeping.

  He walked along the corridor flanked with windowed offices and cubicles. His sneakers made no noise on the carpet. There had been no fear that it might be an intruder, as someone would have had to have the key to the elevator to arrive on the floor.

  As he turned the corner, he noticed the light in the office closest to the reception area. The office where he'd met Chloe on Friday.

  Giving it some thought as he slowly and quietly moved toward her office, he took her as the color-coded type of organizer. Yeah, she was no nonsense and ready to take over the world.

  He was glad she was there. It would give them some time to get to know one another. Maybe he could get some insight as to why she'd looked so frazzled when he'd introduced himself as the Account Manager.

  Jason turned the corner to her office, a smile at the ready, and friendly conversation lined up in his mind as a stapler flew through the air nailing him right in the forehead.

  He stumbled back, hitting one of the walls of a nearby cubicle before falling to the floor with blood dripping in his eye from where he'd collided with the stapler.

  "Oh-my-God!"

  He heard the trembling voice before he saw the fuzzy image of the woman in yoga pants and an oversized sweat shirt kneeling down in front of him.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She stood, knocking her knee into his side as she tore tissues from a box on a random desk and pressed them
to his head. "I never have anyone in here on Sundays. I didn't know anyone was here. I saw you lurking, and…"

  "I wasn't lurking."

  "You were lurking." She sat down next to him on the floor. "I think I should take you to emergency care. You might need stitches."

  "It'll be a tale for tomorrow, that's for sure," he said as he tried to sit up and steady himself. "I'm sorry I scared you."

  "Seriously, I'm sorry. I'm all worked up, and I've been on the road for hours, I'm a little punchy. Where's your coat? I'll take you for stitches."

  Jason's head pounded, but he couldn't help but use that smile he'd been saving as he looked up at her.

  Her brown hair was tossed up in one of those messy buns, and she had no makeup on. The sweatshirt said Aubrey Heights High School on it, and it had been worn many, many times. She looked much different than the uptight professional he'd met on Friday. Maybe it was the injury to his head, but something stirred in him to want to kiss her.

  Chapter 7

  He was bleeding and smiling at her. Chloe sat on the floor staring at the man, who was now her boss, and thinking he'd been injured so much he didn't realize he had blood running down his cheek.

  "I'll get your coat. Do you have your wallet? I'll pay for the stitches. This is my fault."

  He was still smiling at her as he pulled the wad of tissues from his forehead and looked at them.

  "You really think I need stitches?"

  As the next trickle of blood dripped from the hole she'd left on his head, she reached up for more tissue and pressed it to his forehead. "Yes. I've seen cuts like that before. You'll need a few stitches."

  "Well, I have nothing else going on today. Let's go."

  He was delusional, she thought as they managed to both stand while she continued to hold the tissues to his head.