Naughty Christmas Nights

Naughty Christmas Nights Tawny Weber This Christmas, it's nice vs. naughty Lace stockings Hailey North has worked her butt off to make Merry Widow Lingerie a success. But if she doesn't win the bid for Rudolph's department store, she's in big trouble. Her strategy? To prove that romance, playfulness and eroticism are what women want. The problem, however, is what Hailey wantsher wickedly hot, sexy competitor. Or black leather? Sex sells, and the Milano line is certainly all about sex. Besides, winning is the only way Gage Milano can extract himself from the family business. Unfortunately, Hailey's romantic lingerie threatens not only his freedom, but his libido! But when their professional rivalry turns into a red-hot rendezvous, the competition really starts heating up. And Xmas is about to get a whole lot more X-rated! “Being on top is better than being on the bottom …” “Not always.” Hailey’s words were low and teasing. The look in her eyes was hot, sexy. “Being on top has a few definite benefits,” Gage murmured, now having completely switched places so her back was against the wall and his toward the ballroom. “Does it? Like what?” Her eyes were huge, so big they were lost in the curls tumbling out from the white fur brim of her hat. Need, stronger than any he’d felt over a simple flirtation, surged through Gage. He angled his body so Hailey was trapped between him and the wall. For a second, one delicious second, he just stared. The tempting display of luscious flesh, mounded above the tight satin binding her breasts. The need intensified. Took on a sharp, hungry edge. “Like this,” he said, giving in to its demand. He took her mouth, intending to be gentle. But the kiss was carnal and raw and dancing on the edges of desperate. Tongues tangled. Lips slid, hot and wet. And she tasted just as sweet as she looked … But the sounds she made were sexual nirvana. Naughty Christmas Nights Tawny Weber www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) USA TODAY bestselling author TAWNY WEBER has been writing sassy, sexy romances since her first Mills & Boon Blaze was published in 2007. A fan of Johnny Depp, cupcakes and color coordination, she spends a lot of her time shopping for cute shoes, scrapbooking and hanging out on Facebook. Readers can check out Tawny’s books at her website, www.TawnyWeber.com. There, they can also join her Red Hot Readers Club for goodies like free reads, chapter excerpts, recipes, contests and much more. To my awesome brothers, Ron and Kevin! I love you guys. Contents Prologue (#u212890dc-9cf6-5656-969e-069e8499d770) Chapter 1 (#u982b6b66-28eb-554c-a635-07266100ae68) Chapter 2 (#uead16bee-a297-5137-a4c9-f65a6062dfa8) Chapter 3 (#ued78913a-f464-5359-8445-5dfc960c43db) Chapter 4 (#uac501741-93fe-5b80-a5d5-c1e87bce5b64) Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo) Prologue HOLIDAYS SUCKED. Gage Milano had no issue with the idea of a holiday. Celebrations were great. Kinda like parties, which he rocked. Or remembering and commemorating events, which showed respect. Gage was all for respect. But holidays? Holidays meant family. Obligation. That freaking heritage crap. Gage looked up from his plate. Crystal glinted, china gleamed. Ornate flower arrangements in fall tones lined the center of the rosewood table big enough to seat two dozen people. Which was twenty-one more than were sitting here now. Stupid. There was a perfectly sized, comfortable table in the breakfast room. But no. Couldn’t eat Thanksgiving dinner in the breakfast room. Not because it wasn’t fancy enough. Nope. Gage figured it was because his father was still trying to drive home the fact that in the Milano dynasty, he still had the biggest...table. Marcus Milano was all about who was biggest. Best. Holding the most control. Something he loved, probably more than his sons. He’d taught Gage and Devon to be fierce competitors. From playing T-ball to pitching deals, he’d set the bar high and dared both his sons to accept nothing but a win. Unfortunately, with two of them, that meant one of them was always losing. Something Marcus always found a way to capitalize on. As if hearing Gage’s thoughts and ready to prove them right, Marcus looked up from his perfectly sliced turkey and portion-controlled serving of carbs to bellow down the table. “Gage. New venture for you to take on.” Ahh, dinnertime demands. The Milano version of conversation. “No room.” Gage scooped up a forkful of chestnut dressing and shot his father a cool smile. “I’m in meetings with my own clients next week, then I’m on vacation.” “Make room,” Marcus barked. “I want this account.” Ahh, the joys of being under the cozy family umbrella. Gage might be thirty years old, have a rep as a marketing genius, be the VP of a Fortune 500 company and own his own marketing start-up, which was quickly racking up enough success that he’d be forced to make some decisions soon. But in his father’s mind he was still at the old man’s beck and call. There to do the guy’s bidding. It wasn’t that Gage didn’t appreciate the opportunities Milano had afforded him. But dammit, the company’s success was as much because of him as anyone else. When he and Devon had come on board six years previous, it’d been sinking under the economic collapse. Between Devon’s restructuring and Gage’s marketing, they’d turned it around. The old guy didn’t see it that way, though. To him, he was Milano and his sons simply adjuncts. Gage glared down the table. Pointless, since his father was nearsighted and too far away to notice. Not that he’d care if he could. Marcus Milano had built his rep on not giving a damn. So Gage shifted his anger across the table at his brother. Devon, his black hair and blue eyes the spitting image of their father, only grinned. “You’re the king of the sales pitch, little brother. You know how we depend on you for these special projects.” Devon was also the king of bullshit. “I don’t have time,” Gage repeated, his words delivered through the teeth of his own smile. “I’ve been going full speed ahead for six quarters with no break. When I signed that multimillion-dollar deal last month for the electronics division, we all agreed I was off the books until the end of the year.” Five weeks away from Milano. Time to chill, to relax. Hightail it to the Caribbean, where he could lie on the beach, chug the booze and check out the babes. And think. Think about his future. Think about leaving Milano. Weigh the risks of going out on his own. The old man had built a multipronged business with its fingers in various consumer pies. Milano made everything from tech to textiles. Devon was R & D, Research & Development. He came up with the ideas, put together whatever new product he thought would reel in more coin for the very full Milano coffers. Gage was marketing. He could sell anything. Water to a drowning man. Silicone to a centerfold. Reality to the paranoid. He knew people. What made them tick, what turned them on. A trait that served him well, in business and in pleasure. A trait that told him that getting away from this dinnertime trap was going to be one helluva feat. “Off the books except in an emergency,” Marcus said around his mouthful of oyster stuffing. “This is an emergency.” “An emergency is pictures of Devon doing a donkey being displayed on the cover of People magazine. An emergency is the accounting department being caught using our computer system to embezzle from a foreign government or your last wife showing up pregnant, claiming the baby is yours. Whatever new product you want to peddle isn’t a marketing emergency.” “I say it is.” Gage ground his teeth. Before he could snap, his brother caught his eye. “Look, it’s an easy deal,” Devon said quietly, forking up a slice of turkey and swirling it through his buttery puddle of potatoes. “We’re launching that lingerie line. The merchandise is ready. We just need a platform. Marketing came up with a great idea.” “Then why do you need me?” “You know Rudolph department stores?” “Dirty old man with the Midas touch and a handful of elite stores in California and New York?” “That’s the one. His spring fashion launch is an exclusive deal guaranteed to put any line he includes on the map. He’s never missed. Whether it’s because he has a keen eye or because the fashion industry is a bunch of lemmings, waiting for him to call the next trend, I don’t know. But if we get that lingerie contract, Milano is gold in the fashion field.” Gage shook his head. He was a marketing consultant. He specialized in consumer branding, digital management and online strategic development. Nothing in that description said anything about talking to eccentric billionaires about women’s underwear. “Seriously, it’s not going to take up more than a few days of your time. Rudolph is announcing his choices next weekend, and the contract will be signed and delivered before Christmas. You go in, make the deal and leave.” Before Gage could point out that anyone could go in and pitch this, Devon dropped his voice even lower and added, “You can even add the time you lose on this to the New Year. You’ll still get your five weeks off.” “This isn’t about the time off.” Even though that was a part of it. “It’s about respecting our agreement.” “Look, I’ve had to set aside my projects to take on this new online store the old man wants to launch. It’s not going to kill you to hit the beach a few days—or even a week—later than you’d planned.” So that was it. Lifting his pilsner glass, Gage gave his brother a dark look. Someday, one of them was going to be at the helm of Milano. The question was, which one? Marcus had made it clear that to run the company, his sons had to do three things: Be absolutely loyal. Prove they were more worthy than the other. And not piss him off. Gage and Devon had realized a few years back that it was going to take building their own business success separate from Milano to prove their worth. The trick, of course, was doing that while not jeopardizing rules one and three. And more important, doing it faster and better than the other brother. Or in Devon’s case, while sabotaging the other brother’s chances of doing it first. “You’re playing dirty,” Gage said decidedly. “I’m playing to win.” “What’re you two muttering about down there?” “We’re talking about our tradition of breaking the wishbone,” Gage shot back, not taking his eyes off Devon. “I’m thinking we should sweeten the pot. In addition to the 10K for the winner, I think the loser can take on this new project of yours.” Devon’s grin slipped. He couldn’t talk his way around a wishbone bet. There were no cards to slip out of his cuffs. It was a straight-on deal with lady luck. And of the two of them, Gage always had better luck with the ladies. “Fine. You win, I take the deal. But if I win, I get to pick your costume for the Christmas party this deal requires you to attend.” Gage grimaced. A Christmas costume party? What the hell kind of joke was this? Appetite gone, he shoved his plate away. Yeah. He hated the holidays. 1 HAILEY NORTH LOVED the holidays. All the glitter and fun. Smiling faces glowing with joy, the secrets and excitement. And the gifts. Gifts and surprises always rocked. Especially hard-earned ones, presented at a fancy dress-up ball. Or, in this case, a ballroom packed with the rich and influential of the Northern California fashion scene all dressed up like holiday cartoons. She should be ecstatic. Over-the-moon excited. Tonight she’d finally be sure that her lingerie company wouldn’t be joining Father Time in waving goodbye at the end of the year. Instead, she was afraid the past couple of months of financial worries and stress over keeping her company had sent her over the edge into Crazyville. Here she was surrounded by male models and wealthy designers, many of the most gorgeous specimens of the opposite sex to be found in the Bay Area. And it was the six-and-a-half feet of green fur, snowshoes and a bowling-pin shaped body across the room that was making her hot. Hailey squinted just to be sure. Nope. There was absolutely nothing enticing about the costumed guy at the bar. But sex appeal radiated off him like a tractor beam, pulling her in. Turning her on. Green fur, for crying out loud. Wow. Month after month of no sex really did a number on a healthy woman’s libido. Or maybe it was a year dedicated to the objective of making romance sexy. Of studying romantic fantasies, and finding ways to tastefully re-create them in lingerie form and show women that as long as they felt sexy, they were sexy. Or, possibly, it might have something to do with the glass of champagne she’d knocked back for a little social courage when she’d walked into a ballroom filled with high-powered movers and shakers, most of whom had more money in their wallets than she had in her bank account. And all of them here to impress Rudy Rudolph, a department-store tycoon with a wicked sense of fun and prized openings in his new spring fashion lineup. She glanced at her empty champagne flute, then at the bar. She should trade this in for something nonalcoholic. Something that didn’t make her go tingly over green, grouchy holiday figures. Then the Grinch pushed back his fur to check the time. When the hairs on his fingers caught on his leather watchband, he yanked off the gloves in an impatient move, tossing them on the bar. Thirst forgotten, Hailey stared at his hand as he reached for his own drink. Long and lean, with tapered fingers. Even from across the room, his palm looked broad. Her mind played through every hand-to-penis-size euphemism she’d ever heard and came up with the only conclusion possible. The Grinch was hung. The only question was, did he go for cute elves? Or was he strictly a man-and-his-dog kind of guy? Maybe she should have dressed up like a Who? She’d taken two steps toward him, her body desperate to find out, before she caught herself. No. She was here for business. She peered at the baggy, saggy, furry back and grimaced. Not for fun. No matter how big the fun’s hands were. “Hailey, darling.” Relieved, both at the distraction from lusting after the Grinch and at there actually being someone here who knew her name, Hailey turned. Her social smile shifted to genuine delight at the sight of the man who’d made this night possible for her. Jared Jones, assistant to the wealthiest—and most eccentric—tycoon in the department-store business. Jared had taken her under his wing last summer when they’d met in an elevator. Hailey had been on her way to pitch her lingerie designs to the sales team and Jared had been bemoaning a rip in his shirt. Before they’d reached the sixth floor, she’d pulled out some fabric tape for a temporary mend, earning his gratitude and his endless devotion. Apparently, a fashion faux pas was, to some, the end of the world. “Jared,” she greeted, leaning in for a hug but careful not to let him bump her head. It’d taken her twenty minutes to get the bell-festooned elf hat pinned to her curls in a way that didn’t make her hair look like fluffy poodle ears. “I love your gingerbread-man costume. Is that your favorite holiday character?” she asked, flicking her finger on one of his cheerful, oversize buttons. Her eyes widened before she laughed aloud as she noted the words Eat Me etched on the red plastic. “Edible goodness, that’s me,” he said with a wink. Then he shifted his head to the left and gave a little wag of his chin. “And if all goes well, that drummer boy over there will be having a taste before the night is out.” Used to Jared’s aggressive sexuality by now, Hailey gave the drummer an obligatory once-over before sharing an impressed look with her horny gingerbread friend. “But look at you,” he gushed, his loud enthusiasm aimed as much at getting the drummer’s attention as it was appreciation for Hailey’s costume. “You know, I’ve seen at least a dozen elves tonight, but you’re the best by far. You look fabulous. Is everything you’re wearing straight from your lingerie line?” “Everything but the skirt,” Hailey confirmed, arms wide as she gave a slow turn to show off the goods. Her candy-cane-striped bustier with its red satin trim and white laces paired nicely with her red stockings and their white seams up the back that ended in clever bows just below the hem of her green tulle ballerina skirt. She was proof positive that the right lingerie could make any woman feel sexy. Nothing like a year in the gym, a carb-elimination diet and a great tan to make a girl look damned hot in lingerie. Too bad she’d only hit the gym maybe four times in the past twelve months, loved carbs like she loved her momma and was closer to winter-white than sun-kissed tan. But that was the beauty of Merry Widow lingerie. A girl didn’t have to have a supermodel body to look—and feel—fabulous in it. “Oh, darling,” Jared breathed in admiration as he completed his inspection. Hailey didn’t have to follow his gaze to know where he was staring. After all, the guy might not be interested in what her lingerie was covering, but he was all about fashion. And her boots were pure fashion candy. The white Manolo booties were an early Christmas present from her father. Well, not really from him, since he never knew what to get her. But she’d bought them last month with the holiday check he’d sent, so that made them his gift to her. “Hailey, you have the best taste in footwear,” he sighed. “Those boots are perfect. And such a great touch to bring the outfit from cute to couture.” “Thanks. Will Mr. Rudolph be arriving soon?” she asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She wiggled her toes in her most excellent boots as a reminder that a girl could handle anything if she was wearing fabulous footwear. “Since he’s announcing his choices for the spring exclusives, shouldn’t he do it before all the designers are drunk?” While she was still tipsy enough to use getting one of those prized exclusives as an excuse to seduce the Grinch. “Drunk designers only add to Rudy’s sense of fun,” Jared told her with a sly grin. He didn’t say a word about the contracts, though. She knew he knew who’d been chosen. And he knew she knew. But they both knew she wouldn’t ask. “Quit obsessing,” Jared said, giving her a nudge with his shoulder and leaving a streak of glitter on her arm. “Maybe you should see if the drummer boy’s sticks are worth checking out.” She tilted her head toward the guy he’d been scoping. “I can’t clear my head enough to be fun company.” “Darling, I’m here to enjoy the party with my favorite designer. If there was anything I could do to set your mind at ease so you could give the party the appreciation it deserves, I would. But you know me—I don’t kiss and tell.” Giving in to her nerves, and reminding herself that she’d taken a cab here, Hailey traded her empty champagne glass for a full one, then arched one brow at Jared. “Okay. So I don’t spill company secrets.” He hesitated, then wrinkled his nose and leaned closer. “At least not the ones that could get me fired.” Then he looked past her again. This time when his face shifted, it wasn’t into lustfully suggestive lines. Instead, he came to attention. “I don’t think the news will be secret for long, though,” he told her, twirling his finger to indicate she turn herself around. “Welcome, welcome.” Hailey, along with the rest of the ballroom, turned around and came to the same subtle attention that Jared had as a skinny Santa took the stage with two helpers dressed in swaths of white fur and a whole lot of skin. She leaned forward, peering at the trio. The nerves in her stomach stopped jumping for a few seconds as she stared in shock. “Wow. Mr. Rudolph sure looks different without his tie.” Or maybe it was the fact that the pervy old guy was shirtless under his plush red jacket. Wasn’t he in his seventies? Now, that wasn’t a pretty sight. Afraid to look at it too long, in case it rendered her blind, Hailey glanced at the rest of the crowd. Nobody else seemed surprised. “Thank you, everyone,” he said, “for joining the Rudolph-department-store annual holiday costume party. As you can see, my favorite character is Santa Claus. Appropriate since I’m the man giving out the gifts tonight.” Fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms, Hailey puffed out a breath, trying to diffuse the nerves that’d suddenly clamped onto her intestines. This was it. The big announcement. She felt like throwing up. “This year, instead of simply awarding spring women’s-line contracts, I’ve decided to make things fun. I’ve chosen two favorite designers in each department. Women’s wear, shoes and lingerie. Those designers will compete through the holiday season for the top spot.” Hailey’s stomach fell. Competing? That didn’t sound good. She wasn’t the only one who thought so, either, if the muttering and hisses circling the room were anything to go by. She gave Jared a puzzled look, trying to shrug off the sudden despair that gripped her. The contracts weren’t being awarded tonight? But she needed to know. Without that contract, she was going to lose her business. Jared ignored her stare, tilting his head pointedly to get her to pay attention. She dragged her gaze to the stage with a frown. Instead of looking abashed, the old man seemed delighted by the angry buzz. His grin shifted from wicked to a visual cackle as he held up one hand for silence. It took all of three seconds for him to be obeyed. “So without further ado, here are the finalists in women’s wear,” he announced. A model featuring an outfit from each line crossed the stage behind him as he named the designer. Hailey swallowed hard, trying to get past the tight worry in her throat. It wasn’t as if she’d irresponsibly put all of her hopes on this deal. It was more a matter of everything else falling apart until this deal was all that was left to hope for. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to appreciate the gorgeous shoes as Rudolph announced the designer finalists for footwear. But not even the studded black leather stilettos could distract her worry. Then he got to lingerie. She didn’t even listen to the names. She just watched the models, her eyes locked with desperate hope on the curtain they entered from. One strutted out in a wickedly sexual invitation in leather. It was the complete opposite of the Merry Widow’s style, a look that screamed sex. Hot, kinky sex. Hailey frowned. It wasn’t her style, of course. But it was appealing. If you like hot, kinky sex. Did she like hot, kinky sex? She’d never had the opportunity to find out. For a second, she wondered if the Grinch was into leather. Before she could imagine that, worry crowded the sexy thoughts right back out of her brain. She held her breath. “And last but not least, Merry Widow Lingerie.” Echoing the announcement was a model in a white satin chemise trimmed in tiny pink rosebuds, a design Hailey had labeled Sweet Seduction. Fireworks exploded in her head, all bright lights, loud booms and overwhelming excitement. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted, hopping up and down in her gorgeous booties. She spun around to grab Jared in a tight hug, then did another little dance. “That’s me. That’s me. I made it.” She made it. She had a chance. An hour later, she was still giddy. It wasn’t a contract, but it wasn’t a rejection, either. And she’d learned young to take what she could get. “This is so cool.” Ever since Santa Rudolph’s announcement, people kept coming up to congratulate her. That part was great. What was even better, though, were the compliments about her designs, which were displayed all around the room. She felt like a rock star. “I’m excited for you, darling. I am sorry it’s not a definitive answer, though,” Jared said quietly, his face taking on a rare seriousness. “I know how bad you need this deal, and I’ve been pitching hard for you. But Rudy got this wild notion that a contest would bring in more publicity and make it more fun. He’ll decide before the New Year, though. He has to for marketing purposes.” “What kind of publicity?” Big publicity? Good publicity? Could it net her some new clients, maybe a few features in the fashion rags? Hailey’s stomach danced again. “Well...” Jared drew out, wrinkling his glittery nose. “I honestly don’t think he has a lot of publicity lined up. We were all under the impression that he was simply choosing a single designer for each line. But Friday he talked to some marketing guru who convinced him that it’d bring in great promotion if he made it a competition of some sort instead of a straight-up announcement.” “Who makes the final decision?” she wondered. Jared pulled another face and shrugged. Clearly he didn’t like not being in the know any more than she didn’t like not having a clue. But before Hailey could ask more questions, they were joined by a dapper-looking guy dressed like a festive reindeer with his green-and-red-plaid bow tie. “Congratulations, Ms. North. I’m Trent Lane, the photographer for Rudolph department stores. I was happy to see your designs in the running. I’ve taken test shots of each submission and yours is my favorite.” “Really?” “Really. It seems to epitomize romance. But sexy romance. The boudoir-photo kind, not the Hustler-spread kind.” Hailey giggled, wondering if the leather getups were Hustler material. “It’s my favorite, too,” Jared agreed. “I told you when I first saw the line. It’s perfect. Next season is all about nostalgia with overtones of passion. Bridal fresh but womanly confident.” Hailey wrinkled her nose, wondering if he realized he’d just described her gorgeous designs in the same terms used for feminine-hygiene products. “Baby’s breath and air ferns lining the runway. Satin backdrops. Maybe one of those long couch things, like Cleopatra would lounge on,” Trent mused, falling into what she immediately saw was a creative brainstorming habit between him and Jared. “A chaise. Perfect,” Jared agreed. Tapping his chin, he added, “Maybe carried down the runway by four muscle-bound sex slaves?” “That’s not romantic,” Trent dismissed. “You know Rudy really wants to lead the trend this season. If you suggest sex slaves, he might seriously consider Cassia Carver’s mesh love sleeves for a part of the women’s-wear line.” Hailey barely kept from shuddering. Avant-garde minis and maxis made up most of Cassia’s line, and while they were edgy and fun, they would hardly compliment Merry Widow’s lingerie. They would, she realized with a frown, go great with Milano’s leather. Suddenly the simple contract she’d thought she’d have was now even more complicated. All of the choices were going to have to flow together into a single, cohesive spring debut. “Even if Rudy wants mesh and love slaves, there’s no way marketing will go for it,” Jared dismissed. “They’d bury him in the horrible sales data from the last time mesh hit the runway.” Oh, yay. A point in her favor. She just had to make sure she racked enough to win this baby. Hailey held her breath, willing herself to look invisible. Maybe if the two men forgot she was there, they’d spill some insider info that she could mop up and use. “Well, Rudy wants Cherry Bella to model the entire spring line, and Merry Widow will look perfect on her.” Hailey couldn’t contain her little eep of excitement. Her designs? Perfect? Cherry Bella? Oh, man. That shooting star was getting close enough that she could almost feel the heat. “She’d look great in Merry Widow or Milano’s,” Trent agreed. “It’s really going to come down to whichever line Cherry wants to wear. She’ll be the final judge of all the lines, I’m guessing.” “Rudy has to get her signed first. And so far, she’s not interested.” Trent looked to the left. Jared and Hailey looked, too. Then he looked to the right. They obediently followed his gaze. Forgetting that she was supposed to be invisible, Hailey leaned in just as close as Jared did to listen. “I hear Rudy’s pulling out all the stops. He’s crazy to get Cherry signed. He’s tried everything. Promised her the moon. So far, no go. He’s shifted all his promises to her agent now.” Trent gave them both a wide-eyed look, then nodded sagely, his reindeer ears bobbing in emphasis. “Whoever gets him Cherry Bella? They’re golden.” Excitement ran so fast through Hailey’s body, she shivered with it. Her lingerie was perfect for Cherry. The statuesque redhead had started as a soulful torch singer, but lately had branched into modeling and a few minor acting gigs, as well. Merry Widow’s flowing, feminine designs would suit her as though they’d been custom made. All Hailey had to do was cinch the deal. She’d find Cherry’s agent, charm him or her into listening to a personal pitch on how perfect Merry Widow designs would look on the retro singer. “Do the other designers know?” she wondered aloud. Seeing the guys’ arch expressions, she scrunched her nose and gave a shrug. What? They all knew she wasn’t really invisible. “Just wondering.” “It’s pretty hush-hush since a lot of competitors are always big to get a jump on Rudolph’s spring debuts. So unless the other designers are chatting up Rudy’s staff, I doubt they have a clue.” Jared’s snort of laughter was more sarcastic than amused. “Which means no,” he explained at Hailey’s questioning look, a little of the sugary glitter flaking off his face as he sneered. “Your competitors are all well established, with top-of-the-line reps, darling. They, unlike you, have huge egos. None of them see the need to fraternize with the help. They talk to Rudy, or they don’t talk at all.” She peered through the costumed crowd, looking for any of the lingerie-clad models circling the room. She sighed as one lithe blonde floated by in a Merry Widow nightie. Cotton flowed. Lace rippled. The pearl buttons down the front caught the light, even as the delicate fabric molded to the woman’s perfect body. So romantic. And so perfect for the Rudolph account, especially if he got Cherry as his spokesmodel. She didn’t want to jinx it but the little voice in her head was already planning the victory-dance moves. “I’m surprised Cherry’s agent isn’t all over this deal,” Hailey mused, wondering what they were holding out for. “A contract with Rudolph department stores would rocket her from national to international exposure, wouldn’t it?” “Oh, yeah,” Jared agreed, looking like a dejected gingerbread boy with his furrowed brow. “We can’t figure out what the problem is. Rudy’d be tearing his hair out if he wasn’t already bald.” “Best we can figure, it’s because the agency is one of those co-op places. The agents all work together on every client. Make decisions by consensus. We don’t even know which agent is at the party. Guy, gal, nobody’s got a clue,” Trent complained, looking like a very grumpy reindeer whose gossip rations were being withheld. “Like I said, whoever reels her in is going to be golden.” Then a passing model dressed in a fishnet candy cane and spangles shaped like question marks caught his eye. He straightened his bow tie, gave Jared and Hailey an absent smile, then tilted his head. “Well, I think I’ll go talk up the models and see if any of them are repped by the same agency as Cherry.” With that, and a leering sort of grin, he was gone. “So what do you think? Do I have a shot?” Hailey asked as soon as he left. Her gaze flew around the room as if the infamous agent might have hung a neon sign around his or her neck, just for fun. If she could find the agent, she could pitch her own designs for Cherry. If she could get the agent enthused, she’d have an inside track. Maybe even a guaranteed deal. Excitement bubbling, Hailey gave the room another searching look. Her gaze landed on Trent, who’d apparently given up on seducing the woman in mesh and was now talking to the sexy Grinch. Her excitement took on a totally different edge at the sight of that Grinchy butt. The hood of the costume now pushed back, she could see his hair, so black it reflected the blue and white Christmas lights of the tree next to him, wave into the green fur of his collar. Her nipples tingled against the tight satin layers of her bustier. Her thighs turned to mush, only the sheer red silk of her stockings holding them together. Oh, yeah. He was definitely the hot, kinky, sexy type of guy. All she had to do was look at him and she was more excited than she’d been with any of the lovers she’d ever had. Or even all of them, combined. And all she was gazing at was the back of his head. That was better than being turned on by his furry back, wasn’t it? Her breath a little on the shallow side, she sighed and wondered how great it’d be to strip that ugly fur off and see what kind of body was beneath the costume. Could it be as sexy as she was imagining? Long and lean, with strong thighs and washboard abs? Shoulders she could cling to as she rode him like a wild stallion? She’d just flown a few miles closer to catching her shooting star. Didn’t she deserve a treat? Could she do it? Go talk to him? Ask his opinions on hot, kinky sex. Leather or lace. Roses or studs. Her face, throat and chest all on fire now, either with lust or embarrassment, Hailey quickly drank the rest of her champagne and exchanged the glass with a passing waiter, hoping the bubbles would cool the fire blazing in her belly. “Hailey, darling? Where’d you go? I’ve been filling you in on all of the Rudolph stores’ holiday plans and you haven’t said a word. What’s got you so distracted?” Unwilling to admit the horrifying truth, that she was all hot and horny for a guy whom she’d only seen from the side and back, both of which were covered in puke-green fur, Hailey tore her gaze away and gave Jared an apologetic look. “Nothing. Just, you know, wondering if that guy Trent’s talking to might be Cherry’s agent,” she improvised. Almost on tiptoes to see around the crowd, Jared peered in the direction of the bar. Then he gave a shrug. “No clue.” He looked again, this time giving a little hum of appreciation. His eyes were as wide as the buttons on the front of his gingerbread suit as he fanned one hand in front of his face. “I’ll be happy to go find out, though.” She looked over again herself, wondering what had got his attention. And almost fell to the floor, thanks to her weak knees. Oh, baby. The Grinch was gorgeous. Her lust cells stood up and did a victory dance, vindicated in their attraction. Her brain couldn’t argue. Because the man was definitely lust-worthy. Raven-black hair swept back from his forehead in soft waves, framing a face that would make Michelangelo weep. Sharp planes, strong lines and intense brows were balanced by full lips and wide eyes. Even though she couldn’t tell the color, she was sure those were the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. For the first time in forever, Hailey didn’t know what she wanted more. Success? Or the man across the room. 2 “THIS IS THE most ridiculous idiocy I’ve ever seen,” Gage said decidedly, his glare spread equally across the ballroom at his cousin and at those butt-ugly green fur gloves he’d been forced to wear to this stupid party. “And what’s with the babysitting duty, Trent? You lose a bet yourself?” “More like blackmail,” Trent muttered, watching yet another leggy blonde slink by with a regretful sigh. “Believe me, if I had a choice, I’d be long gone by now.” “Yeah? Well, so would I.” Once, a party like this would have appealed to Gage. A bachelor’s playground, complete with booze, babes and enough variety in the guest list to stave off boredom. The requirement to dress like your favorite holiday character, though? That was where it all tipped right on over to idiocy. Yet, here he was. Smothered in freaking fur. Didn’t matter that it was almost December. San Francisco didn’t get cold enough to make this costume anything but miserable. “How’d they con you into this?” Trent asked, craning his head to one side to watch a woman’s leather-clad ass as she worked the crowd. Gage vaguely recognized it. The leather, not the ass. It was one of the new Milano designs. Sexy Biker Babe, Devon had called it. Stupid, really. It looked hot, and definitely sent a strong sexual message. But who wore leather lingerie? He gave an absent scan of the room, measuring the crowd, the reactions. There were enough people eyeing the leather with an appreciative look, as opposed to the ones peering in confusion at the mesh dresses some models were suffering in. The most admiration seemed to be for the lacy getups floating through the room, though. The kind of lace you’d see on a forties pinup model, rather than the kind you’d see on a favorite internet porn site. Classy, he supposed it’d be called. Noticing his attention, a tall brunette in a tasteful teddy and floor-length robe in white satin with fluffy trim gave him an inviting look before she stopped to exchange comments with a guest. The model moved on. But Gage’s gaze was locked on the woman she’d spoken with. Helloo. Interest stirred for the first time since he’d heard of this party, Gage straightened. She was blonde and cute, with an air of sweetness surrounding her like a holiday promise. The women he usually went for were dark, sultry and cynical. So what was it about her that made him want to sit up and beg? Sure, she was sexy. But even though her costume was obviously lingerie inspired, she was still stepping pretty close to the sedate line. His type usually danced on the edge of the slutty line. Yet he wanted nothing more than to cross the room, toss her over his shoulder and haul her off to someplace where he could lick her wild. Obviously this work overload and insane costume were taking a toll on his sanity. “Gage?” “Huh?” With one last look to assure himself that she wasn’t his type, he yanked his attention back to his cousin. “What?” “I said, how’d you get stuck with this gig? I thought you were on vacation.” “The old man played the emergency card, deeming getting the Rudolph contract to launch this new project top priority.” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d pulled the short end of a wishbone. A guy could only take so much humiliation at a time. Used to his uncle’s games, Trent didn’t seem surprised. “You do well enough on your own. And you hate working for your father. Why don’t you just resign?” Good question. “It’s not that easy. Nor is it something I want to talk about at a party full of people in their underwear and me in green fur.” Or anywhere else, for that matter. Not because he was so private. But because he really didn’t know himself. Money was a major factor. He’d seen plenty of successful people sink under the weight of running their own show. Loyalty was another. He might hate the dictatorial way Marcus Milano ran things, but it was still a family company founded by his grandfather. As far back as he could remember, his father had claimed that Milano was run by Milanos. And Milanos were expected to make it a success. So much so that if one left, he was out. Out of the company, off the board and in the case of Gage’s uncle when he’d quit, disinherited and ostracized by the family. And there was always the competition between him and Devon. Gage glared at the furry gloves again, damned if he’d lose to his brother in an even bigger way. When he went out on his own his start-up would be bigger, stronger, more successful than any and all of Devon’s put together. None of which were thoughts he was particularly proud of. The perfect distraction, the pretty blonde elf caught his eye again. Her eyes were huge, so big they dominated her face. A cross between adorable and arousing, with full lips and round cheekbones both a glossy red to match her stockings. Gage’s gaze dropped again to those legs. They were very excellent legs, long and lean. The sheer red hose and sexy little boots reminded him of a candy cane. An image echoed by the striped bustier hugging breasts so sweet they almost overflowed the tight fabric. Gage rocked back on his heels, humming in appreciation. She didn’t belong here. Her costume might. Her party partner might. And the holiday theme might. But she looked too sweet to be interested in something as lame as this event. So sweet he wanted to invite her to a private party. One where he could taste her, just there where the satin met that soft flesh, and see if she was as tasty as she looked. Like a delicious Christmas treat. “So, hey, I’ve got instructions from Devon I’ve gotta follow.” Trent’s uncomfortably muttered words pulled Gage’s attention away from the sexy blonde. “You babysat, you probably took pictures to share on Facebook, and you verified that I stayed until the announcement.” Gage was still irritated that the best he’d been able to get out of this deal was to be in the competition for the contract. Despite his best pitch, Rudolph hadn’t been willing to set aside his initial favorites. “I’ve done my part. I’m done. Showing up in this stupid costume was the end of my assignment.” “Yeah, sure. But, well, my instructions were to wait until after the announcement, and if Milano was in the running for the contract, to issue a new bet.” Trent looked a little ill at this point. Gage laughed so loud, half the room glanced their way. “Is that reindeer headgear pressing too tight into your brain? You really think I’m going to take another one of Devon’s bets?” “C’mon. You know he’ll make my life hell if I don’t follow through,” Trent beseeched, looking so pitiful even his antlers drooped. “It’s not a big deal. I just have to mention that there’s a bet on the table, and give you this.” This, Gage found out when Trent pulled it from the inner pocket of his Fruit-Stripe-gum-colored jacket, was an envelope. “That’s it?” Gage asked, gesturing with his gloves to the paper. The envelope was thick and black, and he figured his brother had been trying for ominous. The guy was a little too dramatic. “This is it,” Trent agreed, holding the envelope closer. When Gage didn’t take it, he set it on the bar with a shrug. “My instructions were simply to make sure you knew there was a bet and to make it available if you were interested.” “You did, and I’m not.” “No skin off my nose,” Trent dismissed. Now that he was free, he was more focused on catching the eye of one of the mostly naked women than trying to change Gage’s mind. “I’ll let Devon know you met the terms of the bet. Oh, and can you tell him I did offer you the insider info? He promised to burn the pictures of... Well, it won’t matter what they are of after tonight.” If Trent’s grin was anything to go by, the evidence Devon had used to blackmail him was probably wearing a wedding ring. And just for handing over an envelope, that evidence was getting burned? Gage frowned at the heavy black paper. His brother wasn’t the type to let go of blackmail material that easily. Always resourceful, Devon figured good dirt was worth using at least twice. So whatever plan Devon was playing, it was big. “Hold on,” he said through his teeth, snatching up the envelope and ripping the heavy paper aside. He read the thick, purple papers quickly, shock seeping through his irritation. Then he read through them once more to be sure the itchy green fur hadn’t impaired his comprehension. No way in hell... “He’s willing to let me go?” Trent leaned closer to read the letter, then gave a shrug. “Is that what it says? He told me to assure you that he’s not bullshitting.” Seeing Gage’s doubtful look, Trent plastered on his most earnest expression. It went pretty well with the antlers and bow tie, actually. “He didn’t give me details, just told me what to say if you opened the letter.” “What are you? His windup toy?” “Funny you should mention toys. That’s actually what those pictures...” Grimacing, Trent shook his head. “So, you gonna take the bet?” Gage considered his options. Being the trusting soul he was, Marcus Milano hadn’t just used the threat that he’d cut them off if they ever left, he’d contractually tied his sons to Milano’s. But if Gage got this contract, his brother would arrange for an entire year of freedom. With full pay. Gage could do whatever he wanted, without losing his safety net or walking out on family obligations. In exchange, he just had to seal this lingerie deal. “You gonna fill me in on what it’ll take to win this Rudolph contract?” “Why? You don’t have any pictures of me, three blondes and a battery-operated rabbit.” All Gage did was shift. Just an inch. His shoulders back. His spine straighter. His chin lifted. Then he arched one brow. Trent’s grin wilted. “Look, I don’t know anything. And what I do know is mostly rumor. But it’s company rumor, so I can’t tell. Your games with Devon aren’t worth my job.” Unfazed, Gage nodded. “I win this bet, I’ll be gone for a year,” he mused, taking a second to revel in that vision. A whole year, free of Milano. To travel without a tightly controlled, money-making itinerary. No board meetings, no R & D meetings, no personnel meetings. Just him and his own business. He eyed his cousin. Yeah. He wanted that dream. Enough to take the bet and to bump the stakes. “I’m gone a year,” he repeated, “I got two choices. Garage my ’Vette. Or let someone play car-sitter.” “Your ’Vette?” Trent’s eyes glazed over as if he was having a personal moment. Then he shook his head. “No way.” “Way.” It didn’t take two seconds before his cousin grabbed his hand to seal the deal. Everyone had a price. Gage listened as Trent babbled on about a torch singer, a weird old man’s trend obsession and secret agents. “So whoever gets this singer to wear their line is gonna get the deal?” he confirmed. Trent nodded. “If you get Cherry Bella to wear your lingerie line, you nail the contract.” And win the bet. “And you’re saying her agent is here, at the party, scoping it out to decide if any of the designs are worthy?” “That’s what I hear.” Gage’s gaze shifted across the room again to the blonde. There was only one person here who didn’t belong. One very sexy, very tasty-looking person who seemed out of place among the eccentric designers and the narcissistic models. If he had to guess who the agent was, and apparently he did, he’d pick her. And now that he’d picked her, he just had to charm her into choosing Milano for her client. “Not a problem,” he decided. This was going to be quite the treat. Beat his brother. Win a year’s freedom. And make some time with a very sexy blonde. Looked as if this party wasn’t quite as idiotic as he’d thought. * * * HAILEY GULPED. He was coming her way. She’d lost count of how many glasses of champagne she’d had. Enough to make her head spin. But the tingling swirls going on right now had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the Grinch. The oh-so-deliciously-sexy Grinch. “Trent looks like someone just gave him the keys to a houseful of horny women. I’m going to talk to him,” Jared decided, clearly oblivious to Hailey’s tingles, swirls or even her overheated cheeks. “I’ll bet he figured out who the agent is.” “Go, go,” Hailey encouraged with a little wave of her hand. She wasn’t really shooing him away, so much as making room for the Grinch. “Oh, baby,” she sighed as he stopped next to her. He was even yummier up close and personal. A faint shadow darkened his chin, making her wonder if he was one of those guys blessed with a luxurious pelt of chest hair. She’d always wanted to get close enough to a guy like that so she could bury her face in the silky warmth and snuggle. Her fingers itched to tug the zipper of his costume down and see for herself. “Hello.” The greeting was accompanied by a smile that, for all its charm, edged just this side of wicked. His eyes were dark, so dark they seemed black in the party lights, with thick lashes and slashing brows. And they were staring at her with an intensity that made her want to check herself to make sure nothing had fallen out. “Hi,” she said, giving him a bright smile. At a delicate five-one, which was why the elf costume had been so inspired, she had to tilt her head back a little to see his face. Bells jingled. At first she wondered if that was a sign from Cupid. Then she remembered that it was Christmas, not Valentine’s. And that she was wearing bells on her hat. “I’m Gage,” he murmured, taking her hand. “Hailey,” she said on a sigh as her fingers were engulfed by his. He was warm. Strong and gentle at the same time, and his skin felt so good she didn’t want to pull away. Her usual nerves at meeting a gorgeous, sexy man were nowhere to be found. Probably doing the backstroke through a river of champagne. But she wasn’t drunk enough to do anything stupid, like unzip his costume with her lips right here in the middle of the ballroom. After all, she didn’t want hair between her teeth. “What do you think of the party?” he asked, not taking those intense eyes off her as he tilted his head to indicate the room. It was as if he were looking past her cheerful smile and holiday bells into her soul, where he could peek at all of the secrets she hid there. Like her dreams. Her darkest, sexiest fantasies. And every single one of her fears. That was both sexy as hell and the scariest thing she’d ever imagined. “The party’s great,” she said, nerves starting to poke through the champagne bubbles. “I thought it was a fun theme, coming as your favorite holiday character. At least I did until I saw the guy dressed as a pair of Christmas balls waving his candy cane around.” The words echoed in Hailey’s head as she realized what she’d said. Eyes wide with horror, she slapped her hand over her mouth. Not that she could take the words back, but maybe it’d help slow down the next stupid thing she tried to blurt out. Gorgeous Gage the Grinch just laughed, though. A deep, full-bodied sound that eased her fear and made her grin right back. His gaze changed, softened, with his amusement. He was still sexy as all get-out, but now he seemed real. Not quite so much like a sexual fantasy sent to rip away all her inhibitions. More like an intriguingly attractive man who made her want to toss them away on her own. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you’ve been entertained by the various displays here this evening.” A movement across the room caught her eye. Hailey shifted her gaze, noting Jared, flanked by Trent and Mr. Rudolph, heading toward the door. He looked frantic, doing a subtle wave of his hand behind his boss’s back and jerking his head around. Either he was trying to give her a message, or he was being hauled off against his will. She tilted her head, trying to figure out what he was saying. Then she realized he was pointing at Gage and mouthing something. She gave a helpless shrug, totally clueless. His disgusted sigh came across loud and clear, though, then he held his hand to his ear, thumb and pinkie outstretched. Call him. Then, just as he was swept out the door by a jolly old man, he jabbed his fingers toward Trent. “Looking for that pair of Christmas balls?” Gage teased. “Oh, sorry,” she said with an abashed grimace. “It’s just so distracting here. Like a circus, but instead of performing animals, it’s a bizarre fashion statement, all wrapped in holiday tinsel.” “And you’re not into bizarre?” Hailey arched her brow. Why did that sound as if he’d just passed judgment and she’d somehow failed? “Should I be?” “Hardly. Bizarre generally means weird and confusing. I’m not a fan of confusion.” “And the holidays?” she asked, gesturing to his costume. “Are they high on your list, or is your heart three sizes too small?” He opened his mouth, then shook his head and shut it with a grin. “I’ll skip over any size comparisons, if you don’t mind.” Delighted at his sense of humor, Hailey laughed. “How about we leave size issues to my imagination and skip right to the holiday question,” she said with an impish smile. “Just as long as you have a good imagination.” “It’s amazing.” “A lot of dreams?” “Big ones,” she assured him. “Huge, even.” He gave an appreciative grin, then at her arch look, it faded to a deep, considering stare before he shifted his gaze to the decorated trees and holiday props around the room. “I don’t have a problem with the holidays, per se,” he admitted. The way he said it, slow and careful, as if he were measuring each word, told her that he was a man who valued honesty. He might dance around the truth. He might refuse to answer. But whatever he did say, he expected to be held to it. That kind of integrity was even sexier than his gorgeous smile. Maybe not sexier than his body, but she couldn’t say for sure since it was still covered in lumpy green fur. “But there are parts you’re not crazy about,” she guessed, trying to stay on topic and quit undressing him with her mind. Especially now that her imagination was using the word huge in all its naked images. “Sure. But you have to take the bad to get the good, right?” No. She wanted to shake her head. The bad might show up from time to time, but the whole point was to avoid it if possible. To think positive and flow with the good. But she wasn’t sure her Pollyanna-esque argument was going to get very far with a guy who favored the Grinch. “So which good parts are your favorite?” “The food,” he mused, gesturing to the Mrs. Claus walking by with a tray of sugar cookies. “Gotta love the desserts this time of year.” A man after her own heart. “But as good as those cookies look, I’ll bet you’re sweeter. Like the candy cane your outfit reminds me of. But instead of peppermint, you’d be cherry flavored.” His words were low and flirtatious, his eyes dancing and hot as his gaze swept over her body as if he wanted to taste her and see. Hailey swallowed hard. She knew she was totally out of her league. But she didn’t care. It was as if she were drowning in desire, passion burning low in her belly with a heat she didn’t think anything could douse. She sure was ready to let him try, though. Then his words washed over her like a lifeline, tugging at her attention. What had he said? Cherry? A bright light went off in Hailey’s head, clearing away the foggy fingers of passion. Ooh, she smiled as excitement pushed back—but didn’t in any way extinguish—the hot desire in her belly. Jared must have been trying to tell her that Gage was the agent. The man to persuade that her designs were perfect for his client. Seriously? Hailey almost laughed out loud. First her designs were chosen as semifinalists. Then the sexiest man she’d ever seen hit on her. And now she had to do everything and anything in her power to make him crazy about her lingerie? It was all Hailey could do to keep from clapping her hands together in delight. This night rocked. 3 “SO YOU DON’T seem like a designer or model,” Hailey said, sliding a sideways glance at Gage. Not that all designers were, well, feminine. But the gorgeous man next to her was way too masculine, deliciously and temptingly masculine, for her to imagine him playing with ribbon and lace. Or even mesh and leather, unless they were exclusively in the bedroom. His laugh echoed her assessment. “Oh, no,” he assured her. “I’m not a model. And I’m definitely not a designer.” And he didn’t work for Rudolph’s, or Jared would have told her. Which left, dum da dum, him being the agent. Sweet. So sweet, she almost did her happy dance again. “So you’re clearly a fan of the holidays,” he guessed, gesturing to her outfit. “And you look as if you’re enjoying the party. Anything in particular impress you tonight?” He had. But she didn’t think he was fishing for compliments. Hailey tried to clear the champagne buzz from her head and pull together a strategy. She needed to pitch her heart out here. To make wow and impress him, not only with the designs themselves, but with her knowledge of the industry, of his client. And, because he was just so freaking yummy, maybe with herself. It wasn’t as if she was offering up her body in exchange for a good word to his client. More like she was willing to worship his body while never directly mentioning the client. That wasn’t stepping over any lines, was it? “Hmm, there’s so much to choose from,” she mused as if her mind had retained anything other than impressions of him and the words Get Cherry. “I was really impressed with Rudolph’s clever contest. The designs were all so diverse, weren’t they?” His eyes sharpened, as if she’d just triggered a switch. To what, she wasn’t sure. But since he stepped closer, she hoped she could figure it out so she could trigger it at will. “And your favorite?” he asked, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead. So close she could feel the warmth of his body wrapping around her. She wanted to lean in and breathe deep. To snuggle in and nuzzle her nose in the curve of his shoulder. The tiny part of Hailey’s brain that was still functioning at normal levels was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the rest of her. All she did was look at this guy and all of her senses were sucked into the lust cycle. “Hailey?” “Hmm?” She frowned, trying to remember what he’d asked. “Do you have a favorite?” “A favorite...?” Position? Flavor of body oil? Term for the male genitalia? “Oh, favorite designs?” “Yeah. Are you drawn to any particular designer?” There was that intense look again. Hailey started to pitch her own line, then bit her lip. Maybe it was better to charm him first, before he realized she was one of the designers. That way, then she could gently lead him into the idea of Cherry and Merry Widow being the perfect match. She’d noticed one thing in this past year of trying to sell her wares—the minute someone thought you were pitching something, they went on the defensive. Her gaze roamed over the masculine beauty of his face, making her sigh. Nope. She’d much rather he be receptive to anything she had to pitch. So she shrugged instead and said, “There are a lot of great looks here tonight. I think it’d be fun to try to match each one to their perfect person.” Hailey wanted to bounce in her Manolos, she was so proud of that subtle hint. Kinda like subliminal sales. She’d just lay a few bread crumbs here and there, and he could nibble his way to her line of thinking. “That’s the key to a great design, isn’t it? That it enhance the features, the personality, of the person wearing it.” “Do you really think there’s someone that suits all of these, um, outfits?” he asked over the band, who’d turned their amps up louder now that people were hitting the dance floor. He gave a pair of sequined hot pants and a satin, cropped tee a doubtful look before arching a skeptical brow. Maybe because the outfit was the same nauseating green as his fur. “I think everyone, and everything, has a perfect match,” she said. Then she grimaced, worried her enthusiasm might be taken the wrong way—as if she were about to chase him down like a lovesick crazy woman who was looking for happy-ever-after forever promises. Instead of the right way, which was that they should get naked and see what happened when their bodies got sweaty together. What’d happened to her? Hailey was almost as shocked at her body’s reaction—instant horniness—as she was at her wild thoughts. She rubbed one finger against her temple, as if she could reset her normal inhibition levels. She needed to stick with cheap champagne from now on. Clearly she couldn’t handle the expensive stuff. “What type of lingerie would match you perfectly?” he wondered aloud. His tone was teasing, but the look on his face made her stomach tumble as the lust spun fast, tangling with nerves. To hell with resetting her inhibitions. This was way more fun. Her perfect match was a man who was there for her. Who wanted her for the long-term, not just for a convenient window of time. Perfect was fabulous sex, unquestioning support, faith in her abilities and enough love to want to actually dig in deep and be a part of her world, instead of flitting around the convenient edges. But that was all someday thinking. Tonight? Tonight perfect was dressed in green fur. As if he heard her thoughts, the flirtatious heat faded from Gage’s demeanor and his smile shifted from seductive to charmingly distant. Hailey frowned as his look intensified, as if he were inspecting the far corners of her soul. The parts she kept hidden, even from herself. Was he reading her mind when his eyes got all deep and penetrating like that? Did he know she was wondering if he was her match? Or was he the kind of guy who’d run, screaming with his furry tail between his legs, if he had a clue she was interested in more than business? Before she could wonder too much about it, though, the floor show kicked off. All of the models hit the dance floor, “Gangnam Style.” And Gage’s attention shifted, so the heat in Hailey’s belly had a chance to cool a little. “Now, that’s entertainment,” he said with a laugh, wincing as more than one model had to grab her chest to keep it from flying out while dancing. “It’s getting wild,” Hailey agreed, both amused and impressed at the same time. Wild or not, her designs looked great out there. Feminine and sexy. And it was nice to know her lingerie could dance horsey style. “What do you say?” Gage asked, leaning in close so his words teased her ear. Hailey shivered, her nipples leaping to attention and her mind fogging again. “Want to get out of here?” Despite her nipples’ rapid agreement, Hailey hesitated. She was willing to do a lot for her company. She was willing to do almost anything to get this contract. But while she was insanely attracted to Gage, she wasn’t sure leaving with him was something she’d be proud of once the champagne cleared her system. Correctly reading her hesitation, Gage gestured to the glass doors. “How about a walk through the conservatory? It’ll be quieter. We can talk, get away from the, um, dancing.” As if echoing his words, the music shifted to a raunchier beat. Hailey winced as the dancers shifted right along with it. A walk. That was safe. They would still be in a fairly public arena and she’d be close enough to the party to remind herself that this was business. That should keep her from trying to rip that fur off Gage’s body to see what was underneath. “Sure,” she agreed, accepting his invitation to tuck her arm into his. She tried to ignore the dance floor, where the hired help was doing a dance version of the upright doggy style. But she couldn’t help blushing. Not because the moves were tacky. But because she wished she could do them, too. She couldn’t, of course. Mostly because she was a lousy dancer. She could—and should—get out of here before the dancers, and the champagne, gave her any more naughty ideas, though. “A walk would be lovely.” * * * GAGE WELCOMED THE cool night air like an alcoholic welcomed that first hit of gin. With greedy need and a silent groan of gratitude. He’d been sweating like crazy in there. Was it because of this god-awful hideous costume? Or because of his body’s reaction to the sweet, little elf next to him? It had to be the costume. Because he never sweated over women. The lust wasn’t a new thing. He’d spent most of his life surrounded by gorgeous women, so lust was as very familiar to him as breathing. And it wasn’t as if he had problems mixing business and pleasure. Gage worked with too many beautiful women to hamper himself with silly rules or false moral restrictions. And while he wasn’t a cocky ass, he’d had enough success with the ladies to feel both comfortable and confident that he could handle anything a woman had to offer. Nope. He’d never had women problems. So clearly, it must be the costume. “Mr. Rudolph puts on quite a party,” Hailey said as she wandered between marble columns wrapped in twinkling white lights. “Do you attend often?” “This is my first,” he admitted. “How about you?” Gage didn’t wander. Instead, he scoped the room, found a semisheltered wall and leaned against it. That way, she could come to him. She didn’t, though. Instead, after an inscrutable look through those thick lashes, she shrugged and continued her slow meander through the conservatory. “This is my first, too. I’ve talked to plenty of people who are involved behind the scenes, though. If the rumors are true, things are going to get pretty wild and naked in there soon.” Behind the scenes? She must have a few models in there showing off the wares. Theirs, and the designers. He debated how long to wait and steer the conversation toward some of her other clients. A minute or two, maybe. First he needed to figure her out. Usually by this point, fifteen minutes into their first meet, he’d completely pegged a person. But Hailey the elf was a mystery. “You don’t sound disgusted by the idea of wild and naked,” he observed. Was she wilder than her sweet face and cute demeanor portrayed? His body stirred, very interested in finding out. “Everyone has the right to enjoy the holidays in their own special way,” she said, her laugh as light as the bells jingling on her hat. “And I like the idea that the lingerie samples might be so sexy, they inspire that kind of thinking.” “On the right woman, an elf hat and ballerina skirt inspires that kind of thinking,” he murmured quietly. Not so quietly that she didn’t hear, if the pale pink washing over her cheeks was any indication. She didn’t say anything, though. Just kept on wandering. “So what did you find most interesting this evening?” she asked, trailing her fingers along the edge of a larger-than-life, white wicker sleigh filled with a tree, gifts and more lights. “Were you here for the shoes? There were some gorgeous new lines being shown. Or are you more a women’s-wear kind of guy?” Her arch smile was teasing and filled with as much light as the twinkling display around them. Gage had to wonder if she was always this cheerful or if she’d been hit with a little too much holiday cheer. “I was only interested in the lingerie,” he said, figuring it was time to start winding the conversation toward her coveted client. “At least I was until I saw you. Everything else sort of faded at that point.” “Uh-huh,” she laughed. “Me versus a dozen perfect women in lingerie. I can see how you were torn between the two views.” “Do you doubt me?” At his mock offense, she stopped wandering and gave him a wide-eyed once-over. Then, finally, she joined him next to the nice, semiprivate wall. “Doubt the Grinch? A figure known for his good cheer, holiday honesty and love of everything sweet and cuddly?” Gage grinned. Damn, she was cute. “Is that what he’s for?” He looked down at the green fur monstrosity he was wearing and rolled his eyes. How appropriate. He had to hand it to his brother; the guy was clever with the inside jokes. “You don’t know? You’re supposed to be portraying your favorite holiday character.” “I lost a bet.” “So you’re not really all Grinchy about the holidays?” She tilted her head to one side as she asked the question, her bells tinkling as if to dare him to deny the joy of the season. Gage hesitated. He never tried to hide his disdain for the holidays, nor was he worried about offending a potential business associate over differing views. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to dim the sparkle in Hailey’s eyes. Sharing his opinion of Christmas would be akin to telling a four-year-old that Santa was a sleighload of crap. Which was exactly what his stepmother-du-jour had done to him. Instead, he did what he was best at. Sidestepped the question with a charming smile. “I promise you, I’ve never been called Grinchy in my life.” The speculation in her big eyes told him he might need to toss out a little more charming distraction. Otherwise, she seemed like the stubborn type. The kind who sweetly nagged at a person until they’d spilled their every secret, then thanked her for dragging them through the ugly memories. “How about you?” he asked. “Why is an elf your favorite holiday character?” “Elves are clever. They bring joy and create beauty, but they stay behind the scenes. They’re the cute and cuddly part of the background.” To emphasize her point, she offered a bright smile, tilted her chin toward her shoulder and twirled around so her skirt offered a tempting view of her stockings. Which, Gage’s mouth watered to realize, were thigh-high and held up with garters. “But elves don’t have their own movie,” he pointed out. “As grumpy as he is, even the Grinch gets top billing.” “Elf is a movie. And top billing usually comes with top headaches,” she pointed out. “Expectations and demands of excellence. Appearances, groupies, haters. Is all of that really worth the spotlight?” Gage frowned. Hell, yeah, it was worth it. The other option sounded kind of...forgettable. Who aspired to that? Maybe that was why she was an agent instead of striving to be the star, he guessed. Still... “Being on top is better than being on the bottom,” he pointed out. “Not always.” Her words were low, teasing and lilting with innuendo. The look in her eyes was hot, sexy. And way more appreciative of the view than he figured his costume warranted. But who was he to dissuade a gorgeous woman from appreciating him? His momma didn’t raise no fools. Of course, she didn’t raise her sons, either, but that was beside the point. Right now, the point was seeing how hot this spark could flame between him and the deliciously naughty elf. He stepped closer. Amusement and desire both clear on her face, Hailey stepped back. With a quick glance over his shoulder, as if gauging their privacy, she wet her lips. Gage almost groaned. He probably could have walked away before. Probably. But now? Seeing that full mouth damp and inviting? He wasn’t leaving without a taste. “Being on top has a few definite benefits,” he decided quietly, now having completely switched places so her back was against the wall and his toward the ballroom. “Does it? Like what?” Her eyes were huge, so big they were lost in the curls tumbling out from the white fur brim of her hat. Need, stronger than any he’d felt over a simple flirtation, surged through Gage’s body. He angled his body so Hailey was trapped between him and the wall. For a second, one delicious second, he just stared. Enjoyed the anticipation in her eyes. The rapid pulse fluttering in her throat. The tempting display of luscious flesh, mounded above the tight satin binding her breasts. The need intensified. Took on a sharp, hungry edge. “Like this,” he said, giving in to its demand. He took her mouth. He’d intended to be gentle. Sweet, even. But the kiss was carnal and raw and dancing on the edges of desperate. Tongues tangled. Lips slid, hot and wet. She tasted as sweet as she looked. But the sounds she made were sexual nirvana. Low, husky moans of approval as his hands skimmed over her waist to that tempting place just below her breasts. He didn’t touch. He just tortured the both of them with the idea that he could. Public, he forcibly reminded himself. They were practically in public, and if he did what he wanted, they’d be putting on a display for a ballroom full of people. Knowing if he didn’t stop now, that display was a very real possibility, Gage slowly, reluctantly, pulled his mouth from hers. It was harder than he’d thought it’d be. And not just between his legs. Unwilling to let go completely, his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head, Gage leaned closer. His body trapped hers as he pressed tiny kisses along her throat. Hailey’s head fell back, her breath coming fast, filling the air with tiny bursts of white fog. The move arched her back, so the long, delicious length of her throat was bare and those glorious breasts pressed higher against his chest. His hands burned with the need to cup her bounty. To weigh the soft flesh. To slide that candy-cane-striped fabric down and see if she was as tasty as he thought. Public, Gage reminded himself again. Keep it in control. Because while he wasn’t averse to a little public display of passion himself, he had the feeling that Hailey would be. Especially if some of those models in there were hers. Then her hands shifted, moving off his shoulders to press their way down his chest. Gage could feel their heat even through the thick fur of his costume. He shuddered with need, taking in the flush of rosy color washing over Hailey’s cheeks and pouring down her throat and chest to meet that tight satin. One taste couldn’t hurt, he decided. Even as his mind listed all the ways it actually could, he moved closer, so his body was tight against hers. As Hailey’s hum of pleasure filled the air, he pressed his mouth against the side of her throat, just under her ear, and gave in to the need to taste. She was delicious. Seriously worried for his sanity if she kept teasing him with those delicate fingers, Gage folded his hand over hers and pressed her palm flat against his chest. Then he grabbed the zipper tab and yanked. It didn’t move. The grabby need clawing at Gage’s libido slowed, even as the foggy desire tried to pull him back. He yanked again. Nothing. “Hell,” he muttered, pulling his mouth from Hailey’s. Unwilling to separate their bodies, he angled his head to peer at his chest. He got a better grip on the tab and pulled again. The zipper was stuck. “I can’t get it down.” “Well, I guess I’d rather hear that than you can’t get it up,” she said, her eyes dancing with laughter. Clearly a smart woman, Hailey pressed those lush lips together to keep it contained, though. Gage growled. And yanked. Nothing. This was not happening. His body straining against the thick fur of the costume from hell, he considered ripping it right off. “I guess the moment’s lost,” he said with a reluctant smile when she couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. He figured that was better than acting like a spoiled, tantrum-throwing asshole. Although he was reserving the right to throw the tantrum later in private. “Maybe not lost,” she said, her smile gentle now, her eyes bright with promise. “Maybe just delayed.” Gage considered the option of a delay over cancellation. It had a lot more appeal. And while he wasn’t so uptight that he had stupid rules about sex, clients and associates, he was also smart enough to know that women got funny about stuff. If Hailey thought he’d slept with her to get to her client, and to snag the deal, she’d go one of two ways. Give it to him because he was so damned good. Or withhold it out of spite. He didn’t see her as the spiteful type, but she didn’t come across as the kind of woman who’d take kindly to ulterior motives, either. Time for some careful maneuvering. “Why don’t I call you?” he offered. After a quick mental review of his calendar, he added, “I’m out of town for the next couple of days. Are you available for dinner on Wednesday? I’ll pick you up at six.” Her eyes were huge as she gave him a long look. It was the kind of look that’d usually make him nervous. A look filled with hope. With trust. With all those sweet, innocent emotions he’d never experienced in his life. It was scary as hell. His feet itched to run, even as his dick ached to stay. “I have a meeting on Wednesday,” she finally said. She reached up to trace her index finger over his lower lip, making Gage want to growl and nip at her soft flesh. Then, without warning, she ducked under his arm and shifted away. Scowling at how lost his arms felt all of a sudden, he turned to watch her stop a couple of feet away. What? Did she think looking at her instead of touching was going to simmer down the need boiling through his system? Impossible. She was pure eye candy. Still clinging with one hairpin, her hat was askew, dangling to one side. Blond curls, so soft when he’d tangled them in his fingers, were a bright halo around her face. And that face. Gage wanted to groan. He’d never gone for sweet. Sweet was dangerous. Sweet came with expectation, with demands. Sweet set off the run-don’t-walk sirens in his head. But he couldn’t resist Hailey. He wanted all of the sweetness she had to offer. But she was also the key to his winning this bet. And that, even more than the sirens, warned him to back off. At least until they’d settled their business. “Well, if you have plans...” he started to say. Before he could excuse his way out of dinner and suggest a more businesslike meeting, she interrupted. “Do you know Carinos?” she asked. He gave a hesitant nod. Upscale and trendy, Carinos was the latest see-and-be-seen hot spot. “How about I meet you there on Wednesday? We’ll need to make it seven instead of six, though. I’m not sure how late my meeting will go.” This was it. His chance to back out. But he couldn’t make himself suggest alternate plans. Gage tried to sort through his confused thoughts. Not an easy thing to do when he could barely stand, thanks to the throbbing hard-on he was sporting. Before he could decide if he should accept or counter, she smiled. That sweet, sexy smile that shut down his brain. Looking like a naughty elf, Hailey wet her lips. He wanted to groan at the sight of her small, pink tongue. And then, moving so fast she was a blur of blond, she kissed him. Hot, intense. A sweep of her tongue, a slide of her lips. Just enough hint of teeth to make him growl to keep from begging. Then, before he could take control, or hell, even react with more than a groan of appreciation for the hot spike of desire shooting through him, she moved back. “See ya Wednesday,” she said. With that, a little finger wave and a smile that showed just a hint of nerves around the edges, she was gone. Gage wanted to run after her. To grab her and insist she do something about the crazy desire she’d set to flames in his body. Except for two things. One, his dick was so hard, he couldn’t walk for fear of something breaking. And two, his mind was still reeling. He’d tried to blame the costume. Because he didn’t get stupid over women. Ever. But that cute little elf, with her candy-cane-sweet taste, had sent him so far into Stupidville, he might as well set up camp. Until he’d figured it out, he needed to stay away from her. Far, far away. Because horny was all good and well. And, he had to admit, stupid-horny was a pretty freaking awesome feeling. But stupid-horny and business? Not a good combination. At least, not when his freedom was on the line. 4 “YOU’RE GRINNING LIKE a kid who just found a dancing pony under her Christmas tree. What’s wrong with you?” Wrong? This was afterglow. Sexual anticipation. And a big ole dollop of nervous energy. It’d been three days since her kiss with Gage, and she was still floating. Hailey inspected her image in the ornate standing mirror in the corner of her workroom-slash-office. Behind her were swaths of billowing silk, yards of lace and spilling bins of roses and romantic trim. Only Doris would look at that and say it was wrong. Hailey peered past her reflection to the woman behind her. Doris Danson, or D.D. to her friends—which meant Hailey called her Doris—looked as if she were stuck in a time warp. Rounded and a little droopy, her white hair was bundled in a messy bun reminiscent of a fifties showgirl. Bright blue eye shadow and false lashes added to the image. Doris’s workday uniform consisted of polyester slacks, a T-shirt with a crude saying by a popular yellow bird and an appliqu? holiday sweater complete with beribboned dogs, candy canes and sequin-covered trees. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/tawny-weber/naughty-christmas-nights/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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