Christmas Miracle
Authors: Violette Dubrinsky
Table of Contents
Christmas Miracle ©2014 Violette Dubrinsky/VAD Vision Media
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CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
Violette Dubrinsky
Dedication
For my readers.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Melanie Samuels is not fond of Christmas. In fact, she’s not really fond of anything that doesn’t include making her public relations firm even better than it currently is. She’s been called many things before, “cold” being the one most frequently used. Not that she cares. As long as her business is prospering, and she’s raking in profits, Melanie is as “happy” as can be. An encounter with a new potential client begins to change that.
Sebastian Cameron Mackintosh doesn’t need a publicist. He’s a businessman, not a celebrity, though the paparazzi seem intent on ignoring that fact. Still, when the person who thinks he’s in dire need of one is his relentless little sister, he has no choice but to show up to the appointment. Expecting a short and boring meeting, Cameron is instead intrigued by the cool, stoic Melanie Samuels, owner of the MS Agency.
Within days, intrigue turns to more, and before long, Cameron is completely smitten with her. All he has to do is convince Melanie Samuels to take a chance and trust him.
With all the baggage that Melanie carries around daily, it will be a Christmas Miracle if she does...
Chapter One
The quick tapping of well-manicured nails against the polished mahogany desktop was the only indication of Melanie Samuels’ impatience. Her face, usually composed and seemingly relaxed, was currently a stoic mask. Lifting her gaze, she eyed her closed office door once more.
Where was he?
The silver watch on her wrist easily confirmed that it was ten minutes after one, which meant that she’d just wasted ten minutes of time she did not have.
Picking up her phone, she dialed her secretary. Fiona answered immediately, her voice soft and cautious as she asked, “Yes, Ms. Samuels?”
“Fiona, where’s my one o’clock?”
There was a brief silence at the other end of the line, and Melanie imagined Fiona Clark was biting her lip, a habit Melanie found annoying but that her secretary could never seem to shake.
“Ah, I’m not sure, Ms. Samuels.”
“Did you call yesterday to confirm with his secretary that the appointment was today at one o’clock sharp?”
“Well, Ms. Samuels, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to…”
Melanie was not prone to eye-rolling but in that moment, she felt a compelling need to do so. “It’s either a yes or a no, Fiona.”
“No.” Melanie inhaled deep and Fiona rushed on, “But I called two days ago.”
“Call his secretary now.” She paused briefly, waiting for Fiona to reply. When she heard the secretary’s appropriate, “Yes, Ms. Samuels,” Melanie added, “And Fiona, it is standard protocol to call a day before the appointment to make sure that the client actually can make it. We work with celebrities and people whose schedules are terrible at best, impossible at worst.”
“Of course, Ms.—”
“I wouldn’t like to have to tell you this again.” She shouldn’t have to tell her secretary how to do her job, particularly as said secretary had been working for her for almost two years now. Without waiting for a response, Melanie replaced the phone on its receiver.
She waited five more minutes before opening the sleek laptop on her desk and signing in. If he were any other client, she would have told Fiona to call his secretary and cancel. She’d done the same many times before to upstart actors and musicians who thought the world needed to stop because they’d had one concert, or over a million views on a video search engine.
As one of the most sought after publicists in New York City, Melanie Samuels did
not
chase clients.
Still, Sebastian Cameron Mackintosh was not just any client. He was a very big client, one that every noteworthy publicist had been trying to snag since he’d used a meager inheritance to create one of the largest software companies in Europe. From there, Sebastian had expanded his empire, buying up real estate, and investing in stocks and government bonds. He’d even managed to get by with relatively minor losses in the economic recession. And he was still expanding. Somewhere along the way, and in large part because of his looks, he’d become the playboy darling of the media. She’d imagined this was what Bill Gates would have suffered had he been intensely handsome and born into the generation of smart phones and reality TV.
There were snapshots and videos of him with actresses, athletes, singers, all of whom had one thing in common: they were perfectly put together genetically, and in some cases plastic anomalies. Melanie could not remember one month since Sebastian’s first appearance in a tabloid that there had been no mention of him.
He was a handsome man, in a tall, brooding sort of way. She’d have to be blind not to notice how his thick, shoulder length hair seemed a mixture of blacks, browns and reds in most of the magazine and tabloid pictures she’d rifled through. How his dark brows framed eyes of Caribbean-waters blue. How his nose, straight though bumped slightly at the bridge, gave his face an even more dangerous and seductive appeal. How his thin lips always curved up into an easy smile or smirk. And in his long, angular face, everything fit as if placed there by God himself. That seemed overly dramatic, except the man was physically perfect.
Even as she gave him his due, Melanie shook her head. That was how the world saw him, and that was what would draw the women and some men. But not her. Handsome men had long since stopped affecting her, so while she appreciated his looks, she did so with a critical, impersonal eye.
She was looking over his file once more, searching for little details that would show him how efficient she was, and how effectively her company would handle his image in the overly critical media, when Fiona called her. “Yes?”
“Mr. Mackintosh is here, Ms. Samuels. Would you like me to send him in?”
Eyes shifting to the clock, Melanie saw that it was now one thirty. Making a mental note of that, she answered, “Yes. Please send him in.”
***
Sebastian Cameron Mackintosh strolled into the spacious office with his best smile and a twinkle in his eyes. He was late and underdressed. In fact, he’d forgotten all about this meeting because of the simple fact that he found it altogether useless.
He did not see the need in having a publicist.
He was a businessman. He was not a celebrity, no matter how much the paparazzi seemed to treat him like one. If he hadn’t gone and hooked up with that journalist in London…what was her name…Greely, no Gracie…and that actress in Paris…and those Dutch twin sister singers…
He shook his head. Not that it mattered. After those relationships the entire world of journalists and paparazzi had taken an interest in him, and they’d probably done more damage than good. He’d stepped into meetings with female CEOs who glared at him as if he’d wronged them personally, and had known automatically that they’d heard or read of his reputation, which even he admitted was full of gross exaggerations.
Still, it was publicity, and a wise man had once told him that good or bad, publicity sells. He was here today out of curiosity. Well, that and because his sister, who’d appointed herself his unofficial secretary despite his having two official ones, had been constantly reminding him of it. He’d just left a casual lunch with an old friend when he received a text with so many exclamation points, he could almost hear Adeline’s shrill voice in his head.
Now, walking over to the woman standing before the huge desk, he reached out his hand and shook hers. Immediately, he recognized two things. Melanie Samuels was quite a beauty, and she smelled wonderful. Whatever perfume she wore was subtle with a slight hint of lavender...
His gaze roamed her body in appreciation. Despite her black blazer, dark gray blouse, black skirt, and black stockings—perhaps she was in mourning—he could make out the delicate curve of her bosom. When he released her hand, and she turned ever so slightly to reach for a file, he noted the round curve of her ass. At university, his circle of friends had debated which part of the female they appreciated more: breasts or ass. They’d split down the middle: half of his friends were certified “ass men” and the other half fonder of breasts. He had been unable to choose as both parts were equally succulent. It really depended on the woman, and from the looks of things, it seemed Melanie Samuels wanted to push him in the direction of being more favorable of the bottom.
“Please, have a seat, Mr. Mackintosh.” Her voice was like warm milk, smooth and easy to absorb. He did as she asked, smiling all the way. Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Call me Cameron,” he murmured in a low voice, tossing her a wicked grin when she lifted her eyes to his. He expected a blush or at least a smile, but Melanie Samuels simply nodded and went back to scanning her file. He waited for her to take her seat before following.
She spent the next half an hour telling him why her company would be best suited to his needs. She explained everything. He was sure she did, although he didn’t remember one word she said as his gaze and mind were trained on her face.
While her full lips received most of his attention, he also studied her hair, which was parted down one side and pulled behind her ears in a short, bob-like cut. Although it was an incredibly short, almost masculine cut, with her small face, it worked on Melanie. Her eyes, dark pools of molasses, slanted upward at the sides, were beautiful but seemed a bit dull.
When the presentation was over, she asked if he had any questions. When he answered in the negative, she promptly escorted him to the door, told him if he had any questions he could reach her by the business card she’d given or through her secretary, and said goodbye.
Shock kept him silent for many minutes. Usually, he was the one to end meetings. People didn’t rush him out of their offices, especially people who wanted his business…
“Oh, Melanie?”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her first name on his lips, and Cameron smiled to himself. Although he’d given her leave to call him by his first name, she hadn’t returned the favor. In fact, through the presentation, he’d noticed that her expression never changed. She always looked perfectly composed. Was she even this composed during sex? He doubted it. At least she wouldn’t be during sex with him. He’d make sure of it. Just as he would make sure that there would be sex.
“Yes,
Mr. Mackintosh
?”
His smile grew even larger as she seemed to emphasize his last name.
“I’d like to hear more about your firm.” He tried to remember the name of the PR agency, MS or ML, something. He gave up. It was one of the newer agencies, but according to his sister, Melanie’s name in the PR world was the equivalence of royalty.