Mistletoe (2 page)

“After last year’s fiasco, the partners all decided that it would be best to keep their clientele separated.”

Pausing for a moment, Diana thought back to the previous year. Chuckling as she remembered the story Gwen had told her, she said, “Oh, I forgot about that.”

“Yes, well, the firm lost a few clients shortly afterward, so Willoughby came up with the idea of having separate parties. Personally, I think she was just trying to save money.”

“What do you mean? I would think three parties would be a hell of a lot more expensive than one.”

“You’re absolutely right, but since each gathering is catering to a specific division—”

“Oh, let me guess. The partners each pay for their own party.”

“Yep, and trust me, that little detail has Lillian Willoughby’s name written all over it. Frugal old biddy.”

With a snigger, Diana said, “You’re making her sound positively lovely.”

Rolling her eyes, Gwen snickered.

“She’s hardly lovely, trust me, but it’s probably the reason she’s such a good divorce lawyer.”

“How so?”

“Mrs. Willoughby looks like she could be anyone’s mother, but behind that chubby-cheeked smile and those fluttering eyelashes of hers, is a pit bull waiting to rip the arms and legs off of some unsuspecting, soon-to-be, ex-wife.”

“Wait. She only represents the husbands?”

Nodding her head, Gwen said, “She’s as old school as you can get. I’ve been told that she absolutely adored her father. Quite the daddy’s girl apparently, so in her eyes, all men are perfect. If a marriage goes south, it’s because the woman wasn’t doing her job.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“That’s Lillian Willoughby,” Gwen said with a laugh. “To say the least, she’s a piece of work.”

“Well, then I’m glad I chose this party to attend, instead of hers.”

“You’re not that lucky.”

“Huh?”

“She’ll be there tonight.”

“But this is Phelan’s party.”

“Yes, but all the partners have to attend each other’s party, so they can represent the firm as a whole. It was part of the deal.”

“Oh, so I’ll meet all three?”

“Well, you’ll definitely meet Ted Phelan.”

“Is he really as bad as you make him out to be?”

“He’s worse,” Gwen said with a sigh as she leaned back in the seat.

“He’s a braggart who thinks he’s got the answer to every woman’s problem in his trousers. And when he sees you, Willoughby will be the least of
your
worries.”

“Gwen!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you alone with him, at least not for too long.”

“What do you mean…not for too long? You better not leave me alone with him for a second!”

“I’m going to have to mingle.”

“Then I’ll mingle with you,” Diana said, crossing her arms. “The last thing I need is some egotistical lawyer trying to get me into his bed!”

~~~

Entering the home of Theodore Phelan, Diana was helped out of her coat by a butler standing at the ready near the front door. Waiting for Gwen to do the same, Diana straightened her black jersey knit dress and took a few moments to look around the entrance hall. Seeing open-mouthed mementos of hunting trips hanging on almost every wall, and several golf trophies proudly displayed on nearby tables, Diana was fairly certain that Theodore Phelan was a bachelor, and absolutely positive that he was proud of it.

“Come on,” Gwen said, gesturing toward a large archway. “That’s the living room. I’m sure we’ll find something to drink in there.”

“Works for me,” Diana said with a grin. Her high-heels clicking across the parquet floor, she followed Gwen to the doorway and peered inside. Diana wasn’t impressed.

Rustic and manly, the khaki walls were accented by thick, walnut-stained moldings, and huge ebony timbers ran across the ceiling, casting an oppressive darkness over the spacious room. Area rugs with hunting motifs covered the floor, and the two patio doors on the far wall were framed in drapes the color of mud. If it wasn’t for the narrow, artificial Christmas tree in the corner of the room, decorated with one strand of multi-colored lights thrown haphazardly over its branches, the décor could have been easily described with just one word. Brown.

Mentally shaking her head, Diana walked inside and immediately wished that she hadn’t. Cigar smoke hung in the air, and mixed with the pungent smell of an overabundance of perfume and cologne, her eyes immediately began to water. Blinking a few times to clear the sting, she was finally able to scan the room. Having paid more attention to her surroundings than to the men and women milling about, it quickly became apparent why Gwen had preferred not to come alone. Although Diana was fairly certain that she had never personally met any of those in attendance, she knew who they were. She read the newspaper, and she watched the news.

Theodore Phelan’s expertise was criminal law, but his clients weren’t just any criminals. Hiding behind their three-piece suits, chains of gold and rings encrusted with diamonds, these were the men who made their living off of other people’s pain. Their millions had been earned by the promises of protection offered to those less fortunate, and by the illegal drugs their workforce sold in alleyways and office buildings. Women walking the street in stilettos and miniskirts also contributed to their fund, as well as politicians needing a bit of help in swaying their constituents’ votes.

These were the men who ruled the underworld, and by the looks of some of the women accompanying them, Diana couldn’t help but wonder if a few of the ladies hadn’t made their home on street corners at one time in their lives.

In sequined dresses plunging low in the front and high in the hem, the women who had their arms hooked through those belonging to Phelan’s clientele had been nipped and tucked to perfection. Their over-amplified bosoms strained against the glittery fabric holding them captive, and their makeup had been applied in a thickness equaling grout. Sipping their champagne from hollow-stemmed glasses, they giggled and tickled their way through conversations they didn’t understand, but no one seemed to care.

The only knowledge they were required to share would come later in the night… and it would be carnal.

With the room overflowing with people, Diana glanced back at Gwen for directions to the bar, but when she saw the false smile painted on her friend’s face, Diana slowly turned around.

Confidently striding toward her was a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying brown hair and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to be locked on Diana as if she was a beacon in the night.

He had noticed her as soon as she walked into the room. With the help of three-inch high heels, her calves were stretched and shapely, and her dark-brown hair, worn loose and flowing, shimmered in the light. Compared to the other women attending his party, her garb was plain, but the more he ogled, the more his mouth watered, and the more he realized that she didn’t need silks, satins and rhinestones to get attention. She did it in a simple black dress that hugged every curve she owned.

“Now, who do we have here?” Ted Phelan said, leering at Diana.

“Mr. Phelan,” Gwen began. “This is my friend, Diana Clarke. Since Adam’s out of—”

Brushing off Gwen’s statement with a shake of his head, he extended his hand to Diana. “Ted Phelan. Pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

“Thank you,” Diana said, taking his hand. Trying not to blanch at the damp palm pressed against hers, she smiled back, and as soon as he let go of her hand, Diana straightened her dress in an attempt to wipe off the sweat. Watching as he tried his best to undress her with his eyes, Diana fought the urge to scold the man for his rudeness. However, remembering that he was Gwen’s boss, she bit her lip and forced herself to smile.

“I must say, that dress does things to me. If you know what I mean,” Ted said with a wink.

Raising her chin, Diana looked him in the eye. Debating for only a moment, she replied, “I’m afraid they probably wouldn’t have it in your size, Ted, but I’ll be more than happy to give you the name of the shop where I bought it, if you’d like.”

Narrowing his eyes, he quickly glanced in Gwen’s direction and then back at Diana. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that,” he said with a smarmy leer. “But I’m a man who loves the challenge of the hunt.”

Without missing a beat, Diana said, “Yes, I noticed all those poor dead animals hanging on your walls. Did you chase them down and kill them with your bare hands?”

Straightening his shoulders, Phelan looked around the room. Refusing to allow his agitation to show, he returned his gaze to Diana, and then again, blatantly allowed his eyes to take in her view. His annoyance growing when she didn’t blink an eye at his perusal, he decided to cut his losses. “Perhaps later, you and I can talk more, but right now I need to go take care of my guests. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. Please don’t let me keep you,” Diana said, displaying a half-hearted smile.

Without saying another word, Phelan walked away, and immediately Diana turned to Gwen and said, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“He’s your boss.”

“True, but he’s also an ass, and by the end of the night, he’ll have enough scotch in him to sink a ship. Trust me, Diana, he won’t remember a thing. Now, let’s go get a drink.”

A
little man wearing a floppy, pointed cap and dressed in an outfit of red and green pranced into the house unnoticed. He smelled of peppermint and sugar cookies, and the bells on his clothes jingled with every step he took, but those around him were completely ignorant of his existence. Even though he had the ability to become visible to the men, women and children who lived outside of Santa’s village if he so desired, tonight his mission was stealth.

Being slightly shorter than a yardstick, on his back, he carried a small sack filled with the essentials of someone vertically challenged. After weaving his way through the legs of the people who filled the room, he reached the fireplace and opened his backpack.

Taking out a magic ladder, he extended it to the mantle and quickly scampered up the rungs. Perched on the shelf, he pulled a small photograph from his pocket and looked out over the room.

His eyes darted from one woman to the next, and frowning that none matched the lady in the picture Santa had given him, he put it back in his pocket and sighed.

Ever vigilant, he remained sitting cross-legged on the shelf until he finally saw her walk into the room. He smiled. She was pretty.

His intention had been to stay on the mantle until it was time for her to leave, but the cigar smoke in the air had risen around him, encasing him in a smelly, hazy cloud. Noticing that Diana had taken a seat in the far corner of the room to enjoy some appetizers, he leapt at the chance to get away from the second-hand smoke for a few minutes. Sliding down the ladder, he took a deep breath of the slightly fresher air. Catching a whiff of the hors d'oeuvres being served, his stomach began to grumble, and nimbly scurrying through the crowd, he stepped up to the table of food and quickly perused the selection. Curling his lip at the sight of the vegetable tray, he ate a few bits of cheese from a platter before dipping some chips into a taco dip.

Shrugging his shoulders at the remaining selection, he stuffed a few bread rolls in his pocket, and was about return to his lookout point when he felt something being poured over his head. Jumping back from the table, Percy looked up to see the host of the party weaving above him with an empty glass in his hand.

Taking a sniff of the liquid covering his outfit, Percy smiled. Scotch.

Even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to drink on duty, Percy was an adult, albeit a very small one, and he was thirsty. Deciding that a few sips wouldn’t hurt, he picked up an empty glass, rung out his cap and returned to the fireplace mantle with the dregs in hand. It wasn’t much, but it was, after all, scotch. Sipping the liquor, he snacked on the dinner rolls and watched as the evening progressed, patiently waiting to complete his task.

~~~

Finding Diana hiding out near the table filled with finger-foods on silver trays, Gwen asked, “Where’s your drink?”

“I decided that I best stay sober,” Diana answered, her eyes darting around the room.

“Why? I can’t get drunk because technically, I’m working, but there’s no reason why you can’t have some fun.”

“Gwen, in the past two hours, I’ve been called honey, darling, sweetheart, cutesy,
and
little lady. Six men have asked for my phone number. Two tried to get me to go upstairs, and one patted me on my ass!”

“Sorry, but now you know why Adam didn’t want me to come alone,” Gwen said with a snicker.

“Well, at least you’re married! I feel like any minute I’m going to be put up for auction!”

Giggling, Gwen gave Diana a hug.

“I’m sorry. I guess I owe you one – huh?”

“Yes, you do, so how about paying up now, and let’s get out of here.”

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have a few more meet-and-greets to do. I’m sorry.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Diana was about to plead her case when a loud, cackling laugh overwhelmed the room. Flinching at the noise, she looked over her shoulder and saw a dumpy woman wearing an overly tight, green satin dress.

“Let me guess, Lillian Willoughby?” Diana said quietly.

“How could you tell?” Gwen answered with a grin. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

Playfully shuddering, Diana said, “Not if you value our friendship.”

Returning her attention to the bar area for a second, she asked, “So, who’s the other woman?”

“Which one?”

“The blonde by the bar.”

Looking in that direction, Gwen smiled. “Oh, that’s the other partner, Jamison Nash.”

For the past hour, Diana had been intrigued by the woman. She seemed an anomaly in a room filled with pomp.

Dressed in a gray, double-breasted tailored suit, she had an aura of elegant simplicity about her. There was no man on her arm, nor did she appear to need one, and although she was surrounded by bling, she didn’t seem to notice.

Apparently more at ease chatting with the bartender than mingling among the guests, she stood sipping her wine, occasionally glancing at her watch as the evening slowly moved along.