Mistletoe (3 page)

Diana’s eyes slowly found their way back to Jamison Nash. Scrutinizing for a moment, she turned and looked at Gwen.

“So, what’s wrong with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Phelan is a lecher of gargantuan proportions, and Willoughby is…well, Willoughby, and since Nash has been sitting over there by herself for almost an hour, I just assumed she had issues, too.”

“The only issue Jamie Nash has is that she’s as honest as the day is long, and she’ll give you the shirt off her back if you need it.”

“Then how did she end up with Phelan and Willoughby?”

“The firm was started by their grandfathers, and in Jamie’s case, her father. They all inherited their shares of the business from them.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a rumor going around that she wants to leave the firm, but I doubt that it’s true. It’s one of the best in New York, and with the income the three divisions generate, it helps pay for all her pro bono work. Personally, I think Willoughby just started it in hopes of grabbing up some of Jamie’s paralegals.”

“Pro bono?”

“Yeah, it means—”

“Gwen, I know what it means.”

“Oh, right,” Gwen said with a guilty smile. “Anyway, Jamie has a lot of causes, and when she’s not dealing with the corporate law side of things, she spends her time righting the wrongs of those less fortunate.”

“Sounds admirable.”

“It is. It’s actually the reason I wanted to work for Phelan, Willoughby and Nash. I’d love to work in her division, but since she’s the nicest of the three partners, the jobs aren’t readily available.”

“I can imagine.”

Noticing Phelan waving for her to join him, Gwen said, “Ted’s calling me again. You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think maybe I’ll go outside and get some fresh air.”

“Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Gwen said, giving Diana a quick smile before she headed in Phelan’s direction.

Seeing a clearing in the crowd, Diana made her way to the patio doors, and quietly slipped outside. Filling her lungs with clean, crisp winter air, she walked over to the iron railing surrounding the porch, and taking another deep breath, she looked up and smiled at the sight of the blue-black sky, dotted by hundreds of stars. A slight breeze caused a shiver to run down her spine, and briskly rubbing her arms, Diana was about to go back inside when she felt something being draped over her shoulders.

“What the fu—” Diana said, whipping around. Assuming that it was Phelan or one of his over-stuffed clients, when she came face-to-face with Jamison Nash, she stopped her sentence just short of embarrassing.

“Oh, sorry,” Diana said, offering the woman an apologetic smile. “I thought you were Mr. Phelan.”

“Well, in that case, I should consider myself lucky that I didn’t get slapped in the face,” the woman said with a chuckle, extending her hand. “I’m Jamie Nash.”

“Diana Clarke,” Diana said, returning the gesture. Impressed by the mixture of strength and softness in the woman’s grip, the slightest hint of sadness washed over Diana when their hands finally parted.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Jamie said, cupping her hands against the breeze to light her cigarette. “But you looked like you were cold.”

Diana’s eyes flew open. Realizing that she was still wearing Jamie’s suit jacket, she took it off and held it out.

“Oh, here, this is yours.”

Shaking her head, Jaime took the coat and again, draped it over Diana’s shoulders. “I’m fine. You're the one that's shivering.”

Although Diana welcomed the warmth of the satin-lined, worsted wool jacket, as she pulled it closer around her body, she half-heartedly tried one more time. “Are you sure?”

“Consider it my attempt at chivalry,” Jamie said with a wink.

“They say it’s dead…chivalry, I mean.”

“Well, there you go then. Because of you, it’s risen from the grave and will live for yet another day.”

Noticing the sleeves of Jamie’s crisp, white silk shirt billowing in the breeze, Diana snickered. “Yes, but will you? It’s freezing out here.”

Taking another drag of her cigarette, Jamie hunched her shoulders against the cold. “I’ll survive long enough to finish this.”

“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

With a snort, Jamie nodded her head.

“Touché.” Debating on how to keep the conversation going, Jamie’s thoughts were interrupted when a strong gust of frigid wind whipped across the patio, its iciness slicing through her blouse in an instant. Turning her back against the force of it, she blurted, “Holy Mother of God!”

Trying to hold back her giggle, Diana said, “You okay?”

“Yes, but I think chivalry just died again. Do you mind if we go back inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Diana said, flashing a quick grin as she headed for the door, but before she could reach for the knob, Jamie was there to open it.

“Allow me.”

“I thought chivalry just died?”

“It did, but you’re moving too slow.”

Once inside, Diana returned the jacket to its owner, and as Jamie slipped it on, she asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I thought they were free,” Diana said with a twinkle in her eye.

With a laugh, Jamie tried again. “Can I
get
you a drink?”

Finding herself enjoying the woman’s company, Diana said softly, “Yes, please.”

Managing to get through the throng of people standing in the middle of the room, as they reached the bar, Jamie asked, “What would you like?”

“Red wine, I think.”

Turning to the bartender, Jamie said, “Tony, two glasses of my wine, please.”

“
Your
wine?” Diana asked.

“I’m afraid that Phelan’s taste in wine matches his taste in decorating. I always bring a bottle,” Jamie said, handing Diana a glass. “I hope you like Syrah. It can be rather intense if you’re not used to it.”

Intrigued by Jamie’s description, Diana’s eyes never left Jamie’s as she brought the glass to her lips. Inhaling the bouquet of blackberry and cloves, she took a sip and smiled as her palate was pleasured by not only the flavors of the aroma, but also a hint of licorice and black currant.

“It’s marvelous,” Diana said, taking another sip.

A radiant smile graced Jamie’s face.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said softly, gesturing toward two empty barstools.

“Shall we?”

For the first time since she had walked into Ted Phelan’s house, Diana felt at ease. No longer concerned with the men leering at her, or the sound of Willoughby cackling somewhere in the room, Diana’s attention was focused on only one thing. Jamie Nash.

Unlike the rich and infamous milling about the room, and the pompous host who could be heard over the rest, crowing about his latest kill, Jamie seemed to be much like the wine she drank. Intense, but with just enough spice to make her interesting, and a teasing finish that kept you coming back for more…and Diana wanted more. Jamie’s air of charismatic confidence was refreshing. Captivated by her easy-going nature, Diana found herself looking forward to spending the rest of the evening sipping wine and chatting with the lawyer who was wearing an Italian suit tailored to absolute perfection.

Diana wanted to know the significance of the small signet ring Jamie wore on her pinky, and the name of the unbelievably provocative cologne she was wearing. As Diana was unconsciously breathing deep the fragrance, there was one more thing she noticed. Jamie Nash was gorgeous.

Tall and slender, with short golden-blonde hair and eyes the color of sapphires, Jamie’s beauty was flawless.

In direct contrast to the buxom brunettes and bouffant redheads roaming the room wearing obnoxiously large jewels on their fingers, wrists and necks, Jamie didn’t seem to need any enhancement to be beautiful. She just was.

Lost in her thoughts, Diana took a sip of wine. Totally unaware that she had just spent the last few minutes perusing Jamison Nash from head to toe, when she raised her eyes again and found Jamie smiling back at her, Diana’s cheeks flamed instantly.

Laughing at the sight of the woman’s blush, Jamie asked, “You always stare like that?”

“Actually, I don’t, but I was trying to figure out how a person like you could ever work with Ted Phelan.”

“A person like me?”

“Well, it’s obvious that Phelan considers himself a ladies’ man and looking the way you do—”

The words died in Diana’s throat when a devastating smile instantly appeared on Jamie’s face, and as if that wasn’t enough, when Jamie added a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of her head, Diana’s entire body tingled. The look was playful, but it was also sexy. It was beyond sexy.

Praying that her cheeks weren’t the color of the wine in her glass, Diana decided the only course of action was nonchalance…and more wine. After taking a healthy swallow of the Syrah, she simply said, “What I mean is, I would think that you’d be fighting him off every day. That’s all.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but you’ve got a few things wrong,” Jamie said, softening her smile.

“Such as?”

“Well, first, I don’t work with Phelan. He handles criminal law, and I handle corporate.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

With a grin, Jamie replied, “I suppose at times they can be, but my specialty is contracts and his is… well, his is keeping criminals out of jail.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Because there are a lot of people who will pay a lot of money not to go to prison, and even though Phelan can be an ass at times, he knows the law like the back of hand. He knows where all the loopholes are, and he’s a master at knowing precedents
and
setting them.

And he can cast such a large shadow of doubt over evidence presented, that even the criminal starts believing that they didn’t commit the crime.”

“You sound like you respect him.”

Pausing for a moment, Jamie said, “I respect the man’s knowledge, but not the man, if that makes sense.”

“Does he respect you?”

“No,” Jamie said with a snort.

“Why not?”

“Because Phelan’s work takes him down into the trenches, and mine takes me to elevators leading to the fortieth floor.”

“Oh, I see,” Diana said, taking a sip of wine. “But Gwen said you do a lot of pro bono work.”

Hearing the familiar name, Jamie blanched. “Oh, Christ, please tell me you’re not one of Phelan’s clients.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“You just mentioned Gwen, and I’m assuming you mean Gwen Fowler.”

“I do.”

“She works in Ted’s division.”

“And she’s also my best friend. Her husband is out of town, so she asked me to be her escort tonight.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jamie said, emptying what was left in her glass in one swallow. “That’s why I hate coming to these things. You never know who you’re talking to, and you can easily wind up putting your foot in your mouth.”

“Is that something you do often?”

“What’s that?”

“Put your foot in your mouth?”

“No, it only seems to happen when I find myself in the company of a beautiful woman.”

While she was in no way offended by the words Jamie had spoken, Diana found herself struggling to respond.

Having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that she took pleasure knowing Jamie found her attractive, Diana’s confusion showed in her expression.

Misreading the look on Diana’s face, Jamie quickly said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

A strange feeling washed over Diana, and although she was confused by it, the wine had warmed her blood enough to lower her inhibitions just a tad. Raising her eyes to meet Jamie’s, in the sexiest voice she could produce, Diana asked, “Why, don’t you think I’m beautiful?”

It was all Jamie could do not grunt out loud at the feeling of her libido coming to life between her legs.

Her attendance had been mandatory.

Arriving on time, she had been met by Phelan at the door and then allowed herself to be led around the room, shaking the hands of men she loathed. It was an act, and both Phelan and she knew it, but it was required, and in a few weeks, he would return the favor.

Such was their relationship. It was a co-existence necessary in order to keep their firm on the top ten list, and while there was no love lost between them, neither would allow their disdain for each other to damage the company their families had started decades before.

Deciding that three hours would be enough time to fulfill her obligation to Phelan, Willoughby and Nash, Jamie staked her claim at the end of the bar and waited patiently for the clock to strike ten. Rarely looking up from her wine glass, she didn’t notice Diana Clarke until she walked outside for a smoke.

Somewhat surprised to see a woman in attendance wearing a simple black knit dress, rather than something glitzy and two sizes too small, when she noticed Diana shivering in the cold night air, Jamie didn’t think twice before lending the woman her jacket. She had no ulterior motive, and no strings were attached to the comfort that she offered.

It was a simple gesture of friendship to a faceless stranger in need. It was, in fact, the essence of Jamie Nash, but when Diana turned around and Jamie found herself looking at the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her life, her plan to leave the party precisely at ten went straight out the window.

Taking a sip of wine, Jamie mentally scolded her lower half for not behaving itself. Up until that moment, the mood had been playful and friendly, and Jamie didn’t want it to change. Sensing just a hint of whimsy in Diana’s provocative tone, Jamie lowered her eyes and allowed them to travel slowly up Diana’s body. When her eyes met Diana’s, Jamie said, “You’ll do, I suppose.”

Tossing back her head, Diana burst out laughing, and the sound of her mirth brought yet another smile to Jamie’s face.

“Well, it sounds like you’re having fun,” Gwen said as she emerged from the crowd. “Good evening, Miss Nash.”

Shaking her head, Jamie said, “Gwen, I’ve told you a dozen times to call me Jamie. Now please, drop the formalities.”

Offering an apologetic smile in Jamie’s direction, Gwen touched Diana on the sleeve. “Phelan is on his way to one hell of a hangover, so we can leave now. He won’t miss me, and even if he does, he won’t remember it in the morning.”