Mistletoe Maneuvers (9 page)

As they stood there, they were joined by a couple carrying a Christmas tree. Off to their right, a young boy sat on his father's shoulders as he hugged a bag from FAO Schwarz.

“Are you done with your shopping?” she asked Rick as they turned to the corner.

“I haven't started. But usually I just give gift certificates. What about you?”

“My aunt is always complaining about the cold, so I got her a cashmere sweater and scarf.”

Lessa stopped. The Rockefeller tree, sparkling with thousands of tiny multicolored lights, stood before them. “Do you mind if I take a closer look?” she asked, nodding toward Rockefeller Center. “I don't usually walk this way.”

“I'm in no hurry,” he said.

“Are you too cold?” she asked. “I'd be happy to give you back your coat.”

“I'm just right,” he said, taking her arm as they crossed
the street. It was the protective gesture of a gentleman, but suddenly there was an electrical current in the air. Something had shifted between them. By that subconscious response, they had gone from co-workers sharing a stroll to a man and woman sharing an evening out.

They walked to the edge of the street balcony and looked down on the skaters below. Despite the rain, it was a beautiful scene. The giant Christmas tree, the skaters, the shoppers, all framed against a background of sparkling lights. She inhaled deeply, smelling air redolent with fresh pine and roasted chestnuts. “I love this time of year,” she said quietly.

He smiled. “Follow me.” He took her hand and led her into the building beside them.

What did he have in mind? He glanced at her and winked as the guard got approval for them to enter. Rick led her to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. When the doors opened, he led her down a hall to the stairwell. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“Up,” Rick said, climbing the stairs. “A friend of mine owns this building. Every year he has a Christmas party on the roof.” He reached the top and opened the door.

She followed him out and stopped. Rockefeller Center, lit up in all its holiday glory, was directly in front of them. “It's beautiful,” she said, impressed that he had taken the time to show it to her.

He moved closer, holding the umbrella over her head. Their eyes locked. After a moment's pause, he broke the trance and looked away. “I should get going.”

“Me, too,” she said. “I promised my Gran that I would bring back a tree tonight.”

“By yourself?”

“I always do it by myself.”

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised. If any woman is capable of carrying a tree home by herself, it's you. Come on,” he said, taking her arm. “Let's go get that tree. There's a place I know on Lexington. It's a short walk from there to your apartment.”

“But what about your car—” she said, surprised by his offer.

“I'll come back for it.”

“You don't have to help me.”

“I insist,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe it'll help me capture some Christmas spirit.”

“Then you have to take back your coat,” she said, staunching his protests.

When they made their way back outside, Lessa stopped. The rain had turned to snow. “Look at this,” she exclaimed excitedly as she stretched out her hand to catch a snowflake. “A perfect time to get a tree.”

He put away his umbrella and, declining a cab, together they walked through the white-dusted world.

The Christmas-tree place could be seen and heard from a block away. “Here Comes Santa Claus” was playing over a speaker, and blinking, multicolored lights stretched from a lamppost to the greengrocer/tree store. A giant plastic Santa sat on the corner, smoking a pipe and watching over the festivities. Usually, picking out a tree was something Lessa did fairly quickly, as if knocking a chore off her list. But not tonight. Tonight she was more than happy to take her time. The salesman pointed to a fat evergreen and said to Rick, “Why don't you get your sweetheart the best tree we have?”

Lessa began to correct the man, but stopped. What
difference did it make if a stranger thought they were lovers?

Rick just grinned and said, “How about it, sweetheart?”

“If that's what you want, dear,” she said, playing along.

Before she could stop him, Rick had bought the Christmas tree. “You didn't have to do that,” she said.

“I have a secret motive. I wanted to get first dibs on the front. You take the stump,” Rick said, holding on to the prickly part. “And lead the way.”

Actually he had the tree more or less by the middle and was hefting the majority of the weight. “But you've got the worst part.”

“First dibs, remember? No argument.”

She smiled at his gallant act, accepted his kindness and started down the sidewalk.

“You usually do this by yourself?” he asked.

“I usually don't pick the biggest tree on the lot.”

He laughed and raised it over his head to avoid hitting some fellow walkers. She knew the tree was heavy but Rick made it seem as light as a feather. Once again, she remembered the muscles she'd seen in his arms and torso. She had no doubt he was capable of carrying the whole tree and more. The shrill ring of a cell phone cut off her thoughts. “Hold on a second,” Rick said, putting down the tree. He swung open his phone. “Hello.” His voice visibly softened. “Yeah, I'm sorry about that. No, don't leave. Give my apology to your family. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

She felt her heart drop. It was a woman, that much was obvious. And whomever she was, she was waiting for him with her family. Why had he told Lessa he wasn't seeing anyone right now? Had he lied to her?

“This is it,” she said, nodding toward her brownstone.

She buzzed herself in and together they carried the tree up the flight of stairs to her apartment. The smell of pine filled the hall as her thoughts drifted back to the woman who had called, the one who was waiting for him. Lessa couldn't believe she had actually admitted to Rick that she wished for someone to kiss under the mistletoe. Regardless of what he had said, she doubted he was ever lacking a date under the mistletoe, love or no love.

She unlocked her apartment and led him inside. “Right in the corner,” she said. The tree barely made it, skimming the ceiling. “Perfect,” she said. “Now it feels like Christmas.”

Rick's black cashmere coat was covered with needles. Without thinking, she brushed them off and said, “Thank you.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said. Then he leaned toward her and for a split second she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he brushed a piece of wet hair away from her lips.

It was an act of intimacy, a lover's touch. She forced herself to move, determined to mask her inner turmoil with a deceptive calmness. Too tongue-tied to say anything, she opened the door.

He smiled but there was something in his eyes that gave her pause. A sadness. With her heart in her throat, she said, “Have fun tonight.”

 

Rick barely made it to the awards dinner in time.

“Where have you been?” Betty asked as he hurried though the door. “I thought you were going to be here at eight.”

“I was…delayed.”

“Delayed?” she asked, taking his coat and straightening his tuxedo tie. “I barely saw my family tonight. I missed our weekly dinner out because I was worried I wouldn't make it in time.”

She had already told him that when she'd called. “I'm sorry,” Rick said. “I ran into Lessa on the way out.”

“So now it's ‘Lessa,' is it?” Betty teased.

“She was on her way to get a Christmas tree,” Rick said, ignoring her comment. “She needed help.”

“Let me get this straight,” Betty said, taking a step back and raising an eyebrow. “You were late to the New York Business Dinner because you needed to help Alessandra Lawrence get her Christmas tree? I'm shocked. You hate Christmas and everything surrounding it.”

“This wasn't about Christmas. It was about helping someone.”

“Surprise number two.” She grinned. “You know, there's a rumor going around that you're falling for a certain chairwoman. I'm beginning to think there might be some truth to that.”

Ever since he had returned from the Bahamas, he had been unable to stop thinking about Lessa. The woman he had gotten to know in the Bahamas was much more complex than the narrow-minded woman he knew from the office. He had seen her only occasionally since their return, but each time, his heart had soared. He had actually found himself looking forward to the office Christmas party simply because it would be an opportunity for him to spend time with her again.

When he didn't reply, Betty continued. “Unless it's
something else. You said you were determined to destroy her. Did you mean emotionally as well?”

Did Betty really think that he would seduce Lessa just to get revenge? “Is that what you think of me?”

“I know all about the fake romance, remember? And no one was around to see you picking out a tree. So what's it all about?”

“Am I up yet?” he said, glancing toward the stage as he checked his watch. He had been asked to announce an award.

“It's guilt, isn't it?” she said, ignoring his question. “She fell for you and now you feel guilty. And you should, too. Everyone knew she had a crush on you when she was young. You were her first love. I'm sure she's confused right now, poor thing.”

“Poor thing? Just a week ago you were worried she was going to fire you.”

“Well, she didn't. And she didn't even manage to fire you either. I just think she bit off more than she could chew. And now she's fallen in love with the man she thought she hated. She's probably imagining a romantic Christmas with you and her snuggled in front of a fire, and instead—”

“Betty,” he said sharply, stopping her. “It's only been a week. She's not confused. She's got a lot of confidence. She's fully aware that this truce between us is only temporary.”

“She may be saying that, but her actions proved otherwise, right?” She crossed her arms. “I can tell you right now that a Christmas tree is not going to be enough. If you feel bad about her getting her own tree, I can't imagine how you must feel taking away her company.”

“I wish there was some other way to handle this, but there isn't.”

Betty hesitated and said, “So you're going through with this?”

He didn't have to ask what she meant. He knew. Could he really destroy Lessa? “There's no choice.”

S
he had just finished slipping her new red velvet dress over her head when Lessa heard a knock on the door. She glanced nervously at her aunt and said, “He's here and I'm not ready.”

“Take your time,” her aunt said, cracking her knuckles. “I'm looking forward to meeting this Rick Parker.”

Her aunt's gracious words didn't fool Lessa. She knew that her aunt did not trust Rick, nor did she approve of her niece spending time with him…even if it was for the sake of Lawrence Enterprises.

“Be nice,” Lessa pleaded. “Please. Remember, he is responsible for the biggest tree you've ever had.”

“I just have a few questions for him,” she said in her sweetest, little-old-lady voice.

Lessa yanked a pair of stockings out of her dresser. How had she gotten so far behind schedule? She had left
work promptly at five, hurrying to the store to buy a new dress for the party. But she had made one simple mistake: She had taken her aunt with her. And when her aunt had asked to stop at Rockefeller Center to see the tree and the skaters, Lessa had been unable to say no. Nor had she been able to say no when her aunt had mentioned that she was getting hungry and had asked if they could stay for tea. Lessa had had the feeling that Gran was half hoping that Lessa would miss her date altogether.

She finished pulling on her panty hose as she heard the elderly woman say, “You must be Rick Parker. I'm Virginia Lawrence. My friends call me Ginny but you can call me Virginia.”

Oh dear. “Rick!” Lessa called out. “I'll be right there.”

She grabbed a brush and ran it through her hair. Then she thumbed through her makeup drawer, looking for a lipstick.

But Gran was just getting started. “I'm the aunt of your old boss, the man you fired, and the great-aunt of your new boss, the one who fired you.”

Lessa grabbed the lipstick and swiped it across her lips. Good enough. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said, practically jumping into the foyer.

“No problem,” Rick said. “I was glad to have an opportunity to meet your aunt.”

Gran smiled sweetly, but she didn't fool Lessa for a minute. Lessa knew she had her talons out and was ready to let it rip. “Don't wait up,” Lessa told her.

“You'll see her home tonight,” her aunt said to Rick, as if placing a demand.

“Of course,” Rick said.

She turned back toward Lessa and said, “Try and have some fun dear,” as if she knew there was no possible way Lessa would be able to do that.

“Maybe you could make some cookies or something while I'm gone,” Lessa said with a wink. “Something grandmotherly.”

“Maybe I could give you a good kick in the—”

Lessa shut the door before Gran could finish.

“She's very funny,” Rick said.

“I don't know about funny but she's feisty. I'm sorry if she was insulting.”

“I can't say I blame her. After all, she thinks I fired her nephew.”

“You did fire her nephew.”

“Lessa,” he said with a hint of exasperation as he led her to his car. She had expected something flashy and she was mildly relieved to see he drove an SUV. As she climbed inside, she couldn't help but wonder how many other of his women had sat in the very seat she was in. He climbed in beside her and shut the door. “We've been over this. I didn't fire your father.”

She was not anxious to start this argument again. Not right then, at the start of their fake date.

He sighed and she knew he was not going to let it drop. “I was traveling almost nonstop back in those days. I had no interest in office politics. One day, I got a message stating that your father wanted me to return immediately. When I got back, he told me that he had heard from a reliable source on the board that some members were unhappy with his performance. He said he had even heard they had already picked out a successor. He asked me what
I knew, and I told him. Nothing. No one had spoken to me about getting rid of him or replacing him. That night I got a call from Ward Harding. He said that the board had voted and it was unanimous. They had fired your father.”

Lessa glanced out the window at the thought of the pain her father must have felt. Ward Harding had once been one of his closest friends. “Only then did Ward ask if I would be interested in replacing your father.”

“And you said yes.”

“No. I needed time to think about it. I liked the travel and I had no desire to get swept up into office politics and become a manager. But when I found out what they planned on doing to your father, breaking their contract and giving him only a pittance of what he deserved, I felt I had no choice. Assuming the presidency was the only way I could help him.”

She would have liked to believe that Rick was totally selfless and that his assuming the presidency had been a personal sacrifice, but try as she might, it was a hard nut to crack.

“Believe it or not, that's the truth,” he said, his blue eyes radiating sincerity.

One thing was clear. She
wanted
to believe him.

“He thought you lied to him. That you were the one who convinced the board to fire him.”

“He needed someone to blame. And he preferred me to his oldest and dearest friends.”

She thought about the uptight, stuffy board over which she now presided. Ward, Franklin, Constance, John, men and women she'd known since childhood. And she wanted to throttle them.

But it was the night of the Christmas party. She
wasn't about to ruin it by picking a fight with an old, opinionated and ridiculous board member. She had to change the subject. She had to prepare mentally for the task ahead of her. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she said, “By the way, I really appreciate what you did last night, helping me with the tree.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I hope you got to your date all right. She wasn't too mad at you, was she?” Lessa managed to say as nonchalantly as she could.

“My date?”

“I overheard you on the phone last night—”

“I hardly think a business dinner with Betty counts as a date,” he interrupted.

“Betty?” Lessa felt a surge of relief. His secretary was the mystery woman?

“Of course. I always make Betty go to these functions and she always complains. As she is always reminding me, she doesn't need another man to take care of.”

“What's the game plan for tonight?” Lessa asked, feeling suddenly refreshed, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Look, Lessa,” he said, “I know you're not happy about this ridiculous pretend game. But I really think it will work.”

How wrong he was. She was actually beginning to enjoy this game. “I hope so.”

“Tonight I'm going to try and make this as easy for you as possible. I don't think we need to fall over each other. I think it's enough that we show up and leave together.”

“Good,” she said as enthusiastically as possible. How
could she tell him that she had been anxious for another opportunity to kiss him?

They drove the rest of the way in silence, until they pulled into the parking garage and he said, “Wait for me to open the door and help you down.”

“I thought you said no open displays of affection.”

“I'm not worried about what others might think. I just didn't want you falling out. It's kind of steep.”

“I think I can handle it,” she said. She thought back to Sabrina's story about how she'd met Rick when he'd carried her off the boat. He was obviously used to the fragile type. “I used to do plyometrics—jumping up and down off a step while holding a medicine ball.”

He nodded toward her shoes. “In heels?”

Just to prove her point, she swung her door open and jumped out. “Can't pass up a dare, can you?” he asked, walking around to greet her. He took her arm and together they walked inside the building next door. Lessa couldn't help but notice the shocked looks on her coworkers' faces when they saw Rick's arm casually looped through hers. They endured a strained elevator ride up to the main floor of Lawrence Enterprises. It was crowded with office workers dancing to the live band and enjoying the free-flowing champagne.

“Looks like your party is a success,” he said into her ear.

“It's in full swing,” she agreed. Standing so close, she could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, as if he really were her date.

“White wine, please,” she replied. He smiled at her and she felt her insides turn to mush.

“What was that all about?” her assistant asked, approaching her after Rick had left. “Did you come here with him?”

“Yes,” Lessa said quickly.

Fran looked at her silently, as if waiting for her to continue. Lessa liked her but knew that she couldn't confide in her. There was too much riding on the whole scheme. But she couldn't lie to her either. And so Lessa said nothing on the subject. Instead she glanced around the room and said, “They did a good job with the decorations.”

“After you left today,” Fran said, “we heard from one of the buyers in Antigua. He's ready to make an offer.”

Lessa felt a surge of excitement as she thought about the property in Florida. Her dream was one step closer to reality. “Great. I just need to run it past Rick,” she said casually, trying to minimize the importance of his approval.

“I hope he's not furious,” Fran said. “Antigua's his baby, his pride and joy.”

“It's not a baby, it's a property. And Rick is a businessman. He'll appreciate all my research and my hard work.”

Fran shook her head. “The last person who tried to do this without his approval got fired. But then again, they weren't
friends,
” she said, emphasizing the word.

Lessa felt a hint of anxiety. She suspected Fran was only joking about him firing her. But he could make things unpleasant. After all, he had before.

She glanced around the room. Where was Rick anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be getting her a glass of wine? “I don't want to talk about business. How does everyone seem to be enjoying the party?” she asked.

Fran shrugged, as if she weren't impressed. “The shrimp is good.”

After Fran had left to check out the desserts, Lessa headed toward the inner office staircase. The offices of Lawrence Enterprises took up the top five floors of a downtown building. In her attempt to make this party special, Lessa had spared no expense. Each floor had been decorated and had its own private bar. She walked up the ivy-lined staircase and found Rick outside his office, deep in conversation with the head controller. She was just about to make her way over to them when she recognized one of the senior board members flirting brazenly with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. John Roberson was a nasty old man, one who had long been a thorn in her side. She glanced away, hoping to avoid eye contact. But it was too late.

“Look who's here,” he said a loud and slurred voice as he made his way toward her. “The woman who single-handedly took ten points off our stock.”

His remark had the intended effect. The crowd was stunned into silence. Lessa choked back her humiliation, aware that, once again, every eye was on her.

John slammed a big, fat finger into her chest and said, “Just because you studied history in school you think you're qualified to run a multimillion-dollar company?”

“Keep your hands off her,” Rick said with a growl, stepping in front of Lessa.

“We made a mistake giving her the chairmanship,” John said, his face red with anger. “The stock has gone down ever since.”

“There were other factors at work.”

“How can you defend her?” John asked. He shook his
head, disgusted. “Her father almost ran this company into the ground and apparently that's her intention as well.”

And suddenly all the anger Lessa had felt regarding her father's shabby treatment burst to the surface. Her father had considered John Roberson a friend, yet according to Rick, he had betrayed him. “How dare you talk about my father that way,” she said, clenching her fists as she took a step toward him. But Rick was too fast.

“Time to go,” he said, grabbing John by the lapels and hoisting him away.

As Rick hustled John toward the elevator doors, Lessa glanced around at the crowd that had gathered to watch the fireworks. “Sorry about that, everyone. Go enjoy the party.”

As the crowd slowly dispersed, misery set in. After all this work, what people would remember about the Christmas party was not the shrimp or the decorations or the fact that there was a bar on every floor. It was that the chairman of the board had almost punched a fellow board member. She made her way over to the bar and ordered a glass of wine. She had already drunk half of it by the time Rick reappeared.

“Thank you,” she said.

He gave her a look that said all was not well. “Could I talk to you privately?” he asked.

She set down her wine and followed him toward a darkened hallway. Suddenly he pulled her into an empty office and shut the door. He turned on the light and faced her, his eyes dark and controlled. “Are you attempting to sell Antigua?”

“Not yet, no,” she said calmly. “Although there is an interested buyer.”

He took a step toward her. He was towering over her, his mouth set in a frown. “We're not selling Antigua. You've wasted your time.”

“I found a property in Florida that has a lot of potential,” she said, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. “It makes sense to sell Antigua now, before the other resorts on the island are developed. We could use the money to finance the Florida property. Anyway, I'm still getting my ducks in a row. I wanted to lay it all out for you.”

“And what if I disagreed?” he asked. “We've ruined a relationship with whatever buyer you've strung along.”