Rekindling Christmas (2 page)

Hell, it wasn’t that she didn’t want
to bring a man home for Christmas, or that she didn’t still have hopes of one
day meeting the right guy and settling down. It was just that most of the guys
around her were already married or just looking to get laid. She’d read an
article once that said corporate women should look outside of “men in corporate
fields” to date, and that career women’s standards were too high.

That was all well and good, if a
person wasn’t stuck inside an office all day. She’d tried online dating, but at
almost six feet tall, it hadn’t taken her long to discover that most men lied
on their profiles. “Six feet” meant a man was five-seven. “Six-three” meant he wore
thick-soled boots and he was only five-nine out of them.

Height was only the smallest thing
that men lied about online. If she dated another man who was living in his parents’
basement like a comical country song, she’d scream.

Shaking her head, Ryanne went back
to her desk. Dating had been put on the back burner since she got promoted.
Sometimes she wondered why it was that she couldn’t have at least been like the
women in evening dramas who had hot flings with a coworker.

However, none of her coworkers appealed
to her. Not even sexy Todd Collins, who seemed to be staring at her crotch as
if he could see through her skirt or pants. She was pretty sure he was packing
some kind of venereal disease. As much as she’d like to get laid, and laid
well, she didn’t want to risk something using a condom as a bridge from his sex
to hers.

Eventually, she would have to call
her mother back and give her a firm date on when she would be flying in, but
she would put it off as long as possible. Maybe she’d circumvent her mother and
just call her dad on his cell; probably a better plan.

Pulling up the consumer reports
database she was establishing for one of her newer clients, whose current
method of following shopper trends was atrocious, she buried herself back in
work. It was past lunch already. If she wanted to make it home to have a decent
dinner, then she needed to make headway. Thinking about her nonexistent sex
life with a nonexistent man was not going to get her anywhere.

An hour later, her computer made the
sound of a bubble bursting, letting her know she had an interoffice e-mail. A
small pop-up notice told her it was from her boss, Joe Jacobs. Deciding not to
ignore it, she minimized the database screen and went to her inbox.

Her boss was requesting that she
attend the coming retail convention in Denver. She checked the dates for the
convention and knew how she’d “lucked up” and got it—it was the week leading in
to Christmas. Since the holiday was on a Tuesday this year, most of the higher-ranking
managers and executives were taking the whole week before as vacation, as they
did every year. She, unfortunately, would have only Friday to Wednesday, over either
Christmas or New Year’s.

In her boss’s e-mail, he explained
that she would leave out on Sunday and come back on Friday before Christmas.
Technically, that meant she could be at her parents’ house by Friday night. Maybe
she could stretch it to Sunday.
Yippee
.

Like a good girl, she promptly typed
a confirmation response to Mr. Jacobs. There wasn’t much need for anything
more, because his e-mail held all the details she would need. The only thing
she had to do was book her flight, which the company would add to her check as
reimbursement after she returned.

The bursting bubble sound came from
her computer again. The next message, from her coworker Mattie, was entitled “All
the Single Ladies”. Ryanne smiled, wondering if her friend was planning another
girls night out for New Year’s Eve. Ryanne hoped so, because she didn’t want to
ring in the new year alone.

The message read:

Hey, girl. I got this from my
cousin. It sounds like fun. I can’t go. Bob and I will be in Hawaii for the
holiday. Thought you’d like it or at least get a laugh. Mattie

Bob was Mattie’s new boyfriend. They
had become inseparable over the last month. Ryanne scanned the rest of the
message and realized it was an ad for some ski resort in Starview, Colorado for
a week-long singles Christmas retreat. Rolling her eyes, Ryanne closed the
e-mail. She didn’t even ski, not to mention she didn’t know where the hell
Starview was.

How desperate would a person have to
be to drop herself in the middle of a bunch of singles?
Single men,
her
mind pointed out.

Putting Mattie’s e-mail out of her
mind, Ryanne printed the packet of info from her boss. Her computer froze for a
moment, and she got frustrated and clicked the convention e-mail again and hit
print
.
A turtle-slow, out-dated computer—just another perk of being the lowest on the
totem pole
.

When it started working again, she
got up and went out into the copier room, where her pages printed out along with
a large number of other people’s print jobs.

She couldn’t wait for the end-of-year
fallout money. Mr. Jacobs had promised her an office printer of her own.

No one else was in the copier room.
She pulled out her stack of papers and sorted through them. The packet had
printed twice, as she’d suspected, but she’d just put the overage into the
reusable paper box.

“Well, well. Merry Christmas to me.
I came in here just in time.”

Instantly her skin began to feel as
if a million and one worms were slithering all over her, warning her it was
Todd. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her papers and turned.

“I’ll be right out of your way.” She
plastered a fake smile on her mouth. She may think he was a horny toad, but he
was still a senior manager and outranked her; she couldn’t afford to be rude to
him.

“No rush. You can finish your copies.
I can wait.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, then lower, and stopped at her
crotch.

She pressed her thighs together and
resisted the urge to cross her legs. “I wasn’t making copies, just had to get
some things from the printer.” She waved the papers in the air to grab his
attention.

Looking at them, Todd said, “Ah. A
little bird told me…”

More like a snake, from where Todd
actually dwelled.

“…that you’re taking the Denver
convention.”

He made it sound as if she had
volunteered for it. She didn’t mind going; she just would have liked to be
asked instead of being directed. “I am. Well, I really need to start making my
flight arrangements to leave out in a couple of days.” She made a gesture,
indicating she needed to get past him.

“Understandable.” Giving her one of his
dazzling smiles that made most of the weak-minded women in the office act silly,
he stepped to the side and allowed her to pass.

She ignored his smile and went out
through the doorway and headed back to her office. She was glad Todd wasn’t one
of those touchy perverts. Back in her office, she settled into her chair and
started flipping through the papers to get her mind prepared.

Todd’s voice intruded into her
sanctuary. “Ryanne, you forgot something.”

She held in a groan. Frowning, she
glanced up and watched him wave a piece of paper in the air as he moved further
into her office. She thought she’d pulled everything off the printer. With her
luck she’d probably left the conference schedule sheet.

“I don’t think so…” She made a quick
assessment; all her relevant material was in hand. The first sheet said number one
of five, and she had all five pages. Looking up, she explained, “My
temperamental computer printed it out twice. That’s probably just a double
copy. Do me a favor and toss it into the reuse bin.”

Covering her mouse with her right
hand, she wanted to give Todd the impression that she was too busy for idle
chitchat and sexual word play.

Gazing at the sheet, Todd shook his
head. “You sure you want others in the office to know that you’re planning to
spend your Christmas vacation getting sexed up by strange men?”

“
What?
” She rose from her
seat and made a grab for the paper.

Todd held it out of her reach as he
leaned back. “Seriously, Ryanne, if you need a holiday fling, I could have
cleared a day or two for you in my own two weeks.”

“Give me that,” she growled and held
out her hand. She knew what he held: the helpful ad from Mattie.
Damn it
.

Smiling mischievously, Todd slowly
placed the paper onto her open palm. “You sure you don’t want me to rearrange
my schedule? Getting some may be what you need so you aren’t so ‘wound up’, as
everyone describes you.”

No, he didn’t go there
. Grabbing the paper in her hand,
she stared at the senior product manager. “Whether I’m ‘wound up’ or not is
none of your business,
sir
.” She made sure he clearly understood that
she was reminding him that they were in a workplace. Even though the company
had no official rules on interoffice dating—or humping—she wouldn’t get
involved with a guy at work. If it went sour, her life could become miserable.
“I’ve always kept my private life separate from my professional life and I
don’t plan to change it now.”

He lifted his hands palms out, a
sign of surrender, as he backed up. “No offense, just trying to help out a
lovely lady.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Ryanne
plopped back down in her seat as she eyed Todd until he’d stepped out of her
office.

Pressing out the crumbled paper, she
read the ad again and for a moment considered calling the resort, if for no
other reason than just to prove to Todd and everyone else she could do what she
wanted to do with her time. Go to a singles retreat, ski, have fun, get laid…
Break
a leg
, her mind added.

It was true she was a klutz when it
came to sports. The only thing she did well was the sport of beauty; she’d
learned how to execute grace and a little sassiness while walking in heels, but
that was it.

Shaking her head, she pushed the ad
aside. There was no time for her to even consider going anywhere; her days
would be consumed in a conference, then off to her parents’ house.

That was the real kicker; no matter
how much she tried to tell herself she wasn’t going to be the nineteenth wheel
at her parents’ house with all the spouses and kids, she knew that was exactly
where she would end up. Like every year.

Chapter
Two

“See, Carson, what did I tell you?
Babes for miles, and the singles week hasn’t even kicked off yet.” Phillip
Stifler, Carson’s best friend since he was eleven, stood holding a suitcase as
he gazed toward the Village Resort entrance where about seven giggling women
were standing, tossing their hair and making eyes at the men.

Carson
detested females that giggled. A
woman who giggled seemed to lack substance and true confidence. “Yeah, you told
me. As soon as you finish helping me get this vehicle unloaded, you can go for
all the ass you can handle.”

Pulling out a bag from the back of
his Honda CR-V, Carson shoved it at Phillip. Catching the bag before it hit the
snow at his feet, Phillip smiled. “Hey, I’m not the only one who’s getting laid
this week, my friend.”

Shaking his head, Carson went to the
side of his SUV to unsnap the skis from the top rack. “I agreed to come. I’m
here. I’m good.”

“No, no, no, no, my boy. You’re not
good.” Phillip hustled around the side of the vehicle. “If you think I’m going
to allow you to burrow yourself inside the suite and moan over Ashley, you are
sadly mistaken.”

With one hand holding the pair of
skis he’d just unlatched, Carson stared at his friend. “Not my plan at all. I
told you before you convinced me to come on this trip that I was over Ashley,
so I don’t need a fuck-fest to get her off my mind.”

That was the truth. He and his ex of
six months had been through for a year now, truth be told. The woman, a
giggling redhead who was fun and adventurous both in and out of the bedroom,
had cheated on him with her boss, then decided she wanted to discover a “depth
to her artistry”—specific method of expression yet to be determined—and travel
through Paris for a while. The only problem was that she’d decided it was best
to announce all of her misdeeds, in full detail, while drunk and at his office
holiday party, on the DJ’s microphone.

The worst part about it was that he
had been in the bathroom when Ashley began her confession, so he’d been
completely humiliated by the time a coworker came to tell him about his
girlfriend’s “stand-up routine.” Rushing out of the bathroom, he’d snatched her
from the stage and carried her fireman-style out of the hotel ballroom, while
she blubbered over and over again, “I’m sorry for screwing Mr. Patterson five
times. I wanted the raise. I need the money for my Paris trip. Tell me you
understand, Carson.”

He had been a laughingstock and the
brunt of office jokes for longer than their relationship had lasted. Being rid
of Ashley had been the best Christmas present ever. He was more than over her.

That was the last time he’d dated a
woman Phillip set him up with. Bubbly, vivacious women with fly-by-night goals
were his best friend’s type. Not his.