Page 3 of Miss Christmas

She poured him the coffee in a plain white mug and pushed it forward with a bowl of creamers and a jar of sweetener packets.

“Well? What the hell are you doing here, Mr. Fish Out of Water?”

“I’m hiding.” Normally he had a late lunch in the executive dining room or didn’t eat lunch at all.

She laughed. “Don’t make me tease the story out of you, Will. I can play dirty.”

He raised his brow in not-so-mock fear.

“Hiding from the boss. Very ordinary excuse. Nothing worth torturing me over.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to find another reason to torture you, to make you come back for more.”

He picked up the mug and sipped the black coffee. It was horrible. He didn’t bother hiding his reaction, knowing Scarlet would have seen through him if he did. And for whatever reason—he truly had no idea in hell why—he didn’t want to disappoint this woman.

“My turn to ask you, Scarlet, what the hell are you doing here?”

She laughed. “I’m afraid my story is even more pathetically ordinary than yours. I’m an actress playing the role of a waitress. Came in from the Midwest to seek fame and fortune in New York City. Why do you ask?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve never met an actress playing the role of a waitress before, although I’ve heard your species runs rampant in the city.” He watched her eyes dance and he licked his lips, sensing the roles reversing and feeling for the first time in a very long time like the predatory wolf himself. Except he wasn’t going after any sheep. He felt like he was stalking down a tigress.

“And?” she prompted. So he finished his thought, leaning forward, inviting her closer.

“And I’m fascinated,” he whispered. It was true. He wasn’t one to go around tossing meaningless lines to women. And he wasn’t doing that now, although he realized Scarlet had no way of knowing that. Or did she?

“Prove it.” He watched the slight tremble of her mouth when she spoke in a throaty, barely-above-a-whisper voice.

He reached inside his jacket pocket and took out his card. This was a bold move for him. He never gave women his information, liked to be the one who called. But this bold and dangerous woman had provoked him, challenged him, and most of all excited him. He slid the card across the counter.

Will watched her lips curve, watched the sensual melting in her stunning eyes, as she slid the card from the counter without looking at it and, instead of putting it into her apron pocket as he’d thought she would, as any average woman would, she slid the card into the opening of her blouse over the creamy curve of her cleavage to disappear into the intimate space between her breasts.

Goddamn if his cock didn’t harden and shake. His gaze lingered on her breasts, too long to be gentlemanly, and he darted his eyes away. What the hell was wrong with him? She might be bold, but she deserved respect. He picked up his mug again and took a long gulp as if it were a shot of whiskey. He wished it were. Wished they were somewhere else far away from here.

Then he got himself together and straightened. Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he slipped out a twenty and laid it on the counter as he stood.

“Going so soon?” She studied him, paying no attention to his money. That buoyed him, no matter how temporary it might be. Sooner or later she’d become very attentive to the fact that he had money. If she looked at his card, if he saw her again, she would know that he was Will Regal of Regal Department Stores. He sighed.

“Work. Time to go back.” Back to his real world.

She nodded and he saw the acknowledgment that their flirtation was over, saw the disappointment mixed with the cynicism and good humor on her face. Her remarkable face.

It was time to face Margo and George. They wanted to rope him into judging for the store’s Miss Christmas Pageant and he couldn’t think of a good reason to get out of it. Couldn’t think of a good reason why he dreaded doing it. Maybe it was because he had a feeling they were setting him up. He’d find out soon enough.

Before he turned to go, she looked down at the counter at the twenty-dollar bill then shot her eyes up at him in an accusation that felt like a bullet to his heart.

“What are you, a wannabe Santa?”

He laughed it off, though her look and demeanor demanded an explanation.

“Sure. If you’re a good girl I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She scoffed and waved him off.

He left the diner with an unsettled feeling in his gut that could be from the coffee, but he doubted it. He strode to the corner to cross at the light. It had been a harmless flirtation, but it did get his blood going. He walked back to the employee entrance of the Regal’s Department Store building and rode the elevator up to his office. When he opened the door and went in, any excitement he’d held diminished to zero. Margo and George were lounging in the chairs in front of Will’s desk.

Margo was seven months’ pregnant and glowing. But it was her calculating smile that caught his eye. She was here to rope him into judging the pageant for her. The annual Miss Christmas pageant at Regal's Department Store was coming up and she’d dropped hints at dinner on Sunday. He flashed an accusatory glance at George, who only smiled. His cousin and former wingman had been an unapologetic traitor ever since he’d married Margo, choosing her over him every time. Will sighed. Hell, who could blame him?

“I think you know why I’m here, Will. I need your help. I need you to pick the finalists for the Miss Christmas pageant. I can’t manage everything in between all the doctor appointments and . . . please?”