The Night Before Christmas. Tawny Weber
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dinner he’d been of two minds about keeping.
Hailey was everything he liked in a woman.
Sexy, fun and sporting a body that’d starred in all his dreams since the party.
And Hailey was everything he avoided in a woman.
Sweet, trusting and sporting an emotional innocence that promised nothing but trouble down the road.
And she was a business associate. Distant, perhaps, but still close enough to this project for it to possibly get messy. If he were smart, he’d offer a clever excuse and get out of their date. He’d keep this business deal simple, and himself out of trouble.
Gage was damned smart.
And here he had a chance to pitch to the singer’s agent, just him alone. Might as well use it. Maybe it’d help keep his mind off stripping Hailey bare of everything but those boots.
“Since Rudolph is late, why don’t we get comfortable? You can fill me in on what you think Cherry Bella likes best. And, of course, tell me what you’re wearing under that skirt.”
So much for keeping his mind off her naked.
Eyes wide, Hailey’s mouth rounded to a surprised O before she let out a gurgle of laughter. As he escorted her to one of the half dozen club chairs by the window, she slanted him a teasing look.
“Under this? What better under leather than lace? Merry Widow lace, of course.”
Releasing her elbow, Gage frowned.
What the hell?
She wore the competition?
“I’m a little confused,” she said before he could point out the blatant conflict of interest. “Wouldn’t you know better than I what Cherry likes?”
Why would he?
Gage gave Hailey a hard look.
Before he could ask exactly what her connection to Cherry, and to Rudolph, was, the department-store mogul swanned in with all but bugles blaring a fanfare. The small, bald man apparently made up for his lack of stature by surrounding himself with as big an entourage as possible. Mostly made up of busty women in short skirts, Gage noted. Two carrying briefcases, one with coffee and another with a tray of tiny pastries.
The women paraded in, each setting her item on a wide, glass-topped table, then without a word, doing a snappy about-face and parading right back out.
Leaving Hailey to stare, wide-eyed, Gage frowning and Rudolph posing in the doorway. And Cherry Bella nowhere to be found.
Was that why Hailey was here? To rep her client?
“Darlings, I’m late. So let’s not dawdle. Sit, sit.” Rudolph waved his fingers at Gage, who, after a second’s debate, sat. But opposite Hailey instead of next to her. He had a feeling he was going to get more out of watching her face than whatever the old coot spouted.
“It’ll just be the three of us, I’m afraid.” As if to emphasize his statement, he came over to sit with them, rat-a-tat-tatting his fingers on his knee and frowning. “I know you’re both anxious to hear the decision of who’ll be awarded the contract. I’d intended to give it today, with Cherry’s help. But as she’s ill, we’ll have to reconvene tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Tension spiked Gage’s system. And not the happy, sexual kind he’d been enjoying thanks to Hailey. This meeting was supposed to finish up his commitments to Milano for the year. He had his own clients to see, several projects in the works. He didn’t have time to play babysitter to a leather lingerie line and a kooky, old guy.
“Unfortunately, Cherry felt ill after lunch,” the old guy said, sounding more irritated than sorry. “She apologizes for missing the meeting, but insists on talking with the designers herself and having a say in the decision if she’s to take the role of spokesmodel. I hate to inconvenience you, but we’ll have to meet again tomorrow. Cherry feels the lingerie is the linchpin of her agreement to signing on as the face of Rudolph for next year.”
Gage barely heard a thing after the words talking with the designers. His eyes shifted to Hailey. Her eyes were round, those full lips parted in a silent gasp. Not a gasp of pleasure, either.
Nope. She looked about as horrified as he felt.
“Inconvenient for the two of you, but as much as I’m sure you both want this contract, I’m sure you’ll make adjustments.” With that pronouncement of misperception, Rudy bounced up and scurried over to the tray-topped table. “So are you in the mood for cocoa? And a sweet, of course. What’s Christmas without cookies? Then we’ll take a quick look at the test shots my photographer took of Cherry in each of your designs. Consider it an early gift, since it gives you a chance to refine the pitch you’ll need tomorrow.”
Hailey closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then shaking her head as if trying to shift the new facts into the old picture. If the pinched expression on her face was any indication, she wasn’t liking the way it looked now.
Gage could relate.
Son of a bitch.
There went his Christmas treat.
WELL, THIS DAY had totally sucked.
Sinking deeper into the worn booth, Hailey looked around the retro diner and took a deep breath to keep from crying. Then wrinkled her nose as the acrid scent of burning burger filled the air. On opposite sides of the room, two babies screamed their dissatisfaction with dinner, their cries echoing off the curved glass window in stereo.
Carinos this wasn’t.
Of course, there was nothing to celebrate, either. So a cheap diner was much more fitting than a four-star restaurant.
She wanted that account. She’d worked her ass off for it. She was damned good, her designs were high quality and on trend, yet unique and memorable. Her costs were reasonable, her profit margin solid. She’d put together a fabulous proposal.
She was perfect for Rudolph’s spring line.
Her designs were perfect for Cherry Bella.
Now she was afraid perfect might not be enough. That this time, just like so many others, she’d get within touching distance to getting what she wanted, only to have it swept away.
She glared at the glass on the table in front of her.
Other than being made of melted sand, it in no way resembled the sexy, seductive wineglass she’d thought she’d be sipping from right now while flirting her way through a very promising date.
Nope, this glass was thick, with hot fudge sliding down one side and a puddle of melting, sprinkle-embedded whipped cream pooling on the stem.
She licked a smudge of chocolate off her knuckle, taking comfort from the bittersweet richness.
She was wearing her favorite lingerie under this chic outfit. A sweet, dove-gray demi bra with picot lace and tiny pink satin rosebuds. She’d imagined describing the matching thong and garter belt to Gage over candlelight and appetizers, letting that image set the tone for the rest of their evening.
Her garter belt pressed tight against her overfull tummy, a reminder of just how mistaken she’d been. No pleasant alcohol buzz and sexual zing happening here for her.
Instead, she had an ice-cream gut ache and felt as if she’d been beaten around by a bag full of gloom. Heck, she could give Doris a run for her money for the biggest downer award in this mood.
And it was all Gage Milano’s fault.
As if her thoughts, or an ice-cream-inspired fantasy, had called him up, Gage suddenly appeared right there at her booth.
Sexy as hell, his black hair windswept from the chilly San Francisco weather