The Magic Of Mistletoe. Carolyn Hector
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tried to come on to her. Macy decided to omit the part about Duke’s nerve to hit on her at the party. Serena was always trying to push single men in her direction, despite Macy’s lack of time for one. Her business was booming, and when she wasn’t working, her kids kept her busy. But that never stopped her assistant from trying. Serena would always bail her out of meetings after she did a background check on the single men. She claimed that seven years of not dating, let alone no sex, was not good for a woman.
But Macy had brushed off Duke’s flirting as she did with most of the men she’d come across. A lot of men tried to use the excuse of hiring her for a job. Duke Rodriguez was no different than the rest. Well, he might have been hotter than any man she’d ever laid eyes on, but what did it matter? She had no time for someone like him. And he had no time for her. Duke wasn’t going to be in town long, and Macy saw no reason to start something that couldn’t be finished. Monique was only on maternity leave until after the Christmas holidays. She would return with the coverage of ringing in the New Year. Her stance on dating, even if it was Duke Rodriguez, wasn’t going to change. So what if he had those deep dimples or those luscious lips that made even eating food look sexy?
“Answer my question.” Serena took a long sip of juice, but kept her eyes on her boss. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened, per se. He did ask if I could work for him.”
The news made Serena choke. Macy didn’t believe her for one minute. She was the mother of two kids who always tried faking sick. Finally Serena settled down and asked, “And you turned him down?”
“As it is, we’re already short-staffed, and you’re getting sick. How am I going to take on another client?”
“I’m not sick,” Serena said, fighting back a sneeze. Macy watched Serena’s eyes redden as she tried to hold it in. If she wasn’t getting sick, then she was having a major allergic reaction to something. Her nose was a faint pink.
Macy folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the counter. “Want to bet?”
“I am working through this. I need to hear good things. Tell me more about him, Macy,” she whined.
“What is there to tell?” Macy’s upper lip curled. “He is a typical man.”
“Ugh! You are so lucky you met him,” Serena moaned. “I wish I could have.”
The doors over the glass front door opened with a jingle. The Santa monitor went off with a deep ho ho ho. Serena made a funny face the minute Macy got up to walk over to the door. Serena had closed her eyes, crossed her fingers and begun chanting.
“I wish I could win a million dollars. I wish I could win a million dollars.”
The wonders of that girl never ceased to entertain Macy. Serena was always doing something superstitious like that. She thought if she spoke a person’s name out loud and the person appeared, the same thing might happen if she spoke out loud her next wish, usually concerning money. Every time she drove by a graveyard she held her breath and crossed herself; she picked up pennies on their tails off the ground and turned them over so the next person could have good luck. Macy headed out the kitchen doorway to catch a glimpse of her customer. Instantly, her throat went dry and she felt that whiplash appeal in her neck at the sight.
There, standing by her sexy Santa, stood the one and only Duke Rodriguez, dressed down compared to yesterday. Gone was the custom-made suit, but what he had on was still just as bad: jeans made to fit his long, powerful legs, a blue T-shirt that fit across his broad chest just a little too tight and a black leather coat that probably cost the same as her fee for one Christmas-decorated house. His dark hair was cropped against his head, framing his olive-skinned face. And as he smiled, knowing she was ogling him, his deep dimples popping out as he had the nerve to modestly blush. He could have easily stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.
She knew she’d been clear yesterday when she said she was too busy. “Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” Duke said with a dangerous, juicy, bad-boy grin. He caught Serena’s attention and nodded his dark head in her direction. “Hey, how are you? I’m Duke...”
“Rodriguez,” Serena answered for him as she moved with lightning-like speed, nearly bowling Macy over just to shake his hand. “I know. Second-string shortstop for the Yankees for two seasons before you started work as a sports correspondent, prime-time anchor on ESPN for a few years, and then working from New York and DC. I’ve followed your career. We’re so glad to have you in our little small town.”
“Well, who knew a high school kid like yourself would be so into the news? I’m flattered.”
The person most flattered was Serena. She gave an unrecognizable high-pitched giggle and swayed back and forth. Her face was the same color as the red in her shirt. Macy refrained from rolling her eyes as Serena beamed at his flattery. “Oh, no, I’m not in high school.”
“This is my assistant, Serena.” Macy made the quick introduction to keep Serena from making a bigger fool of herself. “What do you want, Mr. Rodriguez?”
“Now, didn’t I tell you that my friends call me Duke?”
Macy raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across the front of her short-sleeved red sweater. “Mr. Rodriguez.”
Serena gently reached over to wrap her arm around Macy’s shoulder. She squeezed her just a little too hard. “Excuse my boss. She’s a bit delusional.”
Duke nodded and smiled. “I see. Well, I was hoping that was the case yesterday when I asked for Macy’s services.”
“I told you yesterday, Mr. Rodriguez.”
“Duke,” he corrected.
It was useless. She could spend the rest of the afternoon playing this Abbott and Costello bit over whether or not to call him Duke or Mr. Rodriguez. Macy huffed and caved in. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get back to work. “Fine. I told you the situation yesterday, Duke. I simply don’t have time to decorate your house.”
“I’ll pay double.”
“No.”
“Please hear me out.” Duke held his large hands out, pleading. Macy spied how smooth they were, compared to hers. Subconsciously she wrung her calloused hands together. A celebrity athlete like him was used to snapping his fingers and having people, specifically women, jump to his aid. Well, Macy knew she wasn’t one of those women. If he wanted her help, he should have booked her six months to a year in advance, like the rest of her clients. “I’m begging. I came home yesterday and someone had egged my front porch.”
“Damn kids.” Serena tsked and shook her head.
“The sad thing is that I don’t think it’s the kids. It’s the mothers in my neighborhood. The day before that, someone hung Santa in a tree and toilet-papered my house. I spent all night trying to get ‘Santa Killer’ off my front door.”
An image of Duke standing in his doorway in nothing but a pair of red basketball shorts while scrubbing the door with a sponge and a foamy white bucket of soap entered her mind. She could picture the muscles on his back flexing as he held on to the door for balance while he reached down and soaked his sponge. A warm glow spread up Macy’s chest as she blinked the image out of her mind and focused her gaze on her guest. “I’m really sorry for what you’re going through, but I’m sure things will blow over.”
“You know, I could always come over and stake out your place for you,” Serena chimed in.
A tint of red touched Duke’s cheeks. “Thanks, but I think what I really need to do is throw a good old-fashioned Christmas party just to show everyone that I’m not the ogre that they seem to think. Outing Santa was an accident.”
“Sure, just like telling that athlete he needed a vasectomy, or telling a teen actress that she might want to consider dropping her parents as managers,” Macy ticked off. “Or what