Naughty Christmas Nights. Tawny Weber
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here he was. Smothered in freaking fur. Didn’t matter that it was almost December. San Francisco didn’t get cold enough to make this costume anything but miserable.
“How’d they con you into this?” Trent asked, craning his head to one side to watch a woman’s leather-clad ass as she worked the crowd. Gage vaguely recognized it. The leather, not the ass. It was one of the new Milano designs. Sexy Biker Babe, Devon had called it. Stupid, really. It looked hot, and definitely sent a strong sexual message. But who wore leather lingerie?
He gave an absent scan of the room, measuring the crowd, the reactions. There were enough people eyeing the leather with an appreciative look, as opposed to the ones peering in confusion at the mesh dresses some models were suffering in.
The most admiration seemed to be for the lacy getups floating through the room, though. The kind of lace you’d see on a forties pinup model, rather than the kind you’d see on a favorite internet porn site. Classy, he supposed it’d be called.
Noticing his attention, a tall brunette in a tasteful teddy and floor-length robe in white satin with fluffy trim gave him an inviting look before she stopped to exchange comments with a guest. The model moved on.
But Gage’s gaze was locked on the woman she’d spoken with.
Helloo.
Interest stirred for the first time since he’d heard of this party, Gage straightened.
She was blonde and cute, with an air of sweetness surrounding her like a holiday promise. The women he usually went for were dark, sultry and cynical. So what was it about her that made him want to sit up and beg?
Sure, she was sexy. But even though her costume was obviously lingerie inspired, she was still stepping pretty close to the sedate line. His type usually danced on the edge of the slutty line.
Yet he wanted nothing more than to cross the room, toss her over his shoulder and haul her off to someplace where he could lick her wild. Obviously this work overload and insane costume were taking a toll on his sanity.
“Gage?”
“Huh?” With one last look to assure himself that she wasn’t his type, he yanked his attention back to his cousin. “What?”
“I said, how’d you get stuck with this gig? I thought you were on vacation.”
“The old man played the emergency card, deeming getting the Rudolph contract to launch this new project top priority.” He wasn’t about to admit that he’d pulled the short end of a wishbone. A guy could only take so much humiliation at a time.
Used to his uncle’s games, Trent didn’t seem surprised.
“You do well enough on your own. And you hate working for your father. Why don’t you just resign?”
Good question.
“It’s not that easy. Nor is it something I want to talk about at a party full of people in their underwear and me in green fur.”
Or anywhere else, for that matter.
Not because he was so private.
But because he really didn’t know himself.
Money was a major factor. He’d seen plenty of successful people sink under the weight of running their own show.
Loyalty was another. He might hate the dictatorial way Marcus Milano ran things, but it was still a family company founded by his grandfather. As far back as he could remember, his father had claimed that Milano was run by Milanos. And Milanos were expected to make it a success. So much so that if one left, he was out. Out of the company, off the board and in the case of Gage’s uncle when he’d quit, disinherited and ostracized by the family.
And there was always the competition between him and Devon. Gage glared at the furry gloves again, damned if he’d lose to his brother in an even bigger way. When he went out on his own his start-up would be bigger, stronger, more successful than any and all of Devon’s put together.
None of which were thoughts he was particularly proud of.
The perfect distraction, the pretty blonde elf caught his eye again. Her eyes were huge, so big they dominated her face. A cross between adorable and arousing, with full lips and round cheekbones both a glossy red to match her stockings. Gage’s gaze dropped again to those legs. They were very excellent legs, long and lean. The sheer red hose and sexy little boots reminded him of a candy cane. An image echoed by the striped bustier hugging breasts so sweet they almost overflowed the tight fabric.
Gage rocked back on his heels, humming in appreciation.
She didn’t belong here.
Her costume might.
Her party partner might.
And the holiday theme might.
But she looked too sweet to be interested in something as lame as this event.
So sweet he wanted to invite her to a private party. One where he could taste her, just there where the satin met that soft flesh, and see if she was as tasty as she looked. Like a delicious Christmas treat.
“So, hey, I’ve got instructions from Devon I’ve gotta follow.” Trent’s uncomfortably muttered words pulled Gage’s attention away from the sexy blonde.
“You babysat, you probably took pictures to share on Facebook, and you verified that I stayed until the announcement.” Gage was still irritated that the best he’d been able to get out of this deal was to be in the competition for the contract. Despite his best pitch, Rudolph hadn’t been willing to set aside his initial favorites. “I’ve done my part. I’m done. Showing up in this stupid costume was the end of my assignment.”
“Yeah, sure. But, well, my instructions were to wait until after the announcement, and if Milano was in the running for the contract, to issue a new bet.” Trent looked a little ill at this point.
Gage laughed so loud, half the room glanced their way.
“Is that reindeer headgear pressing too tight into your brain? You really think I’m going to take another one of Devon’s bets?”
“C’mon. You know he’ll make my life hell if I don’t follow through,” Trent beseeched, looking so pitiful even his antlers drooped. “It’s not a big deal. I just have to mention that there’s a bet on the table, and give you this.”
This, Gage found out when Trent pulled it from the inner pocket of his Fruit-Stripe-gum-colored jacket, was an envelope. “That’s it?” Gage asked, gesturing with his gloves to the paper. The envelope was thick and black, and he figured his brother had been trying for ominous. The guy was a little too dramatic.
“This is it,” Trent agreed, holding the envelope closer. When Gage didn’t take it, he set it on the bar with a shrug. “My instructions were simply to make sure you knew there was a bet and to make it available if you were interested.”
“You did, and I’m not.”
“No skin off my nose,” Trent dismissed. Now that he was free, he was more focused on catching the eye of one of the mostly naked women than trying to change Gage’s mind. “I’ll let Devon know you met the terms of the bet. Oh, and can you tell him I did offer you the insider info? He promised to burn the pictures of... Well, it won’t matter what they are of after tonight.”
If Trent’s grin was anything to go by, the evidence Devon had used to blackmail him was probably wearing a wedding ring. And just for handing over an envelope, that evidence was getting burned?
Gage frowned at the heavy black paper. His brother wasn’t the type to let go of blackmail material that easily. Always resourceful, Devon figured good dirt was worth using at least twice.
So whatever plan Devon was playing, it was big.
“Hold on,” he said through his teeth, snatching up the envelope and ripping the heavy paper aside. He read the