Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday RushPlaying GamesAll Night Long Read online

  “Oh, sure.” She gave him a dry look. “Aspen awaits.”

  “Sarcasm? That was a perfectly legitimate question.”

  “In your circles maybe.” It was freezing outside. Snow was on the ground, yet Jack’s face and forearms exposed by his rolled-back sleeves were tan. Obviously he’d recently visited someplace warm and sunny. How nice for him. “Some of us actually work for a living.”

  “Ah, but you’re not judging.”

  She mentally winced. “Pittsburgh,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I’m on my way to Pittsburgh.”

  He reached around and opened the door before she could. “To spend Christmas with your boyfriend? Your family?”

  “Actually, it looks like I might be spending it with you.”

  Jack laughed. “I can live with that.”

  Squeezing past him, she got an intoxicating whiff of his musky scent. It wasn’t cologne. “My family’s in Pittsburgh,” she said. “And so is Brent, my boyfriend.” She threw in the lie for good measure. “I haven’t made it home for Christmas in three years. And now Brent’s being deployed to Afghanistan. Oh, but please, don’t feel guilty.”

  He searched her face, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why should I? I didn’t ask you to come.”

  God, he was really something. He didn’t know she’d slipped in the lie, though Brent had been her boyfriend once and he was being deployed, so really, she wasn’t being completely dishonest. The point was, the story should’ve had Jack feeling some remorse. All she got from him was a blank expression as he indicated she should go right.

  Voices came from the opposite hall. Carly hesitated, wondering if he was steering her away from his father. She felt pressure at the small of her back. It was Jack’s hand. He moved it lower, just a tiny bit, but enough to make her hold her breath. The bastard was trying to distract her. It had almost worked. Moving out of reach, she turned toward the voices. “I hear your father.”

  “No, you don’t. That’s my uncle, who’s also the controller. But he can’t help you. Harvey’s my mom’s brother.” Jack smiled. “Wrong side of the family. Though I’d be happy to introduce you to him if you like.”

  She was beginning to regret passing up the champagne. Although bubbly tended to give her headaches. Maybe because she’d only had the cheap stuff. Her phone signaled she had a text and before she looked to see who it was, she sent up a heartfelt prayer to let it be Ryan telling her to forget the whole thing and head to Pittsburgh.

  It was Mavis. They’d found the elusive memo so the team had celebrated with a round of tequila shots, then left for the holidays. Oh, and everyone wished Carly a Merry Christmas.

  She bit off a curse, and texted Mavis to ask if she’d seen Ryan.

  Yep, this week would surely top her best-vacation-ever list. Though she had every intention of getting the days back and tacked on to next year. Assuming she still had a job.

  “Bad news?”

  She looked up into Jack’s amused face. This was all a game to him. “May I speak freely—off the record, so to speak?”

  “By all means.”

  “You’re an ass.”

  He didn’t seem the least bit put off, even though she already regretted the rash words. After a quick glance toward the voices, he urged her to his office at the end of the hall. Once he’d closed the door, he asked, “Was that Ryan?”

  “No.” While his office was smaller and less showy than she’d expected, the breathtaking view of the Chicago skyline was a total surprise.

  “Whatever happens, I won’t let him use you as a scapegoat. I can promise you that much.”

  She turned away from the window. “What are you talking about? Ryan wouldn’t do that.”

  Jack briefly met her eyes before looking away. Taking his time, he set her bag at the end of a burgundy leather couch, then glanced at a message slip sitting on his desk.

  A knot began to form in her stomach. He knew something, she suddenly realized, something important that she didn’t know but probably should. While Jack was distracted, or pretending to be, she texted Ryan.

  She kept it short. CALL ME!

  Carly never used all caps and Ryan knew that. If he ignored her, then she’d start worrying in earnest.

  After slipping her phone into her pocket, she checked out Jack’s office. The furnishings were tasteful yet simple—an end table with a signature Carrington lamp, a rich dark cherry desk and credenza, a matching bookcase filled with law books. On the wall behind his desk hung a silver-framed picture of the original factory that must’ve been taken in the ’30s.

  “That’s my great-grandfather on the right,” he said. “The other man is his brother. Jasper helped start the business but he died young, in his late twenties. So mainly it was Granddad who made Carrington Lamps a success. No man worked harder than him. He was really something, still coming to the office into his late eighties. Not only did he know the name of every employee, he remembered their birthdays.”

  “Did you get to know him?”

  “I was ten when he passed away. He’d give me odd jobs and pay me with a silver dollar for each one I completed. I still have them in a piggy bank.”

  Carly laughed. “Seriously?”

  “What?” He sounded offended. “He taught me a good work ethic. It’s too easy to hand kids money.”

  “I agree. I was just trying to imagine you with a piggy bank. What color was it?”

  He came close enough that his shoulder brushed hers and whispered, “Pink. I still have it. Tell anyone and there’ll be consequences.”

  His warm breath glided down the side of her neck, making her pulse jump. He kept moving, walking past her. She had no idea what he was...

  Apparently she hadn’t heard the knock. He opened the door to Eli standing in the hall holding a champagne bottle and two glasses.

  “Thank you,” Jack said, taking the bubbly from him. “And if anyone asks for me?”

  Eli grinned. “I haven’t seen you.”

  4

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Carly’s hands went to her hips as she watched him set down the glasses, then open the bottle.

  Her blouse wasn’t tight but with her elbows out the silk strained across her breasts and he almost lost the cork. “Take off your jacket,” he said casually. “Kick off your shoes. Relax.”

  “I’m not sitting here, drinking champagne with you.”

  “Fine. Stand if you like.”

  “Oh, was that supposed to be funny? Was I supposed to laugh? Sorry.” She let out a fake snort. “You know, I’m sure many women find you adorable. Just not all of us.”

  Jack’s mood slipped. He got that she was irritated, flying out here for nothing, but he sure hadn’t asked for that remark. He filled both flutes anyway. “Then what are you going to do? Find a hotel?”

  Her mouth tightening, she briefly glanced at her phone. “I’m going to ask around for your father.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  Jack sighed at the smug lift of her brows. “Normally he says a few words and does some handshaking. I would rather not point out his absence.”

  She narrowed her eyes, her suspicion slipping the longer she studied him. “Have there been rumors about the sale?”

  “None. The poor saps won’t know what hit them.” He downed a good part of his drink before he remembered it was champagne and not scotch. Hell, he wouldn’t be doing that again. “For what it’s worth, I’ve left him three messages.” He carried the glass to the window and stared
out at the lights. Only half the skyline was visible but it was better than looking at another old building. “I love the view at night. The daytime, not so much. I’m sure you noticed this isn’t the best neighborhood.”

  Carly came to stand beside him. Seeing her reflection in the glass and watching her nibble at her lip reminded him of the first time he’d seen her at Abbott and Flynn’s. With her confidence and no-nonsense attitude, he’d assumed she was an associate, just one of many attorneys in their sizeable stable. She’d been wearing a dreary brown suit and low-heeled shoes that she’d kicked under her desk. The horrified expression on her face when she’d realized she was walking around in stocking feet had been priceless.

  The moment in itself hadn’t been enough for him to have thought about her so many times since. Or have an X-rated dream that had kept him hard through an early quality-control meeting. For the life of him he couldn’t pin down what it was about her that got to him. She was attractive but not a classic beauty. Although a woman’s looks weren’t all he cared about.

  At least not since his horny teens. A woman had to have confidence, intelligence, a sense of humor and be independent to hold his attention.

  Or a killer body and any two of the above.

  “It is a great view,” she said quietly. “You’re lucky no one put up a skyscraper across the street.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it.” Even on the outskirts of the city every building around them was newer and taller. “I own that piece of land right there.”

  She looked at him, then at the vacant lot that took up half a block. “Is it part of the sale?”

  “No. It belongs to me, personally.”

  “What do you plan to do with it?”

  He shrugged. “Originally, nothing. The whole point of buying it was to preserve the view. If the sale goes through, I won’t give a crap about the lot then.”

  “Technically, the sale has gone through,” she reminded him.

  He ignored her softly spoken words and continued to stare at his piece of the skyline. “I bought it six years ago when the developer defaulted. Someday I’ll make a nice profit.” He drained his glass. “I guess I should go mingle. Come with me if you want. Who knows? Maybe the old man will show up.”

  “Jack?” She touched his hand just as he turned away. “Were you always against selling?”

  “No.” He could see she was hoping for more, but he left it at that and grabbed the champagne.

  “If you know right now you aren’t going to sign, will you at least be honest and tell me?”

  He paused, holding the bottle aloft. “I don’t know. That’s the truth. Either way, it would be irresponsible for me to sign anything while I’m inebriated. So no, you won’t be leaving with a signed contract tonight.”

  “Are you really drunk?”

  After thinking for a moment he said, “I prefer the term inebriated.”

  She watched him position the bottle, and gasped when he started to pour. “Well, don’t—”

  Aware she was hoping he wouldn’t drink any more, he refilled his glass anyway. “Like I said, tonight’s already a lost cause.” He held up the second flute he’d poured earlier for her but she shook her head.

  No use letting it go to waste...

  “Wait.” She caught his arm just as the rim touched his lip. “I changed my mind,” she said, taking the glass from him.

  His laughter was met with a glare. He really wasn’t drunk. As he’d suspected, it was going to be one of those nights that a mildly pleasant buzz would be it for him.

  But watching her try to circumvent his drinking all evening? That could be entertaining.

  Damn, but he wanted to kiss her. She had a wide mouth and her lips were naturally pink. He liked that she wore minimal makeup. He returned his gaze to her lips. Okay, maybe he was a little drunk because he was seriously starting to fixate on her mouth.

  “Whatever you’re thinking...I don’t like it,” she said, inching back and staring at him as if she expected him to pounce.

  “Are you sure?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I mean, yes,” she amended and took a big, and probably unintentional, sip. And then blinked at the glass. “Wow.”

  “Good stuff, right?”

  She gave him a grudging nod. “I could get used to it.”

  “Now, a smart woman like yourself has to be wondering what else you could be missing out on.”

  Carly let out a loud bark of laughter. “In your dreams.”

  “Yes, sadly that, too.” Jack smiled. “But we won’t go there.” He presented his arm, which, predictably, she ignored. “Shall we go downstairs?”

  She glanced around. “I’ll leave my briefcase and coat here with my bag.”

  “Your jacket, too,” he said, nodding at her navy blazer. “It’s a party, not a funeral. And while you’re at it, unfasten another button on that blouse.”

  “Right. Sure thing. Remember what I said about you being an ass?”

  “If you want to be my date, sweetheart, you’ll have to be a little nicer.”

  “Your—” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, you are drunk.”

  “Everyone will be curious. Can’t tell them why you’re really here, now can we?” He slipped his arm around her shoulders.

  She stiffened but didn’t pull away. Or slap him. So he took a chance...

  And went in for the kiss.

  * * *

  CARLY’S BREATH CAUGHT. Jack Carrington was about to lay one on her. It was nuts and unprofessional, and yet she didn’t know how she felt about it, though she supposed she should object. Or duck.

  But those damn sexy eyes of his were full of heat and promise and she could feel the tension coursing through his body. Could feel her heartbeat quicken in response.

  “If you’re going to run, better do it now,” he whispered, his warm lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. He slid a hand behind her neck and her lids started to drift closed.

  With sudden clarity his words sank in. He was playing her and she’d almost fallen for it.

  Carly forced herself to look directly into his eyes. “Stop,” she said before she humiliated herself further. “Right now.”

  Abruptly, he drew back, looking somewhat stunned. “I apologize. Clearly I misread the signals.”

  “You’re not going to get rid of me. So get over it.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Not my objective,” he said, the amusement slowly returning to his face. “Not even close.”

  He seemed earnest enough but it was the trace of relief in his voice that had her reassessing the situation. He was a little drunk. Maybe all he’d wanted was to kiss her. Or any other woman within arm’s reach.

  She glanced down at the front of his gray slacks. Or maybe he was just horny and hoping for more than a kiss. He sure wasn’t faking that bulge.

  Her hand automatically went to her throat. As if that would help with her difficulty swallowing. Whatever tiny bit of sense she had left was slipping away. She focused on his shoes, then a piece of carpet lint. But she could feel him watching her.

  A blush flamed in her chest and surged toward her cheeks. Luckily she didn’t have the type of skin that turned red even though she felt as if she’d stepped into a sauna.

  Much as she hated giving him the satisfaction, she had to lose the jacket or broil. Turning her back to him, she set down her glass, then started shrugging out of the blazer. His hands were suddenly on her shoulders, and he helped her out of the stifling wool.

  While he draped her blazer over the couch, she fastened the second button of her blouse. She left the top one alone. As soon as he turned to her she saw that he’d noticed her petty act of rebellion. But she ignored his faint smile.

  He picked up th
e champagne. “No sense wasting this. Let’s top off before we join the party.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Shrugging, he filled his flute almost to the brim.

  Oh, great. He’d never sober up. “I changed my mind. Save me some.”

  She found her glass, and polished off the last sip before letting him refill it. Half the bottle was already gone. How had that happened?

  He took in her cream-colored blouse, his gaze lingering briefly on her breasts. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view,” he said, and gave a nod, “but you should probably keep that one buttoned.”

  She looked down. The large gap left no doubt her bra was pale pink, lacy and a demi cup. And the button wasn’t unfastened. It was missing. She fisted the front of the blouse together and squinted at the plush beige carpet.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The button...I lost it.”

  “Here? You sure?”

  “Um, if I’d lost it earlier, I think you might have noticed.”

  Jack grinned. “Good point.”

  “What are you staring at? Missing means you won’t find it there.” She tightened her fist and hoped she wasn’t totally ruining the silk.

  “I was checking the other buttons so I know what color to look for.”

  Made sense, but she wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable at the moment. This was one of her favorite blouses. And the most expensive. She’d wanted to impress Jack. God, she was such a dope.

  “This is your fault,” she said, kicking off her heels and dropping to the floor.

  “How?”

  “If you’d had the contract ready I wouldn’t still be here.”

  “Oh, so if you’d lost the button at the airport that would’ve been better?” Jack lowered himself to a crouch beside her. “You don’t see the flaw in your logic?”

  Carly’s arm bumped his thigh. “Why are you here?”

  “Because it’s my office?”

  “I meant—” She flapped a hand toward the bookcase and stole a peek at the fabric molding his muscled thigh. The man clearly wasn’t afraid to work up a sweat. Sports? Or gym? “Go check over there. I’ve got this area covered.”