The Christmas Fix

by Kristen Kelly

  “Sure, Margo, but she’s...”

  “Not much help?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, next time you need someone, come to me. As you can see, I’m a whiz with numbers.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you. Wait. Maybe I do.” He pulled me onto his lap. Then he wrapped me in his arms, swept the hair from the side of my face, and kissed me like I was the only woman in the world.

  His world.

  When we broke off the kiss I said, “Actually, there is something else you can do for me.”

  Chapter 7

  Charlotte

  Abby and I were exhausted from staring at a computer screen.

  After two hours of looking at various men of all sizes and shapes—tall ones, short ones, black hair, brown hair no hair at all, guys with tattoos, men with shaved chests, divorced men, men who were on the rebound—my eyes glazed over. I’d had enough. Like a fool, I just started adding my phone number to whomever caught my fancy, thinking that the more men I had in my pool, the more likely I was to find Mr. Right. Wasn’t that how the game was played? One had to kiss frogs to get to the Prince, right?

  Our Saturday girl’s-night had finally come to an end. Due to the inebriated condition she was in, Abby had her chauffeur drive her home. Too tired to walk to my bedroom, I crashed on the couch. I turned on the television but the only thing playing was Suits and damn but that Gabriel Macht was hot! He made me think of Zac.

  Did Abby know about Zac? She hadn’t said so, but I was sure Chase would tell her sooner or later. Either that or she’d figure it out on her own.

  Stay away from that one. Zachary Taylor can only be interested in one thing.

  And she’d be right. Maybe. But was that so wrong? I didn’t have to marry the man.

  I rolled over for the fifth time on the lumpy couch, feeling dejected. The sooner I found a real boyfriend, the safer my heart was around Zac Taylor. I’d almost drifted off to sleep when my phone pinged on the table. Groaning, I dragged myself off the couch.

  Abby: Home now. Get some sleep. You’re going to need it with all those guys kicking down your door.

  Charlotte: Right.

  Abby: How come you’re up?

  Charlotte: You rang, evil one.

  Abby: Oh yeah lol.

  Charlotte: Night Abby.

  Abby: Good night oh dark haired beauty.

  Charlotte: lol, I freaking love you.

  Abby: Yup. Right back at you sister.

  I plugged my phone into the base on my desk and grabbed my pillow, intending to throw my lazy ass in bed, when I heard what sounded like Abby getting the last word into the conversation. Damn, isn’t she supposed to be working on getting pregnant or at least trying to?

  Tom: Hey, beautiful.

  Charlotte: Who is this?

  Tom: A secret admirer. I saw your pic.

  “Shit.”

  Tom: You’re smoking hot if I do say so myself.

  I was exhausted and in no mood to open myself up to a guy I didn’t know. If it weren’t for Abby, plus the totally irrational idea that I’d meet and marry someone as awesome as her husband, I would never have thrown my name out there.

  Charlotte: Um, Charlotte isn’t here. This is her kid sister.

  Tom: That’s okay. I’m sure you’re smoking hot too. Wanna play, doll face?

  Tom: I’m not a stalker or anything, just a guy who’s extremely lonely.

  Tom: And big. Really big. Like 8 fucking inches big!

  I stared at the phone and God help me I was grinning.

  Tom: Don’t believe me?

  Tom: Charlotte or whatever your name is, are you there?

  Silence.

  Charlotte: What are you doing hitting on my litter sister? She’s twelve, you asshole.

  Tom: Glad you’re back and I’m sorry.

  Tom: Truly.

  Charlotte: It’s fine.

  Tom: Married? Single? Divorced?

  Charlotte: None of the above.

  Tom : A nun huh?

  Charlotte: lol NO!

  Tom: That’s cool.

  Charlotte: How did you get my number? I do not remember a Tom on the website.

  Tom: Oh, I just signed up. Wait. I’ll send you my pic.

  Before I could say no, his dick filled my screen.

  Click!

  What the hell was I thinking, putting my phone number out there in the first place? Any one of those guys could be a mass murderer or a degenerate looking for a stupid woman like me. Leaning over my laptop, I moved my mouse over the icon for Plenty of Dick. I brought up the website and deleted my phone number.

  Not soon enough.

  Three more losers popped up on my phone, one babbling about his recent breakup with some Supermodel and one having an actual dick pick as his avatar! What was wrong with men today? They can’t talk to a woman without introducing their freaking cock like it’s their long lost buddy? Okay, maybe this was my fault.

  As firmly as I could, I shut each guy down, letting them know in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested. Anymore. Then I turned off the phone and went to bed.

  When I finally turned my phone back on at two o’clock in the afternoon, sure enough there were more men begging for my attention. Most of them had no idea how to talk to a woman—any woman—but a couple of them looked promising. Telling myself I would maybe email these guys this time so as to discourage them from tracking me down, I came to the last message. It was from Zac.

  Zac: Hey Charlotte, are you up yet?

  I had to admit, my stomach did a flip when his name rolled across my screen.

  Charlotte: Good morning, Zac.

  Zac: I sent that at eight o’clock this morning.

  Charlotte: I know.

  Zac: I guess this is your morning, isn’t it?

  Charlotte: That’s what happens when you work nights. How is your day going?

  Zac: Just ducky. Thanks to you.

  Charlotte: ???

  Zac: You helped me out last night.

  Charlotte: Oh, the spread sheet you mean. Wasn’t a big deal.

  Zac: It was to me and I’m grateful.

  Charlotte: Glad I could help

  Zac: You know if there was a Mrs. Peabody, you would be her.

  Charlotte: Ah, a cartoon buff like me. That’s a really old one, Zac.

  Zac: Would you rather be Velma from Scooby Doo?

  Charlotte: Not quite so old. Sure, I can be Velma.

  Zac: Velma kicks ass!

  Charlotte: Exactly. I’m Velma.

  Zac: My little Velma.

  Charlotte: Then who does that make you?

  Zac: The dog of course.

  Charlotte: lol

  Zac: There’s something else I want to run by you. That is if you can take a break say around 5 a.m?

  Charlotte: Yeah, sure.

  Zac: Awesome, see you then.

  Chapter 8

  Zac

  One of the perks of being on the Board of Directors, as well as Chase Remington’s right hand man was I had access to a private room in the basement. Mostly for business clients from out-of-town. It seemed to be a better fit for our negotiation schedule rather than sending them to a hotel across town. If they were available without a commute, we could hash out new ideas on the spot. Of course, they also used it for other reasons.

  In addition to luxurious sleeping quarters, the room boasted a full kitchen, well-stocked-refrigerator, and a tasting room for wines and exotic cocktails. I’d only been inside it once and never when I was alone. Today, seemed the perfect time to try out that very expensive Aga Rangemaster from Warwickshire, England. Acquired from one of our takeovers, I’d convinced Chase to keep the stove on site. A special oven so I could cook for a very special lady. I didn’t tell Chase that however.

  I glanced at my watch. Five fifteen in the morning, exactly twenty minutes after I turned on the stove. I scanned the roomed for an oven mitt, but found nothing. Shit, didn’t anyone but me cook around here?

&n
bsp; I took off my silk suit jacket, threw it on a nearby stool, intending to use the end of it to take the cake out when the time came, but then I had a better idea. Spying a standup knife rack on the counter, I took out a pair of scissors. I cut off one sleeve off my jacket, making my own oven mitt. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  The smell of chocolate filled my nostrils and my mouth watered. Lava cake was my favorite as a kid so when Charlotte mentioned she loved chocolate the other night, it was a no-brainer about what to make for her next.

  I set the fourteen ramekins on the oven rack and closed the door.

  I only needed two, but I’d never figured out how to scale down the recipes from Dad’s restaurant. Maybe I didn’t want to, although there was also the fact that my math wasn’t all that great. I couldn’t wait to see the expression of bliss on Charlotte’s face when she dipped her tongue into the fudgy centers.

  Charlotte... Thinking about her now, the way she moaned against my ear, all breathy and hot, the quickness of her breath when I touched her bare skin, the way that thick silky hair cascaded over her face, made my cock pulsed behind my zipper.

  I loved how the orbits of her eyes danced when she was excited about something she read. Or her voice when she was crooning to that cat that came around all the time. Damn, what I wouldn’t do to have that kind of enthusiasm every day.

  I set the timer on the oven and yawned. I’d been up since three a.m. and I didn’t get up early for anyone. Not even Margo, but if Charlotte could stay up all night, then I could certainly get up early to see her.

  I had twelve minutes. I sat on a couch in the adjoining room, picked up a copy of Entrepreneur Magazine, and started thumbing through it, trying to ignore how my cock wanted to come out and play. It had been torture sneaking down to the basement an hour earlier when what I really wanted to do was sprint down that hall to see Charlotte, but I needed to warm up the oven.

  I’d never met anyone like her before. She knew exactly what she wanted out of life. She only planned on working one year, lived in a terrible part of town because the rent was cheap, just so she could go to college. How organized and brave. I got that in spades. All I’d done is whatever people told me to do, with everyone else picking up the tab. Some days I felt pathetic, but never around her. Around Charlie, I felt strong. Invincible. Like I could do anything. I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

  I closed the magazine and threw it on the table. Time to make some changes, Taylor. Until recently, I let Margo set me up on dates which was stupid. What kind of a man does that? Call me a manwhore or whatever was the choice asshole name nowadays, but I was lonely. Going on a date now and again, took care of the physical side of that loneliness. Until Charlie came along. Maybe I could finally have both.

  Working in the real world fucking sucked, but not because I hated working for a living. I simply hated this job. Even with all my education, I knew I was in over my head. Before joining the marines, I’d gone to Harvard, got a decent education, but I fucked up a lot too. I’d switched majors so many times, Margo said it gave her whiplash. There wasn’t anything I was interested in. And Charlotte... She was interested in everything. Would she figure out I wasn’t worth her time one day?

  Grasping the pan with my torn sleeve, I took the cake out of the oven, and set it on a rack. There wasn’t much to lava cake actually, just butter and eggs, sugar and chocolate, with my own special twist. Every one of my recipes had a twist and this one was no exception. A molten cake filled with fudge and caramel, it screamed sexy and indulgence. Like my Charlie.

  I inverted the cakes onto two dishes, grabbed a tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer along with forks, spoons and lace doilies and set them on a tea trolley I’d picked up at a garage sale. I pushed it toward the elevator.

  When the doors opened, I found Charlotte standing there against the wall with a huge grin on her face. Dang, she looked good enough to eat, breasts pulled tight in a T-shirt that read, The Book Was Better. Her eyes sparkled when she saw me. “Yay, you’re here after all.”

  “Was there any doubt?” I asked, surprised. I strolled the cart onto the elevator.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s one of two surprises I have for you.”

  She licked her lips. “Two huh? I didn’t know you would even come tonight.”

  “I said I would.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just saying we’ve never really promised each other anything.”

  What was she getting at? Did she think I didn’t care?

  “I may have not used that word, but I did say I would be here and I’m a man of my word.”

  “We’ll see. But it’s cool, Zac. I’m sure a man like you has a lot going on.”

  What was this? Was she brushing me off before we even started? “Listen, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but, I’m a man of my word. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

  “Oh I know. It’s just...Well, in my experience, and a lot of guys will not admit this if their life depended upon it but...How do I put this? A lot of men are put off by a girl like me.”

  “You mean because you’re smarter than most men.”

  “Yeah.” She bit her lip, and that lovely smile of hers thinned. I came closer, absorbing her heat, and the light in her eyes came back as I lifted her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss there.

  “Charlie, I know you’re smarter than me and...” I laughed. “To tell you the truth I’m not put off by it. It’s an incredible turn-on.”

  She leaned in, placed a warm hand on my cheek. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I am. Let’s go eat cake. Whoops. Cat’s out of the bag I’m afraid.” I tightened my grip on the trolley cart.

  “Can I?” she asked, sidling up beside me so we could push side-by-side down to the lunch room.

  “Be my guest.”

  “It makes me feel like... like a real maid.” She laughed. “Don’t look so shocked.”

  “You know. Like in the movies. They’re supposed to be cleaning some big mansion but really what they’re doing is banging some rich English Lord. Of course, I’d need a costume to pull it off. One of those short flouncy skirts with white ruffles.” She slipped a hand over mine, continuing in a breathy voice. They usually wear nothing underneath.”

  My pants grew tight as fuck. “And I’d be the rich English Lord?”

  “Depends on how good that cake is.”

  I quickened our pace down the hall toward the lunch hall, laughing and yelling, “Cheerio mates,” to imaginary people along the way.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “Oh, no one.”

  “Um, okay,” she said with a giggle. “Can I say something?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Seems a shame no one else gets this kind of service.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah because from where I’m standing you seem like you’re having loads of fun right now.”

  “Maybe you bring the fun out of me.”

  “No. It’s more than that. It’s the food. Or the making of the food.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you really, really enjoy what you’re doing, don’t you?”

  “I love to cook.”

  “Then why are you an accountant?”

  “Guy’s gotta make a living, sweetheart.”

  “Right, but... No. Never mind.”

  “Listen, I thought about opening a restaurant once but it was just a dream.”

  “Dreams are only dreams until you make them a reality, Zac.”

  Chapter 9

  Charlotte

  “You want to show me what?” I was scooping frosting with my tongue and licking the cake off my plate while Zac watched, studying me like I was an exotic animal he was trying to figure out. My heart fluttered at his heated grin. “What are you looking at?”

  “Just trying to figure out if it’s the cake you love, or the plate. And I gotta say, I really envy that
cake.”

  I giggled. “I assure you, it’s the cake.”

  I knew what I was doing but I couldn’t help it. I was licking my lips, the fork, the plate. All of it. When that was sufficiently clean, Zac slid the last bites of his own cake over to me. I finished that too. “Oh God. How have I lived this long without tasting cake like this?”

  “Good huh?”

  “The fudgy interior had just the right cocoa and I love how the caramel oozes out of the middle, slippery and wet like lava on my tongue. It’s like chocolate on steroids.”

  Zac laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I pushed the plate away. “You know you have a real gift, Zac. When you cook something it’s like magic happens.”

  “Yeah? I’d like to show you where the magic happens.”

  My face heated and I had to squeeze my legs together. I guess what I was thinking was written all over my face because Zac said, “Mind out of the gutter,” with a teasing grin. “I’m talking about cooking. Cooking.”

  I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “So you didn’t make this at home this time?”

  “Nope.”

  “You have a full kitchen?”

  “Yep.”

  I glanced toward the old stove with the broken burner at one end of the break room. I only knew about the burner because I tried to make hot chocolate once when the microwave was broken. “You don’t mean that old thing?”

  Zac grimaced. He took our place settings and rose from the table. “God forbid. I wouldn’t make toast in that. The stove is in the basement. And not just a kitchen. We have a whole apartment down there. You should see it. Kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, even a wine room. Oh. Plus one room for...ahem...whatever you want it to be. It’s quite impressive.”

  I stretched my arms like a cat, suddenly realizing how tired I was. “Special room. What would you do with a special room?”

  “Come on, Velma. Why do you think?” He gave me a saucy grin, then took the plates over to the sink, rinsed them off, and set them in a strainer. Now that the cake was gone, I realized the room smelled like overripe bananas, leftover popcorn, and dish detergent.