THAT MAN: Holiday Box Set Books 1-5

by Nelle L’Amour

  Oh yeah… I had something to give him all right. More precisely, to give back to him.

  “Dr. Wick just got home. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  A little panic button went off inside me. “Please don’t let him know I’m here. I want to surprise him.”

  “Got it.” The guard winked at me and clicked open the massive steel gate to let me into the complex.

  The lights in Bradley’s condo were on. The colorful, bright lights on the Christmas tree we’d decorated blinked in the front window. My heavy heart thudded as I jumped out of the car, and tears pooled in the back of my eyes. Though we’d decided not to live together before we got married, this is where we were going to spend the next years of our life once we did. Until we had kids.

  The temperature had dropped. The now crisp December air ripped through me as I furiously pounded on the door. Shivering, I didn’t have to wait long. Bradley came to the door quickly. He was still sporting the same blazer and trousers. The poisonous floral scent of Candace assaulted me and set my tangle of emotions into a tailspin. Wearing his preppy horn rim glasses in lieu of his contacts, my soon-to-be ex was surprised to see me.

  “Hi, Jen. What are you doing here?” His voice was on edge. “Is everything okay?”

  Fuck no. I whipped out my cell phone from my bag. I clicked on to the video and shoved the phone into his face.

  “What were you doing here?” My voice shook with rage.

  In tandem, his face blanched, his eyes rounded, and his mouth twitched. Then, to my utter horror, he flashed his big toothy smile and chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little Christmas smoo—”

  I bitterly cut him off. “Don’t bullshit me, Bradley. You’re fucking Candace. And you’ve been doing it for months.” His eyes lowered. I’d called him on it. Victory fueled my rage. “When were you going to tell me? After we got married? Or maybe you expected me to drop in on one of your little late night work sessions?” Fillings, my ass!

  Bradley chewed down on his bottom lip and shifted nervously in place. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  A familiar saccharine voice sounded in the distance. “Braddie Waddie, what’s going on?”

  Candace. That’s all it took. I did something I thought I’d never do in my life. With all my force, my free hand whipped across my fiancé’s face. I slapped him. Hard. The sound of the sting echoed in my ears.

  Bradley winced with pain. Guess he could give it but couldn’t take it. His hand flew to his face and rubbed the large red welt I’d left behind on his cheekbone. I noticed for the first and last time how small his fingers were. Just like his roaming dick.

  “Why’d you do that?” he moaned.

  “For the same reason I’m going to do this,” I shouted. Without wasting a second, I tore his engagement ring off from my finger and flung it at him. It bounced off a lens of his glasses and then landed with a ping somewhere on the front step.

  “Bitch!” shrieked Bradley, his hand flying to his eyes. “You fucking broke my glasses!”

  “And you fucking broke my heart, Dickwick.”

  With that, I stormed back to the car. Scorching tears streamed down my ice-cold cheeks. My hands still shaking, I deleted the incriminating email. And in my heart, I deleted Bradley. It was officially over for us.

  When I got back to my house, Libby was home. Her Mini Cooper was parked in the driveway. I pulled up behind it and wearily made my way through the front door.

  Libby was curled up on the couch drinking some wine. “Hi,” she said brightly until she caught sight of my tear-stained face. “Sheesh. What’s going on? You look awful.”

  I’d cried so many tears I thought I had no more to shed. Wrong. A fresh batch sprung from my burning eyes. “I broke up with Bradley,” I wailed.

  “Oh my God.” Libby jumped up from the couch and curled her arms around me. I wept on her shoulder. “Sit down and tell me everything,” she said softly as she led me back to the couch.

  Facing her, sitting cross-legged, I launched into the story of how I discovered Bradley was cheating on me with Candace. I paused occasionally to catch my breath or swipe away my tears.

  Though never one to hold back, Libby listened intently and silently as I, blow by blow, told her what happened. Her hazel eyes blinked rapidly as she digested everything. Libby begged to see the footage, but I told her I’d deleted it. That I couldn’t bear to watch it again.

  When I got toward the end of my woeful tale, my bestie’s freckled face lit up with surprise. “You seriously slapped his face?”

  With a sniffle, I nodded. “And then I threw his ring at him and cracked his eyeglasses.”

  Libby burst into laughter and gave me hug. “Good for you. I never liked that dickwad. Trust me, it’s meant to be he’s out of your life. Just think if you’d married him.”

  “You’re right,” I conceded before taking a much needed sip of her red wine. The cheap Burgundy seeped through my veins and warmed me while I continued.

  “What am I going to tell my parents? He was supposed to come home with me over the holidays. My mother was so excited. She even wanted to start planning the wedding.”

  Libby pensively knitted her brows together. “The truth. That you broke up with him. It wasn’t working out. Less is best. They don’t need to know all the details.”

  Libby was right—the truth was the only way to go. But I was going to wait till I got home to break the news to my overprotective parents. Why worry them sick now? I took another gulp of the comforting wine; it was beginning to dim the pain. My tears subsided.

  “Lib, do you think it’s weird that some strange producer sent me that footage?”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely a little random. But most likely, just a weird coincidence. You should take his pitch. Maybe he’s some cute single guy.”

  “Shut. Up.” Only Libby could make me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m going to go call it a night.”

  “Maybe you should take a day off from work tomorrow. Sleep late and treat yourself to a massage.”

  While Libby’s suggestion was so tempting, I didn’t want to miss a day of work, having so recently started my job. I only hoped I could hold it together in front of Blake. The last thing I wanted was to let him see me blubbering like a child. It was bad enough he’d seen me make a drunken fool of myself in Vegas.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was tucked in my bed. The footage of Bradley and Candace replayed in my head as if it were on a loop. Tears singed my eyes. We’d been together almost five years, and now in five minutes, it was over. Just like that.

  In the morning on my way to work, I was going to drop off his Christmas present at the Salvation Army. Yes, I could return or exchange it, but I didn’t want to touch or see anything that reminded me of Bradley Dickwick.

  My tears succumbed to sleep.

  Chapter 13

  Blake

  I got to my office super early; I couldn’t wait to get there to see if my little ruse had worked. When I walked past her office, she wasn’t at her desk yet. She was late. This could be a good sign or a bad one. Either she’d had a brutal breakup or major make-up sex with Dickwick. Shit. I’d never thought about the second possibility, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Once settled in my office, I kicked up my legs on my desk and thumbed through the latest Hollywood Reporter to distract myself. On the last page dedicated to Hollywood happenings, there was a photo of Kat and me at Jaime Zander’s art gallery opening. We were standing in front of The Kiss, the painting Jennifer adored. My pouty, unexpected and unwanted companion in her low-cut halter gown was sucking up to the camera. I looked rather solemn. The photo was taken just after shithead Dickwick yanked Jennifer away from me. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be happening again any time soon. My heart pulsed with anticipation. If Operation Dickwick was a success, Jennifer could be mine. All mine.

  At the sound of a shuffle, I looked up and saw her. Dressed head to toe in
black, she was back to wearing her glasses. But beneath the lenses, I could see her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. And she looked paler than usual. I had to refrain from smiling. All good signs. My eyes traveled down to her hands. She was holding a stack of books I’d asked her to option, making it impossible to see if she was wearing her ring. The tower of books extended from her waist to her chin. Definitely an overload. As she slumped toward me (another good sign, but maybe she was just weighted down by the books), I bid her good morning. When she lifted her chin to acknowledge me, the top book slipped off the pile. In an effort to save it, she panicked, and in an instant, all the books went flying to the floor. I heard her mumble “shit” under her breath as she fell to her knees to retrieve them. Mr. Chivalrous—yours truly—jumped up to help her, and in a nano second, I was squatting beside her. My eyes zeroed in on her left hand. It was shaking. But the ring was GONE! Mission accomplished!

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small, trembling voice as she re-stacked the books. “Thanks for helping.”

  I was so close to her I could smell the sweet cherry vanilla scent of her hair and hear her heart thudding. Ahh! Music to my ears. The sound of a broken heart.

  I added a couple of books to the heap. “You don’t seem your normal self today, Jennifer.”

  She sighed. I looked straight at her; she was so close I could taste her. Her eyes were watering.

  “I’m fine,” she replied as a tear spilled onto the cover of the top book. Tangled.

  I lifted her glasses onto her head. The tears were freely falling down her cheeks. With the pads of my thumb, I brushed them away. Truthfully, I longed to kiss them away.

  “You’re not fine. Did something bad happen?”

  “I broke up with my fiancé,” she blurted. The forlorn look on her face got to me. I almost felt sorry for her. Sympathy was edging out my sense of victory.

  “What happened?”

  “He was cheating on me. With his hygienist.”

  “The blond one with the big tits?”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “That’s awful. Do you want to take the day off?” Hello, Mr. Nice Guy.

  Blinking back tears, she shook her head. “Thanks, Blake, but no. I think work will keep my mind off things. And I’ve got a lot on my plate. I want to review the focus group findings with Libby and start optioning these erotic romances. Plus, there’s the staff meeting.”

  She stacked the last book on the pile and awkwardly tried to gather up the bundle. “Let me help you.” I offered. My fingers brushed against hers as I grabbed the top half of the stack and stood up. She followed suit with the rest of the books and thanked me again.

  “Where would you like the books?” she sniffled, her pools of green burning a hole right through me.

  “On my desk would be just fine.” I led the way, and we set the two piles side by side next to my computer. She caught sight of the photo of Kat and me in The Hollywood Reporter, and her breath hitched in her throat. She bit down on her lip and her eyelids fluttered.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I asked, my voice faltering.

  She nodded, still staring at the photo. “I think about that night a lot.”

  “I do too.” Of how much I wanted her in my arms and her lips back on mine. Now that dream could be a reality. Dickwick was out of her life.

  She pivoted on her heel. “Well, I’d better get back to my office. I want to prepare for the staff meeting. Oh, and I almost forgot. Thank you for that cactus plant. I got it this morning.”

  “Just a little token of my appreciation.” Of my affection. We exchanged small smiles.

  As I headed to my chair and she to the door, she spun around and asked me a question.

  “Mr. Burns, one last thing. Do you know a producer by the name of Charles Palmer III?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks and swallowed hard. “Very well. But he’s very difficult to connect with. Let me know if you hook up with him. I’d love to meet him.”

  Another small smile curled up on her sweet lips. “I will. See you in a bit at the staff meeting.”

  “Later,” I retorted and she disappeared.

  Right now, I had to figure out my next move with Ms. Jennifer McCoy.

  Back in my chair, I stared blankly at the photo in The Hollywood Reporter. No more Kitty, Kirstie, Kristie, or Keira. There was only one girl for me. Only one girl I longed to kiss. But how was I going to make her mine? Then like a meteorite, an idea crashed into my brain. I speed-dialed my best bud. Jaime Zander.

  Chapter 14

  Jennifer

  The next couple of days were pure hell. While the mood in the office was festive because of the holidays, I was miserable.

  The last thing I wanted to do was go to the company-wide Conquest Broadcasting Christmas Ball. I was still reeling from the aftershock of my breakup with Bradley. Most of my single co-workers were bringing dates. All I had to bring was a broken heart. Worst of all, the party was being held at Greystone Manor, the club where I’d celebrated my short-lived engagement just weeks ago. Hiding in my bed, I threw the covers over my head. From beneath them, I heard my door crack open and footsteps approaching. Libby.

  “Come on, girlfriend. Get your ass out of bed and get ready.”

  “Do I have to go?” I groaned, one eye peeking out from the duvet.

  “The Christmas party will be good for you; you’ve got to get over being a victim.” Dressed in a black velvet mini-dress, Libby admired herself in my mirrored armoire as she clipped some sparkling earrings onto her lobes. “It was a blast last year. Mel Weiner from Finance got drunk and fucked a chair. They had to carry him out.”

  Big whoop. Seeing some fifty-old horny man getting off on an inanimate object was not my idea of fun. I had an excuse.

  “I have nothing to wear.” Over the past week, I’d had neither the time nor inclination to shop for a new dress. And I’d forgotten to pick up Chaz’s perfect little black dress from the dry cleaner. While I had several gowns that I’d worn to Bradley’s—scratch that, Dickwick’s—dentist events hanging in my closet, I truthfully wanted to burn them. In fact, maybe that’s what I would do tonight. Yuletide party for one.

  “Your fairy godmother has arrived.” At the sound of a familiar cheery, singsong voice, I bolted upright to a sitting position and then hopped out of bed. It was Chaz, Libby’s twin brother, dressed in outrageous black leather shorts, a red velvet blazer, and sparkling red high tops. Dangling from his hands were two monstrous Merry Christmas shopping bags with naked Santas dancing on them. He pranced into my room.

  “What’s Chaz doing here?” I asked Libby.

  “He’s our date for the Xmas party. No party is a party without Chaz. Last year, he got everyone to do the ‘Hokey Pokey.’” She broke into the juvenile song and dance. “You put you both boobs in. You put your both boobs out. You put your both boobs in, and you shake them all about,” she belted out in her husky off-key voice. Without reserve, she shimmied her C-cup chest, and then we all turned ourselves around as she continued to croon.

  Despite my doom and gloom mood, I burst into much needed laughter.

  “My lovelies, just consider yourself lucky.” Chaz beamed. “And here are your Christmas presents from yours truly.” He handed us each a bag.

  Libby squeed as she removed the contents of hers. “Oh, bro, it’s fabulous! I’m going to change!”

  She held up the dress in front of her. It was one sexy number. A bandage-like red sequined strapless dress—custom-made for her curvy little body and wild vermilion hair.

  Libby darted out of the bedroom with the dress draped over her arm.

  “What are you waiting for, Jenny-Poo?” asked Chaz.

  I frowned. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Stop it. Nonsense. You’re going as my date. And that’s that. And you’re going to be the belle of the ball. Now, take a look-see at what’s inside the bag.”

  Reluctantly, I reached inside the bag. Under layers of sparkly red tis
sue paper, a combination of silk, tulle, and sequins grazed my fingers. I removed the dress, laid it on the bed, and gawked. It was dazzling. A strapless emerald green confection with a pouf of glittering layers of tulle that reminded me of the sprigs of an evergreen tree…and the color of my eyes. A sparkling tulle wrap accompanied the dress along with a pair of matching green satin pumps.

  “Oh my God! It’s beautiful.” There was no doubt in my mind that one day Chaz would be right up there with Marc Jacobs and Michael Kors.

  With a wide Cheshire cat grin, Chaz gleefully clapped his fingertips together. “And it’s going to be even more beautiful on you. Now, my Cinderella, get ready before my Jeep transforms into a pumpkin.” He sashayed out of the bedroom.

  I had no choice. I was going to the Christmas party. Libby was probably right. It would be good for me. To get out of my misery. To meet new people with the company. And to show my boss that I was a team player. As I stepped into the green dress, an unsettling thought crossed my head—would Blake be there with a date? I shivered. Without a doubt. With one of his blond bimbos.

  All dressed up, I suppressed the disquieting thought and took a look at myself in my armoire mirror. I was actually startled. With the way I’d been looking and feeling over the last few days, I seriously didn’t think I could look this good. The dress fit me perfectly with the last layer of tulle grazing my mid thighs. The six-inch heels made my long legs look impossibly longer. With my contacts on, my eyes sparkled green—almost the same shade as the dress. My thick hair was gathered into a high ponytail, and on my ears, two cubic zirconia studs glittered like diamonds. I wrapped the tulle stole around my shoulders. I gave myself a little smile and my reflection smiled back. Cinderella was ready for the ball.

  Chapter 15

  Jennifer

  The Conquest Broadcasting Christmas Ball was already in full swing by the time Libby, Chaz, and I got there. Techno music was blasting and the vast club was packed. It was hard to believe this many people worked for Conquest Broadcasting. In addition to the strobing disco balls, strings of colorful Christmas ornaments and glistening gold stars hung from the ceiling. The effect was dazzling. My eyes darted around the two-level nightclub. People were eating, drinking, socializing, and dancing. I recognized a few of my co-workers from SIN-TV. Even stoic Mrs. Cho was here. She looked fabulous in a gold lamé dress and was a dancing up a storm with an Asian man who must be her husband. Blake Burns, however, was nowhere in sight.