Christmas Is for Lovers: 6 Hot Holiday Romances

by Box Set

  The two sisters had to be aware of the slew of agents courting him, now that he was in play again. Most players were signed by mid-January, before the Collegiate All-Star game. Ben swiped a hand through his hair and glanced at the doorway to his grandfather’s room. He liked Dominique and respected her. It wasn’t easy being a female agent in a man’s world, but sometimes, she had to learn who called the shots. He’d make her sweat a bit longer.

  “Mr. Powers,” a nurse said, coming toward him. “Your grandfather’s asking for you. Fifteen minutes max. We don’t want to tire him.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Ben stood and followed the nurse into the room.

  Grandpa was still threaded through with tubes, but he was breathing on his own and his color was much better.

  “When am I getting out of here?” He lifted an arm. “I’m sick of this place already.”

  “As soon as the doctor lets you go,” Ben said. “I’m setting up a hospital bed and nursing care for you at home.”

  “How are Treat and Big Blizzard? You taking good care of them?”

  Ben pulled a chair and moved it close to the head of the bed. “Bob and Cece have them. They’re trying their darndest not to get thrown out of that retirement center.”

  “Aye, no pet policy. That’s why I’ll never go there. I love my animals. Unlike people, they never disappoint me.” He gave Ben a harsh side-eyed look.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ben all but growled, now on the defensive. It had to be about Brittney, but since he hadn’t seen her, hadn’t talked to her about the kiss, hadn’t decided what to do about the lawyers, he had no clue how to respond.

  Truthfully or hopefully?

  Because that was the crux, wasn’t it? He could neither tear his thoughts away from her nor could he accept that he and she weren’t meant to be.

  “That Reed girl,” Grandpa said. “You bringing her into my sickroom after what she did to you. If you end up convicted of indecent exposure, you can kiss your football career goodbye. Heck, you won’t even be able to coach children.”

  “That Reed girl happens to be your Angel Face. Remember your nickname for her?”

  Grandpa’s eyebrows lowered. “What’s the matter with you? Her tits and ass got to you?”

  Ben pushed away from his chair and paced the room. He would have punched any other guy who’d referred to Brittney in such a derogatory manner. Instead, he had to gather his thoughts. Why was his grandfather so dead set against Brittney?

  Returning to the bedside, he said, “Brittney and I are going to work together to get our charges dropped. We’re friends, so I hope you get used to it.”

  “Friends? In what sense? Are you hooking up? Is that what young people call it these days? Friends with benefits?”

  “No, Grandpa. Regular old-fashioned friends, like the way you and Bob Reed are buddies.”

  “Bob defends his granddaughter. He’s turned against me.”

  “Do you remember calling him? He was the one who called 9-1-1. He gathered the entire Reed family at the emergency room to wait for me to arrive. I don’t think I could have done all this on my own. I haven’t even called my father or any of my uncles and aunts. I didn’t know whether you wanted them at your bedside.”

  “None of the stinking lot,” Grandpa said. “All disappointments. Every last one of them.”

  “Even Uncle Ron?” Ben couldn’t believe his grandfather hadn’t reconciled with his uncle after his aunt had passed away. He would have thought they’d had something in common, both widowers.

  “Ron’s okay, but he insists on bringing your dad around. Wants to force the issue.”

  “Considering what just happened, shouldn’t we at least give them a chance to pay a visit?”

  Grandpa’s eyes narrowed and the nasal prongs in his nostrils twitched. “You thought I was going to die, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted to bring them around, to pay their last respects.”

  “No, that’s not it. I just thought maybe it’s about time. Before your second heart attack, you wanted me to take you to Wyoming. You even agreed it’s time to bury the hatchet.”

  “I’m not going there with my hat in my hands, an invalid. He has to admit what he did was wrong.”

  “It’s not wrong to marry again after being widowed,” Ben said, swallowing bile. After all, hadn’t he also blamed his father for remarrying so quickly?

  “You don’t know all of it,” Grandpa said. “Let it be. Now, tell me what’s going on with you and Brittney.”

  “You hurt her feelings.” Ben fixed his grandfather with a fierce stare. “You made her cry. Did you know she thought of you as a third grandfather? That you and Santa were the same? Why’d you turn on her?”

  “For you, Bennett Lee Powers, my grandson. I’m sorry I made her cry, but she had it coming. It’s about time she grow up and learn that babies don’t always get their way.”

  “I really don’t get the hostility toward her. I thought you liked her, maybe even loved her as your own.”

  Grandpa wiped his forehead and closed his eyes. “If she thought of me at all, she would not have gone after you.”

  “So you’re hurt. Is that it?”

  “I’ve always thought of the Reeds as family. They should have spoken to us before lobbing those wild charges—sexual harassment and indecent exposure. It’ll ruin you. Ruin everything you worked for.”

  Ben took his grandfather’s hand and rubbed it lightly. “We both let our lawyers run away with this. Brittney never meant any of it. She and I talked. My lawyer trashed her reputation.”

  “Has she called off her attack dog? Are you free of the charges?” Grandpa sat up straighter. “Because if you are, I take everything back and apologize.”

  “I’ve called off my lawyer.”

  “But she hasn’t?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll go by and ask her parents.”

  Grandpa’s lips flattened and he shook his head at Ben, the way he’d always done to show his disappointment. “Better watch it. She betrayed you already. It’ll only get worse.”

  Chapter 37

  ~ Brittney ~

  “This is not the end of the world.” Michele Song, Shopahol’s corporate counsel marches around the conference table. “Mississippi.com already has a clause protecting itself from computer glitches and data leaks in the customer agreement terms and conditions that everyone who signed up has accepted.”

  I squeeze the pen in my hand until my knuckles whiten. It might not be the end of the world for Shopahol and the big guys, but for me, it’s a disaster. I’ve wracked my brain over and over, gone through all the code and the remote access logs, dumped every electronic trail onto my personal laptop and put them through an anomaly detection system—turning up nothing.

  Dave Jewell, CEO of Shopahol, sits at the end of the table with a deep frown. “Are you saying the lawsuit is without grounds?”

  “No, of course not. Mississippi could turn around and sue us, and there’s the public relations angle, too. Customers have an expectation of privacy, and in most cases of data leaks, they are hard pressed to prove they’ve suffered actual damages, such as loss of income or a situation where they are rendered unable to perform their occupation. That said, we and Mississippi.com could be hit by class-action lawsuits. Usually these are settled with a nominal gift certificate and life goes on.”

  I try not to glare at the attorney. She’s as bloodless as they come—a real shark. Life goes on for her, but what about the people ruined by this privacy breach? Or my employees who’ll lose their jobs? Except one of them is the guilty one.

  “What about Amy Suzuki’s lawsuit?” Dave asks, correctly assessing the severity of the situation. “She claims her image as an actress was harmed by having her sex toy purchases made known.”

  “She has the burden of proof. It might even enhance her image and give her more media attention. I would suggest offering her a settlement in exchange for her retracting her claims against us.” Michele tosses her long, midni
ght black curtain of hair flippantly.

  So, she thinks everyone can be bought off. Amy Suzuki might be a B-list actress for a Japanese samurai film, but she’s a real, living person—someone who was at least embarrassed, if not feeling violated. How dare Michele dismiss it with a settlement?

  “Of course,” Dave replies. “But it doesn’t solve the problem for our reputation. The whole essence of social shopping is to share your purchases with only your selected circle—not the entire world.”

  “People will forget. Their memories are short. Every day there’s a security breach, credit card numbers stolen, user accounts, even the IRS was hacked.” Michele marches across the front of the conference room, one hand on her hip, as she parks herself on the table in front of Jewell. Her tight skirt slips upward exposing her bare thigh.

  “That’s not an excuse.” Jen powers up, standing to her full height. She glares downward at the shorter lawyer. “Trust is everything. If people can’t trust us, they won’t do business with us. We made a mistake. We’ll admit it and pay damages.”

  “That would be stupid.” Michele all but sneers at Jen. “No one admits guilt. The data breach was unintentional and caused by malicious outside hackers.”

  I feel as if the chair I’m sitting on is a thousand degrees hot. My initial investigation didn’t turn up a single breach. No backdoors, no large file transfers, no suspicious traces, no alarms, nothing. Sean and I have an in-house system that logs every data connection, every message, every remote login. We found nothing. Not a trace.

  “You’re calling my wife stupid?” Dave roars, backing his chair from the table. “Need I remind you who you work for?”

  “Duly noted.” Michele meets his gaze straight on, unflinching. She waves her hand toward me. “As I was saying, there’s no need to advertise our mistakes. Shopahol responded swiftly, taking down the feature and wiping out all of the records immediately. Of course, it might help if the CEO of ScrapCloud were to step down.”

  A bolt of ice slices through me. She wants me to resign? To be the sacrificial lamb? But then, I’ve already resigned myself to the inevitable. If we can’t find a trace of our network being attacked, then it has to have been an inside job. A traitor in our midst.

  Jen moves around the conference table until she’s at Michele’s side. She, too, sits on it in front of her husband, forcing the smaller woman to back off. “I’m not sure how punishing Miss Reed would make all of this go away.”

  “It’s not a punishment.” Michele slips off the table and juts her chest at them. “At least in the legal sense. It’s a symbolic gesture that shows the public Shopahol is on top of the situation and assures them you will not tolerate such carelessness.”

  Dave rises from his seat and walks toward me, his hands on his hips. “I’m not in favor of throwing Miss Reed under the bus. Yes, it’s symbolic, and the public loves this kind of headline. In some atavistic sense, it feels like justice has been served. ‘Data Breach CEO Resigns.’” He puts his fingers up in quotes. “But we’re in this joint venture together. Let’s hold off on the head rolling and see if we can’t negotiate with the hackers.”

  “That’s a definite mistake,” Michele shoots back, following his footsteps. “It’s blackmail. How do you know if you pay, they won’t come back again and expose more data?”

  “Michele’s right,” Jen says. “I’ve been blackmailed before and it never ends. Not until …”

  She shudders and hugs herself, then lowers her gaze.

  Ordinarily, her admission would have perked me up, piqued my curiosity, but right now, I’m up shit creek without a paddle, and I desperately need a lifeline.

  “What do the hackers want?” I ask, even though no one wants to hear from me.

  “They obviously can’t come forward and identify themselves,” Michele says. “Perhaps they like the notoriety they gained, or they work for a competitor and they want us to lose market share. Maybe they have something personal against one of you.”

  “In this business, there’s always someone out there.” Dave swipes his hand over his head and scratches the back of his neck.

  “How about the VP of Marketing who resigned last week? The one who came up with the Monkey-See project?” Marlena Morley chimes in from the back. “What’s his name?”

  Michele walks toward the podium and picks up her tablet. “Brandon Cole. Is he holding a grudge? What were the terms of his departure?”

  “He’s Miss Reed’s brother-in-law. He couldn’t want to hurt her.” Dave crosses his arms and shakes his head.

  “So far, Miss Suzuki’s the only one who’s suing,” Michele says. “Hopefully the hacker doesn’t release any more data and the news dies down over the holidays. In the meantime, I suggest you issue a press conference detailing all the steps you’ve taken to mitigate any further damage. It would have been better to have the symbolic head rolling.”

  She gives me a hard stare, clearly conveying that I should resign, whether Dave or Jen force me or not.

  Jen reaches over and gives me a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. The more I think about it, the more I believe there was an insider who tipped off the hacker about our vulnerabilities. Who worked on email notification?”

  “Samantha, but everyone had access to the source code, including the Shopahol engineers who integrated it into the platform code.” I bristle at the implication that my cousin could have betrayed me. “Samantha really needs this job. She wouldn’t have jeopardized it.”

  “Not saying she did,” Jen reassures. “We need to look at everyone, including your sister, Lacy, Brandon, any ex-employees of ours, and of course, the guys at TrophyShots. They could be getting back at you for the Selfie Apocalypse last year where you released a worm into their system.”

  An idea pops into my head. “What about the guys at BuyFriend? Didn’t they attack you last year with the pricing hack, setting all prices to a penny?”

  “True, all true,” Jen agrees. “Although, I’d start with Sean Rodgers, Lester Mathews, Holly Barnes, and of course Samantha Reed, your employees. They had means and opportunity, although maybe no visible motive.”

  Something about the way she circles back to my people makes my hackles rise. I’m not going to get out of this one alive.

  “Sure, you might as well add me to your list of suspects then, or maybe I’ll do everyone a favor and resign.” I push away from the conference table.

  I drop my badge on the table and meet each person’s gaze. Jen’s jaw drops. Dave’s frown deepens. Michele is poker-faced, and Marlena grins.

  Without giving them the satisfaction of a response, I turn and walk out of the building.

  Chapter 38

  ~ Ben ~

  Ben sat in his truck in the ScrapCloud parking lot and watched the door. Earlier, he’d called Brittney from the guest phone and she hadn’t answered. He chewed on a piece of beef jerky and checked the time. No matter what was going on, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

  A few cars were parked in the lot, and he’d been sitting for hours. Thankfully the day was foggy and on the cool side, and he’d spent his time going over agent proposals and pitches. There was an ex-rapper turned sports agent who’d gotten top dollar for several baseball and basketball players. Another was a Hollywood powerhouse combining a talent agency for actors and musicians with sports representation. They’d invited him to a swank Christmas party in Beverly Hills with Steve Sanderson, Pro-Bowl linebacker of the Los Angeles Flash.

  Ben had read about some of the dirty deals pulled by the now defunct Rob Cash Agency in Los Angeles, including sex favors, gambling, and ties to organized crime, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be anywhere near that scene.

  He ignored another call from Dominique. She’d been rude and had treated him like a child—telling him to stay away from Brittney. He read a text message from her sister, Delaine. The lawyer was now telling him her services were pro bono and that she was doing everything possible to repai
r Brittney’s reputation, including contacting Brittney’s lawyer and working with him. About time.

  Ben was just about to check out news for Brittney Reed on the internet when a group of people stepped out of the ScrapCloud building carrying boxes.

  Brittney was among them. She led the group to a white Toyota and popped the trunk. It looked like she was moving things from her office.

  Ben watched them put the boxes into the car, and one by one, each person hugged Brittney. One of the women wiped her eyes and both the guys, including that tall photographer at the Pet Rescue event, hung their heads down, looking sad.

  Had Brittney been fired? Ben had read about the data breach at the online superstore, Mississippi.com, and had briefly wondered if Brittney knew about it. Surely, she was too brilliant to be involved in such a large mistake.

  Ben stepped from his truck and strode toward the group, closing the last few yards in a jog. The entire group closed ranks around Brittney, staring at him with cold, hard looks.

  “Britt? Is everything okay?” Ben stopped in front of her as if he were her best friend. “You didn’t call or text, so I got worried.”

  “I, uh …” She shot a glance at her friends and waved to them. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Remember, cooperate with the investigators. Don’t destroy any records. Log everything. Sean, I’m trusting you to secure what’s left of the company assets—the code, the build system, the test suite, and passwords.”

  “I will, boss.” The tall man who had his hands crossed under his armpits nodded. “It’s unfair of them to take it out on you.”

  “I resigned. Dave and Jen tried to talk me into staying, but I’m not going to get in the way of the investigation.”