Romancing the Holiday

by HelenKay Dimon

He chugged straight from the bottle again, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The delicate flavor of the Dom was lost on him tonight. All Kyle could taste was the bitterness burning up his throat from his gut. “The only reason I agreed to go along with this proposal was to put an end to The Look. The one Dad always gives me that says I’ve let him down yet again. You know, right before he flat out tells me. Tonight, Monica was supposed to be my get-out-of-jail-free card from The Look. But she bailed. And he crushed me with The Look like a cannonball through a gnat.”

  “Oh, Kyle.” Caitlin’s soft voice broke through the anger roaring in his ears. Actually, it was probably his blood pressure pounding. What if he stroked out from being so pissed off at his almost-fiancée? It’d ruin the party and Dad would be mad at him—again. “I’m so sorry.” She rubbed his bicep in a soothing circle. Moisture glistened at the corner of her big brown eyes, and behind it he saw a bottomless well of sympathy, compassion and loyalty. The churning in his belly calmed at her touch. As a precaution, he took one more long swig to let the bubbles settle him the rest of they way.

  “Why can’t Monica ever look at me the way you do?” he wondered out loud. “Like I’m your whole world? Like I’m the sun and the moon, drizzled with chocolate sauce and wrapped up in a bow just for you. That look, Caitlin, it makes a man feel like a god.”

  * * *

  Her horrible, crazy day was turning into an even crazier night. The unceasing crowds at the mall topped off by Monica’s ultimatum had given Caitlin the humdinger of all headaches. Looking forward to a night of pasta, ice cream and a Julia Roberts marathon with Brooke, she’d almost refused when Kyle begged for her help. She didn’t have the slightest clue how to deal with Monica, and refused to deal with the idea of ending her friendship with Kyle. But he needed her, so really, what choice did she have?

  Now, with his father on his usual disapproving tear and Kyle slugging back two-hundred-dollar wine like it was lemonade, things were downright weird. She’d never heard such a tender tone in Kyle’s voice before. It melted her kneecaps to jelly, and she tightened her grasp on his arm for support. This could be her only chance to catch him off guard. If Monica had her way, it could be Caitlin’s last chance to be alone with him. She had to seize the moment.

  “Kyle, don’t do it.”

  “What?” He finished off the champagne and dropped the bottle soundlessly onto the gray carpet.

  She held her breath. In his current mood, how would he react? With her nerves already frayed, Caitlin wasn’t sure if she could take it if he verbally slapped at her. But he was so open right now. He’d already seen right through her to her true feelings. If his head wasn’t all caught up in the mess with his father, Kyle would’ve called her on it. Damn it, she loved him and wouldn’t give up without at least one good fight.

  “Don’t marry Monica.”

  He shrugged, hard enough to dislodge her hand. “Too late. It’s already in the works. You’re dreaming up a sleigh bell-and-holly-covered proposal for me, remember?”

  How could she forget? The image of him down on one knee in front of another woman kept her awake and staring at the ceiling every single night. “It isn’t too late. Until you’re both standing at an altar and say I do, it isn’t too late.”

  “Caitlin, don’t be naïve.” The tenderness in his voice disappeared. His mouth turned down at the corners, and his chin jutted out. Kyle jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Strip away the white dress, veil and four-tiered cake, and this is a simple business deal. One where we each profit. It might not be ideal, but few things in life are. Monica’s a nice woman. We get along fine, when she’s around. She’s great at parties. Dances like J. Lo after a couple of martinis. I’m not exactly getting the short end of the stick.”

  All the fight had drained out of him. And all the light was gone from those ocean-blue eyes, as if the moon had gone behind a cloud. It made her want to cry, but that wouldn’t be enough to change his mind. Caitlin grabbed his hands. “You deserve so much more. You deserve a real wife, one who’s your best friend in the whole world.”

  “Don’t need that. I’ve got you slotted in the best-friend-for-life role.” He tried to tug his hands back, but she held on tight.

  “What if I’m not always around?”

  “This is the twenty-first century. Skype, phones, texting—you don’t have to be next to me to be with me. We’ll still talk every night. Nothing will change.”

  If only she could believe that. But if he married Monica, Caitlin now knew that everything would change. “It might.”

  “It won’t.” He smiled, that smile that filled her heart like helium. “It’s always been you and me. I can’t live my life any other way.”

  She played one last, desperate card. “What about sex?”

  “What?”

  “You deserve a wife who belongs to you, body and soul. You deserve a lover in your marriage bed. Someone to be there in the middle of the night to chase the demons away. Someone who fires up your blood and stirs your passion. Someone who wants you, who needs you with every cell of her body.”

  Did she move? Did he move? Caitlin couldn’t tell. All she knew was that his hands cradled her face and his lips were on hers. It was the kiss she’d fantasized about for years, and yet it wasn’t. It was so much more. His warm lips tasted faintly sweet from the champagne, and she wanted to lap at him for days. Kyle moved, softly at first, tasting her, fitting himself to her. A cascade of sensation washed down her body. He moved his hands to her back and drew her close.

  They fitted together perfectly. Thanks to the extra four inches her stilettos added, all the interesting parts lined up. A bulge, hard and impressively large, pressed at the junction of her legs. Caitlin’s heart flipped over at the proof she’d already managed to arouse him. She laced her hands through his hair and took over the kiss, pulling him tighter. Her tongue darted into the warm cavern of his mouth, learning what he liked, and what she liked.

  Rocking back and forth slightly, just enough to rub his erection against her, Kyle lit up every nerve in her body like a Christmas tree. She poured all her pent-up feelings into that kiss. It changed from tender to white-hot in an eyeblink. Kyle matched her hunger, mouths fusing, tongues tangling, and an almighty heat growing.

  She couldn’t get close enough. She wanted this perfect moment to last forever. However, Caitlin also wanted to rip off the stiff tuxedo jacket, untuck the starched shirt and revel in his hot, smooth skin. She wanted to trace with her fingers all the taut muscles she’d traced and retraced with only her eyes for years. The Cavendish Grand was a hotel, after all. They could be upstairs in a bed in five minutes. Caitlin rubbed against him like a cat, loving the hard pushback of his pecs against her breasts. A sound she could swear was a growl came from deep in his throat, and he dipped down to the side of her neck, nipping and licking a trail of fire.

  Pin-sharp needles dug into her bare arm and poked into the thin satin of her dress. Kyle put a protective hand on the back of her head and looked up.

  “Sorry. Gotta love an open bar.” A man in a pale blue tuxedo tried to steady himself on the enormous Christmas tree he’d just pushed into Caitlin and Kyle. Silver ornaments tinkled against each other as they tumbled to the ground. “Oh, Kyle, hey there. Merry Christmas. Tell your old man this is a great party.”

  “Merry Christmas, Rob.” Kyle leaned back, putting a few inches of air between himself and Caitlin from the waist up. But from the waist down, they were still completely enmeshed, her skirt tangled between his legs.

  “Santa brought you a real babe for Christmas, huh?” Rob extended a hand toward Caitlin, but missed her by a couple of inches. Before he toppled over, she grabbed him by the wrist. “I’m on Kyle’s team here at LTS. Nice to meet you.”

  He pumped her hand with so much enthusiasm he almost lost his balance again. Caitlin thought about warning him to stay far away from Mr. Lockhart unless he mainlined an entire vat of coffee.

  Kyle cleared his throat. “You’
ve heard me talk about Caitlin.”

  “Whoa. This is the legendary Caitlin? Your best friend?” Rob leaned in to stage whisper in the general direction of Caitlin’s ear. “My best friend’s named Suresh, outweighs me by fifty pounds and wears a windbreaker all the time.” He straightened back up and thumped Kyle on the arm. “If you ever want to do a best friend exchange, just let me know.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. Caitlin’s mine.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat at his words. It had to mean the proposal was off. They both watched Rob stagger away. Suddenly Kyle stiffened. His eyebrows pulled together into a straight line. Caitlin tracked back to see what caught his attention. Mr. Lockhart stood on the opposite side of the room, a glare cold enough to kick-start the next ice age aimed directly at his son. A second later, Kyle released her, and took a couple of steps back.

  No emotion showed through the implacable mask he’d donned. The mix of not-caring and being removed from the situation that hardened into a flat stare and thin lips around his father. Except this time he aimed that expressionless gaze at her. Slowly, he pointed up to the kissing ball directly above their heads.

  “Sorry. I got carried away beneath the mistletoe. You know I’m a sucker for Christmas.”

  This was the deciding moment. She could pitch a fit, demand to know where the passionate, lusty man who’d kissed her went. Tell him nobody kissed like that without a boatload of feelings to back it up. That obviously he couldn’t marry Monica, not when he wanted her so bad his cock almost ground a hole right through her dress. Or throw all her pride out the window and admit she’d always loved him.

  Caitlin looked back over her shoulder at the still-scowling Mr. Lockhart. Kyle’s mom had died years ago. He barely spoke to his brother. She loved him too much to ask him to give up this one chance at mending fences with his father. As his best friend in the world, she could never ask him to choose between her and his family. No matter who he chose, he’d always resent it, and come to resent her. Sucking in a breath, the scent of pine filled her nose and stung her eyes. From now on, she’d always equate the smell of a Christmas tree with the enormous, agonizing heartbreak of this moment.

  “Mistletoe’s pretty powerful,” she agreed. If Kyle wanted to sweep their whole, amazing kiss under the carpet, then she’d play along. “The druids called it sacred, even using it in human sacrifices.”

  He pretended to chuckle. She could tell because it was his fake-hearty work chuckle. The kind he never, ever used with her. “Sort of a morbid story. You should definitely strike mistletoe from the list of proposal possibilities.”

  “Got it. No poisonous plants at the proposal. Of course, that cuts out poinsettias and holly, too.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t have everything I want, can I?”

  Neither could she, apparently. Not even close.

  Chapter Six

  Why did the women in his life insist on meeting him outside in the middle of winter? Kyle tightened the scarf around his neck and bent his head against the wind. The weekend storm had blown through, but another one nipped at its heels. Chicago was knee-deep in the white stuff, with no end in sight. Six days to Christmas, and he was the only idiot on the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s most famous shopping destination. He checked the address on his phone one last time, then tucked it into his pocket.

  Monica had called in a lather, insisting he drop everything and meet her. Kyle almost hung up on her. After Saturday’s no-show for the LTS Christmas party, he wasn’t inclined to do her any favors. Not until he cooled off. But she swore it was an emergency. Well, this was his future wife, so he slammed shut his laptop and sprinted to the El. If he’d tried to drive in this snow, he’d have tacked on an extra half hour. His boots and parka kept him warm enough, but his pants were soaked from fighting his way through the drifts on the sidewalk. The city cleared the streets—sort of—by pushing most of the snow right up to the edge of the buildings.

  As he trudged past Water Tower Place, he thought of Caitlin. He knew she wasn’t inside at the gift-wrap booth, because today was her graduation day. They hadn’t spoken since the party. After the earth-shattering kiss they shared, she’d hung in there for an hour of awkward conversation with him. She charmed the pants off everyone else in the room. Her natural sunny disposition captivated all the stodgy bigwigs his father had invited. Dad even made a point of thanking Caitlin right before she left. Right before she pinned him with those eyes as dull as an old penny and slipped away without saying goodbye.

  Kyle didn’t blame her. No matter how he tried to come up with an explanation for what happened that night, his mind dumped him back at the same place every time. He was a first class prick. He had no right to give in to the feelings he’d spent years tamping down. Caitlin didn’t deserve to be toyed with like that.

  Sure, for those few minutes when he kissed her and time stopped, it had been heaven. If heaven came with enough firecrackers to light up the sky forever. He’d been a selfish bastard to give in to his lust. But something about the combination of the yearning in her eyes and his raw emotional state had melted the shields he maintained against her. All he’d seen was a beautiful woman who understood him. Who wanted to be with him. She’d been irresistible.

  But now everything was messed up. Without his daily dose of Caitlin, he’d been in a foul mood. After two days of this, his entire team had opted to work from home today. They hadn’t even bothered to fake a cough, or sniffle a couple of times. Kyle knew he’d been uncharacteristically sharp. Critical. A fucking jerk to a team of really great guys. One more thing he’d have to deal with before Christmas.

  His phone beeped, signaling he’d arrived at his destination. Wiping a layer of snowflakes from his lashes, he looked up. And immediately wanted to bang his head against the art-deco stone building in front of him. The elegant letters three stories above the door spelled out Tiffany & Co. Monica had an “emergency” at the most iconic jewelry store in town? About as likely as him riding shotgun with Santa. On the other hand, maybe she’d gotten sick while shopping. Monica wasn’t the type to take an ambulance unless spurting blood or unconscious. Hoping, oddly, for the worst, he pushed through into the store.

  Of course, carols filled the air. Pine garlands draped every display case. Just like outside, the crowds were nonexistent, with only two ladies shopping to his right. But he didn’t see Monica anywhere. Great. He’d have to search all four floors of the immense store. Kyle shook his head to get rid of the snow and unzipped his coat.

  “Mr. Lockhart?” An associate in a somber suit appeared at his elbow.

  “Yes.” Guess on a day as slow as this, he’d been easy to spot.

  “Ms. Selford is waiting for you upstairs. In the third-floor private viewing room.”

  Kyle took off for the stairs at a brisk lope. If she wasn’t trolling the cases, Monica must be sick. She must be tucked away, lying down. He called for a taxi, knowing it would take forever to show up. But how else would he get her to the doctor?

  He burst into the dark, hushed room. She sat at a small desk, hunched over and head down. “Monica, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m having trouble seeing...” Her voice trailed off.

  God, it was serious. Kyle practically leapt across the room to kneel beside her. “Are you dizzy? Headache?”

  She pushed the shimmering curtain of blond hair aside to look at him. “Of course not.” Monica waggled the jeweler’s loupe in her hand before setting it on the desk. “I’m having trouble seeing any flaws in this diamond. The clarity is impeccable. It is absolutely stunning.”

  Kyle stared at her while he pulled off his gloves. Perfect makeup. Bright red lips that matched her satin blouse. Ruby necklace nestled in her more-than-a-handful cleavage. She looked ready to pose for a magazine ad. Not at all mussed or frantic as though in the middle of a crisis. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyes, then stood.

  “What’s your emergency?”

  “Hello to you, too.” Arms outstret
ched, she beckoned for him to lean down. He gave her a quick embrace, and a dutiful peck on the cheek. “My, but you’re in a mood. Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Be of good cheer, and all that.”

  Walking five blocks through snow drifts had kind of killed his festive spirit. That, and missing the most important appointment of his entire month to answer her plea for help. “Monica, you told me to rush over here because you had an emergency. What is it?”

  She pursed her lips into a pseudo-pout. “Goodness, you’re in need of some champagne. Let me call for Henry. He’s helping me today, and he’ll set you right up.”

  The absolutely last thing Kyle wanted was champagne. It reminded him of Caitlin. It reminded him that her graduation ceremony started in ten minutes and he’d have to miss it for Monica’s stupid nonemergency. He gritted his back teeth together. “I’m going to give you one more chance to answer, and then I’m leaving. Why did you insist I come here? And why now?”

  She shoved away the black velvet tray covered with loose diamonds. “Fine. I know about the proposal.”

  No way. Caitlin never would’ve spilled his secret. “What proposal?”

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to play coy. Men can’t pull that off. I know you’re going to propose to me. I brought you here so I could point out my ring of choice. I wanted to make it easy for you, darling.” She flashed him a smile as brilliant as the icy rocks in front of her.

  Kyle paced to the door. Then back to the desk, then another full circuit while he tried to figure out where to begin. He felt a little like a live grenade—pin popped, ready to explode at the slightest touch. Pushed to his limit, he decided to make her sweat a little. “First of all, this proposal’s still hypothetical right now. I haven’t decided whether or not to ask you.”

  “Please, your father told me everything. It’ll cement the merger, and it’ll quiet the rumor storm that’s got my stockholders in a snit. This marriage will be a great thing for both of our companies. I’m sorry to spoil your surprise, but meeting today is efficient. I won’t have to swing back to Chicago for a while just to exchange whatever invariably wrong ring you’d choose.” A smile softened her harsh words. “You’re a brilliant man, Kyle, but you’re still a man. Picking out the right diamond is something only a woman can do.”