Romancing the Holiday

by HelenKay Dimon

  Which is exactly why Caitlin had offered to help him. Caitlin, currently robed and about to be hooded in a ceremony he was missing. “Monica, did you ever hear the story about the boy who cried wolf? You can’t claim an emergency unless, oh, I don’t know, you’re bleeding out, being mugged, or getting arrested.”

  “There’s a horrible storm outside. Our pilot tells me the airport will close in two hours, and I have a dinner meeting in Minneapolis tonight. This is the only time I’ve got. Ergo, an emergency.”

  He might as well be talking to a chalkboard. “Look, I’m not at your beck and call. There’s an entire department back at LTS who depends on me to lead them, not run out on shopping expeditions.” Kyle glanced at his watch again. Stupid, because he knew what it said. Unless Tiffany’s sold sterling-silver time machines, he’d miss all of Caitlin’s ceremony.

  “Plus, I’m missing a very, very important engagement right now. My best friend, who drove sixteen hours straight to come to my graduation, is in her cap and gown right now.” Dropping onto a blue loveseat, Kyle tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Disappointment ripped through him. “And I’m not there to see it.” Would she forgive him? Of course she would. But he didn’t know if he could forgive himself for missing that once-in-a-lifetime moment.

  “Get used to it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Monica stalked across the room, her black, wide-legged pants swishing with every step. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “We’re getting married. The only names on the invitation will read Monica and Kyle. There’s no room for your school friend in our marriage.”

  He’d damn well draw a line in the sand right now. “Don’t. Just don’t say a word about Caitlin.”

  She changed tactics, and sat next to him, curling her hands around his arm. “Look, this might be starting out as a glorified business deal, but I truly enjoy your company. We suit each other. Our families suit each other. I’d like to take a shot at having a real relationship with you.”

  “Of course. I agree,” he stammered. He felt the same way, or thought he did. He’d said as much to Caitlin at the ice rink. But cozied up next Monica, her breasts pushing against his ribs, it became as real as a heart attack. And just as life changing. Could he do it? Even for this father, could he tie himself to this woman? She loved to travel, and loved Mexican food as much as he did. He could picture them on vacations together, poolside, sipping margaritas. She’d look fantastic spilling out of a bikini, and wouldn’t mind his being glued to a movie on his iPad, since she’d probably bring work along.

  That was the easy part. What he couldn’t picture was any sort of everyday life with her. Monica would probably move her base here to Chicago. Would they have dinner together, or would she be out with prospective clients every night? Would she ever come watch him in a pickup hockey game? Or learn how to talk him out of the very dark place he always spiraled into after an argument with his father? Try as he might, he just couldn’t see it.

  “Caitlin is a distraction,” Monica said. “When you’re not with her, you’re talking about her, or texting her, or figuring out what to do with her next. She is a black hole sucking away all of your energy. Our marriage won’t stand a chance unless you cut her out of your life. It only works with two of us, Kyle, not three.” Her cool fingers lightly stroked his jaw. “She’ll be fine. I happen to know she’s been offered the job at Selford Chambers. Caitlin will soon be too busy for you. Your special connection would fray after just a few weeks. Why go through that pain? Make it a clean break. Then you and I can focus with clear heads on building a new life, together.” One hand dropped lower, inside his coat to caress his chest.

  It made sense. A fresh start. Maybe easier than he thought, with Caitlin already not talking to him. Kyle didn’t take marriage lightly. Sure, he had a contingency plan. If things weren’t going well after his dad died, they’d get an amicable divorce. But ideally, he and Monica would commit to each other, learn to love each other and stay married. He believed in the sanctity of the vows, the promise to be there for each other, whatever it took. If she said yes to his proposal, didn’t he owe that to her? Give it his best shot?

  * * *

  Caitlin had dressed for the near-blizzard conditions in a wool sweater, turtleneck and long underwear. Great for outdoors, but layered beneath the wool-and-velvet graduation robe she dripped with sweat. Funny, since she’d been icy cold since the LTS Christmas party. No matter how many blankets she piled on, she just couldn’t get warm. Even today, with perspiration beading in the hollow between her breasts, on the inside she still felt a bone-deep chill.

  “I’m so happy for you!” her friend Beth squealed, jumping up and down until her long braids bounced. Then she threw her arms around Caitlin in a quick hug.

  “We’re both graduating, Beth. Why the special happiness for me?” Caitlin straightened Beth’s velvet beret.

  “I heard about the jobs. I can’t believe you got offers from both the Art Institute and the Selford Chambers. No wonder you’re graduating at the top of our class. You are a rock star.”

  Thanks to Monica’s interference, she couldn’t tell if the offer from the Selford was completely genuine. Generous, yes, and Caitlin knew she could handle it. But it felt tainted, like laundered money. The call from the Art Institute this morning had been a salve to her ego. They wanted her based solely on her resume and interview. The way it should be.

  Caitlin peeked through the heavy yellow stage curtains into Fullerton Hall. Despite the weather, the steep rows of seats were almost filled. Hazy light filtered through the magnificent gold-and-amber-stained glass dome. Yet no matter how many times her eyes scanned the crowd, she couldn’t see Kyle’s distinctive dark shock of hair.

  Ever since he’d brushed off their kiss as mere mistletoe madness, things had been weird. Off balance. She’d waited for his daily call, but it never came. And she had to give him space to figure out his new situation, if he needed it. Kyle was the one about to get married. Something he’d apparently forgotten for a few blissful moments at the Christmas party. After one look from his father, though, he’d gotten back on track. No matter how much it hurt, this was his new reality. In order to keep their friendship alive, Caitlin had to accept it.

  So in between crying and wallowing, she’d had another great idea for a proposal, involving the Joffrey Ballet’s Nutcracker at the Auditorium Theatre. What if the prince presented the ring to Monica during the curtain call? The ultimate mix of romance and Christmas. But Caitlin couldn’t clue Kyle in to her brainstorm unless he picked up the phone.

  Beth pushed her aside. “Don’t hog the gap. I want to spot my family, too. Gotta know where to wave when I cross the stage. Did you find your parents?”

  Taking up almost an entire row, along with Lisa, Raquel and Brooke. While she didn’t want her friends to be bored to tears with the ceremony, they’d insisted on coming. Said it was an inarguable friendship rule. So why wasn’t Kyle here? “Yep. I think they got here an hour ago to pick out prime seats. My dad bought a new video camera just for the occasion.” A tiny coil of warmth bloomed in her heart. Her family had always been her biggest support. Well, along with Kyle. She’d better shake off her gloom and project nothing but happiness for that video camera. After all, she didn’t want her dark pit of despair memorialized for all time.

  “I haven’t been as lucky as you with the job offers.” Beth let the curtains slide shut. “No rejections yet, but nothing solid, either. I really want that curator position in Santa Fe. Except I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave Chicago. A girl can’t live on chile peppers alone, you know. Do you think they know how to make decent pizza in New Mexico?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe you’ll just have to teach them.”

  Beth stroked the white satin of her ceremonial hood. “If you take the job at the Art Institute, would you put in a good word for me? I mean, if New Mexico is still deciding, a reference from an associate curator at the Art Institute would probably seal the deal.”<
br />
  “Sure,” she said absentmindedly. Beth’s almond-shaped eyes drooped at her lackluster response. “I mean, of course. You know how to put together one heck of an exhibit. They’d be lucky to have you. But I don’t know which job I’ll take.”

  “Are you kidding? You didn’t already have a favorite picked out?”

  “No.” Which was true. The glamorous life of travel with the Selford or the prestige of belonging to one of the world’s most renowned museums? On paper, both jobs were great. Would she let Monica run her out of town? Pride said no. On the other hand, pride didn’t come with a paycheck. If she stayed and Monica made good on her threat to blackball her, Caitlin’s career would be over before it even began. She didn’t have the resources or the contacts to put up a fight. Still, she hadn’t completely resigned herself to rolling over.

  “Is Kyle here yet? I bet he brought you a great present. At least a bouquet, but maybe something bigger. I swear, that smokin’ hot computer geek of yours is the best BFF a girl could ask for. Can you see if he’s got a bouquet on his lap?” Beth twitched the curtains open a little bit wider.

  Caitlin took another peek, but nothing had changed. Wishing that he’d appear in the back row, bent over his iPad so that a lock of dark hair drifted onto his forehead, didn’t make it happen. Apparently rubbing a graduation robe had none of the magical properties of an enchanted lamp. “Kyle’s not here.”

  “That’s weird. Didn’t you remind him? I know it’s a workday and all, but Kyle wouldn’t miss your graduation ceremony.”

  A week ago, Caitlin would’ve believed that to be true. If it was still just up to Kyle, no matter unsettled they might be since the kiss, she knew without a doubt he’d be there. No, his absence on this day of all days had to be Monica’s doing. By keeping him away, she was sending a message to Caitlin. A crystal clear message that now Kyle belonged to her.

  “Kyle’s not coming. He’s, ah, getting ready to propose to his girlfriend.”

  “Aw, that’s lousy, Caitlin. Still, I bet he definitely comes through with an awesome present to make up for it.”

  God, it rankled her to cave to Monica’s heavy-handed threats. But there was no way in hell she could stay in Chicago, cut off from Kyle. In that moment, Caitlin made up her mind. “Whatever it is, it better be small enough to fit in a carry-on. I’m taking the job with the Selford Chambers.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kyle paced the twentieth floor hallway of LTS Industries. Sharp sunlight poured in through the open steel-and-glass framework. He squinted, wishing the blizzard had stuck around another few days. Then the overcast sky would match his black mood. His dress shoes clicked against the concrete floor. Like most IT professionals, his daily uniform consisted of jeans, tees and sneakers, unless he had a client meeting scheduled. But for today’s board meeting, he’d pulled out the power suit. Caitlin had picked it out for him, saying the navy pinstripes deepened his eyes. As if anyone in the security business gave a shit about his eye color. Except for when they used him to test their retina scanners.

  Since joining the company straight after grad school, he’d been to only one board meeting. His dad introduced him around, and then Kyle spent the next six hours trying not to let his eyes cross with boredom. He usually scheduled quarterly upgrades or training on board dates; whatever gave him a good enough excuse to skip the damn thing.

  Another set of heels tapped up behind him. “Mr. Lockhart, how may I help you?” His father’s assistant held a tray of pastries and looked harried. Dad had a habit of breaking in, and then flat out breaking the spirit of his assistants in a year or less. This one—Kyle didn’t bother to memorize their names anymore—had been here about eight months, and showed signs of wear around the edges. She smiled a little too brightly, jumped a little too fast when Dad barked at her. Her days were numbered.

  “I’m here for the board meeting.”

  “Really? It started more than an hour ago.”

  An hour ago he’d been tossing back his third espresso. Sleep hadn’t come for him until close to dawn. “I’m a last-minute addition to the agenda.”

  “Oh. Your father didn’t mention any changes. They’ve got a tightly packed schedule today, with the finalization of the merger this morning. All regular board business is in the afternoon. Perhaps you should come back after lunch?”

  Kyle couldn’t wait until afternoon. “I’m going in now.” Actually, he’d wanted to pace out here a while longer to work up his courage. Maybe zip down to the lobby for another coffee. It wouldn’t be good if his caffeine buzz wore off on the other side of the massive smoked-glass boardroom doors. But he couldn’t risk this woman alerting his father to his intentions.

  “Mr. Lockhart, you can’t barge into the middle of a meeting. You’ll have to wait until they break.”

  “That would be the polite, professional thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Her wobbly grin relaxed. He grabbed the pastry tray and set it on her desk. “Problem is, I feel downright dangerous this morning. Ready to hitch up my chaps, stomp through the swinging doors and shoot up the entire saloon.”

  She looked at him as if he’d spoken gibberish. So he’d tossed and turned through three straight John Wayne movies last night. The rough-and-tumble cowboy epitomized the calm strength he planned to project to the board. In the Wild West, a man stood up for what he believed in, against all odds. Today, Kyle would be a gunslinging cowboy, ready to fight to the death.

  “Look, I’m going in. Do me a favor and don’t interrupt us, despite whatever your agenda says.” Kyle smoothed his tie, shot his cuffs and walked through the doors. The room was quiet and dark, blinds drawn against the sun. Coffee cups and crumb-spattered plates filled most of the giant glass table. Close to twenty heads swiveled in his direction.

  Dear old dad didn’t waste any time looking surprised. Instead, he shot Kyle a glare that warned he’d better have a damn good excuse for intruding. “Gentlemen, pardon the interruption. My son Kyle heads up our security division. There must be some sort of a problem.” He motioned for Kyle to enter.

  Kyle held his ground at the head of the table. He didn’t want to venture any deeper into the lion’s den. “There’s definitely a problem. My father tells me that to finish off this merger, all of you expect me to marry Monica Selford. Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  Doug Drysdale, board president and a wrinkled prune of a man with about an eight-foot stick up his ass, sniffed his displeasure. “We’re at the end of some very delicate negotiations. Why don’t we save the discussion of your personal life for later?”

  “The way I hear it, my personal life has become the business of both LTS and the Selford Chambers.” Kyle raised his arm and pointed at each man in turn. Interesting how most of them wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Huh. Not one of you looks shocked that I’ve broached the topic. Clearly my impending marriage isn’t news to you. So I thought you should know it’s being taken off the table as a bargaining chip.”

  A young guy on the Selford side of the table spoke up. “Don’t be ridiculous. This merger is based on stock transfers, profit and loss statements, gross proceeds. We’re only interested in your talent in the security division and Monica’s capability to handle PR.”

  Huh. His father had a lot of bad points, but lying wasn’t one of them. Brian Lockhart had made it clear that both companies were behind the whole proposal idea. Kyle figured this guy was stalling to give one of the older, craftier men time to figure out how to railroad him right back into proposal mode. But he’d play along.

  “Good. Because this isn’t fourteenth century Europe, and a merger should be based solely on business. I’m happy to work with you on upgrading the security on your hotels.” Well, he’d mostly play along. While making sure his lack of marital intent came through loud and clear. “What I won’t do is tie up my future happiness to pad the bottom line in your annual report.”

  A guy in a green-and-red bow tie slammed his hand against the table. “Now listen here. We entered these negot
iations in good faith. We were promised certain conditions. You can’t go changing things at the last damn second, Lockhart.”

  Kyle couldn’t tell if he or his dad was the intended target of that verbal arrow. A quick glance down the table showed his dad had taken a seat, and didn’t look at all ready to jump into the fray. Kyle jerked his chin at bow tie guy. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Richard Selford. Monica’s father.”

  Everybody said meeting prospective in-laws was hell. Dumping the guy’s daughter to his face took the situation to a world-record level of awkwardness. “Nice to meet you.” He figured it would be prudent to extend a small olive branch. “Look, your daughter is a lovely woman. She’s just not the right woman for me. Which means I’m probably not the right man for her, either.”

  Another hand slap on the table. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Your last name’s Lockhart. That’s all it takes to make you the right man.”

  “Could I interest you in an upgrade to my brother, Craig?” Kyle joked. Nobody laughed. Good thing Craig wasn’t at the table to witness his being thrown under the bus.

  “Have you seen the headlines—any of ’em—in the past three months? That daughter of mine gets more column inches for her catting around than we pay for in straight advertising in a year. Makes us look weak. Like the company won’t survive after I’m gone. Stockholders are already sniffing around for a takeover.” Richard rose to his feet and stabbed a finger at Kyle. “I need a stable man with a good reputation, part of a strong family company. I need you.”

  “Well, if I may quote you, sir, I don’t give a rat’s ass.” Still, his father said nothing. Kyle didn’t know what to make of the atypical silence. He had a feeling it didn’t bode well. This might be a very un-merry Christmas around the Lockhart family tree. Of course, with Caitlin not speaking to him, the holiday season was already as dead to him as Marley’s ghost. “Monica and I are not pawns in this merger.”