The Reindeer's St. Patrick's Surprise (Reindeer Holidays Book 2)

by E A Price

  She could ask an ex-boyfriend to donate sperm. Temp paused and considered that – really considered it. Well, it could work. At least the guy would know what he was getting himself into. At least she wouldn’t have to sell one of her kidneys to get it.

  Temp deflated a little. Oh, was that really the best option? It was a limited pool to draw from. She had never dated very much, and few relationships lasted very long. She supposed there was always Eric. He was perhaps her longest relationship, and they were still quite friendly. He dumped her for someone else, but he wasn’t a terrible guy. They just weren’t right as a couple. Maybe if they had been, they’d already be having a baby…

  Her eyes slid to the trash, alighting on Mr. Perfect’s card. She plucked it out of the trash and propped it up on her desk. What would he be like as… what? A lover? A boyfriend? A father?

  Temp shook her head. Probably disappointing. Not as a lover, he gave off a vibe that suggested he would be marvelous in that particular area. But as a boyfriend and father, yeah, he would probably just disappoint her.

  Ignoring the card, she opened up her computer and pulled up one of Eric’s social media pages, considering whether she should poke him.

  *

  Harlan strode into his office, growling as he found a woman strolling out of his private bathroom. Not just any woman – Maris. The female reindeer shifter had been chasing after his brother for years, but given his attachment to Mira, she seemed to have thrown in the towel – with a lot fewer fireworks than Harlan was expecting - none, in fact, she'd been very sanguine about the whole thing. He’d always considered Maris to be one rabbit short of being a bunny boiler. But she had been surprisingly quiet since he started seeing Mira. In fact, there was a rumor abounding that Maris was seeing someone. Who, no one could figure out. Maris had always wanted to mate high within the herd, and for a moment Harlan had worried he would be her next victim, but she had been all quiet on the stalker front.

  She slowed as she saw him staring at her. “Oh, umm, hey Harlan.”

  “Maris,” he growled, “what are you doing in my office?”

  Had she been going through the stuff in his office? Admittedly, he didn’t keep much in there. He was rarely at the building. Usually, he was traveling to their different resorts across the world. Usually, he was away, enjoying himself, leaving his brother and uncle to do the hard work. But he was becoming more responsible. Living out of a suitcase, rarely sleeping in his own bed didn’t appeal to him anymore as much as it used to.

  Maris shrugged. “I needed the bathroom. I didn’t think you’d mind.” She smiled in amusement. “I wasn’t sure you knew where your office was.”

  Harlan scowled. Okay, so maybe he took a couple of wrong turns before he found it, but he got there eventually!

  “What are you even doing in the building?”

  Most people who worked there were herd members, but Maris was not employed by the herd. Actually, she was a model – predominantly a hand and neck model for various advertising campaigns. Yep, she was the reason why Bubbles the new laundry detergent was so popular – those were her hands folding the laundry and stroking the soft sheets in the ad.

  “Actually I’ve been asked to pose for a few publicity shots for an ad campaign for one of the resorts in the Caribbean. I’m just here to sign the contract.”

  “Oh.”

  Harlan deflated a little. Looking around, she didn’t seem to have disturbed anything. Not that he had much in his office. Important documents would be found in Branch and Uncle Clay’s offices. The only thing Harlan really had was some brand new stationery that hadn’t yet been used and a bobblehead of The Grinch. The Grinch seemed safe, and he didn’t care whether Maris wanted to steal his pencils.

  He was going to tell her where the public bathroom was, but then realized he wasn’t entirely sure.

  “I better go,” said Maris, “nice to see you, Harlan.”

  She sashayed out of the office, and he gaped after her. She was acting all nice and reasonable and not at all like her usual self – it was a little worrying.

  A knock sounded at his door, and Mal lumbered in, nodding at him. “You wanted me?”

  “I need you to do me a favor,” said Harlan, feeling foolish even as he said it. Here he was thinking badly of Maris for her stalker tendencies, and yet he was planning on doing the same thing to his mystery woman. The woman who had spent the whole evening tormenting him in his dreams.

  Mal rolled his massive shoulders but didn’t say anything. Sometimes his reticence could be downright infuriating. Sometimes Harlan preferred it. Especially when he was going to ask him to do a spot of stalking.

  “Yes, there’s a charity near a bar called Rum Business. It’s called Snow something.”

  Mal nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one Mira’s sister runs.”

  Harlan grunted in surprise. He knew Mira had a sister – she had actually yelled at him down the phone after Branch upset Mira, but he didn’t know anything about her. Could his dark-haired temptress actually be Mira’s sister?

  “It is?”

  “Yeah.”

  Oh, Branch would not be happy if it was Mira’s sister. While Harlan was sure his brother loved him, Branch wouldn’t want his brother to potentially jeopardize his relationship with Mira. Branch would assume Harlan would date and dump her sister. He’d assume Harlan wouldn’t care about her at all. He’d assume Harlan would use her and discard her. Anger coursed through him at the thought that people saw him as being so heartless, though if they thought that, he only had himself to blame.

  Potentially upsetting Branch was just another reason not to go ahead with this.

  “I just want information about everyone who works there,” he said.

  Mal’s eyebrow flickered slightly. A sure sign that he was surprised. Harlan voiced as much.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Kind of thought you asked me here because you wanted me to check out Corinne.”

  Harlan stared at him, and Mal gazed back at him with an easy, nonchalant expression. Actually, the thought hadn’t occurred to him – at all. He went out drinking last night because he couldn’t stop thinking about Corinne, but then he met his mystery woman and… now all he could think about was her. True, what happened with Corinne lingered at the back of his mind, but his every waking thought wasn’t consumed by her.

  “No,” he said finally.

  Mal nodded and left, uncaring either way. Harlan slumped into his chair, wriggling slightly. Damn, his chair was uncomfortable. Was this the first time he had ever sat in it? He would have to get his assistant to get him a new one… as soon as he figured out where and who his assistant was. He was sure he had one… somewhere.

  He looked at his phone, wondering whether his mystery lady would call.

  Eight

  St. Patrick’s Day

  Temp toyed with the stem of her champagne glass. They were also serving some noxious looking green cocktails at her father’s engagement party, but she thought it prudent to stick with champagne – which she was sipping extremely slowly. Heather had already knocked back three of the cocktails and didn’t seem the worse for wear, but Temp wasn’t taking any chances.

  Mira hadn’t been able to make the party; Branch surprised her with a weekend away, but she had sent an engagement gift and profuse apologies. Mira knew that Temp’s dad had issues where she was concerned, and was very cautious when dealing with him – a lot more than he deserved because Mira had been nothing but sweet to him her whole life and he treated her with ill-concealed disdain.

  Heather peered around at the other guests with the same kind of scrutiny a lion uses when zeroing in on their next meal. She was looking for a man, someone to pass the time with and perhaps spend the night with. No doubt she would find someone. Heather was confident and beautiful and usually up for anything.

  “So how’s the baby making going?” she asked as she plucked another cocktail off a waiter’s tray.

  “It isn’t,” admitte
d Temp with a sigh.

  She had been sending polite messages to Eric over social media but hadn’t worked up the nerve to casually ask whether he would give her his sperm. It was hard to work that into a casual conversation. Hey, did you enjoy your vacation in Aruba? By the way, would you mind giving me some of your baby making goods? Nah, she needed to do it in person, though she wasn’t sure there was enough alcohol in the world – even for her – to give her the confidence to do it.

  Besides, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to go down that route anymore. She couldn’t stop thinking about Harlan Connors. She hadn’t called him, but she had been worrying his card to the point that the lettering was starting to fade.

  “You’re not telling your dad about trying for a baby, are you?”

  “Hell no,” she muttered.

  He’d probably just go into a tailspin and look for a wife even younger than whatever he’s found now. She hadn’t seen her dad yet and hadn’t met his future wife, but she could see plenty of young, bubbly candidates. She zeroed in on the bubbliest she could find – her dad had a type.

  “That must be her,” she whispered to Heather, nodding her head in the girl’s direction.

  She could only be about twenty-two or twenty-three, she was wearing sky-high heels and the tiniest dress imaginable, and she was giggling amid a group of other girls.

  Heather gave the girl a wry look. “Your dad certainly has…” The young woman chugged back a glass of champagne like it was soda. “I don’t know how to finish that sentence.” She shook her head. “So, back to baby duty.”

  “I’m considering asking Eric to see if he… would be willing.”

  Heather leaned a little closer. “To hook up?”

  “No!” Definitely not again. Eric was a nice enough guy, but she didn’t want to get involved with him again in that way, and not just because he made love like he was trying to pound a nail into a block of wood – with very little accuracy.

  “I was just thinking about asking Eric to make a donation. I don’t want to sleep with him again, but given that he’s now divorced, maybe he’d be okay with it.”

  Heather gave her a doubtful look. “Hmmm.”

  “You don’t think he will agree?” She wasn’t sure whether that was worrying or reassuring. She might actually feel a little better if the decision were taken away from her completely.

  “I think Eric will want something in return,” said Heather scornfully.

  Ah yes, Heather and Eric had never really gotten along. Eric resented how much of her little free time Temp liked to spend with Heather, and Heather thought he was a total jackass. Heather felt like she was proved right when Eric left her for another woman, though honestly, their relationship had been dwindling for weeks before that.

  “Well, I don’t have money to pay him…”

  Heather snorted in a very unladylike way. “No, given the way he tried to stick his tongue down my throat at the last New Year’s I was forced to spend with him, I’d say the horny dickwad would want something else.”

  “You think it’s a bad idea?” breathed Temp. A large part of her did too.

  “No, if it’s what you want, go for it. Eric’s a dick, but he’s a smart dick and pretty handsome – your baby could have worse genes. Just don’t let him talk you into anything.” She peered around the room, and her lips curled into a vulturine smile. “Ooh, I like the look of him.”

  “I am not walking up to him and asking for his sperm,” said Temp. It was hard enough discussing it with people she knew, never mind a complete stranger.

  Heather snickered. “I meant for me – though I kind of like that suggestion. How do I look?” Heather did a small spin, almost knocking over a waiter.

  “Gorgeous,” smiled Temp.

  “Darn tootin.’”

  Heather winked at her and glided across to the room to her next, unsuspecting conquest. Temp took a small sip of her champagne and braced herself as her dad approached.

  He beamed so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t crack. “There’s my best girl.”

  She only winced a little as he said it.

  “Congratulations,” she mumbled unenthusiastically.

  He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Come on, sweetie, come and meet Candace.”

  Her dad took her arm, and she only mildly felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter as he marched her across the room. Amazingly, he bypassed the gaggle of young women and took her to a middle-aged woman with a pleasant open face and silver hair.

  Temp stared at her. This couldn’t be her. If anything she appeared to be a few years older than her dad. That shocked her enough into gaping like a fish at her.

  Her dad beamed proudly. “Candace, this is my daughter, Tempest – Temp for short.”

  Candace smiled happily and took Temp’s hand. “Arnold, why don’t you get us some drinks?”

  He scooted off to do as he was told and Candace squeezed her hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you; your father can’t stop talking about you.”

  That was perhaps even more of a surprise. “Really?” she said doubtfully.

  She just assumed he generally forgot he even had a daughter most of the time. She looked at her father’s retreating back with interest. He’d spent most of his life avoiding her, so this was interesting.

  Candace tinkled with laughter. “You look surprised.”

  “I um,” Temp hemmed and hawed. “You’re just not what I expected.”

  Meaning, she was not like his other wives or girlfriends at all.

  “No,” agreed Candace in amusement.

  “He told you about all his marriages?”

  “Of course.”

  “All of them?” she asked insistently. Was she put off by his awful track record? Or the fact that he was a serial bimbo dater?

  “Actually, I’m a divorce lawyer – it’s how we met.”

  “You are?”

  A woman with a job rather than a vocation for shopping and partying was also new.

  “Yes,” she said and then blushed slightly. “Though when sparks started flying, I did insist that one of my partners take over his case – I didn’t want our personal feelings to interfere with his divorce.”

  “No,” agreed Temp almost dazedly. She wasn’t sure whether she was dreaming.

  “But we started dating soon after it was settled, and your father proposed, and here we are!”

  She chuckled and seemed almost nervous. Perhaps – like Temp – she was worried he was going to dump her for an out of work water ski instructor, who owned fifty-three bikinis and no sweaters, like he did to wife number three.

  “Ah, congratulations,” said Temp almost questioningly. She wasn’t sure how much she meant it. What could she say to anyone about to marry her dad? Congratulations that you’ll probably be divorced within a year?

  Candace didn’t seem to notice.

  “Thank you,” she said almost excitedly. “I’m sorry we haven’t met sooner.”

  “Me too,” she murmured automatically.

  “Your father tells me you’re very busy.”

  “Ah ummm…”

  “He’s very proud of you.”

  Temp shrugged. She wasn’t sure that was true. But then, he’d never really had any hopes or dreams for her – so there was no way for him to be disappointed.

  “And you, do you have children?” asked Temp, needing to change the subject before any of her depressing and resentful thoughts bubbled out of her mouth.

  “Yes, a son. He’s married with two kids. He’s running late, but he’ll be here soon.”

  There was high-pitched laughter from the gaggle of girls – the loudest being from the girl Temp had pegged as her future stepmother.

  Candace saw her glance in the direction of the girls. “Two of my nieces and their friends,” she said

  “Ah.”

  Her father returned with glasses of champagne and beamed at them. Temp tried not to gawk as he put an arm around Candace’s shoulders and gave
her a smitten look.

  “The party’s nice,” said Temp, trying to mask her discomfort. “It’s been a while since I went to a party that wasn’t serving Jello with pieces of fruit in it.”

  Other than hanging out with Heather, her only social life was at the center – and the parties they held there were for kids, so Jello was always a must.

  “Oh, I love Jello,” said Candace, “perhaps we should have it at the wedding reception. In fact, maybe we should have three tiers of Jello instead of a cake. Most of my friends have to watch their diet and blood pressure, so sugar-free Jello may be the way to go,” she told Temp.

  “When are you planning on getting married?”

  “At the end of March,” said her dad enthusiastically.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Temp, “that’s so… soon.”

  “Would that suit you?” asked Candace, genuinely concerned.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  It wasn’t like she had any social life to speak of, other than being dragged out with Heather.

  People started milling towards her dad and Candace, congratulating them on their upcoming nuptials.

  “I’ll let you mingle,” murmured Temp, excusing herself.

  Before she could make her escape, Candace said, “Yes, we must meet up and get to know one another soon.”

  “Sure,” mumbled Temp, not exactly believing it would happen. She could count all the words exchanged between herself and all her dad’s previous wives – her mother excluded – on her fingers and toes.

  Temp moved away from them. Heather was currently flirting like her life depended on it with a cute red headed guy. Temp found herself an empty table and continued nursing her glass of champagne. She didn’t really know anyone here. Other than Candace’s guests, she really had no idea about her dad’s friends, and they no longer had any family members. She supposed her dad didn’t really know anyone in her life either – other than Mira. Heather was her plus one. Her dad had met Heather before – and hit on her which was mortifying, thank goodness Heather told him where to stick it – but Temp wasn’t sure her dad even remembered her. Though, Heather generally was hard to forget.