by Taryn Quinn
I could feel a man’s hands on my skin without the promise of anything more.
The lights flared, then dimmed. A wash of purple and red swirled over the crowd turning everyone the same hue—cool and hot at the same time. The lights and the dancers pulsed as the low beat of the song ebbed and flowed.
I felt an answering echo in my lower belly.
Bad sign.
“There she is.”
I threw a narrow-eyed-glare at my best friend and assistant. She knew me far too well. “One dance.”
Her glossy red lips lifted at one corner before she wrapped her lips around her straw. “Sure. I’ll be here, drinking my courage.”
“And you expect me to just go on out there?”
“Yes. Go let loose.”
I flicked my heavily curled hair over my shoulder and took a deep breath. It was just like riding a bike.
I glided into the crush of people. Instinct took over as the music infused into the marrow of my bones. There was no expectation. No one knew me. So I let go. The watery undertones of the song urged my hips into soft, fluid circles. This was exactly what I needed. As usual, Mel had been right.
I found my spot in the center of the crush of people. I ignored the bump of strangers, and the dancers who thought they were far more talented than they were. I let my gaze drift to the whirling lights above me as the tension in my shoulders melted away.
My body became one with the underlying beat of the song. The heartbeat. I could find it in any piece of music. A Christmas carol, a hymn, a rap song, a country tune—it didn’t matter. There was always heart to a good song.
Once I found it, everything else fell into place.
I slipped my fingers into my hair and let the dreamy music take me away. Clubs often extended the song with remixes and I chased the rhythm. My breath raced as the song built up and spun out.
Eyes were on me.
I ignored them.
Right now, I didn’t want small talk, or someone grinding on my ass.
I just wanted this. The only release I could find.
The song changed to a big hit that had been reduced to a shadow of its original flavor. One that I didn’t want to dance to. I raised my arms to shimmy my way through the crowd when a large hand slid along my waist. The pads of a man’s fingers skimmed along the raised hem of my shirt.
Being in a club meant hands on you whether you wanted them or not. I’d broken my share of fingers when I wasn’t in the mood. I lowered my hand to do just that when the guy invaded my space.
Strong thighs aligned with mine as he pushed me back toward the center of the floor.
My eyes flashed wide, met eyes the color of blue flame. An intense, unflinching stare. There was no guesswork, no teasing—just pure heat. His fingers slid around to the small of my back. His hips moved in time to my own.
He didn’t hold me tight. Just enough to keep me close.
I tipped my head, curiosity riding me harder than annoyance. I shouldn’t have allowed it. He was too big, too overwhelming to be the kind of man I normally danced with. I preferred fun and smiles. No harm, no foul kind of guys who didn’t give me trouble when the dancing was over.
Not like this man.
His broad shoulders were encased in a fitted black shirt with another collared shirt under it in the same jet color. In fact, he was dressed in black from head to toe.
He stroked his thumb under my chin to bring my attention back up to his eyes. He didn’t speak. Not that either of us could be heard over the music, but he didn’t even bother with the pretense.
Just those ridiculous blue eyes burning into mine.
The song faded into one that I loved. Watery strings with a staccato lyric to start before the drums and crashing tones filled the space. His hand grew bolder, coasted down my back to my ass, and his knee slid between my thighs.
Our gazes didn’t waver.
Our bodies melted together in a sexual dance that should have been far too provocative for strangers. My heart raced and a wash of heat rushed from my thighs up to my sex. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a heady reaction to anyone, let alone a man who didn’t know my name any more than I did his.
Did he do this often? I knew I sure as hell didn’t.
I swallowed down a sudden flood of panic. I glanced around us. No one was paying attention to us.
His thumb was at my chin again, dragging my gaze back to his.
“Right here,” he mouthed.
I swallowed and tried to step back. He brought his hand to my hip and caught my hand with his other, lacing our fingers. His skin was smooth with a ridge of calluses along his palm. The beat of the song was harder, darker than the previous ones played.
I moved into him this time.
Maybe I didn’t want the link broken. Just for a few more moments.
The tingle along my thighs grew with each brush of his. The roll of his hips in time to the song changed the simple buzz to a surge. My nipples throbbed and my thighs were soaked under my skirt. Arousal slammed into me. Panic licked along my lower spine and activated my flight response.
Dancing was one thing. More?
No, that wasn’t me.
I twisted away and pushed my way through the dancers. The murmur of pissed off people doubled. The next song was a Britany remix that had the room pulsing again.
My heart crashed in my ears as I finally broke free from the dance floor.
Don’t do it. Don’t turn around.
But I couldn’t help myself. I glanced back to see if my mystery man was following, but he was not.
He’d probably moved on to the next girl.
So stupid. He’d probably lost interest the moment I’d pulled back like a frightened virgin.
Worldly. Yeah, that was me.
I might know how to find my inner dancing queen, but the vixen half of me had yet to figure out how to play.
I placed my hand over my midriff. Everything was still buzzing and fluttering madly. I tugged my shirt down, then smoothed my skirt. Disappointment crashed into self-preservation.
Besides, there was no way I could test the waters with someone like that. I was better off with Jason. He was one of my temps at work. He’d been asking me out for the last three weeks. He was sweet and would undoubtedly take his time—and surely let me take mine.
I’d been putting him off because he was my employee, but the season was officially over tomorrow. At least the Christmas season, which pretty much floated most of my business for the year. Maybe if he asked me again, I’d have to just say yes for once.
Eyes the color of blue flame flashed into my head. Intense eyes. Hooded eyes with slashing cheekbones, giving his face arresting angles.
A man like that didn’t seem nice. He’d take and demand.
Damn if that didn’t give me a serious pause.
No. I shook my head firmly—not for me. The Jasons of the world were more my speed. My fingernails dug into my palms. I couldn’t even pull Jason’s face up at the moment. Kind brown eyes…maybe? Or were they hazel?
I straightened my shoulders and headed for the bar.
Those damn blue eyes were sticking. I had little doubt they’d follow me into my dreams tonight. Time to find Mel and get the hell out of here. I had a huge day ahead of me tomorrow anyway.
I could trust work.
I understood work.
Just one more day to get through.
CHAPTER 2
“Just one more day. One more party.” I’d been saying that same phrase since last night. I swapped out my battered sneakers for my suede ankle boots. One more party and I could curl into my bed and sleep for eighteen blissful hours.
“Kay!”
I fluffed the cowl neck of my sweater, ignoring the crazy person calling my name.
Nothing was going to ruin today.
I pulled out my lipstick and glossed the candy cane red across my lips.
“Kandy Noel Kane, you answer me right now!”
I w
inced. Yeah, that wasn’t good. Was there still time for me to duck out the fire escape?
Mel pounded on the heavy door. “Kan—”
I swung open the door. “Go down a few decibels maybe?”
She pushed me aside, then peeked back into the hallway before slamming the doors. “I can’t. I’m going to hyperventilate.” She plastered herself against the door.
I twisted a fat curl from my ponytail around my finger. Mel was prone to histrionics, but there was a whole lot of panic going on in her big brown eyes.
“The ice sculpture is here, the presents for the charity raffle are under the tree, I finished the place settings myself not even an hour ago. I watched the chef make his specialty.” For the entire two hours. This was my biggest party of the season. “Nothing is going to go wrong.”
“Yeah well, we don’t have a Santa.”
I blinked at her. The room sort of fuzzed out of focus and a soundtrack of waves and screams crashed in my head. “I’m sorry?”
“No—capital N, capital O—there is no Santa in the building.”
“But Jason said he was going to be here.” It was a two-fer. I was going to make sure we had a super sweet, super jolly Santa for the party and maybe let Jason ask me out one more time.
I was pretty sure I was going to say yes.
Sort of.
Maybe.
I slumped into the black leather U-shaped chair across from the massive mahogany desk. The simple glass name plaque said Lincoln Murdock, CEO. I focused in on the name. The same man who had sent me the terse email four weeks ago.
The email that had changed my life.
I’d worked with his assistant after that email, but I’d never forgotten the name. Especially after a little research had me kicking up my heels yabba-dabba-doo-style.
My tunnel vision slowly widened and Mel’s babbling came into focus.
I held up my hand. Mel pressed her cherry red lips together, the bow at the top of her lips becoming more pronounced as she tried to contain her crazy. It was difficult, I knew. “What happened to Jason?”
“I just told you.” She gave an exasperated growl.
“I’m sorry. I went deaf and dumb there for a moment, because I’m sure you couldn’t have said my most reliable Santa was not showing up for the last freaking party of the year. You know, two days before Christmas. And the party where I’m paying said Santa double time.” Because we’d had two parties a day for most of the week. I pushed a shaky hand through my hair. “So please tell me why he’s not here?”
“He eloped with the elf, Michelle.”
“He what?” He’d asked me out three days ago.
“It was a whirlwind or some such nonsense. They’d done six parties together and lightning struck or something stupid. I get lust—but eloping? What is wrong with people?”
“They couldn’t elope tomorrow?”
“It was more romantic to get married on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s tomorrow.” I jammed my knuckle into my mouth to stop the insanity-tinged howl. I could feel it coming from somewhere south of my toes. Maybe the hell that was my life.
It was Christmas, goddammit. Where was their Christmas spirit?
“Evidently, they were going for a beachy wedding on Christmas Eve thing in Hawaii.”
And here I was worried I was underpaying my people. I certainly couldn’t afford to go to Hawaii. I could get away with a pamphlet and time-share lecture maybe.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t want to go to Hawaii. I wanted my freaking Santa here at my last party of the year.
Not just any party. Murdock Home Stores, the largest department store in New York City besides Macy’s, had hired me to do their Christmas party this year. This would put my party planning company Kandy Kane Dreams on the map. Nothing could screw this up.
We’d been squeaking out each month by the skin of my teeth—and savings account—for months to get to November. The Christmas season usually put me and my people in the black for at least four months. This party had guaranteed the better part of the next year.
But not if I didn’t have a Santa for the forty-plus children who would be descending on the party in a little less than an hour. I’d be ruined faster than I’d made it.
Okay. I could make this work.
I had no choice.
Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, I sighed. “Wait, does this mean I don’t have an elf either?”
“That would be correct.”
I closed my eyes. Breathe. In and out. I could do this.
I reached down next to me and pulled my bag onto my lap, then reached for the little black zipper pouch I kept for emergencies.
“This is why you’re my goddess.” Mel’s eyes were locked on my hands.
I paused with the striped tights in my hand. “Because I keep elf stockings in my purse?”
“No. Because you always have a Plan B.” Mel tugged out the rubber band at the end of her braid. “Now, we just have to get you all elf-ified.”
“You know, I started my own business so I wouldn’t have to be an elf anymore.” I kicked off my red, suede ankle boots. “And we still need a Santa.”
Mel dug out her makeup. “One disaster at a time.”
CHAPTER 3
“You have to make an appearance.” Parker folded his arms and leaned back in his wide, black leather chair. He was in a charcoal vest with a tasteful red noose around his neck. A white dress shirt—perfectly pressed and probably starched—was buttoned all the way up, and his jacket hung off the back of his chair.
The perfect corporate face of our company, that was my brother.
I was the one who ended up in the warehouses when there was trouble. I liked to be more hands-on with the company. Parker preferred his numbers and spreadsheets. Handily, he was the CFO by default. Which was fine by me. I’d rather get out of the office when I could.
As it was my office was barely used. Have laptop and iPad, would travel. Again, fine by me. I preferred to be in a monkey suit as little as possible. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be the CEO if my old man hadn’t passed away. Stress and the eternal butt spread of sitting at a desk all day had done him in.
That was not happening to me.
I eased to the edge of the wingback chair. My brother’s office looked more like a library than a place of business. A wall of books was all I could see beyond his large shoulders. He might be a desk jockey, but he made time for the state-of-the-art gym on the premises.
I didn’t care if we had a superior view of Manhattan’s Sixth Ave, I didn’t want to run on a treadmill. I’d pound the miles out on the pavement until there were icicles hanging off my damn nose. Or, for the next few days, whatever hiking trails I managed to climb.
Anything to push the blackness out of my brain.
“I have to get to the airport.”
“Your cabin upstate will still be there in a few hours, Lincoln.”
I curled my fingers over the leather arms. I knew my duties as the head of the family, and the head of our fucking company. The annual Christmas party had once been my favorite part of the year.
Once.
For the last three years, I’d escaped after saying Merry Christmas with a wave and a smile. Our employees didn’t give a rat’s ass if I walked around the room and glad-handed everyone while carrying a glass of spiked eggnog.
No, the only people who actually cared were my mother and Parker. Which was the only reason why I wasn’t in the air right now. I made an appearance, slapped on a tight smile, then got the fuck out.
I stood and pushed up the sleeves of my black cashmere sweater. No suit for me. I had a date with a bottle of whiskey and the lake for the next three days. It was Casual Fuck You Christmas for this Murdock.
A brisk knock on the door saved me from another lecture from my brother. I crossed to the door and opened it. The first thing I noticed was the short green skirt and striped red and white stockings on endless legs, ending in sky high boots in a deeper red shade. Boots
that definitely did not make me think of elves even if the rest of her outfit screamed Santa’s helper.
I immediately dragged my eyes up to her face. Too many years of sexual harassment protocols had been burned into my brain.
“Oh God.” Her summer blue eyes were huge and her blond hair had been plaited into girlish braids, but there was no mistaking that face. Or that body.
I saw the realization in her face as well.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So is this why you ran off last night? Had to get back to Santa’s workshop?”
Want more? Lincoln is deliciously dirty. C’mon, you know you want more…GO HERE.
Taryn Quinn is the redheaded stepchild of USA Today bestselling authors Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott. We have been writing together for a lifetime–wait, no it's really been only a handful of years, but we have a lot of fun. Sometimes we write stories that don’t quite fit into our regular catalog.
Do you like shorter and dirtier reads?
Anything goes with this penname.
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• Paranormal—check.
Did we mention that we like all the genres?
So, c’mon in. Light some candles, pour a glass of wine…maybe even put on some sexy music.
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