by Taryn Quinn
“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.”
3
Scrooge
“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?”
Parker crowded behind me. “Jesus, Lincoln.” He clamped a hand on my shoulder and dragged me out of the doorway. His glowering face was one I was used to. “Can I help you?”
“Hello.” She blinked and swallowed before tucking a flyaway curl into her braid. “Sorry to bother you.” Her gaze darted to me, then back to my brother. “I’m looking for Mr. Murdock.”
I shifted my gaze to another woman in the hallway. Brunette, attractive, super pale. I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the New York winter. She was fidgeting and kept crossing and re-crossing her arms across her middle. She, however, was not dressed like a North Pole reject. Instead she had on black pants and a white shirt with a little candy cane on the pocket.
“I’m Parker Murdock.”
“Right.” Her gaze kept tripping to me, then back to my brother. “Of course you are. That’s the name on the door.” She blew out a breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m really sorry to bother you. The only other person I’ve talked to is Lincoln Murdock.”
She sure as hell hadn’t. I would have remembered that smoky voice made for firelight, crisp sheets, and screaming my name until she was hoarse. “That would be me.” I opened the door wider to stand beside my brother.
She paled until her freckles and overly made up cheeks practically glowed. “I was really hoping to speak with Jordan, but I can’t seem to get a hold of him.” She was almost as tall as I was, and yet again looking to bolt. Just like last night.
The woman from Purgatory. In my office, right now. Christ on a crutch.
I didn’t even know what, or who, I was looking for when I went into the club. I knew I wanted to forget—it was about all I cared about doing this time of year. Finding a warm body to lose myself in.
She’d fit the bill in every damn way. She was built like a woman should be—all curves and fiery grace. She didn’t care who had been watching her. She’d been lost in the music, then lost in me. At least for the span of two songs. Nearly as tall as me with an ass that fit against me like she’d been created for my body.
I’d never been so hot, so fast, for a woman in my life.
I was damn glad I was wearing all black right now so my semi didn’t fucking show.
“Jordan—the assistant of the Mr. Murdock you’re looking for—is probably already down at the party.” Parker gave me a hard stare, then turned his attention back to the woman in the doorway. “Can we help you with something?”
She lifted her chin and some of the color came back into her cheeks. “I’m from Kandy Kane Dreams.”
I huffed out a laugh. If the stockings fit.
Her eyes narrowed. “We’re your party planning company.” She concentrated on Parker’s face, her demeanor as professional as possible while dressed like an elf who belonged in Santa’s Fuckshop, a porn parody. “I’ve been working with Jordan on the plans for today’s party.”
Parker glanced at me.
I shrugged. I vaguely remember picking a company from the list my executive assistant gave me. The initial email to hire always went better if it was from me. Less haggling as well.
One thing my old man had taught me that had actually been worth remembering.
I pulled out my phone.
Parker crossed the room and unhooked his suit coat from the back of his chair. “Like he’ll hear his phone at the party.”
“He always answers my texts.”
Jordan might have been a pain in the ass most of the time, but he was a damn good assistant. And I was tired of dealing with the kind of female executive assistants I had previously employed. The first two had worn see-through blouses on the first week, for fuck’s sake.
The third—a battle-ax with steel wool for hair—had tried to keep me regimented on a schedule that I’d never be able to survive. Then I’d found Jordan. He knew what to do before I asked him, didn’t give two fucks if I wore an Armani suit or jeans, and only gave me enough shit to make things interesting.
Oh, and he always answered my texts. No matter what time I sent one.
“I tried texting first,” Hot Elf said.
I glanced up from my phone to the woman who’d left me with a serious case of blue balls for the better part of a day. “You’re not me.”
“Very helpful,” Parker said out of the side of his mouth.
I shrugged. “If I go down to that party, I’ll be waving and leaving on my way out.”
Parker gave a long-suffering sigh. “Let me see if I can find him.”
“I’ll go with him.” The woman behind her piped up.
“No,” Hot Elf said quickly.
Parker held up a hand. “No, you both can stay here. I’ll be faster on my own.”
“But…” Hot Elf’s eyes widened.
Assistant Candy Cane came forward. “I’m going.” She swallowed and if she were a guy, I’d say she’d just nutted up. What was the female equivalent? Tits up? No, that probably wasn’t right. Hmm.
“It’s very important. And perhaps we can get things solved while we’re downstairs.”
Parker frowned, but didn’t ask any further questions. Very much my brother. If it didn’t have to do with his department, he really didn’t want to know.
“Lincoln seems unprofessional, but I can assure you he’s generally quite helpful, Miss—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Miss Kane.”
Of course, it was. I tipped my head back. The name was far too coincidental not to mean she was the proprietress in some way.
Parker cleared his throat. “Right. Miss Kane. I’ll be right back.”
“Mr. Murdock, I really—” Hot Elf, err…Miss Kane sighed as my brother and her assistant hustled off.
“Sorry about that.” I backed up. “Come on in. I won’t bite.” I grinned. “Today anyway.”
She took a step back into the hallway. “I’ll just wait for Jordan.”
“Since Jordan works for me, I think that means I get to know what the big secret is too.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you with it. You’re getting ready to leave, right? That’s what you just mentioned.”
“Christmas parties aren’t exactly my scene.” I glanced down at her outfit. “Then again none of the elves at our previous Christmas parties looked quite like you.”
She flushed. “This is not my usual attire.” She nibbled on her lower lip, then huffed out a breath. “This sucks.”
I grinned. “It doesn’t have to. And neither do you—at least not right away.”
Her lake blue eyes widened again. I wondered if she’d make the same face while on her knees in front of me. Or would it be that slow, slumberous look from the dance floor?
“Look, I understand last night was…something else.” She tugged at her skirt. It wasn’t especially short, but her legs were ridiculously long. “That was then, and this is definitely a whole different kind of now.”
“Last night you wore those same boots, but today’s stripes on your stockings definitely make for an entirely new look.”
She stepped forward, gesturing to indicate we should go into the office. I obliged her. It made sense. She didn’t want our conversation to be overheard.
“You remember what I was wearing?” She shook her head. “Never mind. That doesn’t matter. The problem here is that I have forty kids—”
“Forty-seven.”
She pressed her bright red lips together for a moment and took a measured breath. It was quite fascinating, really. I was pretty sure she was a moment away from blowing up at me. Maybe even taking a swing. Not entirely sure I wouldn’t enjoy seeing her give it a try. How far could I push her?
Hmm.
I did like a challenge.
“So tell me, Miss Kane, is that seriously your name?”
She pressed her glossy red lips together so tightly a white line glowed from her skin.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. And that you get asked that a lot. I don’t like being boring, so I’ll just move on.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Based on the name of your company, and your last name—unless it’s a family thing, which I understand completely—I’m guessing the elf costume isn’t your usual attire?”
Her nostrils flared.
I grinned. Yeah, she really wanted to tell me off. “By my powers of deduction, and being an intuitive man—”
She let out a snort. Her lips did that white line thing again. I much preferred the lush red. She’d worn the same shade last night and I’d dreamed of kissing the red away. I’d also dreamed of my cock wearing that same shade when she took me in her mouth. I wasn’t picky.
Of course, that was a dream and my reality was a little trickier.
I raised a brow. “As I was saying, being an intuitive man, and catching the scent of panic in the air, I’m betting you’re about to give me some bad news.”
“My Santa eloped with my elf.”
It was my turn to press my lips together. “Of all the scenarios in my head, that wasn’t one of them.”
“Welcome to my life. And now there are forty-seven kids arriving at your annual party, with no Santa.”
“You don’t have a backup?”
She tilted her head. “You do realize it’s the twenty-third of December at approximately four in the afternoon.”
“Contingencies always need to be made, Miss Kane.”
“Yes, well this is my final party of the season. And I’ve had two parties a day for the last ten days. I’m all out of Santas and contingencies. Not to mention I normally don’t have to worry about this particular Santa.”
“Had him in your pocket?” When she blanched, I laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“No,” she said stiffly. “He was simply my most requested Santa. He’s very good with children, as well as adults.”
“And now, really good with elves. Just how good?”
“Mr. Murdock, I don’t believe that’s an appropriate question.”
“Maybe. But the question’s already out there.”
“I do not fraternize with my employees. He was simply very good at his job. I chose him because I thought I could count on him. And now…”
“Now, no Santa and you’re filling in as the elf.”
She curled her fingers into a fist. “Yes.”
This conversation was so ridiculous, I couldn’t help but laugh. “And you think my assistant is going to find you a Santa?”
“I was hoping he might have an idea of who to ask. You’re a department store. Perhaps you have a Santa?”
“We do. From the first of the month through the twentieth. After that, the store is simply too busy to support a Santa. People are rushing around to find gifts, not taking snapshots with babies and puppies.”
“You do pictures with puppies?” She waved her hand. “Never mind. Not the point.” She swallowed thickly. “I’ve called every contact I have. I offered double their normal salary. Even triple. Because I know that part of my contract was to supply food and entertainment—aka Santa—for the party.”
“And if you default your contract, we don’t have to pay you.”
Her other hand curled into a fist. “Yes.”
I grinned again. All my teeth must have been out like a shark by the way she paled. “Works for me.”
She lifted her chin. “This contract will see that all my employees will be paid through the summer, Mr. Murdock.”
“Guess you should have had a contingency plan for that Santa, huh?”
“Believe me, I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Doesn’t help me or my employees, now does it?”
“And yet, you’re smiling like a—”
I closed the door and leaned against it, crossing my arms. “Don’t censor yourself on my account.”
Her eyes darted to the door, then to me.
“My brother will return momentarily. Perhaps there will be a Hail Mary in there for you. Except I know my brother and my assistant. Jordan shudders at the idea of sticky kid fingers. Pretty sure you’re not going to find a Santa in him.”
“He just has t
o pass out gifts. Surely he could do that. If not him, perhaps you—I mean we…” She growled. “Me. I could speak with a few of your employees to see who would like to earn a nice bonus for an hour’s work?”
“My employees are here to have a good time, Miss Kane. They are not here to work.”
She twisted her fingers. “I would wear the Santa suit if I could get away with it.” She scrubbed her palm against her skirt. “You know what? I could probably do it. I’ll just send Mel back to my headquarters for one of the smaller suits. I can make this work.” She pulled out her phone and paced the length of my brother’s office.
There was no way I should be attracted to a woman dressed like she was a cross between an elf and a man’s wet dream. I was going to fantasize about her endless legs wrapped around my damn neck for days.
Just what I needed when I went to my cabin.
It was in the middle of nowhere. I could possibly find someone to fill the hours with in the small ski resort town, but I generally didn’t bother.
Maybe I needed to pick up another bottle of Bushmills on my way out of town.
I dropped into my brother’s large executive chair behind his desk and swung from side to side as Miss Kane wore a tread into the Aubusson rug. She was tenacious, I had to give her that. She made three phone calls before wrapping her hand around her cell phone and tapping it to her forehead in frustration.
She checked the slim gold watch on her wrist and tipped her head back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked the readout. Jordan.
Her phone made a similar pulse. Her face relaxed. “Thank God.”
I checked my message.
Jordan: You know I don’t play Santa right? Not even for Gigi Hadid.
I laughed.
“What? Did Jordan find someone?” She rushed over to my brother’s desk.
“Didn’t you just get a text too?”
“Yes. He just said he was coming upstairs to speak with me.”
“Hate to break it to you, but there’s no Santa coming to save you.” My phone buzzed along the desk. I lifted it and my smile slid away.