Jingle This!

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Fine.” Angie turned to the boy, who had stopped yelling at his girlfriend and was now scowling at Angie. “So, what’s the problem? Did she flirt with one of your friends? Shtup the math teacher in the shower?”

  “Angie!” Kyle parked himself on the bench between her and the guy. “You’re going to get yourself killed.” He glared at the kid, who backed up a few inches.

  For a moment, Angie paused, shocked by Kyle’s protector move. Was that cute or what? Kyle protecting her? If she didn’t know it was merely for her storytelling talent, she might even get all soppy and lovey about it. But as it was, three years ago she’d made the mistake of interpreting his actions as interest and suffered third degree burns of the heart as a result. There’d be no making that mistake again.

  “So, since you guys aren’t yelling anymore, want to talk about what the holiday season means for your relationship?” she said, trying to draw her focus away from fantasies about Kyle. “It really beefs up the hostility, huh?” Angie waggled her glitter pen while the two kids stared at her. “I hear you. Christmas sucks. So, um, do they make those nose rings in holiday colors to match your hair?”

  The boy touched his green hair. “It’s puke-color, not Christmas.”

  “Right. I should have realized that.” Angie elbowed Kyle. “See? I’m not the only one struggling to get into the holiday spirit, huh?”

  Kyle ignored her in favor of removing a small pocket knife from the fist of the boy.

  At the sight of the knife, Angie faltered, then plowed on. There had to be a story in here somewhere. There had to be. “So, were you really going to use that knife on your girlfriend? I’m all for making loved ones suffer, but don’t you think that’s taking it a little far?” Angie shook her head while Kyle pocketed the weapon. “I mean, death is pretty permanent, and quite honestly, violence has no place in a relationship.”

  The girl swore at the boy, obviously not impressed with the knife thing. Oh, wait a sec. She was swearing at Kyle for stealing the knife. “Look at that, Kyle. Loyal until the end. I suppose I should be impressed.” She waved her hands to silence the raging obscenities. “So, listen, girlfriend, I have a question for you.”

  The girl told her what she could do with the question. Interesting option.

  “Anyway, if Rambo here were to buy you diamond earrings for Christmas, would you dig that?”

  The girl blinked. “What kind of diamonds?”

  Ah ha. An entire sentence without any curse words. See what diamonds could do? Clean society right up, they would. “Whatever you want. Earrings. Nose ring. Nipple ring.”

  “Big diamonds?” she asked, her voice suddenly much softer than before. Gone was the harsh rasp of hate. She actually sounded like a sixteen-year-old girl now.

  “If you want them. Size isn’t always what’s important you know.” She winked, and almost laughed at the girl’s shocked expression that Angie had clearly made a sex-reference. Always good to be a little inflammatory and see what kind of interesting response you can get.

  The boy sniggered and elbowed Kyle. “Bigger is always better, don’t you know?”

  Kyle muttered something and looked like he was in pain.

  “So, anyway, is that a yes? Diamonds kick butt and all that?” Angie quickly brought the interviewees back around to the story.

  The girl shrugged nonchalantly, but there was no way for her to hide the gleam of interest in her green eyes. “He can buy me diamonds if he wants.”

  “I don’t want,” Rambo said. “But I got other big stuff for you if you want it.”

  She leered at him and waggled her pierced tongue at him. “I’ll take it.”

  Ah ha. The mere mention of diamonds had turned two raving, cursing lunatics into snuggle bunnies. “So, diamonds would keep you guys happy together. Is that what you’re saying? Despite the screaming and the fights and the incipient violence?”

  The girl ignored Angie. “Want to ditch this place?” she asked her boyfriend.

  “Yeah.” The kid shoved off Kyle and stood up, grabbed the girl by the wrist and hauled her to her feet, where he proceeded to suck face with her for a good long time. Once his hands made it up the front of the girl’s coat, Angie decided it was time to move on.

  “Well, that about does it, don’t you think, Kyle?” She stood up and patted the kids on their shoulders. “Thanks for the interview. Happy Holidays.” They ignored her in favor of more public displays of affection. “Great. See you guys around.”

  She’d made it only about twenty feet when Kyle’s hand closed around her arm and he pulled her to a stop. “Angie…”

  No. She was not in the mood to take grief from him. Her spark of inspiration was fragile at best, and it would not survive criticism from him. So she slapped a mittened hand over his mouth and scowled at him. “If you can’t say something nice, then say nothing at all. Got it?” She was feeling creative energy right now, and she absolutely didn’t need Kyle lecturing her on the inappropriateness of her subjects.

  His dark eyes met hers, and she realized how silly he looked with a fuzzy green mitten clamped over half his face. Not exactly the hard-ass business man he liked to project at work. She grinned. “You almost look human right now.”

  His eyes flashed, and he closed his hand around her wrist and removed her hand from his mouth. “You could have gotten yourself killed.” Kyle fingered the knife in his pocket and felt a cold chill go through him that had nothing to do with the subarctic temperatures and everything to do with how he’d felt when he saw that knife in the kid’s hand.

  That was why he’d sat down next to Angie. To stay between her and the boy. With her expensive coat and leather boots, she exuded enough money to make it worthwhile for a kid like that to make a move for her purse.

  Angie rolled her eyes. “There’s about a gazillion people around. He wasn’t going to do anything to me.” The faintest hint of vulnerability flickered in her eyes. “I am glad you got the knife though. I’m not sure what was up with that.”

  “He was going to mug you.” Hell. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about how close she’d gotten to being roughed up? His interest in Angie should be to make sure she wrote a good story. So why did he feel much more worried about her than that? “Did you want to get mugged? Did you think it would make Roger feel bad for ditching you?”

  She stared at him, and he regretted his words.

  “Face it, Angie,” he said, softening his voice. For some reason, he needed her to accept that Roger was in the past. He needed her to let the bastard go. “Roger’s never going to feel bad. He’s a jerk, and you deserve better.”

  He felt like a heel while she stared at him. He realized he probably shouldn’t even have brought it up. From now on, he’d practice avoidance and pretend Roger didn’t exist.

  “I thought you hated me,” she said, not able to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Why do you care who I date?”

  “Because you’re an amazing woman—”

  Her eyes widened, and he immediately cut himself off. Crap. What was that? He hadn’t meant that the way it had sounded. He tucked his hand under her arm and guided her back to their table. “I don’t care who you date,” he muttered.

  She studied him. “Then why are you trying to get me to stop dwelling on Roger?”

  “It’s interfering with your writing.” He really did feel like Roger wasn’t good enough for her, but wasn’t sure why he cared. It felt like it ran a lot deeper than her writing.

  Angie’s lips pressed together, and she inclined her head. “Right. It’s all about the work. I forgot that for a sec.” She turned away. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “What mistake?”

  “We lost our table.” Angie changed the subject.

  Their table had been taken over by a rowdy party in their early twenties, and they’d stacked Kyle and Angie’s papers neatly on the corner of the table. Kyle retrieved them, only to find Angie already leaving by the time he returned. “Angie. Wait up.”
>
  She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m going to go write now. It’s getting late.”

  “I know.” What was up with the tightness in his gut? There was vulnerability and resistance in Angie’s eyes that he didn’t understand, and it was affecting him. It felt so familiar, like something he’d seen in them three years ago when they’d been hanging out before.

  He clearly remembered his relationship with Angie before he’d started dating Sheila. They’d been close, and he’d nearly broken his rule not to get involved with someone at work. Not to mention, he had a code about getting involved with a woman who would want more from him than he was willing to give. Angie wasn’t the type of woman who you went halfway with. It was all or nothing with her, and he didn’t do “all” when it came to relationships. Sheila was for dabbling, which was all he’d wanted at the time.

  But he wasn’t interested in revisiting the relationship they’d had before Sheila…was he? He hadn’t thought much about it for ages, but now that Angie was single again…those memories kept cropping up. Focus on work. “Are you going to write about that couple?”

  “Yeah. I think so. There’s something compelling about them.”

  She said nothing else, and neither did he. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss their past relationship, and all he could think about was Angie with that pocket knife sticking out of her back.

  He clasped her arm and didn’t let go until they were safely inside the lobby of his condo building.

  “Um, Kyle?”

  “What?” He punched the elevator button.

  “Why are we here?”

  She fixed her eyes on him, and he realized they were wide and wary. And so blue. He’d forgotten how blue. “Because I have remote access to the network from home. I figured you could write your story from here.”

  The elevator opened, and he stepped inside. Angie remained in the foyer. “And why would it be better for me to write here than in the office?”

  Kyle punched the door open button. How was he supposed to answer that? He could tell her that he figured maybe a change of scenery would help. He could say that he figured she’d probably had her share of action with Roger in her little office, and he thought it would be appropriate to get her some place where she didn’t think of it, so she’d be able to stay positive and write an inspirational story about love.

  As to the fact that they’d had some fun times working late in his condo? Mere coincidence. Or maybe, he was hoping she’d rediscover some of that levity, for the sake of her work.

  “Kyle?”

  “Because it’s closer than going all the way back to the office,” he finally said. “It’s getting late, and we don’t exactly have a lot of spare time to get this thing posted online.” But as he said it, he realized it sounded lame even to him. He wanted her alone in his condo. There was no other reason, and he was sure she’d see right through his excuse. “It’s almost ten,” he added.

  To his surprise, Angie yelped and jumped in the elevator. “Almost ten? I had no idea.” She pulled out her notebook and started reading on the ride up, muttering to herself.

  That was a good sign. At least she was trying to write something, even if she was no good at it. Scratch that. She was good, just not appropriately inspired. So maybe if he inspired her…

  The elevator door opened, and he held it while Angie stepped into the hallway.

  Yep. That was what he’d do. Set up an inspirational mood. It was time to redirect her focus. He’d show her some romance, some holiday cheer, some of that intimacy he knew was so natural between them, along with some holiday music. She’d write brilliantly. Swift would be impressed and hand over all their business to New Age Marketing, then Roger would sell the company so he would have more time to woo Sheila, and everything would be great.

  *

  When Kyle turned the key to his condo, Angie felt nervous anticipation race through her. What was her problem? It wasn’t as if he’d invited her here to take advantage of her. It was work. So what if she remembered many nights of bonding in this very apartment? It had all been a façade anyway. Yeah, while she was falling in love with him, he’d been scanning for a new hot chick to date.

  So what? She was smarter now. She knew where she stood with him and she’d be too smart to interpret anything as more than work-oriented. He was trying to get Swift as a client, and she was the key, so he was investing in her. Nothing else.

  Chill out, Angie.

  She followed him inside. “Looks the same. Nice.”

  And it was. A very spacious and roomy loft. Sure, it was a bit plain, as to be expected of any bachelor pad, but it had black, modern furniture, a sweet kitchenette and even a little dining area off to the right. The bedroom was clearly visible behind a couple of Japanese folding screens, and the bed hadn’t been made since he last slept in it.

  She could envision him, stretched out in those silver sheets. They would be draped over his waist, barely covering his manly bits, just as she’d envisioned so many times in the past. Dammit. Why was she revisiting that particular fantasy? It had never come to fruition, though, remember?

  “So, the computer is over here.”

  “Right. The computer.” She followed him to the office space set up beside the bedroom area and sat down at the computer.

  But she couldn’t concentrate on the computer with his bed only feet from her, especially when she was sitting there inhaling his scent as he leaned over her and cleaned his files off the desk. She could still remember the time they’d cooked popcorn and stayed up until two in the morning watching a Meg Ryan movie marathon on television.

  She’d thought any man who could watch romantic comedies for hours was her perfect match, and quite honestly, she would still think that. But she’d been so wrong…hadn’t she?

  “Go ahead and get to work,” Kyle said, walking to the other side of the loft. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Don’t worry about him. Hah. She was in the condo of the sexiest man she’d ever met and she was supposed to pretend she was in her office?

  “Less than two hours,” he reminded her.

  Damn. Okay, she could concentrate. She’d better. It wasn’t as if he cared about the fact she could take a diving leap to her left and land on his bed without touching the ground first.

  Besides, she needed to prove to herself that she was completely capable of writing brilliant prose even when her social life was a disaster.

  She opened her notebook, then looked up when Deck the Halls began playing. Kyle shot her a sneaky grin as he turned on the Christmas tree lights that he’d strung through the rafters of the loft. “Getting in the mood yet?”

  The mood she was getting into with Kyle walking around his loft in his socks and looking mischievous wasn’t exactly the Christmas mood.

  “Hang on.” He pulled open a cabinet, took out a tin, and brought it over to her. It was red with a painted Christmas scene on the top. “My mom makes me Christmas cookies every year. Take your pick.” He opened the container and set it down on the desk. Candy canes, Christmas trees, little Santas, all meticulously decorated.

  Angie’s heart softened at all the cookies, so endearing with their less-than-perfect decorations. She thought they were adorable the way there was a little too much red on the candy canes, and a thumb print on the Christmas tree. “Your mom must love you to make all this for you.”

  He turned red. “I help.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “You help your mom decorate Christmas cookies?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wow. She had no idea that the workaholic who ran their company would take time off to decorate cookies with his mom. “That’s not exactly the autocratic financial wizard image you project at work.”

  He looked surprised. “You think I’m autocratic?”

  “Everyone does. Because you are.” She gestured to the computer. “You’ve been bossing me around all day.”

  “But that’s because…” he paused. “Sorry.”

  Sorry?
He apologized to her? Since when was he the type to apologize for being focused on work? She was so confused. She thought she knew Kyle so well already, but he was showing her sides she’d never seen. Sides that made her like him even more. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t afford to trust him again. She simply couldn’t.

  “So, are you in the holiday spirit yet?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Kyle, I appreciate the effort, but I’ve got to do this on my own. A few reminders of Christmas aren’t going to snap me back into my happy place.”

  He held up his finger. “Hang on.” He disappeared into his bedroom, where she could see him rifling through a wardrobe. He let out a triumphant grunt, then re-emerged, holding a headband that had antlers sprouting out of them. “Here. Wear these. I got them at a White Elephant party last year.”

  She eyed them dubiously. “I think you should wear them. How am I supposed to respond to them if they’re on my own head and I can’t see them?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t believe for a minute he was going to put those on.

  “Fine.” He stuck them on his head. “You better be inspired.”

  He looked so ridiculous with the antlers bouncing around and the headband totally askew on his head that Angie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re crooked. Come here.”

  He obediently crouched in front of her so she could reach his head. “I’m at your mercy. Be quick with it. It’s torture for me.”

  She laughed and tucked the ends of the headband in their proper place. “It goes behind your ears, and then you need to free the antlers so they bounce.” She fluffed his hair around the headband. “There. You look fabulous.” She suddenly realized that his hands were on her thighs for balance. “Um…”

  “So, you’re in the Christmas mood now?” His voice was husky, and he seemed to have developed a deep fascination with her lips.

  “I’m getting there.” Uh, oh. Why was her voice so throaty?

  “What about romance?” He met her gaze, and she sucked in her breath at the intensity blazing in them. “What about love? Are you feeling that yet?”