by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
He gripped her waist and lifted her until she straddled his lap, where he stroked her back and shoulders as they kissed. She hummed in pleasure, let her mouth slide from his, and kissed her way across his jaw toward his ear and that spot she’d found last night, the one that made him a little crazy.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He slipped his hands beneath her cotton tee and teased the soft skin of her back.
“Mmm, same,” she murmured, kissing down his neck and rocking her hips against his erection.
Meier saw stars. He lifted into her and groaned against her shoulder. “Baby.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you want to go over your books? I know it’s hard to believe, but there are things I do well besides hockey.”
She laughed and leaned back to look him in the eye. “I’ll say.”
He grinned. “I meant business-wise.”
“Then you are ridiculously multitalented, though I have to admit, my favorite skills so far have been demonstrated upstairs. Wanna go up there and teach me something new?”
“Absolutely. But I also want to help you keep the store’s doors open and cash flowing into your pockets.”
She tipped her head, and a little smile crept over her mouth. With her eyes soft and her hair falling around her face, she was absolutely breathtaking. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You are one of a kind.” She pressed her forehead to his. “And yes, I’d love to have you look over the books and give me any advice you think might help. But I’d like you to do that after I’ve spent a couple hours with you in bed. Because I…” —she kissed him—“really need”—she kissed him again—“my Meier fix”—she kissed him again—“like right now.”
He chuckled, wrapped his arms tight at her hips, and pushed from the chair. Faith squeaked in surprise, then laughed, and the sound filled Meier’s heart.
“We happen to be of one mind,” he said, carrying her toward the counter, where he nodded to the brown paper bag. “Take a look at the goodies I brought to share—in creative ways.”
As soon as she picked up the bag, Meier started toward the stairs.
Faith opened the bag and peered in. “Ooo, strawberries, chocolate,” she gasped, then looked up and shut the bag at the same time. “Whipped cream?” Halfway up the stairs, she wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a hot kiss. “I love the way you think, Meier Grant.”
He damn well hoped so. Because he would be broaching the topic of continuing their relationship once the dust settled around the festival and Meier had time to create some kind of workable business plan for the store, freeing Faith to answer him honestly.
Chapter 6
At two p.m. the following afternoon, it wasn’t Faith’s financials Meier was looking at, but Lily’s.
“So, you can see here”—she pointed to one of the several spread sheets she’d printed out and brought over at Faith’s request—“I have several revenue streams that I can monitor at all times. That way I can either tell where I need to concentrate or cut or shift or whatever.”
They were sitting at a small desk in the basement that Faith used as an office, and he’d been cooped up there all day, trying to figure out a better way of running the store so Faith could make a livable wage. If she wasn’t ready to give up something as intangible as judging an ice-carving contest, she sure as hell wouldn’t be ready to do what Meier really thought she ought to do—sell the store and do something she really loved.
But after seeing the numbers, he doubted she’d even be able to sell it at a profit.
Meier shook his head, still staring at the page. “Don’t take this wrong, Lily, but, if I’m seeing this right, you make a butt-load of money for talking about really stupid-ass shit.”
Lily laughed. “That doesn’t bother me because you’re not my target audience. And my target audience finds pushing a three-inch disc of vulcanized rubber around an ice rink with a stick while brawling with a bunch of other guys some really stupid-ass shit.”
Meier grinned. “Good point.”
“Thank you.” She leaned back but returned her gaze to the papers spread out in front of Meier, covering every surface. “If you use this as a template, you could, in theory, simply change the topics and have Faith film how-to segments the same way.
“For example, instead of a post about how to design your planner for maximum efficiency with links to all the pens, papers, stickers, and stamps I used in the process, Faith would create a post about how to design your garage workbench for maximum efficiency with links to all the wood, screws, nails, glue, tools, and paint she used to complete the process.
“And instead of my review on a new version of the Erin Condren Life Planner, Faith would review the newest version of the newly released DeWalt sliding miter saw. Are you following?”
Meier nodded. “It’s coming together.”
“She’ll write up a blog post and add pictures and videos that will feed into all her social media outlets. In kind, all her social media posts will track back to her blog posts, which hold the affiliate links to all the products she’s using in her project. Those all bring in money.
“Once she has a following, she can start reaching out to companies to solicit advertising and partnerships. And if she wants to, she can create an online store where a person could go to buy everything they need to complete a project she’s demonstrated.
“She doesn’t even have to be an actress or have special equipment to produce these videos. The most popular tutorials are those that relate to the average Joe. And speaking of the average Joe, the majority of people who will be watching Faith’s videos will be men, and her looks and sweet personality will be as big a hit on camera as they are in town. I guarantee her videos will shoot to the top of popularity lists. Most-viewed videos means hits, and hits mean her affiliate links are getting action. Affiliate links put cash in her bank account. Hits also attract advertisers.” Lily took a breath and grinned. “Getting the big picture yet?”
“Everything you just told me leads you here?” Meier tapped the high six-figure number at the bottom of Lily’s income sheet for the prior year.
“Yep. Crazy, right?”
“Why didn’t she do this a long time ago?” His frown deepened. “When she saw it was working for you, why didn’t she start doing her own?”
“Her dad was pretty old-fashioned. Believed business should be between two people, face-to-face, and she didn’t want to upset him. Besides, she had too much going on. This is a serious time suck, one that doesn’t immediately pay off, and she was taking complete care of her dad and running the store. Toward the end, her father had to get angry for her to finally allow Hospice to come once a day.”
Meier dropped back in his chair, blew out a long breath, and pressed his fingers to his lips, his gaze on the papers that signified limitless opportunities for Faith. A chance at the freedom she should have had in life. “This is really freaking amazing.”
“Right?” Lily said, eyes wide, hands stretched out, palms up. “I’m pretty excited about this for her. That said, this is no Holy Grail. There are tricks and tips and better ways to go about it to get the best results—”
“Um, you get amazing results.”
“And I was gonna say,” she laughed, “since I’ve already climbed those mountains, I can cut her learning curve into a very flat plateau.”
Meier nodded, but his brain kept repeating: “And she can do it from anywhere.”
His cell rang. He reached for his back pocket. “Hope that’s Faith. She was going to call when she was ready to put up the tables.” But it wasn’t. He glanced at Lily. “My agent.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood. “We’re done. You can keep everything until whenever.”
Meier stood, too. “Hey, thanks so much. Faith’s lucky to have such a great friend.”
Once Lily climbed the basement stairs, Meier answered, “Hey, Nick.”
“Hey, how’s the shoulde
r?”
Meier wasn’t in the mood for his agent’s wry humor. He was thinking about what to say to Faith to get her on board with his idea of still seeing each other after he returned to work. “Did they clear me?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?” He was both frustrated and grateful. “This is taking freaking forever.”
“Danbar’s on vacation in the Caribbean.”
Doctor Danbar was the last signature Meier needed on his release forms. “Fucking A.” He threaded his hand into his hair. “This is ridiculous.”
“Relax. It’ll only be another day or two and you’ll go right back to first string when you hit the ice. Hey, I have something that will cheer you up. I’ve got a gig for you. Super easy and it’ll get you out of that backward little Christmas town.”
Meier closed his eyes and dropped his hand. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got you hosting the Insider’s VIP Tree Lighting Champagne Brunch at Brasserie Ruhlmann, Rockefeller Center tomorrow. You’ll be broadcasting live interview segments with key guests along with Bridgette Ferreira.”
That name made Meier wince a little. Bridgette was okay, and if he hadn’t met Faith, he’d be happy to return to the sheets with the model-turned-broadcaster, but now…no. The only women he wanted in his sheets was Faith.
“Since you’re in Nowhere, USA,” Nick went on, “I had to book you a crazy flight schedule to get you out of Twisted Christmas and into New York in time for the broadcast. You’re leaving tonight.”
“Ah, no.” Meier rubbed a hand over his face and started to pace. “Sorry, Nick, but I’m doing this charity thing here, it’s bringing in money for my old high school hockey team. Can’t one of the other guys make it?”
“Dude,” Nick said in his what-the-fuck-do-you-mean-no? tone. “What’s wrong with you? You don’t even know where your team is? All the other guys are in Toronto.”
“Right, sorry. My parents are making me crazy. But I promised these kids—”
“Then cut them a damn check and un-promise them. This isn’t negotiable. This is contractual. And if you’re not on that plane, you’re in breach of that contract. Not something that looks good on your record when trading time comes around. Ticket’s in your email. I’ll see you there.”
“Wait. Nick—”
But his agent was gone.
* * *
Faith set up the last table and moved among them double-checking the extension cord connections. Then she started testing the lights she’d strung overhead. A light snow fell, but she was working so much, Faith wasn’t the least bit cold.
Besides, if she felt a chill coming on, all she had to do was think about Meier and it melted away in an instant.
Her phone chimed, and she smiled, anticipating a text from him. But when she pulled her cell from her pocket, she found a new email from Natalie with no subject. Faith tapped it open, but instead of an update on festival activities, she found images. Image after image after image of Meier with different women. They all looked like paparazzi photos or event photos. None were provocative, but they were all clearly displaying Meier as one half of a couple.
Faith’s gut tightened automatically, as if fending off a punch, while her mind shored up a framework for her thoughts. She knew Meier was a player. A player was exactly the kind of man she’d been trying out when she’d gone into this fling. He’d never made promises. Never led her to believe anything in his life would change once he left Holly for New York or any other city. He owed her nothing.
She blew out a slow breath from pursed lips and felt like she’d found solid ground when she focused on the single line of text below each image.
Miriam Birovski, CFO, Birovski Vodka.
Daphne Johnson, corporate attorney, Oracle.
Tiffany Shapiro, model.
Bridgette Ferreira, model, broadcaster.
Faith continued scrolling, scanning over a dozen photographs, names, and titles while an uncomfortable tightness gathered under her ribs. At the bottom, Natalie’s parting message hammered Faith’s fears home: You’ll never belong.
She forced her eyes closed and turned off her screen. None of that mattered, because this wasn’t permanent. This wasn’t real. This was a fling.
“There you are.” Meier’s voice startled her, and she pivoted toward him. He was smiling, but not in that light, happy way she’d come to love. “I thought you were going to call me to help you set up the tables.”
“You were already spending all that extra time looking at my books.” She stepped forward, laid a hand on his chest, and smiled up at him. “Don’t want to wear out my welcome before you leave.”
A flash of something crossed his eyes. “About that.” He wrapped one big, warm hand around hers at his chest. “I just got a call from my agent.”
Faith tensed against another blow.
“God, I’m so sorry to do this to you, Faith, but he offered me up for a hosting gig tomorrow, and I can’t get out of it. These appearances are in my contract, and I can’t even bum it off on another player because they’re all in Toronto.”
She nodded even though she didn’t understand. “Where’s the event?”
“New York.”
That news was worse than she’d expected, but she tried like hell to hold it together. “So you won’t be here for the contest?”
He looked down at their joined hands and shook his head. “I’m sorry, baby. I have to leave tonight.”
Tonight?
That news hit her hard. Really hard. She wasn’t ready.
“Oh, wow.” She felt the burn and pressure of tears coming and let her gaze fall to his chest. “O-okay. Sure. I understand. It’s your job. You have to go where they want you, right?” She managed a soft bubble of laughter. “I’m lucky we met at all. If you hadn’t hurt yourself and been benched, you would never have come home for Christmas and…”
And I wouldn’t be standing here with my hopes falling from a ten-story building.
She was being irrational.
So she was going to be alone on Christmas Eve. So what?
This was good. A quick, clean end. Better than dragging it out, getting more attached.
She tried to put it into perspective. She really did. But in the tiny framework of her very small life, being alone on Christmas Eve at the ice-carving contest…
Faith shook her head.
Wake-up call. Time for a life makeover.
If only she had the energy—or the heart—for one…
But all she cared about anymore was…
Meier.
She looked up just as he combed his hand through her hair and kissed her. The move was so sweet, so familiar, so comforting, it killed her to think of losing him.
“I’ve already cleared the road for you to judge the contest,” he said, “Natalie isn’t going to—”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that.” She leaned into him, absorbing his warmth, wanting to hold on to him more than her ghosts from the past. “I overreacted about the judging. My emotions have been swinging all over the place lately. I really don’t need to judge the contest.” She smiled. “Once you’ve seen a couple thousand ice sculptures, you’ve seen ’em all, right?
“And I’ve been thinking about what you said last night too. Memories live in here.” She patted his chest over his heart. “Not in any event. Not in any physical object or geographical location. So no matter what I do or where I go, I’ll always have him with me. I don’t need this contest to hold on to him.”
Meier’s expression lightened. “Baby,” he said, his gaze soft on hers, “you’re amazing.”
“I think you’re pretty amazing too.” Faith took a deep breath and dove in with hope sparking in her heart. She’d opened the door for him to step through, if that was what he wanted. “So what’s this event they have you doing?”
He seemed more interested in tucking her hair perfectly behind her ears than the event. “Tree lighting at Rockefeller Center.”
“Wh
oa, what? That’s not a gig. That’s like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
He chuckled at her awe, reminding Faith that it was only a big deal to her because she lived a sheltered life in small-town USA. Because he was out of her league. Because she didn’t belong.
“I guess once you’ve seen a few tree lightings, you’ve seen ’em all. Besides, they’ve got me cohosting one of those champagne brunch deals they hold there at the Rockefeller center for the event, interviewing the who’s who attending. I’ll probably miss the lighting all together.”
That uncomfortable tightness gathered at the center of her chest again. “Wow, pretty swanky, huh?”
“I guess.” He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t want to go.”
She didn’t want him to go either. And if he had to go, she wished he’d ask her to go with him. But she was starting to realize that idea was straight out of a fairy tale.
“Is this going to be on TV?” she asked, trying not to sound like the country bumpkin she was. “Who’s your cohost?”
“Bridgette Ferreira. You’ve probably seen her on those nighttime news shows. She works for NBC, so it will air on that network.” He talked about it like it was no big deal as he slid his arms around her waist, then lifted his mouth in a half smile. “Will you watch?”
Ice water dimmed the last flicker of Faith’s hope. Not because she was jealous, but because Natalie had been right. Meier wouldn’t ask her to come with him because she didn’t belong in that world. His real world. Holly was his temporary fantasyland. Hockey and all the locations it took him—that was Meier’s real world. The world with all the lights and cameras, autographs and interviews, talk shows and hosting gigs, dates with supermodels and CFOs.
And Faith, small-town hardware store owner on the verge of bankruptcy, not only didn’t belong, she couldn’t even fit in. And that hurt in a way she couldn’t put into words.
“You bet.” She forced a smile, patted his chest, and stepped out of the circle of his arms. “I’m going to let Natalie know she can take my place judging the ice carving, and I’ll be sure to turn on NBC tomorrow night to see if I can catch your pretty face on television.”