Naughty Christmas Nights

by Tawny Weber

  And by Gage, who made her feel things she’d only read about. Who made her hope for more. Hope for everything. And then who made her think that maybe, just maybe, this time she’d get it.

  “It wasn’t fair,” Hailey finally said, for the first time in her life, letting herself express how disappointed she was.

  “I thought I could handle it,” Cherry said, lifting both hands in the air. “I thought I could juggle it all.”

  “Juggle what? Your career obligations? Your love life? Holiday shopping? What did you need to juggle here? All you had to do was make a decision, wear some outfits for a weeklong photo shoot and do one simple fashion show.” Yelling the last word, Hailey realized she was standing on tiptoe in her attempt to put as much force behind the words as possible.

  Cringing, she immediately dropped back to her heels.

  Lovely. She’d just yelled at a very nice, very influential woman. Good thing her business was ruined. Otherwise she’d be freaking out in paranoia over the probable outcome of finally letting loose.

  “I’ve been diagnosed with cancer. Breast cancer. Right before Thanksgiving.” Cherry’s voice, husky with pain, was barely audible. The redhead looked down at her fingers, twining them together then pulling them apart, then starting over again. Her swallow was audible from across the room, echoed by the sound of the outer door closing.

  Gage was gone.

  But Hailey could only stare, her heart devastated.

  But not for herself.

  For the woman sitting in front of her.

  “How bad...? I mean, what’s the prognosis?”

  “It’s metastasized.” Cherry gave a shaky smile, then gestured to her ample curves. “Looks like these babies are going bye-bye. That’s the oncologist’s recommendation. I’ve been fighting it, thinking somehow, if I just believed hard enough, I could change things.”

  She sniffed, then lifted her shoulder.

  “All my life, I beat the odds because I believed I could. I did what everyone said was impossible. My career, my recording contract, moving into the movies and modeling.” She looked down at her hands again, then gave Hailey a tremulous smile. “I thought I could believe this away. Silly, huh?”

  Oh, God.

  “No,” Hailey whispered, her throat clogged with tears. “Not silly at all.”

  This time, Hailey couldn’t stop herself. She rushed across the room and took the other woman into her arms. Together, they held tight, tears flowing in an aching river of misery.

  Talk about perspective.

  14

  GAGE STRODE THROUGH his father’s house, anger propelling his every step.

  Damn Hailey for not jumping at his deal.

  Damn Rudolph for making it so easy to steal the account away from her.

  And damn his father for boxing him in, forcing him into this position. All because the old man had some twisted idea of heritage. A man who, Gage realized with a growl, hadn’t ever once decorated a damned Christmas tree with his sons.

  He stomped into the lounge, glaring at this year’s tree in the corner, then sharing that look with his brother, who was cozied up with his newspaper and a glass of brandy.

  “Where’s the old man?” he asked, preferring to get it all over at once.

  Devon’s shrug made it clear Gage’s preference wasn’t going to matter. “No clue. I think he might have a date.”

  Both brothers slanted a look at the tree. Decorated in its customary red-and-green balls, it looked like it always did when it was just the three men. Gage was sure their thoughts were in sync. If the old man was on a date, what was the tree going to look like next year?

  “Did we ever decorate the tree ourselves?” he heard himself ask. At Devon’s puzzled expression, he elaborated, “I don’t remember decorating. I know we always had a tree. But did we have any kind of, you know, tradition or part in it? Or was it always like the wives, simply showing up one day as a big surprise, causing an uproar for its limited time here, then the old man tossing it away when it started to droop.”

  Devon’s smirk faded into a squint as he thought about the question.

  “I don’t remember decorating. That’s a girlie thing, though, so it can go right there with wearing makeup and going to dance class on the list of things we’re glad we missed out on.”

  Girlie. Right. Along with traditions, emotions and anything that couldn’t be tracked on a ledger sheet.

  “Today was the meeting, right?” Devon asked, as if he were reading Gage’s mind. “You nailed down the deets on the Rudolph deal?”

  Still staring at the tree, Gage shrugged.

  “I’ve got a new venture I just bought into. Another club, but more S and M focused, less pussycat fluff,” Devon said after a minute or so. The silence was obviously bugging him. “You want in? You can take a look at the prospectus, write up a marketing plan, make us both rich.”

  When Gage’s laugh came a second too late, Devon scowled.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Do you ever get tired of chasing new ventures? Of hopscotching from project to project?”

  “I’m at Milano long-term, so everything else is about short-term. That’s how you should be looking at your little marketing start-up, too. Get it going, have fun with it, then once it’s solid, sell it off.” Devon grinned. “Should make for a fun year. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally beat my side earnings. Probably not, but you can try.”

  Rather than incur another scowl, Gage offered up the expected smile. But he just wasn’t into it anymore. The competition, the constant searching for something new, the next big thing. He wanted to settle in, manage his business and see how far he could take it. He wanted to build some traditions, and yes, maybe even learn from a few failures.

  He thought of Hailey, of her determination and drive to do everything she could to succeed. He wanted that.

  Hell, he wanted her.

  “What’s your problem tonight?” Devon snapped, clearly not happy with the mood Gage had brought into the room. “Did you get the account or didn’t you?”

  Gage opened his mouth to snap that of course he had. Then he frowned and shrugged instead.

  “I want out.”

  “That’s the deal. You get the account, you get out for a year.” Devon folded his paper in neat, tidy creases and slapped it against his knee. “The terms were clear.”

  “I don’t care about the terms, or that offer,” Gage said, realization dawning. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the tree. Unable to stop himself, even though he knew he was probably cutting his own throat, he repeated, “I want out.”

  His brother laughed and gave him a derisive look.

  “You’d give it all up? Your future? The future of any rug rats you happen to have? Don’t you think your kids would someday be a little pissed to find out you threw away their heritage?”

  “I’m so freaking sick of hearing about the Milano legacy. We’ve heard it all our lives and what’s it got us? We don’t have a heritage. We don’t have family memories. We have a despot at the head of the dinner table and the board table, calling the shots on the business and on our lives.”

  Gage glanced around. “Is this heritage? We’ve never decorated a tree together. We’ve never had fun family memories. We’re stockholders, assets, prime Milano resources.” Gage gestured to the tree, as if it epitomized his every point. “I’d like to think that if I someday have rug rats, as you put it, they’ll want more than shares in the company. They’ll want holidays and traditions and cookies for Santa. They’ll want more than a cold, choking tie with a million conditions on it.”

  “Money, success, a family name,” Devon countered. “Those all buy a hell of a lot of memories and make the holidays a lot more enjoyable. All thanks to those ties you’re bitching about.�
��

  “Shouldn’t ties be deeper than that?” Gage growled, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. “Shouldn’t they be more than a fragile thread, easily snapped because I refuse to continue giving up my own goals, my own dreams, to toe the line?”

  Shouldn’t they be important enough to care that he didn’t want to screw over a woman who meant a lot to him, just to snag the company yet another feather for its overstuffed freaking hat?

  “Well, that’s an interesting take on the traditions I’ve handed down to you.”

  Shit. Gage cringed. Even Devon winced as they both shifted their gazes to the doorway.

  “Dad. I didn’t know you were there.”

  “Obviously.” Marcus crossed the room to pause in front of the tree, inspecting it much as his sons had earlier, then turning to take his favorite seat by the fire. “So you want to break tradition, do you?”

  Devon’s look was pitying, as though he felt as if he should leave the room so Gage could be shredded in private, but couldn’t resist the show. Or, if Gage were in a generous mood, maybe his brother was sticking it out for moral support. The reality was probably propped somewhere in between.

  Gage met his father’s stare with an unwavering one of his own. Well, one way or another, Hailey was right. It was time to step up and stand up.

  * * *

  THERE. HAILEY CLAPPED her hands together to indicate a job well done and stepped back from the tree to admire her handiwork. Beads and balls and dainty lace roses, a garland of ribbon and a few scatters of crystals here and there for accent.

  The perfect, beautiful tree.

  She sighed, letting her smile drop.

  She’d rather have the paper snowflake, popcorn and condom-covered one. Of course, she’d rather have it because it came with a very sexy, usually naked man underneath.

  And with a promise.

  She dropped to the couch, the tree a blur.

  “The tree is lovely.”

  “Thanks.” She offered a warm smile to Cherry, who was curled up in the corner chair. The other woman still looked fragile. As if a loud noise would shatter her. But she had an air of peace about her now, too.

  Hailey figured that probably had more to do with the ice-cream sundae and Christmas-cookie binge than anything Hailey had done. But if a few hours of listening, another few of hugs and tears and a couple of vats of hot fudge had helped, she was thrilled.

  “You’re upset about Gage?” Cherry observed after a few minutes of silence.

  They’d talked about her cancer, about the holidays, about their favorite junk food and the hottest actors. They’d covered lingerie, a mutual shoe obsession. And now, apparently, they were on guys.

  Lovely. But as they’d silently established at the beginning of this bonding session, nothing was off-limits. Hailey knew it wouldn’t be fair to sidestep just because she didn’t want to talk about Gage yet.

  But upset was an understatement.

  Heartbroken, devastated, miserable. Those came closer.

  “Disappointed,” Hailey finally said. “But Gage, the lingerie deal, they’re minor. Especially compared to what you’re facing.”

  “What I’m going through doesn’t mean your pain is any less, you know,” Cherry chided, pushing her hand through that luxurious mane of red hair as if appreciating every strand.

  “Maybe not, but it definitely puts my heartbreak and business woes into perspective.”

  Cherry’s phone buzzed, the tenth or so time that evening. She looked at it and sighed.

  “I’ve got to go. I have a show at eleven and my car is on its way.” Cherry gave her a warm smile, then offered, “This was wonderful, though. And now we have it down pat for our next visit. First I whine, then you whine? We just keep taking turns.”

  Hailey laughed. Then, remembering the reason she’d brought Cherry back to her place instead of going to the other woman’s—besides the ample supply of cookies here—she jumped up and, with a murmured excuse, hurried into the other room. She was back in a quick minute with a gift-wrapped box.

  “I intended to give this to you after we’d signed the deal, but, well, that’s out the window,” she said with a shrug as she handed Cherry the beribboned gift. “It’s just a little something I thought would suit you. Go ahead, open it now.”

  Excitement, and the special joy that came from giving a gift that meant a lot, filled Hailey as Cherry tugged at ribbon, pulled at paper. When the woman opened the box and pulled out the hand-beaded, royal-blue forties-esque nightgown Hailey had designed just for her, it felt fabulous. Even better was the wide-eyed look of amazed appreciation on the redhead’s face.

  “Oh, this is gorgeous,” she breathed. She pulled it close, holding it against her chest as if to assess the fit. Then, with a sniffle, she lifted tear-filled eyes to Hailey’s.

  “It’s cut to drape from the shoulders,” Hailey pointed out, having to push the words past the lump in her throat. “It’ll flow to the hips, then swirl to the floor. No matter what your size, it’ll look amazing.”

  “It’s as if you knew...”

  “No,” Hailey quickly denied. “It’s simply the design. Too often, women are objectified. We’re made to feel beautiful only if we fit a specific mold, if we wear a specific size. But beauty, sexuality, that comes from within. Not from what fills our bra.”

  Hailey sniffed, wishing she had the right words to let Cherry know that she’d always be gorgeous, always be sexually appealing.

  So, instead, she shrugged and offered a smile. “It’ll be beautiful on you. Always.”

  “I wish there was something I could do,” Cherry murmured, her fingers sliding over the heavy satin, then trailing along the delicate lace. “You’re so sweet, and I feel like I just destroyed your world.”

  “No,” Hailey objected quietly. “My designs suit you, suit a woman who wants to feel beautiful, feel feminine. That’s not the direction Rudy is going. Even if I’d got the deal, the message would get lost in all the sloppy sex stuff he was going to throw in there. Leather panties, dinosaur shoes. The man has seriously horrible taste.”

  They shared a grimace.

  “You’re right. Your designs make women feel great. Sexy and strong.” Cherry’s words trailed off and she gave Hailey a considering look.

  “What?”

  “Well, I know you needed the contract. And I have no idea what position your company is in now that you didn’t get it. But, and I’m not saying I’m sure of this, but I was just thinking that it might be interesting if we...” Her words trailed off, her gaze intent on the nightie in her hands. After a few seconds and a deep breath, she lifted her eyes to Hailey’s. “What if we did a line together? You design. I model. Through all of these pitches, I’ve loved your message, your passion for how romance and emotion are sexier than lust.”

  “Launching a line together would mean you’re putting yourself, your struggle and your body, on display,” Hailey pointed out quietly. She knew Cherry knew that, but it was one of those things that needed to be said out loud. A few times.

  “I know. I think this might be what I need, though.” The redhead arched an elegant brow at Hailey. “And maybe it can be what you need.”

  Could it be? Hailey’s mind spun in a million directions at once, all of them excited, none of them sure.

  “Together?”

  “Tentatively,” Cherry said, swallowing hard. “I’ll be damned if this disease is going to beat me, destroy my confidence or my career. I was going to agree to the Rudolph deal because I wanted exposure.”

  “Our launching a line together, based on your story, might mean a lot more exposure than you bargained for,” Hailey said carefully.

  She didn’t want to get too hopeful. She definitely didn’t want to profit from the other woman’s struggles. But oh, the possibilities. The i
dea of sharing her vision, the concept of expanding people’s views of femininity and sexual appeal, it made her want to cry with joy.

  Somewhere between a grimace and relief, Cherry checked her buzzing phone.

  “My ride is here. I’ve got to go. Let’s both think about this. A couple of days, maybe through next weekend. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. And you need to be sure this is enough to save your company.” The redhead rose, her nightie draped over one arm and both hands outstretched to take Hailey’s.

  “I think this could be incredible,” she murmured.

  Hailey’s mind was spinning. It would be amazing.

  But she’d have to step up herself. She’d have to find a way to keep her business, without the Rudolph account.

  But if Cherry could face this and find a way, so could she.

  “I think it could be, too,” Hailey finally said.

  With that and one last hug, Cherry smiled and floated out of the room. Hailey grinned. The woman was pure glam, even at her lowest.

  As the echo of the shutting door faded, so did Hailey’s smile.

  She did miss Gage.

  His smile and his tight ass. His laugh and his sexy shoulders. His belief in her, his acceptance of her and his outrage on her behalf. Right up until he’d done the exact thing he was so outraged over.

  She sniffed.

  Still, something good had come of it all.

  Optimism paid off.

  Sure, things weren’t turning out the way she’d expected and held out for. But they were turning out. She should be happy. She should be excited.

  She’d stood up for herself.

  She’d made a new friend in Cherry.

  She’d found a way to save her business, and to empower someone else in the process.

  But all she could think of were Gage’s words. How he’d forced her to see how much damage she’d caused herself, her life and her business. All because she was always too worried about upsetting someone else instead of standing up for herself.

  He was right.

  And telling him off when she’d stood up for herself had felt good. Losing him hadn’t. But for the first time in her life, she understood that old saying.