Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday RushPlaying GamesAll Night Long

by Samantha Hunter

  “Thank you, Eli,” Jack said, exchanging his empty for the fresh drink.

  “My pleasure, sir. May I bring you some hors d’oeuvres?”

  “No, thanks.” He needed to start mingling. Someone from the family should be out there pretending everything was fine.

  The thought brought an acute tightness to his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t like interacting with the employees. Quite the opposite. He’d known most of these people since he was old enough to talk. Some of his best childhood memories were from summers he’d spent hanging around the plant, asking a million questions and learning how to run the machinery. How could he laugh and joke and pretend these loyal Carrington employees of twenty, thirty years weren’t about to lose their jobs?

  Picturing the stack of pink slips sitting in his desk drawer made him feel sick. Tonight they were partying. The day after Christmas, their lives would change forever.

  All because Carrington Lamps’s biggest competitor had made an obscenely lucrative offer that his father had been unable to refuse. As if he wasn’t already filthy rich. But then Jack was doing all right himself. His share from the sale meant the rest of his life could be one big party. That was partly why he hadn’t objected when negotiations began five months ago. No room for him to be pious now.

  “Sir?”

  Jack looked at Eli, who’d apparently asked him something. What, he had no idea. Jack glanced at the full glass in his hand. After this he had to take it easy, or go from slightly buzzed to drunk. Which might end up being the goal. Just not this early. “Don’t bring me any more scotch.”

  “Champagne, perhaps?”

  “Nothing for now.”

  Eli nodded and turned for the stairs.

  Jack was about to follow him when he saw a tall shapely brunette step out of the elevator.

  Carly Wyatt?

  Here in Chicago?

  He blinked, in case the alcohol was playing tricks on him.

  Definitely Carly. He wasn’t sure about the last name, but he had no doubt she was the smokin’ hot paralegal who worked for Abbott and Flynn in Manhattan.

  Huh. So they’d sent her...

  Interesting.

  The carol ended, another one started and Jack smiled. Yes, it was indeed starting to feel a lot like Christmas.

  He watched her survey the room, her shiny hair brushing her shoulders with each turn of her head. Her conservative navy blue suit had to be Abbott and Flynn standard issue. Visiting their offices was like attending an undertakers’ convention. Everyone wore traditional dark suits, their power ties the only thing distinguishing them in a sea of blue and gray.

  Not Carly, though, she’d skipped the tie and the two top buttons of her blouse, and was making her mark with a pair of red high heels. God bless her. Man, she had great legs.

  Ted from Purchasing approached her. It figured he’d be the first guy in line. Jack had to give him credit...Ted never let little things, like being outclassed, or mustard on his white shirt, stop him from going for the gold.

  Reggie and Leo, two stocky machinists, stepped up right beside Ted, who, with a long face, turned and pointed at Jack.

  Carly lifted her gaze to him.

  And Jack lifted his glass to her...before tossing the scotch back with a single gulp.

  Dumbass move.

  Though he imagined he’d looked pretty cool. Very Bond-like, minus the tux.

  The asinine thought was reason enough for him to stay off the booze.

  Without hesitation she weaved her way through a group from Accounting and made it to the stairs. He’d only seen her twice before and both times her hair had been neatly pinned up in a twist. He liked it down much better, all bouncy and shiny as she hurried up the stairs, swiping back her long bangs.

  “Mr. Carrington?” Leaving the last step she put out her hand. “Carly Wyatt from Abbott and Flynn.”

  “From where?”

  She gave him a small tolerant smile. “I promise not to keep you from your party. I only need—”

  He caught her hand and drew her close. She let out a startled gasp, her caramel-colored eyes widening. “The employees don’t know yet,” he said in a hushed voice, the music and rowdy laughter nearly drowning him out and making a mockery of his warning.

  She swept a gaze over the festive crowd below. “Clearly,” she said, then reared back with a look of horror. “I wasn’t judging.”

  He glanced longingly into his empty glass. With his luck, he wouldn’t get drunk even if he tried. “How about a drink? We have some very good champagne.”

  “How about we stick to business?” Carly took another step back. “All I want is the signed contract and you’ll be rid of me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Believe me, I have no desire to hang around. In fact, I have a cab waiting.”

  “Ah.” Most of her lip gloss was gone. He studied her mouth, trying to decide if those lush lips were her best feature. Not an easy decision. Not with those arresting almond-shaped eyes. “You should let the cab go.”

  With an impatient glance at her watch, she sighed. “You’ve had the contract for over a week and, since we haven’t heard otherwise, I assume everything is in order.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “If there is a problem you should’ve notified Mr. Dunn before now.”

  Ryan Dunn. He was a smart, competent attorney, but Jack didn’t like the guy. Too smooth. Too smug. Jack knew the type. Hell, he’d gone to Yale Law School a year behind Dunn. Obviously he hadn’t remembered Jack, which was no surprise. Dunn had always been self-absorbed. “Was it his idea to send you?”

  “Mr. Dunn?” Carly blinked, then glanced away. “Luxury Lighting is his client.”

  “No need to be defensive. I was just curious.”

  “So...do you have the contract?”

  “Locked in my desk.” He spotted Eli helping a waitress set up the buffet. Jack got his attention and motioned him upstairs.

  “Do you like Seruga caviar?”

  “Never had it.” She shifted her briefcase from her right hand to her left.

  “Here. Let me take that for you...”

  “No. Thank you.” Carly moved out of reach. “The contract, Mr. Carrington?”

  Eli showed up with two flutes of champagne on his tray. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Jack reached in his pocket for some cash, and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill. “There’s a taxi waiting outside. You mind paying the driver off for me?”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Wait.” Carly sputtered. “You can’t. That’s my cab.”

  Jack thought a moment. She’d probably come straight from the airport. He pulled off another hundred and passed both bills to Eli. “Give the driver a nice tip,” Jack said, ignoring her and lifting the flutes off the tray. “And keep the rest for yourself.”

  Eli grinned. “Consider it done.”

  “Stop.” She waited until she had Eli’s full attention before she turned to Jack. “You can’t just— No. The taxi stays.”

  “Relax, Carly. We have plenty of cabs in Chicago.”

  “I have a plane to catch.”

  “You’d leave without the contract?”

  Temper flashed in her eyes. Lowering her lashes, she took a moment to compose herself. “Please tell me this is a bad dream,” she said, sighing.

  Jack wasn’t going to lie. He offered her champagne instead, but she shook her head.

  “I have a bag,” she muttered, sounding cross and defeated. “In the trunk.”

  Luggage, huh? So she wasn’t returning to New York. Probably on her way to spend Christmas somewhere else. Jack didn’t want to ruin her holiday, but he wasn’t about to let emotion dictate his decision. Except that’s exactly what he was doing. Allowing guilt and sentiment to interf
ere with a deal he’d fully endorsed.

  Meeting over fancy dinners and negotiating behind closed doors, the terms of sale had seemed perfectly fine. Or at least they hadn’t motivated him to object too loudly. The name, the equipment, the building would all go to Luxury Lighting. Two managers and four salespeople would be guaranteed positions. But only if they were willing to relocate to New Jersey. The Chicago plant would be closed and the remainder of the employees would get nothing but a month’s severance pay and the Carrington family’s heartfelt thanks.

  What bullshit.

  And yet, between bad jokes and sips of well-aged Remy Martin, he’d agreed to everything.

  “Mr. Carrington?” Carly was studying him with a look of concern.

  She really did have extraordinary eyes. A light brown warmed by flecks of gold. And her skin was as smooth as silk. Even standing this close to her he couldn’t see a single flaw.

  He noticed that Eli was still awaiting instructions. “When’s your flight?” Jack asked her.

  A hopeful expression brightened her face. “In two and a half hours.”

  Ah, hell...why had he bothered asking? He wasn’t ready to put pen to paper, and he doubted she’d leave without getting the contract signed. Either way he was going to disappoint her. And piss off everyone involved.

  Except Eli, of course. The guy was going to make out like a bandit.

  Sighing, Jack returned a flute to the tray and reached into his pocket for a twenty. “Grab her bag, too, would you?”

  3

  CARLY GLARED AT Jack Carrington. She didn’t care that he had sexy blue-green eyes or that he was tall enough that at 5’11” in heels she didn’t feel like a giant. Or that he had broad shoulders, a cute dimple and a ridiculously attractive smile.

  Yes, so what? He was hot...crazy hot. That wasn’t news.

  And that stupid notion Ryan had about Jack being attracted to her? She didn’t buy it. It was just Ryan’s desperate attempt to manipulate her. Hoping she’d leap at the chance to go cozy up to Jack. Ryan should know her better than that. Sure she might like to look, but she wasn’t about to get stupid over a man. Carly had already made the mistake of thinking a woman’s looks and social status didn’t matter. Different guy, different time, but the lesson had sliced deep enough to last a lifetime.

  So, hot as Jack was, right now she wanted to strangle him.

  She took a deep breath as she tried to formulate her next move. That he was being a stubborn ass helped calm her down. She’d spent half the plane ride worried she’d make a fumbling fool of herself once they were face-to-face.

  The last time she’d seen him, Jack had merely smiled at her and she’d spilled part of her latte. He probably hadn’t noticed, but dammit, she’d had to walk around with a brown blotch on her blouse for the rest of the day.

  “I see you’re upset and I’m sorry you were put out,” Jack said, giving her that winning smile. “I had no way of knowing you would show up here.”

  “You didn’t return the contract. Or Ryan’s calls. What did you think would happen?”

  He studied her for a moment. “You’re right. That was very unprofessional of me. But I did leave him a message an hour ago. Does that earn me a little forgiveness?”

  Mesmerized by his eyes, Carly stared a moment too long. His words finally sank in and she dug her cell out of her pocket. No message from Ryan. “Did Mr. Dunn get back to you?”

  “Not yet.”

  Now that she thought about it, odd that she hadn’t heard from him since she’d left New York. Nervous as he’d been about meeting the deadline, it was a miracle he wasn’t bombarding her with annoying texts or calls. “What was the message?”

  “I told him there was a holdup, and I’d get back to him.”

  “That’s it? No explanation?”

  Jack shrugged and took an unhurried sip of champagne.

  She drew in a deep breath. She hated dealing with self-centered men used to getting their own way. “You can’t up the asking price at this stage. I’m sure you know that,” she said, netting herself a wince of disgust.

  “Not everything is about money, Ms. Wyatt.”

  “Sure, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Easy to be cavalier if you already have it.”

  He lifted a brow at her, his expression pure amusement.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, feeling heat surge up her neck. “That was inappropriate.”

  “No problem.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, until he got distracted by the excited whoops coming from the party below.

  Waiters and waitresses were setting large platters of crab, jumbo shrimp and lobster on the buffet table. Another man wearing a white coat and chef hat was carving slabs of prime rib while people started grabbing plates and forming a line.

  “Hey, Jack.” A big barrel-chested man wearing a red bow tie and matching suspenders gave him a thumbs-up. “You went all out, buddy. Like I’ve always said, you’re the best.”

  Jack lifted his glass and gave the man a strained smile.

  Others called up to him, offering thanks or requesting that he join the party. They all referred to him as Jack...as if he was one of them. Except he wasn’t looking so jolly.

  In fact, he looked...what...sad?

  Huh. What was up with that?

  She regarded him for a moment, as he stood watching everyone with a peculiar fondness, much like a teacher presiding over his favorite class for the last time.

  Well, damn. This, she hadn’t expected. Had he changed his mind? Did Jack Carrington not want to sell the company? Of course they couldn’t back out now.

  “Mr. Carrington?”

  “It’s Jack,” he said. “Call me Jack. Everyone does.”

  “And your father?”

  “Oh, he’s definitely Mr. Carrington.”

  They had a moment...briefly exchanging smiles, their eyes meeting.

  How easy it would be to lose herself in those blue-green depths. The flutter in her tummy settled into an ache. She had to stay focused. “Where is your father? I’d like to speak with him.”

  “Good luck with that. I have no idea where he is.” Jack continued to watch people pile food on their plates. “He should be out there shaking hands.”

  “Has he signed the contract?”

  “No.”

  She hadn’t expected that response at all. “You’re both holdouts?”

  “Who said anything about holding out?” he asked, a glimmer of challenge in his eyes.

  “You’re right. You said there was a holdup.” She paused. “You really don’t know where he is?”

  “I haven’t seen the new receptionist,” he said, surveying the crowd. “My guess is they’re making merry in an empty office.” His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “She’s half his age and not screwing him for his looks. Can you imagine her face when she finds out about the sale?”

  Carly refused to react. Why give him the satisfaction? His words slowly registered. It sounded as if he expected the sale to proceed. So maybe she’d misjudged the situation.

  “Ah, here comes Eli with your bag. We’ll put it in my office.”

  She glanced at the waiter making his way to the stairs, the old battered canvas bag in tow. Most of the employees were too interested in the buffet to notice him. The few who did, and of course they were guys, eyed the overnight bag and had no trouble jumping to the wrong conclusion. She ignored the big goofy grins aimed at her and Jack. “Look, I need to know. Is there any chance I’ll be catching a plane tonight?”

 
He didn’t even try to look apologetic. “You really should try the champagne.”

  God, she wanted to scream. She’d promised herself she’d stay professional even if it killed her. Death was looking more imminent. “Let’s cut the crap, okay? Tell me what it would take for me to get out of here with a signed contract.”

  His single lifted brow did interesting things to her fluttering heart. Which pissed her off. She knew it was purely a physical response, but she wished her body would knock it off.

  He ran his gaze down the front of her blazer to her knee-length skirt, then to her legs. She folded her arms across her chest, waited until he returned to her face, and with a pointed glare dared him to say something suggestive.

  “I was just admiring your...suit.” He smiled, reminding her of a precocious child testing his parents’ limits. “It’s very Abbott and Flynn.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” he said with a straight face. “Absolutely.”

  Against her will, she felt her lips lifting at the corners, and wondered if the man ever failed to get his way. Charm, good looks, smarts and money...sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

  “Where would you like me to put this, sir?”

  She turned to Eli and reached for her bag at the same time Jack did. No contest. Eli gave it up to the man who’d been tipping him as if cash grew in his pocket.

  “Is this all you have?” Jack hefted the bag after Eli left to get more champagne. “It’s not very heavy.”

  She glanced at the old blue bag that she’d had since college. It had never looked shabbier than it did right now. No matter, she couldn’t afford a new one. Any extra money she could scrape together would go toward another boring “Abbott and Flynn” suit. She might not be an attorney yet, but to get ahead she believed it helped to look the part.

  “Where are you going after this?” he asked and gestured toward double glass doors. “Skiing?”