Making Merry: A Christmas Romance

by Bowlin, Chasity

  Holly glanced up to see Barbara Mills, the personal assistant to their new CEO, and the man who had singlehandedly stirred her slumbering libido back to life. Barbara was striding towards her on heels that would have sent a mortal woman crashing to the floor. The woman was elegance personified with her suspiciously unlined face, sweep of platinum hair and what was probably a vintage Dior suit.

  Vintage doesn’t come in your size, Holly. It was one of the most unfortunate things about being a plus size woman. True vintage pieces were few and far between and those that did exist were way out of her budget.

  Ignoring her snarky inner voice, Holly focused on the request Barbara had just uttered. Surely there was a mistake. “Mr. Bishop is working through Christmas Eve?” Her own Christmas didn’t look much better but at least she’d be spending it in her PJ’s, drinking hot cocoa, and watching a Christmas themed romcom about a small town baker and a big city lawyer.

  Barbara nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so. I hate leaving the poor, dear boy to starve. You don’t mind whipping something up for him, do you? I know you were all set to close.”

  Holly didn’t think anyone could ever consider Nathan Bishop a poor, dear boy. He looked like a fallen angel with his thick shock of dark hair and chocolate brown, bedroom eyes. The fact that he filled out his perfectly tailored suit in a way that made her mouth water was a fact she tried to ignore and failed. On a daily basis, if she were to be honest with herself. Recalling the sensation of smacking into the hard wall of muscle that was his body that morning, she swallowed convulsively and blushed to the roots of her hair.

  With a check of the clock, Holly saw that it was five minutes to six. At a quarter after, the gates that sealed off each floor at the escalators would close. The security guard would then turn the key that engaged the timelock mechanism and they wouldn’t open again until the following morning. The mechanism on those gates was ancient but very effective and, she’d been told, impossible to override. “Would you mind letting Hank in the security office know that I’ll be running a bit late? I’d hate to be locked in.”

  Barbara’s smile was beatific. “Absolutely, dear. You must have big plans for Christmas!”

  Holly shrugged as she began pulling items from the fridge to make several sandwiches. “Not really. Lindsey is skiing with friends, so it’s just me and a Christmas movie marathon.”

  Barbara made a cooing noise. “Oh, Holly! No one should be alone on Christmas.”

  Holly agreed heartily. She’d tried not to let it bother her. It was the first Christmas since her grandmother’s passing, and it stung that her younger sister wanted to spend it with her friends rather than her big sister. Her mother was no help. Katherine was in Las Vegas with her latest boyfriend, an off-strip Elvis impersonator. Not that her mother had ever been around for Christmas. “It’s fine, Barbara,” Holly stated as she chopped up lettuce a bit more forcefully than necessary. It wasn’t fine, but what could she do about it?

  Barbara clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Your first Christmas after… well, your grandmother was a wonderful woman. But I don’t need to tell you that.”

  Holly blinked against sudden tears. “She really was. And yes it is the first Christmas since we lost her, but that’s a good time to start new traditions right? It might be nice not having to cook for other people for a change...I’ll make a couple more sandwiches up for Mr. Bishop and run them up. There’s no reason you should have to wait around for that. I know you’ve got plans!”

  Barbara trilled a soft laugh. “I do. Roger will probably propose again.”

  Holly laughed. “And you’ll turn him down again, of course.”

  “Well naturally. Once they stop chasing you, things go dull very quickly.”

  Holly wrapped the first sandwich and set it aside as she began working on the next one. “Or they get tired of chasing and moving on to different game.”

  Barbara’s expression grew serious. “And if they do, they weren’t worthy of catching you to start with, dear. It’s a different kind of hunting altogether at my age… but perhaps one will come along that can catch you, hmm?”

  “I’m not in the market for that,” Holly denied. She wanted to be. God she wanted to be. And maybe if she could finally get on her diet, she could drop twenty pounds so that the clothes in her closet would fit well enough for her to go out in public. Right now, even if she was asked on a date, her wardrobe options were limited. “You go on, Barbara. I’ll make sure Mr. Bishop has enough provisions for the night.”

  “Thank you, Holly. I can always count on you.”

  Good-old-dependable-can-always-be-counted-on-because she -doesn’t-have-a-life-Holly. Shaking off that morose thought, Holly nodded as she turned the coffee pot on to brew a fresh pot while she worked on the rest of the food. That no one had to tell her what he wanted was a sad testament to just how much attention she paid to his every single move. She knew exactly what he liked, a slightly creepy and stalkerish fact that had not escaped her. Nathan Bishop’s daily sojourns to her little corner of the store were the bright spot of her day. She’d committed every detail to memory from how he took his coffee to what he preferred on his sandwiches.

  “Stop being such a sad, pathetic mess,” she muttered aloud. “Nathan Bishop would never notice you in a million years.”

  “Attention shoppers, Bishop’s Department Store is now closed. We look forward to seeing you all again the day after Christmas for our annual post holiday blow out. Have a safe and happy holiday.”

  The announcement over the store’s PA system created a furor. The noise level, already deafening, climbed another decibel. Picking up her pace, she finished the sandwiches and packed them into a bag along with a few other snack foods that he would often indulge in, and poured the coffee into a paper carton. Holly hurried towards the escalators which would take her to the third floor where the offices were housed.

  By the time she reached them, having been jostled, bustled and bumped, she was harried and annoyed, but the once crowded store looked like a ghost town. Holly moved quicker. The idea of being locked in the store overnight did not appeal to her.

  As she moved through the housewares department, she couldn’t help but peek at all the lovely things. She rarely made it past her little spot on the first floor. Fine china, elegant crystal, and beautifully worked silver all reminded her that she was well and truly out of her element. Since Elizabeth Bishop had abolished employee discounts, there wasn’t a single thing in the department store she could afford anymore.

  Passing the bedding department, she refused to be tempted by the soft, luxurious sheets and down comforters that were way out of her budget. She passed through the double doors into the executive suite and then stopped cold. The noise from the store didn’t penetrate those hallowed halls.

  The inner sanctum of Bishop’s was a sight to behold. Dark wood and rich leather, every inch of it screamed luxury. The receptionist’s desk was empty. Barbara had probably left after talking with security.

  Holly ignored the slight unease she felt as she made her way down the darkened hallway. She could see light beneath the door at the end. Taking a deep breath, she knocked softly, and felt her stomach flutter anxiously when a deep voice called out for her to come in.

  * * *

  The growling of his stomach had been such a distraction that Nathan hadn’t accomplished much in the fifteen or twenty minutes since Barbara had left. Expecting to see Barbara’s familiar face when he looked up, he was stunned to see the soft, sweet face of the woman they’d just been discussing. A sneaking suspicion filled his mind. Barbara, against his express wishes, was matchmaking.

  “Ms. Mills asked me to bring you some dinner. I brought one pastrami sandwich and one turkey sandwich. I know you like both of those. There are some chips and some of those cookies you like also, along with some trail mix and a power bar,” she offered.

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you,” he said quickly. “Let me walk you out.” He saw her expression alter at h
is rudeness. Nathan ignored his guilt, but did try to soften his abrupt response by adding, “It’s late, Miss Merriweather, and unlike me, you’re under no compulsion to slave though the holiday.”

  “Oh,” she said, smiling shakily. “Of course. It is very late, after all. And there’s so much to do at home.”

  Her voice was high pitched, her mannerisms clearly nervous. It was adorable. It was endearing. It was a huge reminder of why the hell he needed to avoid her at all costs. And it was a reminder of why he needed to hurry. The absolute last thing he needed was to be locked in an empty store overnight with a woman that--well, his feelings for her certainly weren’t professional. Ushering her out of the door, he followed behind and glanced at Barbara’s desk. The blinking red light told him she’d already shut down the phone system and he didn’t know the password to bring it back up. That was his mistake. He depended on his very efficient secretary too much.

  As they exited through the double doors, he heard it. The grating sound of the heavy gates closing. Each floor was sealed off at night as the store closed. The locks were timed, an archaic security measure, and couldn’t be unlocked until nine the following morning when the timelock released. Those gates were forged iron, wrought in an elaborate Art Nouveau design that could not be replicated. Which meant he couldn’t risk damaging them to get them unlocked, no matter what.

  Rushing forward, he tugged at the gate, but it was too late. He’d put off updating the security system and having the time lock removed from the gates and now he would pay for it.

  Turning back to Holly Merriweather, he saw that she looked pale and worried. “It’ll be fine. Maybe I can reach Barbara and she can get a locksmith here.” It would be an exercise in futility but at least they’d be chaperoned.

  “Will they be able to override the time lock? I’ve always been told it was impossible!”

  They probably couldn’t, but he hesitated to say that to her. “It’s worth a shot. There’s no point in you missing out on Christmas festivities with your family.”

  Holly shook her head. “About that… I don’t really have a lot to do for the holiday. In fact there isn’t anything to do. There are no Christmas festivities... and if you call out a locksmith, you’d be pulling them away from their family and probably for no good reason. We can get them unlocked in the morning, right?”

  He hadn’t even thought about the locksmith and what it would mean for them to be there all night working on a problem they couldn’t actually fix. Dammit. “Yes. The timelock doesn’t really account for holidays. It will shut down tomorrow at nine and as long as someone is here with a key, they can be manually unlocked.”

  She shook her head in dismay. “I don’t understand, I told Ms. Mills to let Hank in security know that I was still in the building. If he’d held off on the key turn—Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  Nathan sighed. He’d told Barbara the same. There was no question in his mind that Barbara had done it on purpose. This was her vision of a romantic meet-cute. She thought that if she could throw them together, nature would take its course. But there was nothing romantic about it. They were stuck in a store, locked in, while a winter storm raged outside. And Holly Merriweather was his employee and doing any of the things that he wanted to, that he’d thought about with alarming frequency, would result in a gigantic lawsuit and a stain on his professional reputation. In short, he was screwed… but not in the way he wanted to be.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered.

  She smiled sweetly. “It isn’t your fault! Maybe Barbara forgot?”

  And there she went, being sweet and kind and likable and so sexy he wanted to—no. Don’t think about that, he told himself. Maybe they could call 911. He was past caring about the irreplaceable Art Nouveau gates.

  “Did Barbara ask you about your Christmas plans, Miss Merriweather?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

  “Yes, she did.”

  Nathan nodded. “Did you happen to tell her that you didn’t have any?”

  She looked away. “I lied. I don’t really have anything to do. There’s no one waiting for me. My sister is my only family and she’s on a ski trip through the holidays.”

  “Well, this is her way of making sure neither of us spends Christmas Eve alone,” he explained.

  “Surely you don’t think she intended for me to be locked in with you?”

  Ignoring the obvious response, which was yes, he looked at the gates and then back to the dangerously appealing woman in front of him. “I don’t suppose you have a cell phone?” He asked the question expecting her to say no.

  “It’s in my car. I forgot it there this morning because I was running late. Do you have yours?”

  “No,” he said. “Apparently, when we bumped into one another this morning, it must have fallen from my pocket… and no one turned it in yet. This is starting to feel like a bad movie, Miss Merriweather.”

  “It really is,” she agreed. As she did so, she worried her bottom lip with her teeth in a way that would surely drive him insane.

  “Shut down for the next 36 hours by the same crazy but well meaning woman who locked us in for the night.”

  Holly frowned. “It wasn’t an accident. And I don’t really think she forgot. Why on earth would she do this?”

  Nathan sighed again, and once more ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I believe Barbara is trying her hand at matchmaking.”

  She stood up straighter. “That’s ridiculous! Why would she do such a thing?”

  Nathan looked around. They were standing in the middle of a housewares display at the top of the escalator, one of the damned gates at their back. If they were going to have that awkward conversation, they might as well have it somewhere comfortable. “Let’s go back to my office. And I’ll see if I can’t explain it while I try to figure out some sort of solution.”

  2

  Holly followed her employer though she was feeling less than charitable toward him and his secretary at the moment. The very idea of Barbara Mills matchmaking the two of them was ridiculous. It made her feel like she was the butt of a joke. Just like high school all over again. Of course, she had no reason to think Nathan Bishop was the same kind of jerk her few ex-boyfriends had been. But that didn’t mean she was quite ready to trust him. Keeping her guard up would be difficult though. With his chiseled good looks, dark hair and soulful dark eyes, it was hard not to go a little melty when looking at him, but she was determined to stick to her guns and figure out what was going on.

  He held the door for her as they walked into his office, the inner sanctum. Everything about it screamed money. She watched as he moved to his desk and picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk. He pressed several buttons but there was nothing but silence. He seated himself at his desk and his fingers moved over the keyboard with skill that she found enviable. She tried very hard not to think of how long his fingers were, how innately masculine his hands were. So she thought about the one thing that was certain to make her not throw herself at him. She focused on how much she hated being locked in. The high school bullying she’d endured had included one particularly cruel class mate locking her in a supply closet. She’d been in there for hours and hours. It had been almost midnight when the security guard, at her grandmother’s insistence, had unlocked the school and searched for her room by room and, thankfully, closet by closet.

  As if to remind her that she was in a similarly precarious situation, the wind howled outside and ice pelleted against the windows. The lights flickered alarmingly and then went dim, but not entirely dark.

  “I’m sorry. It appears we’re well and truly stuck. I can email Barbara via the intranet, but I can’t access any outside websites because she changed the password.”

  “You mean we’re not just locked in… we’re cut off?” she asked, and felt her heart skitter in her chest.

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean,” he said matter of factly.

  “Oh, I don’t like this. I can’t brea
the,” she said. It was true. The air didn’t seem to want to go into her lungs. It was as if the muscles of her diaphragm had seized completely.

  He looked up at her with concern. “Are you all right? Miss Merriweather?”

  She went from feeling slightly claustrophobic to full on panic. It didn’t matter that the building was huge. All that mattered was that she was locked in, stuck. She turned and made for the double doors. At least in the wide open expanse of the store, she didn’t feel the walls were closing in. There, with all the dark woodwork and the smaller spaces, it was like she couldn’t even breathe.

  Just as she breached the double doors, she felt strong hands grip her upper arms.

  “Where are you going?”

  Feeling embarrassed and still more than a little panicky, Holly pulled back. “I get a little claustrophobic. Just knowing we’re stuck in here—”. She stopped abruptly, unable to actually complete the thought. She swayed, her knees threatening to buckle.

  He caught her, his expressing grim. Then he sighed, seeming relieved that was all that was wrong.“It isn’t so bad. We have food and water. We have heat.”

  He’d no sooner said it than the dim lights faded until they winked out into nothing. Only the faint red glow of the exit signs was offered any illumination. The low electrical hum of the heating system slowed and then quieted altogether.

  “What were you saying?” The retort was snappy, and while Holly knew that it wasn’t his fault the power had gone out, she was too on edge not to be snippy. It was Christmas Eve and she was trapped in a department store with her alarmingly hot, new boss, who hours earlier hadn’t known she existed except as a conduit to caffeine.

  So she’d been harboring fantasies about him for more than a month. Not one of those fantasies had involved being trapped in a big, creepy, deserted store while she relived her worst nightmare.

  “We have blankets,” he corrected drolly. ”I apologize again for Barbara. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding!”