Jennifer LaBrecque: Mistletoe Madness

She assured herself that the rapid-fire beat of her heart was a product of Melvin’s latest dictate and had nothing to do with being in closed-door proximity with Sir Superficial.

“You don’t have a clue as to what you agreed to, do you?”

“Nope.” He grinned, and she once again assured herself it was irritation that set her heart thudding against her ribs. “Guilty as charged.”

She skirted him, rounded her desk and sat in her chair. With a flick of her wrist, she invited him to sit in the guest chair. “Why waste everyone’s time? Was it too much to ask for you to actually pay attention?”

Instead of taking the seat, he followed her and propped against the rear corner of her glass-topped desk, which felt too close and too intimate with his hip and thigh inches away and a faint whiff of his aftershave scenting the air. But she’d be damned if she’d ask him to move.

“Oh, come on, Tatiana. Give me a break. You know Melvin goes into that same soliloquy every time and it takes him forever to get to the point. Besides, it was your fault I missed the point anyway.”

Oh, no. At least he could take ownership of his own ineptness. “Hardly.”

“Most assuredly. Your legs distracted me. They’re extraordinary, really. And I started thinking about-”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted him, her pulse racing like a fully stoked steam engine. “I don’t need to be privy to the vagaries of your mind. Did you catch any of what he said?”

His gaze roved the length of her legs, clearly visible through the translucent glass, and lingered on her ankles, leaving her tingling as if he’d blazed that trail with his fingers…or mouth. “Nary a word.”

Better to get this over with and him out of the confines of her office. “Douglas Creighton wants Connoisseur to have more of a Web presence.”

“Smart. Subscriptions have been flat for the last year and a half.”

“Exactly. He wants to launch a pilot Web piece January first, along the lines of a she said/he said article where we each give our take on the same restaurant. He thinks it’ll generate interest because we each have such distinctly different styles and taste.”

“Okay. I stand by my original assertion. It’s a damn good idea.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and since she was neither blind nor dead, she did, in fact, notice he had a nice broad chest. But she wasn’t about to be distracted by Cole Mitchell’s chest.

“Except they want us there together.Same time.Same table.” Maybe he did have a brain rattling around somewhere up there, because he appeared suitably appalled. Up to this point, they’d each had separate assignments. Their contact had been limited to the odd interoffice skirmish. “Budgetary constraints. If we’re at the same table, we can sample each other’s food. Twice the bang for their buck. Plus, we’re evaluating the same wait staff at the same time.”

“And this starts when?” he said.

“Rollout is January first. They want our pieces in before Christmas so Andi and Tory have a chance to verify and proofread. The pilot features one local restaurant each week, alternating from high-end to moderate-priced so they appeal to every reader. They want four weeks’ copy in to begin, which means four restaurant visits.”

“That means we’ll have to do dinner almost every day from now until Christmas,” he said in a sick tone.

She’d delight in the fact that he looked as if he’d just tasted something bad, except she was dining from the same dish. “Yep. Of course, half an hour ago it was the best idea you’d heard in a long time.”

“I’ve got a life.”

What? And she didn’t? Well, technically it was arguable, especially according to her mother lately, but he didn’t need to know that. “News flash-so do I. Bring your girlfriend along if you want.” Wouldn’t that make for a fine dining experience? Tatiana, Cole and his ho de jour.

“I’m in between.”

Well, at least they could skip that acid-reflux-inducing three-some. “Depriving the women of New York?”

“Hiatus. What about you? Are you towing along a boyfriend?”

“There’s no one in the picture at the moment.” Uh, make that several moments that culminated into several months, but, once again, he didn’t need to know that.

His teeth flashed in a grin. “Ah, giving the unsuspecting men of New York a break, are you?”

“Except you, as of now. Let’s divvy up the list for reservations.”

“Okay. I’ll take the last two on the list. We may as well line them up so we can knock them out and get it over with.”

She’d second that. This was turning into the holiday from hell.

The next day cole laughed at MishaSiebowitz’s joke and positioned himself in Melvin’s Seasonal Circle of Love across from Tatiana. He wanted an unencumbered view of her expression when she opened her first Secret Santa gift. He’d made sure it was something “tasteful.”

Melvin had declared the break room the official gift-exchange center. The bistro tables had been pushed to the walls and he’d instructed Elle to arrange the chairs in a circle around one of the tables with the Secret Santa gifts. The break room wasn’t that big, and they were packed in as tight as the cliché sardines in a can.

A rosemary bush trimmed to resemble a tree sat in the middle of the table. Someone-most likely Elle-had strung red chilipepper lights around the table’s edge. Mambo holiday tunes played on a CD player-a campy blend and actually sort of fun. Or maybe it was just the anticipation of the she-devil’s face when she opened her elegantly wrapped gift.

Melvin clapped his hands. “Well, it looks as if we’ve had some very busy Secret Santas, so why don’t we get started? Now, remember, it’s secret, so don’t give it away when your gift is opened. We’ll start with Elle and work our way around the circle. Elle, if you’ll go and find the gift with your name on it.”

Tatiana sat next to Andi, one half of the androgynous proofreading duo of Andi and Tory, who was next to Elle. Perfect.

Everyone oohed and aahed over a set of cocktail napkins with a Santa hat topping a martini glass. Andi’s package contained Jordan almonds. Nice gifts but rather boring. Cole realized this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if he hadn’t gotten Tatiana’s name.

He bit back a smirk when she stood and crossed to the table to find her gift. Had she deliberately worn those stiletto-heeled black boots so he couldn’t look at her legs today? If so, he hated to break it to her, but those boots paired with that short plaid skirt and black sweater…well, it was hot.

She sat back down and tore into the wrapping paper-he knew she wouldn’t be one of those that took forever and opened carefully. She peeled back the tissue, and color washed her face. Ho, ho, ho and ha, ha, ha.

“What is it?” Andi asked, peering over Tatiana’s shoulder.

“Hello? You have to show, you know,” Elle said.

Tatiana held it aloft, and Melvin’s Seasonal Circle of Love erupted into hoots and raucous laughter. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Good Food.

Elle looked at Cole questioningly and he shrugged, raising his hands, palms upward. “Don’t look at me.” He paused for effect. “But I do think it’s a brilliant gift.” Okay, he hadn’t technically denied giving it.

“If it’s brilliant, that would knock you out of the running,” Tatiana murmured and everyone laughed again.

Damn. When was the last time he’d enjoyed himself this much? Nothing like having a shrew insult you in front of your contemporaries because you’d just bested her, even if you couldn’t take credit for it.

He paid scant attention as the other presents were opened. He was too busy gloating inside. Misha elbowed him. “Your turn.”