Tawny Weber - Naughty Christmas Nights

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Lace stockings…Hailey North has worked her butt off to make Merry Widow Lingerie a success. But if she doesn’t win the bid for Rudolph’s department store, she’s in big trouble. Her strategy? To prove that romance – playfulness, intimacy and eroticism – are what women want. The problem, however, is what Hailey wants… her wickedly hot, sexy competitor.Or black leather?Sex sells, and the Milano line is certainly all about sex. Besides, winning is the only way Gage Milano can extract himself from the family business. Unfortunately, Hailey’s romantic lingerie threatens not only his freedom, but his libido!But when their professional rivalry turns into a red-hot rendezvous, the competition really starts heating up.And Xmas is about to get a whole lot more X-rated!

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She made it. She had a chance.

An hour later, she was still giddy. It wasn’t a contract, but it wasn’t a rejection, either. And she’d learned young to take what she could get.

“This is so cool.” Ever since Santa Rudolph’s announcement, people kept coming up to congratulate her. That part was great. What was even better, though, were the compliments about her designs, which were displayed all around the room.

She felt like a rock star.

“I’m excited for you, darling. I am sorry it’s not a definitive answer, though,” Jared said quietly, his face taking on a rare seriousness. “I know how bad you need this deal, and I’ve been pitching hard for you. But Rudy got this wild notion that a contest would bring in more publicity and make it more fun. He’ll decide before the New Year, though. He has to for marketing purposes.”

“What kind of publicity?” Big publicity? Good publicity? Could it net her some new clients, maybe a few features in the fashion rags? Hailey’s stomach danced again.

“Well...” Jared drew out, wrinkling his glittery nose. “I honestly don’t think he has a lot of publicity lined up. We were all under the impression that he was simply choosing a single designer for each line. But Friday he talked to some marketing guru who convinced him that it’d bring in great promotion if he made it a competition of some sort instead of a straight-up announcement.”

“Who makes the final decision?” she wondered.

Jared pulled another face and shrugged. Clearly he didn’t like not being in the know any more than she didn’t like not having a clue.

But before Hailey could ask more questions, they were joined by a dapper-looking guy dressed like a festive reindeer with his green-and-red-plaid bow tie.

“Congratulations, Ms. North. I’m Trent Lane, the photographer for Rudolph department stores. I was happy to see your designs in the running. I’ve taken test shots of each submission and yours is my favorite.”

“Really?”

“Really. It seems to epitomize romance. But sexy romance. The boudoir-photo kind, not the Hustler-spread kind.”

Hailey giggled, wondering if the leather getups were Hustler material.

“It’s my favorite, too,” Jared agreed. “I told you when I first saw the line. It’s perfect. Next season is all about nostalgia with overtones of passion. Bridal fresh but womanly confident.”

Hailey wrinkled her nose, wondering if he realized he’d just described her gorgeous designs in the same terms used for feminine-hygiene products.

“Baby’s breath and air ferns lining the runway. Satin backdrops. Maybe one of those long couch things, like Cleopatra would lounge on,” Trent mused, falling into what she immediately saw was a creative brainstorming habit between him and Jared.

“A chaise. Perfect,” Jared agreed. Tapping his chin, he added, “Maybe carried down the runway by four muscle-bound sex slaves?”

“That’s not romantic,” Trent dismissed. “You know Rudy really wants to lead the trend this season. If you suggest sex slaves, he might seriously consider Cassia Carver’s mesh love sleeves for a part of the women’s-wear line.”

Hailey barely kept from shuddering. Avant-garde minis and maxis made up most of Cassia’s line, and while they were edgy and fun, they would hardly compliment Merry Widow’s lingerie. They would, she realized with a frown, go great with Milano’s leather.

Suddenly the simple contract she’d thought she’d have was now even more complicated. All of the choices were going to have to flow together into a single, cohesive spring debut.

“Even if Rudy wants mesh and love slaves, there’s no way marketing will go for it,” Jared dismissed. “They’d bury him in the horrible sales data from the last time mesh hit the runway.”

Oh, yay. A point in her favor. She just had to make sure she racked enough to win this baby. Hailey held her breath, willing herself to look invisible. Maybe if the two men forgot she was there, they’d spill some insider info that she could mop up and use.

“Well, Rudy wants Cherry Bella to model the entire spring line, and Merry Widow will look perfect on her.”

Hailey couldn’t contain her little eep of excitement.

Her designs? Perfect? Cherry Bella?

Oh, man. That shooting star was getting close enough that she could almost feel the heat.

“She’d look great in Merry Widow or Milano’s,” Trent agreed. “It’s really going to come down to whichever line Cherry wants to wear. She’ll be the final judge of all the lines, I’m guessing.”

“Rudy has to get her signed first. And so far, she’s not interested.”

Trent looked to the left. Jared and Hailey looked, too. Then he looked to the right. They obediently followed his gaze. Forgetting that she was supposed to be invisible, Hailey leaned in just as close as Jared did to listen.

“I hear Rudy’s pulling out all the stops. He’s crazy to get Cherry signed. He’s tried everything. Promised her the moon. So far, no go. He’s shifted all his promises to her agent now.” Trent gave them both a wide-eyed look, then nodded sagely, his reindeer ears bobbing in emphasis. “Whoever gets him Cherry Bella? They’re golden.”

Excitement ran so fast through Hailey’s body, she shivered with it. Her lingerie was perfect for Cherry. The statuesque redhead had started as a soulful torch singer, but lately had branched into modeling and a few minor acting gigs, as well. Merry Widow’s flowing, feminine designs would suit her as though they’d been custom made.

All Hailey had to do was cinch the deal.

She’d find Cherry’s agent, charm him or her into listening to a personal pitch on how perfect Merry Widow designs would look on the retro singer.

“Do the other designers know?” she wondered aloud. Seeing the guys’ arch expressions, she scrunched her nose and gave a shrug. What? They all knew she wasn’t really invisible. “Just wondering.”

“It’s pretty hush-hush since a lot of competitors are always big to get a jump on Rudolph’s spring debuts. So unless the other designers are chatting up Rudy’s staff, I doubt they have a clue.”

Jared’s snort of laughter was more sarcastic than amused.

“Which means no,” he explained at Hailey’s questioning look, a little of the sugary glitter flaking off his face as he sneered. “Your competitors are all well established, with top-of-the-line reps, darling. They, unlike you, have huge egos. None of them see the need to fraternize with the help. They talk to Rudy, or they don’t talk at all.”

She peered through the costumed crowd, looking for any of the lingerie-clad models circling the room. She sighed as one lithe blonde floated by in a Merry Widow nightie. Cotton flowed. Lace rippled. The pearl buttons down the front caught the light, even as the delicate fabric molded to the woman’s perfect body.

So romantic.

And so perfect for the Rudolph account, especially if he got Cherry as his spokesmodel.

She didn’t want to jinx it but the little voice in her head was already planning the victory-dance moves.

“I’m surprised Cherry’s agent isn’t all over this deal,” Hailey mused, wondering what they were holding out for. “A contract with Rudolph department stores would rocket her from national to international exposure, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jared agreed, looking like a dejected gingerbread boy with his furrowed brow. “We can’t figure out what the problem is. Rudy’d be tearing his hair out if he wasn’t already bald.”

“Best we can figure, it’s because the agency is one of those co-op places. The agents all work together on every client. Make decisions by consensus. We don’t even know which agent is at the party. Guy, gal, nobody’s got a clue,” Trent complained, looking like a very grumpy reindeer whose gossip rations were being withheld. “Like I said, whoever reels her in is going to be golden.”

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