Tawny Weber - The Night Before Christmas - Naughty Christmas Nights / The Nightshift Before Christmas / 'Twas the Week Before Christmas

“Unfortunately, Cherry felt ill after lunch,” the old guy said, sounding more irritated than sorry. “She apologizes for missing the meeting, but insists on talking with the designers herself and having a say in the decision if she’s to take the role of spokesmodel. I hate to inconvenience you, but we’ll have to meet again tomorrow. Cherry feels the lingerie is the linchpin of her agreement to signing on as the face of Rudolph for next year.”

Gage barely heard a thing after the words talking with the designers. His eyes shifted to Hailey. Her eyes were round, those full lips parted in a silent gasp. Not a gasp of pleasure, either.

Nope. She looked about as horrified as he felt.

“Inconvenient for the two of you, but as much as I’m sure you both want this contract, I’m sure you’ll make adjustments.” With that pronouncement of misperception, Rudy bounced up and scurried over to the tray-topped table. “So are you in the mood for cocoa? And a sweet, of course. What’s Christmas without cookies? Then we’ll take a quick look at the test shots my photographer took of Cherry in each of your designs. Consider it an early gift, since it gives you a chance to refine the pitch you’ll need tomorrow.”

Hailey closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then shaking her head as if trying to shift the new facts into the old picture. If the pinched expression on her face was any indication, she wasn’t liking the way it looked now.

Gage could relate.

Son of a bitch.

There went his Christmas treat.

5

WELL, THIS DAY had totally sucked.

Sinking deeper into the worn booth, Hailey looked around the retro diner and took a deep breath to keep from crying. Then wrinkled her nose as the acrid scent of burning burger filled the air. On opposite sides of the room, two babies screamed their dissatisfaction with dinner, their cries echoing off the curved glass window in stereo.

Carinos this wasn’t.

Of course, there was nothing to celebrate, either. So a cheap diner was much more fitting than a four-star restaurant.

She wanted that account. She’d worked her ass off for it. She was damned good, her designs were high quality and on trend, yet unique and memorable. Her costs were reasonable, her profit margin solid. She’d put together a fabulous proposal.

She was perfect for Rudolph’s spring line.

Her designs were perfect for Cherry Bella.

Now she was afraid perfect might not be enough. That this time, just like so many others, she’d get within touching distance to getting what she wanted, only to have it swept away.

She glared at the glass on the table in front of her.

Other than being made of melted sand, it in no way resembled the sexy, seductive wineglass she’d thought she’d be sipping from right now while flirting her way through a very promising date.

Nope, this glass was thick, with hot fudge sliding down one side and a puddle of melting, sprinkle-embedded whipped cream pooling on the stem.

She licked a smudge of chocolate off her knuckle, taking comfort from the bittersweet richness.

She was wearing her favorite lingerie under this chic outfit. A sweet, dove-gray demi bra with picot lace and tiny pink satin rosebuds. She’d imagined describing the matching thong and garter belt to Gage over candlelight and appetizers, letting that image set the tone for the rest of their evening.

Her garter belt pressed tight against her overfull tummy, a reminder of just how mistaken she’d been. No pleasant alcohol buzz and sexual zing happening here for her.

Instead, she had an ice-cream gut ache and felt as if she’d been beaten around by a bag full of gloom. Heck, she could give Doris a run for her money for the biggest downer award in this mood.

And it was all Gage Milano’s fault.

As if her thoughts, or an ice-cream-inspired fantasy, had called him up, Gage suddenly appeared right there at her booth.

Sexy as hell, his black hair windswept from the chilly San Francisco weather and tumbling over his forehead in a way that made her fingers itch to tidy it. His eyes were intense, wicked and amused as he arched one brow. And his body. Yes, he was wearing a leather bomber jacket, so she didn’t have full view of those delicious shoulders. But hey, she’d correctly pegged how gorgeous they were when he was draped in green fur. She could imagine them just fine covered in leather.

Leather.

Something he specialized in.

Hailey blinked a few times, sure he was just a sugar mirage. But he didn’t disappear. Instead, he smiled.

Damn him. And he didn’t even have the courtesy to look out of place. Instead, he was perfectly at ease. It was so irritating.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I followed you.”

She shook her head. No, he hadn’t. She’d been here, stuffing her face and getting sick on ice cream, for almost three-quarters of an hour. Her body would have sent up horny signals if he was anywhere near her.

“I’d have been in sooner, but once I saw you were settling here for a bit, I had to make some phone calls.”

Perfectly at ease and acting as if he had no doubt she’d be thrilled to see him, Gage shrugged out of his jacket and slipped into the seat opposite her. She was distracted from feasting her eyes on his shoulders when, with a grimace, he shifted to lift one hip, then slid back toward the seat’s edge. Hailey smirked at the contrast of his sleek looks cozied up in an ice cream and burger booth. She hoped his hundred-dollar slacks had just got stuck in a chocolate smear.

Was that mean of her?

Sure.

But dammit, she’d really been looking forward to their date—and the sex she’d imagined they’d be having soon afterward.

Talk about disappointed.

It was like every Christmas she could remember.

She’d be promised something wonderful, be it that special gift from Santa or her parents not fighting for one blessed day. She’d spend the entire season winding herself up with excitement, hoping and imagining just how amazing it would be.

And, always, it’d been a huge disappointment.

Santa never brought her what she asked for.

Her family never kept their promises.

And her prettily imagined holiday never came true.

She knew it wasn’t really Gage’s fault. He hadn’t known they were in competition for the contract, either. But she couldn’t help but feel that the Grinch had, indeed, stolen her Christmas.

“Why’d you follow me?” For one tiny second she imagined maybe it was to beg her to go out with him still. To tell her how hot he was for her, that a silly thing like business shouldn’t stand between what they’d felt for each other.

“I thought we should talk. Maybe work this out between us.” His smile was pure charm, his look so potent that—despite her vow that he was now off-limits—she was tempted to start undressing right then and there.

“Really?” Her pulse joined the dance and Hailey shifted in her seat, her waistband a little snug from holding her breath—and all that ice cream.

“Really.” He leaned forward and lifted her hand into his. His thumb rubbed along the center of her palm, heating and stirring. “I figure there’s no reason we can’t both have what we want, right?”

Her mouth was too dry for words, so she settled on a nod. He was so damned sexy. His eyes were hypnotic, as if he was trying to pull her in. She didn’t think it’d take much for her to follow just about any suggestion he might offer up.

“I mean, who knows what kind of crazy things Rudolph might want in order to award the contract. Look at how he’s dragged this out already. First he was supposed to announce the lineup on Saturday. Then it was today. Now it may be tomorrow. I know you’re a busy lady, and I definitely have plenty on my schedule. So why don’t we make this easy for him. What do you say?”