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

“And you’re not into bizarre?”

Hailey arched her brow. Why did that sound as if he’d just passed judgment and she’d somehow failed?

“Should I be?”

“Hardly. Bizarre generally means weird and confusing. I’m not a fan of confusion.”

“And the holidays?” she asked, gesturing to his costume. “Are they high on your list, or is your heart three sizes too small?”

He opened his mouth, then shook his head and shut it with a grin. “I’ll skip over any size comparisons, if you don’t mind.”

Delighted at his sense of humor, Hailey laughed.

“How about we leave size issues to my imagination and skip right to the holiday question,” she said with an impish smile.

“Just as long as you have a good imagination.”

“It’s amazing.”

“A lot of dreams?”

“Big ones,” she assured him. “Huge, even.”

He gave an appreciative grin, then at her arch look, it faded to a deep, considering stare before he shifted his gaze to the decorated trees and holiday props around the room.

“I don’t have a problem with the holidays, per se,” he admitted. The way he said it, slow and careful, as if he were measuring each word, told her that he was a man who valued honesty. He might dance around the truth. He might refuse to answer. But whatever he did say, he expected to be held to it.

That kind of integrity was even sexier than his gorgeous smile. Maybe not sexier than his body, but she couldn’t say for sure since it was still covered in lumpy green fur.

“But there are parts you’re not crazy about,” she guessed, trying to stay on topic and quit undressing him with her mind. Especially now that her imagination was using the word huge in all its naked images.

“Sure. But you have to take the bad to get the good, right?”

No. She wanted to shake her head. The bad might show up from time to time, but the whole point was to avoid it if possible. To think positive and flow with the good.

But she wasn’t sure her Pollyanna-esque argument was going to get very far with a guy who favored the Grinch.

“So which good parts are your favorite?”

“The food,” he mused, gesturing to the Mrs. Claus walking by with a tray of sugar cookies. “Gotta love the desserts this time of year.”

A man after her own heart.

“But as good as those cookies look, I’ll bet you’re sweeter. Like the candy cane your outfit reminds me of. But instead of peppermint, you’d be cherry flavored.”

His words were low and flirtatious, his eyes dancing and hot as his gaze swept over her body as if he wanted to taste her and see.

Hailey swallowed hard. She knew she was totally out of her league. But she didn’t care.

It was as if she were drowning in desire, passion burning low in her belly with a heat she didn’t think anything could douse. She sure was ready to let him try, though.

Then his words washed over her like a lifeline, tugging at her attention.

What had he said?

Cherry?

A bright light went off in Hailey’s head, clearing away the foggy fingers of passion. Ooh, she smiled as excitement pushed back—but didn’t in any way extinguish—the hot desire in her belly.

Jared must have been trying to tell her that Gage was the agent. The man to persuade that her designs were perfect for his client.

Seriously?

Hailey almost laughed out loud.

First her designs were chosen as semifinalists.

Then the sexiest man she’d ever seen hit on her.

And now she had to do everything and anything in her power to make him crazy about her lingerie?

It was all Hailey could do to keep from clapping her hands together in delight.

This night rocked.

3

“SO YOU DON’T seem like a designer or model,” Hailey said, sliding a sideways glance at Gage. Not that all designers were, well, feminine. But the gorgeous man next to her was way too masculine, deliciously and temptingly masculine, for her to imagine him playing with ribbon and lace. Or even mesh and leather, unless they were exclusively in the bedroom.

His laugh echoed her assessment.

“Oh, no,” he assured her. “I’m not a model. And I’m definitely not a designer.”

And he didn’t work for Rudolph’s, or Jared would have told her. Which left, dum da dum, him being the agent.

Sweet. So sweet, she almost did her happy dance again.

“So you’re clearly a fan of the holidays,” he guessed, gesturing to her outfit. “And you look as if you’re enjoying the party. Anything in particular impress you tonight?”

He had.

But she didn’t think he was fishing for compliments.

Hailey tried to clear the champagne buzz from her head and pull together a strategy. She needed to pitch her heart out here. To make wow and impress him, not only with the designs themselves, but with her knowledge of the industry, of his client. And, because he was just so freaking yummy, maybe with herself.

It wasn’t as if she was offering up her body in exchange for a good word to his client. More like she was willing to worship his body while never directly mentioning the client.

That wasn’t stepping over any lines, was it?

“Hmm, there’s so much to choose from,” she mused as if her mind had retained anything other than impressions of him and the words Get Cherry. “I was really impressed with Rudolph’s clever contest. The designs were all so diverse, weren’t they?”

His eyes sharpened, as if she’d just triggered a switch. To what, she wasn’t sure. But since he stepped closer, she hoped she could figure it out so she could trigger it at will.

“And your favorite?” he asked, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead. So close she could feel the warmth of his body wrapping around her.

She wanted to lean in and breathe deep. To snuggle in and nuzzle her nose in the curve of his shoulder. The tiny part of Hailey’s brain that was still functioning at normal levels was trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the rest of her. All she did was look at this guy and all of her senses were sucked into the lust cycle.

“Hailey?”

“Hmm?” She frowned, trying to remember what he’d asked.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“A favorite...?” Position? Flavor of body oil? Term for the male genitalia? “Oh, favorite designs?”

“Yeah. Are you drawn to any particular designer?”

There was that intense look again.

Hailey started to pitch her own line, then bit her lip. Maybe it was better to charm him first, before he realized she was one of the designers. That way, then she could gently lead him into the idea of Cherry and Merry Widow being the perfect match. She’d noticed one thing in this past year of trying to sell her wares—the minute someone thought you were pitching something, they went on the defensive.

Her gaze roamed over the masculine beauty of his face, making her sigh. Nope. She’d much rather he be receptive to anything she had to pitch.

So she shrugged instead and said, “There are a lot of great looks here tonight. I think it’d be fun to try to match each one to their perfect person.” Hailey wanted to bounce in her Manolos, she was so proud of that subtle hint. Kinda like subliminal sales. She’d just lay a few bread crumbs here and there, and he could nibble his way to her line of thinking. “That’s the key to a great design, isn’t it? That it enhance the features, the personality, of the person wearing it.”

“Do you really think there’s someone that suits all of these, um, outfits?” he asked over the band, who’d turned their amps up louder now that people were hitting the dance floor. He gave a pair of sequined hot pants and a satin, cropped tee a doubtful look before arching a skeptical brow. Maybe because the outfit was the same nauseating green as his fur.