Dawn Atkins - A Lot Like Christmas

“You’ll mention it to Marshall? About the new locks and about replacing the golf carts?” Randolph pushed.

“Let’s get our revenues up first.” She had a plan for that to show Marshall, too. “If you’ve got this handled, I’ll go set up for my meeting.” She patted her laptop, which held the presentation she’d run through at home until she’d nearly memorized it.

“You’ll do great,” Randolph said. “You’re sure dressed like a boss.” He nodded at her outfit with a wistful smile. Recently divorced, Randolph had a bit of a crush on Sylvie they both wisely ignored. “Is that from Margo’s?”

“Yes.” She’d spent too much on the white silk shirt and navy suit, but Sylvie supported mall shops whenever she could. She felt sweat trickle down her rib cage. It was nerves, not heat. Summer had released its death grip on Phoenix and the early November air was pleasant, the sun gentle.

Randolph held the mall door for her and Sylvie stepped inside. Home. The feeling never failed to cheer her.

She paused to breathe in the aroma of flowers and fruit from Heaven Scents, the lotion shop, and pick up light jazz on the loudspeaker. In a couple of weeks the smells would be cinnamon, clove, peppermint and pine and the music would be Christmas songs.

The prospect made Sylvie’s heart swell with joy. The holidays here were so festive, so full of promise and surprise, of people wanting to show their love in tangible ways. To her, Starlight Desert was a lot like Christmas.

Maybe it was weird to love a mall, but Sylvie and Starlight Desert had history. Her happiest memories with Desiree and her grandparents were here. She even had the same birthday as the mall—a sign if she’d ever heard it.

“Want a ride to the stairs?” Randolph asked.

“Just to the bakery to pick up my order, please.” She climbed into Randolph’s security cart, happy not to scurry the length of the mall in her new pumps and the itchy lace-topped stockings Margo had talked her into instead of her usual sensible panty hose.

They rolled past the pet store and Sylvie craned her neck for a good-luck look at the puppies in the window. They were Cavalier King Charles spaniels and cute as buttons. She’d given them all reindeer names in honor of her favorite season.

Randolph hit the brakes, and Sylvie was rocked forward and back. “Want to pick one out? Jed would give you a good price. He needs the room for the rescued dogs.”

“I can’t have a pet,” she said, watching her favorite, Dasher, tumble over the one she’d named Rudolph for his very pink nose. “I’m here twelve hours a day. He’d be alone too much.”

“That’s the point, Sylvie. You deserve more of a life. A dog, a husband, kids.” His kind eyes looked her over.

“I’ve got plenty of time for all that.” She was only twenty-nine. She waved her hand at the distant prospect of a family. Frankly, since Steve left for Seattle three months ago, she’d been glad to reclaim her free time. Their breakup had been amicable and she’d visited him in Seattle. The sex had been nice, but relationships needed too much nurturing. That was tough enough when you lived in the same city but nearly impossible long-distance. The truth was she didn’t have space in her life for anything serious just yet.

“Don’t wait too long. That’s all I’m saying. Marriage is a wonderful thing. I wish I’d appreciated the good times when I had them.”

“Did the girls’ visit go better this time?”

“Yeah, thanks to you. We played that board game all weekend.”

The twins had been bored during their previous visit to Randolph’s new bachelor apartment, so Sylvie had given them the game as something they could all do together. “It was Toy Town’s top seller, so I thought it might work.”

“You always take care of us.”

“Just doing my job, Randolph,” she said. “We’re all in the Starlight Desert family. You can let me off here.” She bounded away before he could get mushier. Or, worse, romantic.

Breathing in the sweet and yeasty smells of Sunni’s Bakery, she bopped into the kitchen for her order of the award-winning cranberry-nut scones she knew Marshall liked, then dashed up the stairs to the mall offices.

Once she had her PowerPoint presentation set up, Sylvie left the refreshments for Cyndi, the GM’s assistant and receptionist, to arrange, and dashed out to check on the cleanup effort.

When she got there, she could barely see where the new paint had been added and the crew was prying off the last of the toilet paper from the sage bushes.

Spotting a few streamers at the top of a mesquite tree, Sylvie braced a ladder against the trunk and climbed up to retrieve them.

The damned paper was just out of reach. She stretched higher, but fell partly into the scratchy branches. Yikes. Her heart racing, she lifted a leg to balance herself.

Thank God there was no one below her to get flashed.

“Can I help?”

The voice came from beneath her. Sylvie cringed, then twisted to see who might have glimpsed her panties.

Chase McCann, Marshall’s older son and Sylvie’s first crush, grinned up at her from the bottom of the ladder. What the hell? The man did investment deals all over the U.S. and Europe and was rarely in town.

“Chase? What are you doing here?”

“Helping you, looks like.” Humor danced in his dark eyes, so he’d definitely seen. Damn.

He braced the ladder, forcing her to climb down into his arms, while he looked her over, not the least apologetic that he’d perused her underwear.

“You hurt yourself?” he asked, checking her out in that amused older brother way he’d always had with her.

Except that one night.

That one fizzled-out fire of a night.

Her twenty-first birthday and she’d intended to lose her virginity to him until he figured out what she was doing and backed away as if she were contagious or radioactive or both.

“Not at all. I’m perfectly fine.” The backs of her hands stung from scrapes and she’d snagged her jacket, but no way would she admit that.

“You’ve got…leaves.” Chase reached over and tugged mesquite twigs from her curls.

“Thanks.” She stepped back, needing distance from the man and to retrieve the tatters of her dignity.

“You’re all dressed up.” He shaped his hands in a body curve, not sexual at all, but his golden-mocha eyes held her tight. He had a way of really looking, as if he knew her well and was damned glad about it. Chase was a charmer, for sure.

He looked good in trendy jeans and a black microfiber shirt that molded itself to his chest. He clearly squeezed gym time into his jet-setting party schedule. Mary Beth kept Sylvie updated on his exploits through Fletcher.

“I’ve got a meeting.” She looked at her watch. Uh-oh. She had to get upstairs.

“I’ll get that.” He nodded up at the fluttering toilet paper she’d been unable to grab. “You can head in. Dad’s already there.”

“He is? Damn. Thanks.” She spun on her heels and ran. She was halfway down the mall before she realized Chase had never answered her question: Why was he here?

FROM THE TOP OF THE LADDER, Chase watched Sylvie take off, blond curls bouncing, backside firm in that tight skirt. Hardly any jiggle to it. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

Distracted, he nearly took a tumble himself. Focus, bro.

He grabbed the fluttering toilet paper and lowered himself to the ground.

The stockings had been a surprise. He’d have pegged Sylvie as a bare-legs girl—practical, simple and easy.

She did need help, Fletcher was right about that. Why the hell was she out here doing yard work in a suit?

She seemed worried and looked exhausted, probably from juggling two demanding jobs.

According to Fletcher, she was eager to join her boyfriend in Seattle, so Chase taking over the GM job would be a relief to her. Funny, but Sylvie didn’t strike him as someone who would arrange her life around a guy, but people changed, he guessed.