Page 34 of Miss Christmas

They always said giving was good for the soul. Something about good karma. But that wasn’t why Scarlet needed to give—lend—Mean Girl Heather her sister’s earrings. It was to honor her sister’s generous heart. If Tiffany had been here, she would have given the earrings to Heather, not just loaned them.

Besides, she didn’t need to wear the earrings tonight to remember her sister. She only needed to perform an act of kindness, to live the legacy, to feel close to her. And to do her damn best to win. She didn’t need jewelry to win. She needed a clear conscience.

“That’s so generous of you,” Dee said, knowing.

“Yes, it is,” Heather chimed in.

“Spirit of the season.” Scarlet shrugged. It was true. That, and the spirit of Tiffany, who had loved this season most of all.

After Heather ran off to the ladies’ room to repair her makeup, Scarlet looked around, knowing she should be mingling. She was startled to see Will standing nearby. He caught her eye, looking unreadable, serious, and handsome. He was so close. She couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t sensed him. Too caught up in channeling Tiffany, she supposed.

She wondered if he’d been watching her. Or whether he’d heard them?

Chapter 9

Will was cutting it close. Only ten days until Christmas and one week until the pageant. But if Margo and George had witnessed the act of generosity that he had, they wouldn’t blame him for stumbling head over heels for Scarlet, for putting off his dinner date with Emily. Until tonight.

With his chair swiveled to the window overlooking the city, he sat in his office waiting for the clock to tick down as if to his doom. In truth, he knew he didn’t need to get engaged by Christmas, to present a woman with the family heirloom diamond. But he did feel a sense of urgency to present his grandmother with a promising young lady, someone who he wanted to move in that serious direction with. The problem was that a week of denial and deprivation hadn’t lessened his heart-pattering over Scarlet. Not the promising young lady he should want to move in a serious direction with. Scarlet had other ambitions in mind than getting serious with him. Even if he could convince her to commit, would he just be holding her back?

In the whirlwind of pageant activities during the that week, Will had done his best to get to know Emily in spite of the pull of Scarlet. This was no time to be led around on a leash by his dick. He needed to do his best to find Mrs. Right, or at least make progress in the right direction. And Scarlet was a major left turn.

It was Friday night. He would meet Emily at her favorite restaurant soon. In a chicken-liver move, he’d invited Margo and George to join them. Emily hadn’t minded—or if she had, she didn’t say. Of course she wouldn’t. She was too polite. Too . . . not Scarlet.

Pushing himself from his reverie, he stood. It was time to go. A guilty conscience prompted him to call for the corporate limo. If all went well, he could bring Emily home. He knew she’d enjoy the limo, maybe even expect it. Hell.

By the time Will walked into Keens Steakhouse, his mouth was past dry and begging for a whiskey. Since when did he get to be such a lush? He hadn’t drunk so much whiskey as he had in the past few weeks since his college days. As he was shown to his table—because everyone else in the party had already arrived—he let the smell of the sumptuous beef and the old-world atmosphere created by the tobacco pipe collection lining the wood-paneled walls work their magic, relaxing him. This couldn’t be Emily’s favorite restaurant. If it had been, he’d have run into her. He was a regular here and he suspected she knew it. A reluctant point in her favor and he hadn’t even seen her yet.

“Your table, Will,” the maître d’ spread his hand to indicate the best table in the place, near the brick fireplace. Will produced a smile and aimed it at Emily. She looked like an angel with the flickering firelight casting a glow around her blond hair.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He sat in the chair next to her, ignoring Margo and George for the moment, knowing they shouldn’t be here, feeling guilty that they were.

Emily blushed and thanked him and he apologized for being late.

“Only a few minutes—it’s nothing,” she said. Her smile never faltered.

“How about a drink, Will?” George said. “I don’t want to be the only one having a whiskey.” He raised a hand with two fingers to signal their waiter, who already knew George and Will’s favorite drink.

“Thanks, George.” He nodded. “Margo, you also look beautiful—as always.”

“I have to confess, Will,” Emily said. “I’ve never been here before—I was fibbing when I said it was my favorite place because I knew you liked coming here.” There was that continuing half-mast attempt at naughtiness. This time Will found it less endearing, more like boring. Compared to Scarlet’s full-bodied, wholehearted naughtiness.

“I have to confess, Emily. I knew that.” She blushed. Margo gave him a small glare.

The whiskey arrived and he took a long gulp, ignoring Margo.

“Are you enjoying the pageant activities?” George asked.

“Yes. It’s far more fun than I thought it would be. My favorite thing so far was Will’s workshop.”

“Is that right?” Margo said with an I-told-you-so arch to her brow aimed at Will.

“Sure,” Will said. “No work involved. Just some tongue-in-cheek warnings about how to keep out of trouble.” He lowered his voice, “Because I’m such an expert at that.”

Margo and George laughed. Emily smiled her ever-unsure smile, as if knowing she’d missed something and didn’t know whether it was important. Will leaned in to her and whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m not really a troublemaker. Just the usual mischief a guy gets into.”

Her big blue eyes looked back at him as she nodded, looking serious and forgiving. And completely clueless about the double entendre he’d been making.