Page 6 of Miss Christmas

“It says he’s escorting some diva with an upper-crust pedigree—some banking family.” She crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. “I hate the society page. Come to think of it, I’m not all that fond of the snobs photographed in them either.”

“Will didn’t seem like that type to me.” Dee averted her eyes and lowered her voice. “You may not have noticed, but I heard every word of your conversation with him.”

Scarlet withheld her eye roll and patted her friend’s shoulder.

“I knew you were listening. You always do. It’s the reason you hang out here, isn’t it? To watch me flirt.”

“You mean to have your back?”

“That too.” Scarlet gave Dee a quick hug in spite of her friend’s reticence at public displays of affection.

She went back behind the counter and began the routine of cleaning up and shutting down for the day. Was Will a snob, or wasn’t he? She wasn’t sure, but there was only one way to find out.

She’d call him. That night. There was a sudden opening for the part of her lover and she was anxious to give him an audition. If he wasn’t above a little phone sex, then he had possibilities.

Chapter 2

Will put his feet up on his desk and angled himself to look out the window at the glittery night sky of Manhattan. Snowflakes were falling lightly. He loved this time of year, the festive lights and decorations, the friendlier-than-usual faces, even the schmaltzy old Christmas songs that played incessantly on the store’s speakers all day.

He turned back to his computer, about to shut it down for the night, when Margo walked in.

“You’re here late,” he said.

“I’m waiting for George.” She sank gingerly into the chair as if she were as comfortable as a beach ball squeezing into a thimble.

“You look tired.”

“Thanks.” She screwed up her face in mock displeasure, then smiled. “You haven’t looked at the contestant files yet, have you?”

Will rolled his eyes, more for effect than anything else. Then he pulled open the file drawer and withdrew the stack. He plopped it front and center on his desk.

“Satisfied?”

“What do you think of my choice for a finalist?” She leaned in and stabbed her nail at the photograph on the top of the file. The lighting was dim and it was the end of the day, so Will picked up his glasses, turned the desk lamp on—

Recognition slammed his gut.

Scarlet Jones stared up at him with her striking violet eyes and thrill-bent smile. He wanted to reach out and touch her. The violent jolt to his system made his cock hard faster than he could remember since he’d been twelve.

“You approve, then?”

He realized he’d been staring at the photo, almost drooling on it, while Margo watched.

“I—do I have a choice?”

She cocked her head. “You obviously find her attractive. What’s the problem, Will?”

He shook his head. Nothing was wrong. So what if he’d met her briefly? He couldn’t very well hold that against her. She probably needed the prize money.

He opened the folder and skimmed without seeing a thing. “She looks good. Great.” It wasn’t like he knew her or was trying to fix the contest for her. She was Margo’s choice for finalist. He’d choose the other nine.

“She’s the best one there.” Margo stood. “She has beauty, poise and character. But I’ll let you decide for yourself. See you tomorrow.” Margo gazed at him another moment, looked like she wanted to say something, but then didn’t. She walked out the door as gracefully as he’d ever seen any seven-months’-pregnant woman walk.

The bold and beautiful Scarlet Jones might be all right for Miss Christmas, but she was all wrong for romance now that he’d decided to stop playing around and get serious.

Keep telling your cock that.

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