Jingle Ball (More The Merrier) (2 page)

Her mom needed that.
She
needed it.

Until then, she’d vowed to enjoy decorating the office. She and Van had laughed throughout the afternoon, despite this Christmas being a lot different than others in her past. Back when she’d had two healthy parents and a hometown she loved. When she’d had friends and knew interested guys if she wanted to date…or more, if the urge struck.

Something it was doing now. A lot.

“Hey girl.” Van popped around the half-wall sectioning off Wendy’s cubicle and grinned. “You still here? I thought you’d be home getting ready by now.”

Wendy blew out the cinnamon candle flickering on her desk and faked a smile. “Just about to head out. I had a few letters to finish up for Des. You know how he is, the taskmaster.”

“Oh, am I?” Des appeared behind Van, his big hands cupping her shoulders. Her short blonde curls bounced around her face as she hurriedly made room for him at her side. “And here the taskmaster dragged himself from his endless piles of work just to make sure you two ladies had gone home. Guess I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Van immediately transitioned into full-on flirt mode. “Oh, Des. You’re the best boss ever.”

“Even if he’s not technically
your
boss?” Wendy propped her chin on her hand and smiled as widely as she could when jealousy gripped her throat.

Stupid. She knew Van and Des were just friends—at least she was reasonably sure—but whenever Van switched her hardcore flirting from Cole to Des, Wendy’s claws sprouted. She liked Van. She just didn’t want her crawling all over Des too much, at least not where she could see it.

He slung an arm around Van’s waist and tossed Wendy a grin. “Hey, I sign the checks for everybody around here. Including that clown in the office behind you.” He strode to the wall behind Wendy’s desk and rapped. Cole grunted from the next room.

After the ornament show-and-tell, he’d retreated to work on some big deal he had in the pipeline for an office complex in nearby Jasper. As easygoing as Cole seemed most of the time, he busted his ass night and day to keep the business running smoothly. So did Des. It was amazing either of them found time for a social life.

Don’t need a ton of time to screw.

Wendy’s chin slipped off her hand at that errant thought and she had to grab the desk to keep from tipping out of her chair. Des shot her a look, but she just kept smiling. That was her, perky twenty-four/seven. As perky as the breasts she could state with virtual certainty were waving hello to Des, even if he was oblivious.

She hoped he was oblivious. Jeez.

“Think I better get out of here.” Wendy took out her purse from her bottom drawer and rose to grab her jacket. She flashed another smile and turned to her co-workers, her thoughts vanishing at the sight of Des’s outstretched hand. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Let me.”

Sure she was flushing, she handed over her coat and allowed him to help her into it. “See you soon?” he asked once she faced him.

“Yes.” This time her smile was genuine. To make up for her jealous harpy routine, she made sure it encompassed Van too. “I’ll be back shortly, y’all. I can’t wait.”

Chapter Two

Des pulled on his tie and stared out his window, his focus centered on the small figure hurrying up the street in the lightly falling snow. Wendy always insisted on walking the few blocks to and from work, claiming she enjoyed the exercise, but he knew it was because she didn’t want to waste gas or put more miles on her beat-up car. She was a penny-pincher in the extreme. Considering the financial toll her father’s death had put on her family, he understood.

“Watching to make sure she gets home okay?”

Cole’s voice made him grip the windowsill. “I can’t see all the way to her house.”

“But you keep her in sight for as long as you can.”

Admitting what Cole already knew would cause it to be more real somehow, so Des just narrowed his eyes until the darkness swallowed Wendy’s cheerful red coat. Then he let out a long breath. Relief, maybe, mixed with a healthy dose of longing.

And lots of fucking frustration.

A loud exhale preceded the unmistakable sound of Cole slumping in the chair opposite Des’s desk. “Are you ever going to, you know, do something about it?”

Though he knew very well what Cole meant, he played dumb. And mute.

“What if she meets someone, Des? Then what?”

Des hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. He’d wondered that many times himself, and he never came up with a good answer. They worked together. She wasn’t his in any shape or form. If she found someone, he’d wish her well.

All right, maybe not.

Truth was, if he’d ever met a woman who more deserved to be taken care of and worshipped, he didn’t remember it. She was so capable and strong, but she shouldn’t have to be. Not every minute. Not when he knew he was the right man to show her the freedom in occasionally giving up control.

Except he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

He turned away from the window and studied his best friend, noting he’d already changed into black trousers and a disturbingly green sweater. They lived upstairs in separate wings, occasionally meeting in the kitchen or living room but mostly staying in their own spaces. Living and working together could get old fast, so they made sure to give each other a wide berth.

A memory from last summer—involving a curvaceous redhead and too much tequila—flitted into Des’s mind and he smiled. Well, most of the time.

“Does that smile mean you’ve come up with a plan? Finally?” Cole smoothed away an imaginary wrinkle in his slacks. “A guy’s nuts could shrivel up waiting for you to make a goddamn move.”

“Actually I was thinking about…” He paused. Shit, what was her name? Tracy? Stacy? “Redhead, triple Ds. Giggled too much.” Moaned even more, which hadn’t been half-bad.

“I remember.” Cole smiled fondly. “Casey. She was sweet. Very creative. Wonder if she’s available?”

“Doing a girl you’re not serious about at Christmas never turns out well. You know better, Warner.”

Cole stroked his cock through his trousers. “Maybe Daisy was my one true love. Or was it Lacey?”

Des snorted out a laugh and scraped a hand through his hair. He needed to take a shower. The girls would be back soon, and not long after, guests would start flowing through the doors as fast as the champagne. Already he could hear the caterers bustling from room to room. “You good to handle things while I run upstairs?”

“Oh, you’re not ready? Hard to tell, since those ratty-ass jeans have been your wardrobe for the past week.”

“Scoping out my ass again? I’m so flattered.” Des grinned and headed out of the office, humming one of the holiday tunes that had played earlier.

He took the back stairs three at a time, then scattered his clothes on the floor on his way into the bathroom. In record time, his cock was in his soapy hand, his forehead braced on the arm he folded against the tile wall. Images of Wendy played behind his closed eyes. Dancing when she didn’t know he was there, gyrating her hips in maddening circles, bouncing her breasts with each movement. Shiny pink lips tilting into a smile as she crooned into her makeshift microphone.

She was so motherfucking sexy.

Des sucked in a breath and tightened his grip, working himself viciously. He’d never squeeze his dick hard enough to erase the pictures stored in his head so he used them as fodder, dragging his hand up and down until his gasps mingled with the hiss of the scalding water.

He wrenched the water dial hotter, then hotter still. Soon his skin would flay right off his damn bones, and he’d still be here, jerking off with her sweet southern voice tormenting him. Just her accent reminded him of fucking. She could say “pass the paper clips” and he’d envision throwing her legs over his shoulders and sucking on her swollen clit.

I’ll be back shortly, y’all.

Christ. He could’ve come from just that.

As clouds of steam rose around him, he threw his head back, the hot stream of water stabbing his face and chest offering additional sensation. Groaning, he reached down and grabbed his heavy balls, rhythmically pumping, his breath puffing over the tiles until the long white ribbons of his release fountained into the cascading water.

He slumped against the wall, panting. Shuddering. It wasn’t enough. He needed her under him, her tight pussy wrapped around his cock. Her seductively prim and proper voice whispering in his ear, her long nails raking down his back. She’d be a scratcher, he just knew it.

Snatching his bottle of shampoo, he dumped way too much on his head and took out his frustration on his scalp. Even knowing it wasn’t going to happen—that it couldn’t—the resentment still cut deep.

Thirty minutes later, he was on his way back downstairs. He passed a couple in a clinch on the landing. They let out guilty laughter when he cleared his throat. “Already seeking out the corners, Edwards?” he asked the gray-haired man who shamelessly left his hand on his partner’s ass.

Gerald Edwards, esteemed attorney at law, had boffed every secretary he’d ever had. When he ran out of them, he poached the receptionists from the law office next door. And
that
was exactly the kind of guy Des refused to be. He didn’t sleep with his employees. Never had, never would.

“Great party, Des.” Gerald extended a hand.

Des shook Gerald’s hand and continued downstairs. Not his problem.

A crowd had already started to form in the lobby. The entrance area contained several groups of laughing couples, and the hallway to the conference room held even more. A few pairs danced to the music of Josh Groban, and he spotted a few clients hanging out by the punch bowl.

It would be a successful night. He could feel it.

A quick detour to his office yielded a tall cup of coffee, with the added bonus of two sugars. He normally drank his coffee black but with Wendy and her sultry jasmine perfume due to arrive at any moment, he couldn’t take the chance. Somehow the burst of sugar on his tongue helped distract him from scenting her like a wolf, and he wasn’t about to question his coping techniques. They’d helped him keep his dick in his pants for an entire year so they must be working.

An hour passed in a haze of conversation. It didn’t take him long to lose the button-down shirt he’d thrown over a T-shirt—yeah, he dressed casually, Cole could fucking suck it—though he dumped it off on his friend’s chair rather than his own. There was a heated argument going on in his office, and he figured he’d be nice and not interrupt since he and Cole were the dumbasses who’d neglected to lock their doors.

Fighting was one thing. But he’d make sure no bodily fluid was spilled in his office—unless it was his.

“You wish, Martin,” he muttered.

The drinks were flowing, the food was delicious, and the entire place smelled of cinnamon, hot cider, and pine. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, some more than others. He’d come upon several couples under the mistletoe that Cole had insisted Van hang up near the exit, though Des knew his partner hoped to lure her there herself before the night ended. Unlike him, Cole had no qualms about sleeping with his assistants. Nothing had happened between Cole and Vanessa yet, but Cole would make his move soon.

Luckily Des had a few more brain cells and knew where to draw the line.

Des did several loops of the party, determined to make sure all of his guests were having a good time. So many people grabbed him to talk that he didn’t notice Wendy’s absence right away. Cole and Van hadn’t seen her either.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Had something happened? It wasn’t like Wendy to blow off a work function. She was never anything less than diligent.

Just as he pulled out his cell to call her, a soft moan stopped him. His body tensed as he shifted direction.

Ah, Jesus, now there was someone in Cole’s office. That sealed it. Time to lock up.

Silently, he pushed the door inward. A lone figure sat at the desk, her back to him. It was a woman, judging from the hair tumbling down her shoulders. From her smell, that perfume that tormented his days and haunted his nights.

Then she turned, a flash of white clutched in one hand, the other buried beneath the voluminous skirt draped over the arms of Cole’s chair. He registered her sound of surprise, and the shock that emanated from her pores as she realized she’d been caught.

In Cole’s office. In his chair. With her hand between her legs.

Anger spurted hot and furious in Des’s chest, swamping the relief that she was okay. How could she be in this room, touching herself, when he’d had his dick on a chokechain for the past year? He’d done everything he could to keep his professional distance. For all he knew, all that time she’d wanted Cole.

Fucking Cole Warner.

He stepped farther into the room and slammed a hand against the door. It clattered shut. She gasped and leaped to her feet, the material from her hand fluttering to the floor.

They were ending this now.

He stalked behind the desk and yanked up the shirt from the floor.
His
shirt. She’d been holding his shirt, in Cole’s office. Moaning. Touching her pussy, making his mouth water from the scent he could’ve picked up if he’d been surrounded by a dozen other women. Hers would’ve overridden them all.