Sleigh Ride Together with You (3 page)

“Try to put the worries out of your head. Relax and enjoy tonight's festivities.” Colin pulled out his cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Jeannie just messaged. Seems our fans are waiting, cameras at the ready, for this little holiday meet and greet. Chin up, love. It's only for an hour or two, and then you can go home to the peace and quiet and that fabulous bath bomb.”

Nicole wished she could be as nonchalant and unflappable as Colin.

“Then I say let's get this party started.” After slipping on the left shoe, she winced as she tugged on the right one and then slowly rose to her feet. Starting for the door, she tried not to limp. “If nothing else tonight, I'm going to discover Alex Kingsfield's angle and what he's really after. There's a reason he's here, and I'm going to find out what it is.” She gave Colin a pointed glance as she locked her office door. “You, of all people, know how much I love a challenge.” When he held out his hand, Nicole dropped her keys in his palm. “Thanks.”

When Colin lagged behind a few moments later, she stopped and glanced back at him. “Are you coming?”

“You'd better believe it.” He stepped beside her, offering one arm accompanied by one of his trademark cheeky grins. “I wouldn't miss this show for anything.”

 

 

 

 

3

 

A large crowd of festively dressed guests milled about the room while servers in black and white uniforms balanced trays of appetizers and hors d'oeuvres and circulated among the partygoers. Engaged in conversation with a woman whose sequined gold top nearly blinded him, Alex kept one eye on Nicole.

From the moment she'd entered the lavishly decorated press room-turned-holiday-winter-wonderland on Colin's arm, she'd lit up the entire place. At their entrance, most of the attendees paused their conversations, turned toward the duo, clapped, and called out their names while cameras flashed.

They'd delighted everyone while playfully wrapping the string of lights around the tree and keeping up a steady stream of banter. From all appearances it was natural, not at all forced. When Nicole turned on the tree lights, a rousing cheer arose.

Schmoozed out for the moment, Alex excused himself from his conversation. Whistling a holiday tune under his breath, he strolled across the room. By not standing in any one place longer than a minute, he could continue his observations without interruption.

“Would you like some eggnog, sir?” A young, auburn-haired server batted her big blue eyes and offered him a half-filled plastic cup. “By the way, I love that song you were whistling.”

Alex thanked her and accepted the cup. “I'm afraid I don't even know which one it was.” Probably a holiday tune the small jazz quartet in the corner played earlier. Whistling was a habit he'd adopted from his father and, oddly enough, the predilection kicked in when he needed to concentrate.

“The one about taking a sleigh ride.” She hummed a few bars and giggled. “It's romantic, you know? All about having fun, snuggling, and being cozy.” Her smile grew broader. “Together.”

“Right,” he said. “It's an old family favorite.”

The server dug in a pocket and pulled out a card, which she pressed into his hand with a cocktail napkin. “Mine, too. Here you go. In case you'd like to use it.” Turning to depart, she gave him a flirtatious glance over one shoulder. A small part of him was flattered such a young woman—not much older than a girl, really—considered him attractive, but the more rational part of him cringed. Without a doubt, her phone number was on that card. Crunching it in his palm along with the napkin, Alex tossed them both in a nearby trash can. A number of years ago, he might have paid attention, but those days were long behind him.

Apparently, he wasn't much better since he'd stolen repeated glances at Nicole for the better part of the past hour. A sailor on leave would probably exhibit more tact, and he only hoped he hadn't been obvious. Although he didn't welcome it, he couldn't turn off his internal meter of attraction for the
Wake Up, Des Moines!
co-host. No wonder viewers loved this woman. She was even prettier in person than on camera, but it was more than her physical appearance that appealed to him.

Nicole radiated a positive energy and glowing health. The woman had incredible presence, a key factor for successful television journalists. Her shiny, straight, dark hair fell slightly below her slender shoulders. Wispy bangs swept low over her forehead and fringed piercingly blue eyes. At five-foot-seven, she was on the shorter side. While taller women generally fared better in a national market, her smaller stature didn't have to be a negative factor. Small-boned but well-proportioned, Nicole's features were delicate, her hands and feet dainty. The blue dress she wore, while modest, accentuated her femininity in a way that could easily drive a man to distraction.

Maybe it was a good thing she'd changed out of the high heels she'd worn earlier since they'd been equally memorable. He'd noted her grimace while wearing them, no doubt a result of twisting her foot on the ice.

From what he'd seen in the tapes of the show, her on-air presence was a strong force. Nicole “Nikki” Reardon could hold her own against anyone, male or female, with humor, wit, and professionalism. Viewers identified with her, and her personality was the perfect foil for Colin's witticisms and British charm.

He needed to remind himself that, for all intents and purposes, Nicole was his client, even if she didn't know it. Yet.

As he watched, Colin whispered something to her, making her laugh. The co-hosts were definitely in sync, but if Alex's interpretation of their body language was accurate, these two were close friends but nothing more. The fact that Nicole didn't lean into Colin and kept a respectable distance between them spoke volumes and pleased him more than it should. Colin Young had a reputation as a confirmed, perennial bachelor—different woman every month—with seemingly no intention of changing his lifestyle.

Nicole's love life was another story entirely. If she dated anyone, she kept that part of her life intensely private. From what Alex knew, she was a woman of faith.

His assistants had been thorough in their reports. He'd studied them during the past week and in more detail during the flight to Des Moines. Nicole was a church-going member who showed up for services most Sunday mornings. While she couldn't openly discuss or promote her faith on the show, her off-camera activities tipped him off to her commitment in serving others. Giving back to a community who'd welcomed her with open arms. That, too, pleased him on a personal level.

She'd graduated from a state university with high, if not stellar, grades. Starting out as an apprentice four years ago, she'd moved to weekend anchor within months, and then she'd been named the permanent co-host of
Wake Up, Des Moines!
a little more than a year ago. While her predecessor—who'd gone on to another market—had been popular, the show now won its time slot by a landslide every day without exception. Call it chemistry between Colin and Nicole, call it good writing, great interviewing skills, or whatever. But Alex knew better. If ever he'd seen star power, that innate “it” factor, this woman had it in every nuance of her being.

Yes, she had glittering stars in her eyes and—from what he could tell—the strong drive to achieve anything she wanted. And it was his job to help her get there.

From their brief conversation earlier, he could tell she was curious as to his purpose for being at the station. His most difficult task might be proving to the dynamo that he wasn't a corporate shark out to devour her. In actuality, he could help make her dreams come true. He didn't want to think of the alternative—that he might raise her hopes only to bring them crashing down around those petite feet.

Merry Christmas, Nicole.
Alex raised his cup to her in a silent toast and slugged down the thick, sickeningly sweet eggnog. Lowering it, he frowned. Spiked. Tossing the cup in the trash can, he assumed what he hoped was a nonthreatening smile and walked toward where Nicole sat across the room.

He darted a glance at Colin. Surrounded by a bevy of females, the man had his arm wrapped around the waist of a young woman who wore too much makeup and too little dress. Alex welcomed the opportunity for a private discussion while Nicole's British protector was otherwise occupied.

As he moved closer, a young man, who looked barely old enough to shave, beat a hasty retreat from Nicole's side, cheeks flushed. No doubt he'd suffered a quick rebuff, although Alex had to admire the guy for trying. A woman like Nicole must have any number of adoring men at her beck and call, more than ready and eager to trip all over themselves to make and keep her happy.

Lord willing, Alex Kingsfield wouldn't be one of them.

 

 

 

 

4

 

Nicole tensed when she saw Alex headed her way. After one of the male guests said something to him, momentarily delaying him, she noted how at ease Alex seemed with strangers, a quality she'd always admired.

Based on his words earlier, he was a man of faith. Strong faith. That boosted him high on the list of eligible men she'd met since moving to Des Moines. To the top, actually. Not having a date in forever didn't make it easier. During the course of any given week, she met a number of single men, none of whom interested her. A nice guy to date would be a welcome change of pace, especially during the holidays. Nice being the key word.

What was she thinking? Alex was her boss, more or less, and he lived in a different state. Nicole lowered her gaze. In spite of his apparent faith and rugged good looks, she needed to squelch her attraction for him and act like a professional. For all she knew, he might be married. She'd met several men who preferred not to wear a wedding ring, although she despised that practice.

For so many reasons, Alex Kingsfield could never be a candidate for anything other than showing him the door once he accomplished whatever it was he'd come to do.

Colin had done a quick Internet search on his phone earlier in the evening and shared the results with her. “Seems Alex Kingsfield is the network ‘image maker.' He's known for reinventing anchors and hosts from Boston to Seattle and improving the ratings of underperforming shows. Reportedly, the man's tough but fair.” Tucking his phone in his inner suit coat pocket, Colin smirked. “Image maker, indeed. Mark my words, Nikki. If he starts telling us to dress a certain way, walk a certain way, or—heaven forbid—speak a particular way, then we'll call the bloke Professor Higgins and—”

“It'll be fine, Colin. No worries.” Although she sounded confident, Nicole wavered. From what Colin said, Alex's presence most likely meant nothing good and only served to stoke the fire. Although she knew making unwarranted judgments was unfair, she bristled to think the network might be of the opinion that she, Colin—or
Wake Up, Des Moines!
as a whole—needed any kind of help.
Bring it on, image maker.

She raised her head just as Alex finished his conversation and approached.

“Mind if I join you?”

Nicole mustered her best attempt at a smile, determined to act friendly if not exactly agreeable. “Please. Have a seat. Are you having a good time?”

“It's getting better.”

Was he flirting? Probably just part of his charm. A man didn't become a major network executive without it. Still, his manner came across as genuine. His accent was intriguing although she couldn't place it. Midwestern or Great Lakes region, most likely.

Might as well get straight to the heart of the matter. “I hope you'll be very happy here for however long it takes to accomplish your objective.” Nicole caught Colin's wave from across the room. She was surprised he could tear himself away from the fawning group of women hanging onto his every word.

Alex appeared startled. “Did Mike tell you the purpose of my visit?”

“No, and I must admit that I'm very curious.” She started to sip her eggnog, but Alex touched her arm, surprising her.

“If you have an aversion to rum, you might not want to drink that. I'll be happy to get you a cup of something else if you'd like.”

Too late. She'd already imbibed a small sip during his well-intentioned warning. The pungent taste of alcohol invaded her senses as liquid heat trailed down her throat. “I see what you mean. I should have known since they've spiked it the past two holiday parties.” Clearing her throat, Nicole gave him a small smile. “You might want to cut out before the line dancing begins. Definitely before the karaoke.”

“Thanks for the tip. Be right back.” Before she could blink, Alex darted out of the chair. He returned less than a minute later holding a cup in each hand. “For your consideration, we have eggnog, which I've been assured has not been spiked, and regular sherbet punch with”—he swirled the second cup—“small bits of pineapple floating in it. What's your pleasure?”

She reached for the punch. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” He put the other cup on the floor and settled again in the chair. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his thighs, the hallmark positioning of an athlete. Alex studied her in a direct yet appreciative way, which she found both unsettling and flattering. Or perhaps that tiny taste of eggnog had already managed to infiltrate her brain.

“Are you originally from New York?” she said. “I'm puzzling over your accent.”

“That's my home base now, but I'm from a small town in Minnesota. Just outside Minneapolis.”

“Ah, I caught the accent just then. Gives away any secrets you might want to keep. You must be a hockey player. That would explain the scar.” Goodness. She shouldn't make assumptions that came across as stereotypical. Plus, she'd more or less inadvertently admitted that she'd studied him rather closely.