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  “We’re late.” Jamison wrapped his arms around me, drawing me against him.

  “And this doesn’t help.” I said, smoothing one of his eyebrows and then the other. We laid soft, sensual kisses on each other, and I tasted the minty toothpaste in his mouth. “We should go.”

  Jamison nodded and took me by the hand, and together, we walked out into the hallway. We couldn’t kiss in the elevator because a group of skiers was riding down with us. I felt distracted by my own craving for Jamison.

  Again, what is this I’m feeling? I had to force myself to take a breath. Maybe Jamison had opened something within me that I’d never known existed before then. I used to force myself to want sex. But the first time Jamison and I made love, our togetherness had put a dent in my safety box made of steel wherein I’d hidden away my unbridled lust. Dale and I used to have a lot of vociferous headboard-banging, floor-shaking sex during which he would be the only one who got off. Frankly, I never enjoyed having sex with Dale. During therapy, I learned that it wasn’t the act of sex that had turned me on—it was the string of actions that came before it that got me hot. I needed Dale to sneak into the mansion against Randolph’s wishes. In defiance, I took Dale into my bed and gave him my body, knowing that I would never make a vow to the man my father wanted me to marry—Carter Valentine, who was still one of my dearest friends. Carter was strange, but I understood how he’d acquired his weird personality. He and I had always loved each other and forever would, but not in that way.

  Carter remained stuck in my mind as the elevator doors opened, and Jamison and I walked out, holding hands. “What were you thinking about on the way down?” Jamison said in my ear.

  I smiled. “An old friend. I’ll introduce you to him one day.”

  He grunted, intrigued. “Competition?”

  The question made me blurt a chuckle. “Ask me that after you meet him.”

  Jamison turned his head, eyeing me curiously. I winked at him.

  Alana and Alex shot to their feet when they saw us.

  “Those are your assistants?” Jamison asked.

  I’d forgotten he wasn’t able to see how tall and modelesque Alana was with her long dark hair, high, sharp cheekbones, and come-hither eyes. And Alex was the male version of Alana, only he had muscles.

  “I promise, I didn’t hire them because of the way they looked,” I said in a rush.

  I gave Alex his preferred side hug, but Alana and I embraced each other tightly. “We have to talk about what I heard in that bedroom,” Alana whispered.

  I dipped my chin as my face burned with embarrassment.

  Then I squeezed Jamison’s strong shoulder and pointed a hand at Alana. “Jamison, this is Alana. She’s my associate interior designer.” My hand shifted to Alex. “And this is Alex, my craftsman. And Alana and Alex, this is Jamison Cox.”

  Alana tilted her head. “And he’s your…?”

  I glanced at Jamison. We’d already set what we were in stone. “He’s my new love interest.”

  Alana laughed and rolled her eyes. Alex, who was generally a quiet person, smiled and reached out to shake Jamison’s hand. “Jamison. Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here,” Jamison replied.

  Alana, who wasn’t one for letting awkward moments linger, said there was a tavern in town that was supposed to have all the fattening food and drink a girl needed after two days of dealing with airport drama. Jamison offered to drive us in my rented SUV, so we left the hotel and piled into the car with Alana and Alex in the back seat.

  “Oh gosh, now I remember,” Alana said from the back seat. “Jamison Cox. You’re a political analyst or something.”

  “Strategist. And she mentioned me before?” Jamison sounded excited.

  “Oh, definitely so.” Alana’s tone didn’t hint that whatever I’d said about Jamison was favorable. I couldn’t even remember mentioning Jamison to her. However, I kept Alana on my staff not only for her impeccable design skills but also for her exceptional ability to listen and remember everything that she heard.

  “And not in a good way?” Jamison sounded disappointed.

  I cringed, praying Alana would use her impeccable communication skills to not make Jamison feel like the cruddy jerk who I’d probably made him out to be.

  “Not in a bad way either. Just in a realistic way,” Alana said, and I held in a sigh of relief. “And by the way, Bryn, Alex has a new girlfriend named Mia.”

  “Here we go,” Alex said. I pictured him rolling his eyes.

  “And Mia doesn’t like to pick up her dog’s poop because she says it’s biodegradable and good for the earth. In New York City, the earth is concrete. She’s gotta know that, right?”

  “I picked it up, okay?” Alex groused.

  “But it wasn’t your dog. It’s her dog. Her poop.”

  “But I picked it up.”

  “That’s not the point, Alex. When you’re not around to pick up her dog poop, she’s letting her dog drop a deuce and leaving it on the sidewalk for someone to step in. I mean, like, who the hell does that? And you know what? We were supposed to walk our dogs with you and me, not with you, me, and her. And she talks too much. And her dog wants to eat Lilly. She’s like a little woman with a big ol’ pit bull. What’s that about, Bryn? Daddy issues, right? Serious, fucking… her dad wanted a boy. Daddy issues.”

  Alex remained silent. I looked at Jamison with wide eyes. His wink told me he wasn’t made uncomfortable by their bickering. I wanted to explain that it was normal for Alex and Alana to bicker that way. They were close. I’d always known they were attracted to each other, but Alex was from a small town in Ohio and Alana had grown up in Queens. I knew for a fact that he considered her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, with her swan’s neck, heart-shaped face, pouty lips, and mysterious eyes, but her rough edges intimidated him.

  Alana had commented several times that Alex was good-looking, too, but soft. I’d seen several of her boyfriends, and none of them ever seemed tougher or manlier than Alex. So I had no idea what in the hell she meant by soft. I’d asked her once, and she blew me off, saying, “It’s unexplainable. He just is.”

  Finally, Alex sighed. He usually took his time to come up with the right response for Alana. “Then I won’t bring her anymore. But just don’t bring what’s his face to happy hour anymore.”

  “Who’s what’s his face?” Alana snapped.

  “I don’t know his fucking name, but he’s too loud.”

  “Rain?”

  “Maybe. That’s it. And who names their kid Rain?”

  “Deal,” Alana said. “No Mia from you. No Rain from me.”

  “Deal.”

  Awkward silence lingered until Jamison asked if either of them had ever been to Vail. Alex had, Alana hadn’t, and Jamison and Alex shared their favorite ski spots in Colorado.

  The restaurant looked like a Western lodge, with wooden walls, tacky old-West artwork, and no windows. Regardless of the unsightly decor, the restaurant was full. Conversation flowed easily during dinner, especially after Jamison asked each of my assistants what their first impression of me was.

  “At first, I thought, Shit, I might be bi? Bryn’s got this Fuck me, please thing about her. Like, she’s too hot to not crave. But now, screwing her would be like incest.” She thumbed over at Alex beside her. “But Alex over here has had a crush on the boss from day one.”

  Alex grimaced at Alana. “Have you been day drinking again or something?”

  She glanced at Jamison, embarrassed. “I don’t day drink, and you know it.”

  “Then stop talking like you’re smashed or something.” Alex leaned toward me, waving his hand. “That’s not true, Bryn. I’ve always had the utmost respect for you. Sure, you’re beautiful. Any guy with eyes can see that. But that’s it.” He looked back at Alana. “Plus, she’s down-to-earth. That’s her best quality besides being wise—too wise for a dope like me.”

  Alana raised a finger. “I second that. I didn’t even know she w
as a Christmas until one of our clients mentioned it.” Then she patted Alex on the back. “And, dude, you’re not a dope. You’re soft but not a dope.”

  Alex shook his hands in frustration. “You keep saying that. What in the hell does that mean?”

  “I’m ready to hear that answer as well,” I said.

  After setting her gaze on me, Jamison, and then Alex, Alana huffed. “He doesn’t go for the hard kill. He goes for the soft ones like Mia.”

  Alana and Alex maintained firm eye contact for a few seconds, and then Alana clapped her hands. “What other things do we love about Bryn? Let me count them all.”

  Alex cleared his throat as he readjusted in his seat. “She’s kind.”

  I threw up my hands, my face warm with embarrassment. “Enough of the good stuff. Tell him the annoying stuff about me.”

  Alana and Alex grinned at each other, and Jamison stretched an arm across the back of my chair. I felt so claimed by him, and it made my heart go pitter-patter.

  Alana turned her head slightly to examine me. “You really want me to spill the soup?”

  “Sure,” I said, waving my fingers in my direction. “Bring it.”

  “Well…” She shifted her attention to Jamison. “She’s down-to-earth but way too down-to-earth. Take the last few days, for instance.” She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “All the misery of going to the airport and our flight being delayed and then canceled until further notice and shit. And then we had to wait for our checked luggage because they couldn’t hold it. And then we had to go back to the airport the next day and do the shit all over again, and by a nose, we were able to get a flight to Denver. All of that,” she said, gesturing emphatically, “could’ve been avoided if she would just partake in the family jewels.”

  Jamison frowned, confused. “The family jewels?”

  “She means the airplane,” Alex said.

  I was surprised he’d said something. Usually, he was okay toughing it out. Their airport experience must have been horrendous.

  “Duly noted,” I said and informed them that we would be using it for our vendor runs the following week.

  They both expressed relief. Then the topic of conversation turned to airports and how miserable they could be and how the culture of each city was reflected in every terminal. We all laughed when Jamison remarked that the people in JFK often moved in their own world, like zombies, barely avoiding impact with each other.

  Dinner was set before us. Alana and I had the buffalo chicken salad. Jamison and Alex ordered the steak with baked potato. We were on our second glass of wine when the conversation turned to all the politicians Jamison knew.

  “Okay, I can tell you this—the president’s a farter,” Jamison said. We all erupted in laughter as Jamison waved his hand in front of his nose. “The guy’s worse than a skunk.”

  Alana, Alex, and I were naming off politicians we knew, but Jamison wasn’t as forthcoming as he’d been about the president. I was certain he’d revealed the detail about the gas by accident. All the laughter, food, and wine made him let down his guard. After that, instead of dishing the dirt, he would rotate his hand to one side or the other and say, “Eh.” His tone would sound cheery if the person was good or dreary if the person wasn’t his favorite.

  “Well, hey there,” said a jolly voice.

  Everyone directed their attention to Eden, who was standing at the edge of our table, holding hands with Dale. She must have been wearing heels, because Dale was shorter than her, and that made me smile. The wine was making me revel in his shortcomings.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bryn Christmas

  “Could you make room for two more?” Eden asked.

  It seemed her eyes had trouble settling on Alex or Jamison. I really wanted to say no, since we were halfway through dinner. Before I could turn to Jamison, who was so good at reading my facial expressions, and show him that I’d rather Eden and Dale found their own table for dinner, Eden had called over the waitress and asked her to add a table to the end of ours and two extra chairs.

  The waitstaff was pleased to make Eden Newell happy. She ended up sitting on my left and Dale across from her. I loathed having a view of his face. I decided to pretend as if Dale wasn’t present as I introduced Eden to Alana and Alex and told her they would be joining me at her house in the morning.

  “Alana and Alex? Are the two of you a couple?” Eden asked.

  “No,” they said simultaneously.

  Then Alana smiled as she shot Alex a cursory glance. I was surprised at how flushed she looked as she forced herself to concentrate solely on Eden. “I can’t wait to see your house, though. It looks lovely in pictures.”

  Dale flung himself forward and reached over to shake Alana’s hand. “By the way, I’m Dale. Your boss forgot to introduce me. Dale Rumor.”

  I rolled my eyes as Alana studied him.

  “Dale Rumor,” she muttered. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Dale Rumor.” She tilted her head when she looked at me. “Bryn? Do you have to go to the ladies’ room? I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

  “So, Bryn,” Dale said extra loudly. “How are your brothers?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and wondered why he cared. Neither of my brothers liked him, not even Asher, who was prone to give anyone I wasn’t fond of the benefit of the doubt.

  I faked a smile. “They’re fine.”

  Alana looked at me with puzzlement. She wasn’t used to me being so curt with others.

  Dale directed his attention to Jamison. “I thought I heard of you before. Didn’t you run her brother’s campaign? Is that how the two of you met?”

  I could feel Eden grow rigid.

  “Yes and yes,” Jamison said.

  I wished I could have signaled for him not to respond. Dale was like a fish in a bowl, who’d keep eating if you kept feeding it. Pay Dale too much attention and he’d keep being a dick. I was certain he had an angle. I put my money on the theory that he’d spent the rest of the afternoon learning everything he could about Jamison Cox so that he could throw something salacious about my new boyfriend in my face. As for that fake apology he’d given me earlier that day, he could take it and shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

  Dale rubbed the back of his neck as he grinned. “But I heard it didn’t end well.”

  Jamison nodded calmly. “It’s all relative.”

  “Relative to what?” Dale shot back.

  “Relative to the contract between me and my client.”

  I smiled. Score one for Jamison. His answer was enough to make Dale slouch in his chair and pout.

  But I wanted to put the nail in Dale’s coffin, so I crossed my arms and asked, “By the way, what are you doing these days, Dale? Are you employed?”

  Dale sneered, which made me feel disappointed in myself for taking that jab. He got a kick out of making me behave that way. Also, it gave him hope. If I got scrappy with him, he would take it as me giving a damn about him. And I couldn’t care less about who he banged or lied to or whatever new scheme he was cooking up and calling a job. I was certain that whatever he was doing with his life was making him very, very unhappy and was all the dopamine hits Dale needed to get through any day.

  If that’s the case, then why am I still so angry? What’s that about?

  “Well, glad you asked. My beautiful babe and I are writing and producing a movie. Not like the one we tried and failed at because, well… only one of us knew what we were doing,” Dale said.

  Bait. Bait. Don’t take the bait.

  Alana pointed her finger between Dale and me. “Whew. We’ve obviously got some bad blood here.”

  Eden turned to me and then Dale. “You know what? Maybe this was fate. Maybe we can resolve the bad blood between the two of you so we can work in peace together for the next three weeks.”

  The smug look on Dale’s face was an indication that he was not ready for any resolution. And then it struck me. I was ang
ry because I knew that he’d intentionally used Eden to get to me. I could guess how he’d done it because I knew how he operated. First, he convinced her to buy the property. She’d told me that a friend had talked her into purchasing it, and I would have bet it was Dale. Then he convinced her that she should look into hiring an interior designer. He showed her magazines that featured my work.

  And as far as entering into a film project with him, I wanted to wave the red flag at her. The poor thing hadn’t known he used to work for a slimy judge in Washington, DC, and was meanwhile using our relationship to learn as much as he could about my family. When his badly written and unauthorized screenplay was finally finished, he somehow wrangled a contact in Hollywood and set out to do what he’d always wanted to do—be famous. Since the story was based on my family, he talked me into signing on as one of the executive producers. Executive producer. What a big title. I hadn’t known that me being executive producer meant I would invest more money than he did. Dale was the producer, which meant he could bed all the actresses.

  However, the real reason he wanted me on the project was so that Jasper wouldn’t destroy him. It took entirely too long for me to end our relationship, romantically and professionally, and after I got away from Dale Rumor, Jasper handled him accordingly. In the end, I let Dale go after grieving the fact that he was too narcissistic to be concerned about anyone besides himself. Because of my issues, I’d been drawn to him, but I could never depend on a man who took more from me emotionally than he gave. I didn’t know if Dale had changed a little, a lot, or not at all, but as I took a moment to feel Jamison’s presence beside me, I came to one conclusion—I no longer cared.

  I shrugged and, in a gesture of good faith, reached out to shake Dale’s hand. “We’ll leave the past in the past.”

  He hesitated but then reached out to complete our handshake. He didn’t say anything but slyly tickled the inside of my palm before letting go. Once again, he proved he hadn’t changed at all.