The Night Before Christmas: Naughty Christmas Nights / The Nightshift Before Christmas / 'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Tawny Weber

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      Hailey pulled her hands, and her body, away from Gage and turned. Face on fire, she shook her head, trying to toss off the spell, then turned to give Paolo a shaky smile.

      “Yes?”

      “A message for you.” As polite and circumspect as if he were totally oblivious to the sexual sparks flying around the room, he stepped forward and handed Hailey a slip of paper. Then, without a word, he turned smartly on one heel and exited. Leaving Hailey alone with Gage and all that sexual temptation.

      Frowning, she opened the slip of paper and read it. Her frown turned into a scowl and she crushed the note in her fist.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Apparently Cherry can’t make it. She’s not feeling well this evening. She sent the message through Rudy, who said he’d meet us in an hour and to go ahead and start dinner without him.”

      Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

      Hailey all but stomped her foot and shook her fist at the ceiling, she was so frustrated.

      She’d planned this evening so carefully. The most romantic restaurant, a private room. She’d ordered the meal, the dessert, the champagne and even picked the music, all with the idea of impressing Cherry and Rudy.

      Now, neither of them was here.

      Her grand plan to prove she was the best pick for the contract, poof. Gone. She swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump of tears clogging her throat.

      “Well, I guess we can get on with the evening,” Gage said, his tone close to a shrug. “Rudy will get here when he gets here.”

      “What’s the point? I’m not trying to convince you of the merits of a romantic evening,” she said, jerking one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. Be nice, a part of her chided. He might be her competition, but Gage was still a major player who knew a lot of people. If she angered him, he could easily spread the word that she was a bitch or a diva. Or just a pain in his butt.

      But for once, she didn’t care about that cautioning voice. She wasn’t worried about upsetting anyone. Not when she was already this upset herself.

      “Look, have a glass of wine and let’s eat. We might as well,” Gage persuaded. “There’s no point in letting this ambience go to waste. The wine is chilled. The stomachs are growling. Let’s enjoy it.”

      Hailey looked around the room.

      Ambience, indeed. A cozy table for four covered in white linen, lit candles amid holiday greenery on the table and the sideboard. Instead of the Christmas tunes that were playing gently out in the restaurant, the speakers here played the bluesy romantic tones of Cherry’s music. A bottle of wine waited, as did a tray of hors d’oeuvres and fruit.

      And Gage.

      Looking oh so sexy and sympathetic.

      She might be able to resist the sexy—and that was a huge might—but the sympathy in his dark eyes? Her heart melted a little; it was so unused to anyone seeming to give two good damns about her.

      “Maybe we should hold the meal until Rudy joins us,” she murmured, sure an evening alone with Gage was a bad idea. One that’d feel amazingly good, but still... “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for him?”

      “No.” Gage took her hand, led her to a seat with a perfect view of the garden and held out the chair. “He said to start without him. I’m starving, so let’s eat.”

      Hailey hesitated, then sat. Because she was starving. Not because she wanted more time with Gage. She’d been so amped over this evening, so busy planning it all, that she hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

      “This doesn’t count as my pitch for the contract. Once we eat or drink, unless Rudy or Cherry are here, the pitch is void.” Determined to settle that point, Hailey gave him an intent, narrow-eyed look. “Okay?”

      “You sure?” Gage leaned back in his chair, giving her a considering look that made her shiver and wish she’d worn something that didn’t actually show her underwear. When she nodded, he lifted his glass of ice water with a twist of lemon and drank. “I guess we’ll just have to call this a date, then.”

      Her eyes rounding, Hailey gulped.

      “No—”

      “Hey, you said it,” he interrupted. “It’s not for business. Which means this is a date. Just you and me and what dates are all about. Pure pleasure.”

      * * *

      GAGE LOVED WATCHING Hailey’s face. She was an open book, every emotion, every thought playing across those pretty features. Right now, her slick berry lips pursed and her brows creased, he read irritation, dismay and—yes, oh yes, baby—a whole lot of interest and sexual heat.

      He figured the heated interest was enough to overcome the other dismay. And he kinda liked the irritation. It meant he was keeping her on edge. And Hailey on edge was fun. Like watching a hissing, spitting kitten.

      “This is not a date.”

      Gage grinned. She was so cute when she was stubborn.

      “Sure it is. You. Me. Candlelight dinner, all the foofy romantic accompaniments. That says date.”

      “Foofy?” Her green eyes slitted and she spat the word, just like the hissing kitten he’d thought her. “You call romance foofy?”

      “Sure. It’s like frosting.” When she frowned and shook her head, he elaborated. “Frosting is sweet. It’s fluffy and tasty and quite often decadent. But it’s not the point. The point is the cake.”

      “And you think leather lingerie is cake?”

      “No.” He waited for the stiffness to drain from her shoulders and her face to relax again before adding, “The cake is sex.”

      He laughed when she almost fumbled her glass of water.

      “You’re awfully naive for a woman who designs sex clothes.”

      “I don’t design sex clothes. I design lingerie. Underwear, sleepwear, apparel to make a woman feel confident and attractive and empowered.”

      As much as he was enjoying the view of her face, those round cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing, Gage let his gaze drop.

      Her see-through blouse was ruffly and full, creating a hazy distraction from the delicious curve of her breasts, highlighted to perfection in a pink bra. He had to hand it to her. Lacy and dotted with pearly things, the bra was attractive. And if it made her feel confident and empowered, well, more power to that sweet satin.

      But he was thinking sex when he looked at it.

      A fact he knew was clear on his face when he met her eyes again. A fact that, if the way her gaze blurred and her breath hitched were any indication, got her a little excited.

      Good. He still had hope of rescuing this evening. As irritated as he was to put off his departure to Tahoe until next week after he’d nailed down winning this contract, spending СКАЧАТЬ