Читать онлайн книгу «The Magic Of Mistletoe» автора Carolyn Hector

The Magic Of Mistletoe
Carolyn Hector
His Christmas WishEver since he accidentally outed Santa as a fraud, guest news anchor Duke Rodriguez is getting his first taste of bad press. Worse yet, the former baseball star is striking out with sexy decorator Macy Cuomo. To prove he's no grinch, he offers to work for free during her busiest weekend. A vibrant, down-to-earth single mom, Macy makes Duke want to leave the limelight behind and focus on making all of her sensual fantasies come true.Despite his festive faux pas, Macy has to admit there's a good reason Duke is every hot-blooded woman's secret crush—hers included. Behind the famously gorgeous physique is a smart, charismatic man who lights her up like a Christmas tree with just one sizzling kiss. Opposites definitely attract, but when celebrity drama comes calling, will their budding love survive the holiday season?


His Christmas Wish
Ever since he accidentally outed Santa as a fraud, guest news anchor Duke Rodriguez is getting his first taste of bad press. Worse yet, the former baseball star is striking out with sexy decorator Macy Cuomo. To prove he’s no grinch, he offers to work for free during her busiest weekend. A vibrant, down-to-earth single mom, Macy makes Duke want to leave the limelight behind and focus on making all of her sensual fantasies come true.
Despite his festive faux pas, Macy has to admit there’s a good reason Duke is every hot-blooded woman’s secret crush—hers included. Behind the famously gorgeous physique is a smart, charismatic man who lights her up like a Christmas tree with just one sizzling kiss. Opposites definitely attract, but when celebrity drama comes calling, will their budding love survive the holiday season?
“Thanks for the offer, but—” he brushed his lips gently across hers “—I feel it’s important to know that I am extremely interested in you.”
“Extremely?” Macy squeaked out. Her heart thudded against her rib cage so loudly that she just knew he could hear it.
“Extremely and only.”
To confirm his words, Duke pressed his lips against hers. He tasted like coffee, strong and sweet. His mouth moved with an expertise that she’d never experienced before. Their connection was magnetic. His bottom lip curved perfectly against hers. Regardless of their height difference, their bodies fit together like a glove, molding against each other. His large hands supported her lower back, pulling her close to him. She could feel the hardness of his body and swayed. Macy closed her eyes and allowed the feeling to take over her. It was as if she was floating on a cloud and she never wanted to come down. She could be kissed like this forever. But forever wasn’t an option for them.
Every fiber of her was on fire. How long had it been since she’d been properly kissed like that?
Dear Reader (#ulink_fe971fa7-ece4-5f44-a514-ac7d4105a1a5),
Happy holidays! It’s that time to welcome the chaotic world of holiday parties, shopping and decorating. What’s on your wish list? Could it be a dream date with your celebrity crush? What would happen if your wish was granted? This year, be careful what you wish for.
Welcome to Winter Wonderland. Macy Cuomo magically creates the perfect holiday decorative settings for your home. She’s been booked since the beginning of the year with no time for herself—even when her celebrity crush enters her world with the declaration that he needs her.
No matter how naughty anchorman Duke Rodriguez is, he will not stop until he gets what’s on his wish list, and right now, Macy is the only name on his page.
I love creative men who go after exactly what they want. Duke and Macy’s story came to me while sorting through boxes labeled Christmas and watching the morning news. The young anchorman shared a story about the time he discovered the truth of Santa Claus, and his cohost reached over and stopped him. I, of course, wondered about the what-if aspect of that story and how many people his confession would have angered.
Carolyn Hall
The Magic of Mistletoe
Carolyn Hector


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Child’s voice might scar some folks from ever sharing their work. But CAROLYN HECTOR rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what she’s up to on Twitter, @Carolyn32303 (https://twitter.com/Carolyn32303).
I would like to dedicate this book first and foremost to my husband and two kids. Thank you for allowing me the time to write. And to the Hotties of The Color of Love Book Club.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_775f4ec9-c812-50df-87b7-48e46a3591d5)
I have to acknowledge Scott Kopel, Janet Atwater-Manuel, David Dickerson, Rhea Lathan and Aron Myers, who stormed into my office and demanded I strum up the courage to hit the submit button.
Contents
Cover (#u8b12cd39-31ef-5286-a36e-7b9af3e8b19e)
Back Cover Text (#u1c91ef43-acce-504e-bf7d-77104b455515)
Introduction (#uaaff2e21-d8b0-5dde-ac81-7b975f125da9)
Dear Reader (#ulink_5f1ad76e-28d8-5841-babd-bd1a4b729340)
Title Page (#u3bc0e089-0153-541a-965d-547e1cb4d225)
About the Author (#ub74d7d78-6bf7-57a0-9f6d-3d26d68b57ac)
Dedication (#u8a528963-d620-5723-a5ba-b308e58ffbea)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_79b466ad-0b05-5219-97d6-61f4a9f093c4)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_e78a9a8a-255b-50e4-a0b0-58a03eaef045)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_66173150-90b6-5d1c-8eb2-973bc338bb41)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_aecc0a5e-062e-5a82-b36e-505f78a9b8c5)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_c372455e-9a9a-5917-bde8-d063f1a55fb5)
“Hold still, I’ve almost got it.” Macy Cuomo parted her thirteen-year-old daughter’s hair down the center. As Gia sat at on a stool in front of the vanity in the downstairs bathroom of their two-story home, Macy stood behind her, working the comb through her hair. The door remained open to get rid of the heat from the curling irons, flat irons and hot combs all plugged into the wall.
“Jeez, Mom, why can’t you just send me to the hairdresser’s to get a blowout like Talia’s mom does for her?”
Talia’s mom, Jaime Jones, had an ex-husband who made child support payments on time. She also spent more time with a bottle of wine than she did with her own children. Those were some of the reasons why Macy wasn’t going to follow anything that Jaime did for her daughter. “Oh, but think of all the bonding time we get.” Macy offered a wide, sweet smile as she slid the flat iron down to the end of Gia’s long dark hair.
Finally Gia sat still. With her oldest quiet, Macy concentrated on fixing her hair. The music for the local Tallahassee morning news show filtered through the air. Macy’s eight-year-old son, MJ, had sprawled his little body out on the living room floor and was tossing his baseball up in the air.
“Oh, MJ, turn that up!” Gia yelled, craning her neck to peer into the living room.
“Hold still!” Macy said again.
“Mama, it’s Duke Rodriguez!”
Duke!
She needn’t be reminded who the man was. Every weekday morning for the past two weeks, the flat-screen television mounted on the wall had remained on the news station. The guest host of the local morning show, Duke Rodriguez, united the three of them for various reasons. MJ made up his part of the fan club because of Duke’s history as a professional baseball player. Gia, the budding media queen, followed the sports-figure-turned-news-anchor for his ability to merge politics with social events of the world in his broadcasts. As for Macy, she adored him for the main reasons every red-blooded woman did—the man was hot. Macy’s stomach fluttered with butterflies every time his deep voice entered the room. Not that she’d ever act on it. He was a celebrity, for God’s sake. Not to mention she had no time for a man in her life.
Duke’s baritone laugh emanated from the television in the living room and drifted down the hall. Macy leaned out of the doorway to get a better look at the dreamy man.
“Mario Junior, do not stand so close to the TV,” Macy yelled as she pulled the comb through the roots of Gia’s hair.
“Aw, Mom!” whined MJ as he stepped backward to the oversize brown leather couch, nearly tripping over his white tennis shoes on the way.
“Just do it. And put your shoes on!” Macy glanced at the cell phone in Gia’s hand. The minute Gia realized her mother was looking, she held the phone against her chest. Macy rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, not understanding how Gia could get so offended over her privacy when she posted every emotion, feeling and thought on Twitter.
“But Mama!” MJ petitioned loudly.
A lot of mothers could only envision what their children were going to be when they got older. Macy was positive MJ was going to be a lawyer. He loved to argue, and by the early age of four had always come up with good cases. But today he was going to lose. Macy was in no mood. She was already running behind schedule and should have been walking out of the house right about now. She had several errands to run before she had to get to the storage center and start pulling out her equipment.
“They’re just about to get to the Santa story. Remember, we saw him last week!”
“I want to see!” Gia said, scrambling from the chair the minute Macy set the flat iron on the edge of the sink. She clicked the button off and turned off all the other salon-style hair equipment, then followed Gia into the cluttered living room. Yet another thing Macy knew she was going to have to do at some point today before Mario came over to pick up the kids. Her ex-husband would surely tease her if he saw the mess, especially considering that had been one of her complaints about him during their divorce.
Macy leaned against the arm of the couch and pushed the long sleeves of her thin blue shirt up to her elbows. She crossed one leg over the other and realized she needed to put on her shoes, too. Quickly running upstairs to her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of braided flip-flops. Typically she didn’t wear flip-flops with jeans, but today she had so much to do that they were convenient. Besides, the late November weather was still warm and balmy. She made it back to the living room in time to hear her daughter sighing. What a way to start a chaotic Monday morning. One more half day of school, and the kids would be out for Thanksgiving break.
“Duke!” Gia gasped, all lovesick. Macy could have sworn her moody teenager even batted her eyelashes at the television screen.
“And I bet the local high school baseball coach is going to ask for his old job back.” Duke chuckled. As the family all gathered in the living room, the high definition of the television captured the cheeks of Duke’s cohost turning a bright shade of pink, as they had every day since he came to WKSS.
“Speaking of Santa, we’re expecting a sighting.” Juliette Walker twirled her hair around her finger and blinked flirtatiously at Duke. Obviously the young cohost was as smitten with Duke Rodriguez as Macy.
This morning, he wore a well-tailored black suit, crisp white Oxford shirt and a red tie. Without acknowledging Juliette’s attempt to flirt, Duke shuffled the papers together in front of him in his large hands; a megawatt smile tugged at his square jawline, involuntarily exposing his dimples. Even after being away from sports for ten years, Duke still maintained a fit frame—broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He kept his straight black hair short and close-cropped. Unlike the typical news anchor, Duke wore a well-trimmed goatee to frame his luscious, full lips. Macy cleared her throat to keep from swaying when Duke blinked his thick lashes.
“Already?” Duke asked.
“Yes, I hear he’ll be at the mall this Black Friday morning. Oh, I can recall the days of going to the mall and sitting on Santa’s lap. What about you, Duke?”
Duke shuffled his paperwork and nodded his head. “I tried to milk Santa for all that I could.”
“No way.” Juliette gawked.
“It’s true,” Duke said with a nod. “But it had to be the right Santa, you know what I mean?” he asked, but didn’t give Juliette a chance to reply. “I mean, that Santa I saw setting up down at the mall looks like a total fake. Did you see his beard?”
A sinking feeling washed over Macy at that very moment. She pushed herself off the wall. “Okay, kids, let’s finish getting ready...”
“Wait!” Gia exclaimed.
“...to this day, I’m almost tempted to sit on a Santa’s lap if he’s got a real beard.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Juliette said.
“Well, maybe not now. I mean, I tried to let every Santa I saw know what I wanted for Christmas until I was about thirteen. And at that point my mom had to smack me on the head and tell me that Santa isn’t...”
The scene before Macy felt as if it moved in slow motion. Macy and Gia both tried to get to the television to turn it off before that damn Duke ruined everything. Gia was singing “Fa la la la la” loudly and running toward MJ to distract him. Macy ran in front of the television, tripping over MJ’s shoes in the process before she could turn it off. But it was too late.
“...real.”
MJ stood there as his large round brown eyes glistened with the threat of tears. “Did he just say Santa wasn’t real?”
* * *
When you out Santa as a fraud on public television, there are bound to be some repercussions.
Duke Rodriguez found this out the hard way, especially when the woman whose attention he’d been trying to get wouldn’t reciprocate any smile he offered each time their eyes met. The caramel beauty in the cream-colored dress stood under the mistletoe, refusing to return his notorious dimpled grin. Fortunately, his invitation to his boss’s annual Thanksgiving dinner had not been rescinded. And he owed that to his mother, Janet Rodriguez, for teaching him to own up to his mistakes and hold his head high.
By coming to the party, he hoped to show the rest of the news team at WKSS, who were present at the studio to drop their children off at the daycare, how sorry he was for outing Santa. He brushed off being subjected to juvenile hostility from his colleagues. He hadn’t been pushed out of a food line since kindergarten, yet today one person purposely cut in front of him. Another person had swiped the last fork before he could reach it, and then just as he’d reached for a ladle of eggnog, the woman before him let it slip into the creamy punch bowl, slopping the beverage all over the front of his shirt and suit jacket. He handled it with ease and a tight-lipped smile. The story of him revealing Santa Claus as a fraud would blow over soon enough.
“I feel responsible for not fully explaining how family-oriented our staffers are at Tune In, Tallahassee. The station likes to go all out for the children at our day care and some of the children we’ve had on our spotlight segments. We host a party, trim a tree and I even dress up like Santa. Send me the bill for your dry cleaning.”
Duke glanced up from his poor attempt to clean the stain off his white button-down shirt. The autumn-colored napkin he used had begun to shred, leaving orange, yellow, and red paper streaks. “I’m going to hold you to it, Pablo.”
Chuckling, Pablo nodded his head. With each bob, Duke caught a glimpse of the beginning signs of the horseshoe-patterned baldness of his thinning hair but decided not to tease him right now. Pablo kept his hair curly and low. Duke usually kept his hair as short as Caesar himself. A lot of people often thought he and Pablo were brothers. They were close to the same height, but Pablo had him by maybe a half an inch. Had Pablo not spent the summer back in the Dominican Republic, they both would have been the same hazelnut shade of brown. While Duke liked to dress in finer clothes, Pablo had always been comfortable in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Today he wore a red pullover. Duke guessed it was to announce the upcoming Christmas holiday.
“Whatever,” Pablo said. “This is the least I can do for inviting you into the lion’s den. I never would have guessed—” Pablo handed Duke another napkin, a white one “—considering what a rock star you were two weeks ago, that you’d go down in flames.”
“Thanks,” Duke grumbled, taking the napkin from his overdramatic friend. As one of the highest-rated news anchors for Multi-Ethnic Television, someone who never took time away from work, Duke knew his career in journalism was far from endangered. Duke enjoyed working for the Orlando, Florida–based company. Multi-Ethnic Television, with affiliate stations all over the nation, prided themselves on diversity, not only in the news anchors but in their shows, as well. Every sitcom, cooking show, or drama or reality series showcased different nationalities from the Caribbean, Africa, India and everywhere else that made up America’s cultural melting pot.
With his contract renewal set to be signed at the beginning of the year, MET checked in with him every other week to verify his happiness. He also figured they wanted to know if their DC Nightly News anchor planned on returning to the news desk after he finished covering the morning anchorwoman’s period of maternity leave.
But they might be getting their journalist back sooner rather than later. His time in Tallahassee might be limited, thanks to the hordes of soccer moms threatening to change morning shows and local business owners flooding Pablo’s email inbox, warning they might remove their holiday ads as long as Duke was on the air. Duke’s arrival in Tallahassee earlier this month seemed so long ago.
Just because his best friend was his current station manager didn’t mean Duke had gotten off any easier. After shouting at him all morning long, Pablo suggested Duke do some serious investing in PR work if he wanted to help save the ratings. Despite his limited time in town, Duke prided himself on maintaining a positive image.
The anchorwoman he was subbing in for was Pablo’s wife and the mother of Duke’s three—now four—godchildren, so he was really here more so as a favor. He’d leaped from being a baseball star to being in front of the camera in DC, filling people’s homes with current events for the past fifteen years, without missing a beat. Being down here with Pablo and his family, however, made him wonder what things he had missed out on in life. After the New Year, Duke had some serious decisions to make.
Somewhat, a little voice nagged him.
“Oh, and her name is Macy Cuomo,” Pablo leaned in and whispered, “in case you were wondering. She’s single and a very good friend to Monique and me.”
He was wondering. He’d been staring at the petite beauty since she walked in the front doors of the Baez family’s home two hours ago. There were no obvious signs of her flirting with anyone else, either. Once she’d laid her manicured hand on a man’s chest as she tossed her head back and laughed at something that was said, but that was it. At that moment, Duke would have given anything to be that man.
“What?” Duke tried to shake off his gaze, realizing Pablo was speaking to him.
“Yeah, you look like you need to cool off,” Pablo said, pushing something into Duke’s hand. “You’re sweating from staring at her. Take this.”
He looked down to his left and spied the green bottle of beer in Pablo’s hands. Frost billowed off the beverage.
“You guys have the heat on as if it were freezing.”
“It’s sixty-eight degrees outside,” Pablo countered with a shake of his head. “You forget our moms bundled us up at seventy degrees in the DR.”
“And yet you’re wearing chancletas with jeans?” Duke chuckled. “I heard Thanksgiving is going to be in the seventies.”
“Leave my flip-flops alone.” Pablo laughed, lifting his foot. “Anyway, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just glad to see you’re back on your feet and looking at a quality woman.”
“So I’ve been staring?” Duke looked back at the angel in cream. Pablo was right; he had been away from the Dominican Republic for a while now. He forgot how much he missed a shapely woman with all the right curves in all the right places. This woman named Macy now stood with Monique, cooing over two-week-old baby Lucia. There was a maternal vibe coming from her that worried him. Most of the women he dated never lasted long if they started cooing over children. Duke could offer a woman jewels, trips, cars and other luxury gifts, but not a baby. A childhood illness had scarred him, prohibiting him from being able to give her a biological child. So why bother leading her on any further?
“Let’s just say that you’ve been staring so much you’ve got Monique wanting to play matchmaker. If I didn’t come over here to get you, I am sure she would have been printing out your wedding invitations.”
Matchmaking time, Duke thought with a wicked grin. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I think my best-friend-in-law has great taste.”
Pablo choked on his beer and looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You didn’t say that when she tried setting you up with her college roommate.”
The college roommate in question had had a unibrow and a questionable Adam’s apple. She was one of the five girls Monique shared a room with. Duke had agreed to go on that date sight unseen. Pablo spent the entire double date apologizing for the misfortune.
The two friends looked at each other, both realizing they had the same image in their minds. “At least this time I can see what I’m getting up front.”
“And at least this time I can tell you that she’s not like the women you’ve gone out with, Duke. This one is a nice family girl.”
Feigning hurt, Duke clutched his chest. “You wound me.”
“Mo will wound you if you hurt her.” Pablo slapped his best friend on the back playfully and led him across the room to where the woman in question was.
A few people glared at Duke. And then it dawned on him that the reason why this Macy wouldn’t look at him must be because she’d already heard the story of his outing Santa. Through a frozen smile, Duke leaned over to his friend. “So you don’t think that this lady heard about my Santa mistake on the morning news, do you?”
“Hell, who do you think was the first person to call me?”
“Ugh,” Duke groaned and stopped walking.
Pablo pressed the bottle of beer against Duke’s shoulder to push him forward. “Face the music. At least when Macy sees Lucia with her padrino, she won’t think you’re a complete ass.”
As godfather to Pablo’s first three children, Wellinson, Angel and Maylen, Duke knew that women held a soft spot for men who liked kids. Women blatantly hit on him whenever he took the children out to the park or to a game, slipping him their business cards or hotel key cards.
Growing up in Mao, a city in the Dominican Republic, Duke never realized he was poor. His father, Ramon, would say they were blessed. Christmas traditions were more like a big celebration with fireworks and lots of eating. When he got older and came to the States at eighteen, he realized that other people around the world celebrated completely differently from him. It was all about the commercialization of the season. And when it came to his godchildren, Duke was in sync with everyone else.
Duke fell back into step with Pablo. They crossed the hardwood floors of the living room, ignoring some of the eye-rolling that took place when Duke walked through. In the dining area, they found Monique beaming at the sight of them approaching. She opened her arms for him to hug. Duke reached for her and twirled her around. The tie of her black wrap dress flowed through the air as the curls of her blond hair bounced up and down.
“You look way too good to have just given birth two weeks ago,” Duke said. “The both of you look great.” He smiled down at baby Lucia. “Dios lo bendiga.”
“Oh, Duke, you always know what to say.” Monique giggled and batted her blue eyes at him.
Their playful banter always warranted a growl from Pablo. “Don’t listen to her,” Pablo grumbled miserably. “She passed over my head the minute she found out she was pregnant.”
Macy looked up from the baby for a moment. Duke noticed her light brown eyes and felt his breath get caught in his throat. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
“What’s that?” she asked.
Duke took the opportunity to explain; hopefully his translation of a Dominican superstition might impress her. “Oh, you see, in the Dominican, if a woman passes over the top of her husband’s head, he will get all her morning sickness.”
Her perfectly manicured eyebrows came together in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”
“Most women carry the brunt of the morning sickness. Her body has to pass over his head. I mean, usually this happens when the man is sitting on a step and the woman will swing her leg over his head, like a high kick.” Duke winked and held his hand over the top of his head. Did he really wink? He wished he could take it back. She seemed so sophisticated. Did she smell like sweet coconut? Suddenly, his train of thought was lost, and he just stood there staring at her, willing the next words to come out of his mouth.
Saving him, Pablo used his beer hand to nudge Duke once again and pointed toward the front stairs. Duke knew Pablo had had the house built for his wife. The stairs were a grand ordeal, coming right out of the pages of Gone with the Wind. “See that sixth step right there?” He looked back at Duke and Macy to make sure they were watching. “I was walking by these steps, minding my own business, when my wife nearly flew from that step onto the floor over the banister right over my head. It was like watching one of those bad seventies movies.”
“Hey,” Monique laughed, “I was barely eight weeks pregnant and still jogging every morning. but there was no way I could pass up a chance to test out the superstition.”
The image made everyone laugh. Duke noticed how Macy was even prettier up close and smiling. The lighting framed her heart-shaped face, highlighting her café-au-lait skin, haloing the top of her light brown curly hair. Because of her flawless skin, he could not determine her age. The news anchors he’d worked with would kill for the illegal lengths of Macy’s lashes. Her brown eyes crinkled in the corners as she stared at the three of them, her lips parted. Duke still stared, trying not to be a pervert, but the dangerous curves on her reminded him of the beautiful women back home—thick in the thighs, breasts and behind. His breath caught in his throat again. Asking if she was a model would have been something she’d already heard. She could have been on television. He wondered if she was in the business. He prayed not, because the last thing he wanted was to get involved with another woman in the industry. His last relationship had played out in the gossip tabloids from beginning to end, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.
A lull fell across the foursome. Seemingly nervously, Monique cleared her throat. “So Duke, are you enjoying yourself? Pablo wanted to make sure you got some of the old Dominican traditions.”
“Everything is great. Who made pasteles en hojas?”
“Pablo.” Monique beamed. It didn’t surprise Duke to learn that. The masa, or dough, was made up of plantains and other root vegetables. Getting it to the right consistency took a lot of time.
“That’s good. It will go great with the bottle of Anis del Mono I had shipped in.”
For most people, the anise in the liqueur had a strong flavor like licorice, thus making it an acquired taste. Ready for the strong Spanish liqueur, Duke looked around the room at the traditionally festive holiday atmosphere. Christmas was less than six weeks away, and they’d already had their home decorated in bright red, green and white. The Christmas tree in the family room had to be about seven feet tall and was decorated with matching red and green ornaments.
“The food, the decorations, everything looks great, Mo.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Monique said.
“No?” Duke could see Macy out of the corner of his eye. She held baby Lucia close to her and with expertise. Despite Duke’s status as godfather to all the Baez kids, he still always felt awkward holding one.
Monique hit herself lightly in the head. “Oh my God! Where are my manners? Macy, this is Duke Rodriguez, practically one of the family. Duke, this is our dear friend Macy. She’s the one who did all of this.” She waved her hand around the room.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Duke said, extending his hand. Since she was holding the baby with both arms, she couldn’t shake. Duke felt a little foolish. Quickly, he shoved his hand in his pocket.
“Nice to meet you.” Her words sounded polite, but there was a clip in her voice that told Duke she was just being nice.
Not counting the echoing chuckle as Pablo took a sip from his beer, there was another awkward silence between them. Kenny G’s melodic holiday saxophone notes were easily heard as the sound system dispersed the music through the rooms. Forks scraping against plates and champagne glasses being clinked in toast filtered through the air, as well. Monique raised her eyebrow in Duke’s direction. He could read it. She’d done her part, and now it was time for him to make an impression. After years of dating, years of having women throw themselves at him, Duke felt something strange; he was at a loss for words.
Macy didn’t seem the slightest bit awestruck looking at him. She’d barely glanced up when Monique made the introductions. With one hand in his pocket and one still holding his now-room-temperature beer, Duke stood there, rocking back and forth.
He towered over her by a good half a foot. Up close, he could see that her chocolate-brown hair was highlighted with little streaks of gold. She still wouldn’t give him eye contact, but he could see that she had the longest lashes and barely any makeup on her top lids. When she smiled down at baby Lulu, he could see her regal cheekbones rise slightly.
Monique reached over and popped her husband on the arm. “Oh my gosh, I told you not to let me forget the thing.”
“Ouch. The what?” Pablo asked, rubbing his arm.
A person had to be blind not to notice how Monique tilted her head toward the kitchen. She was obviously trying to give the two strangers a moment. Macy wasn’t blind, but she was clearly devoting all her attention to the baby in her arms. “Macy, will you be a dear and watch Lucia for me for a second?”
“Not a problem,” Macy replied sweetly, looking up for a moment.
Even when they were alone, Macy avoided Duke’s eye contact. He wasn’t going to leave until she smiled at him. “So you’re a caterer?” he guessed.
“I cater to people, but not like you may think.”
Her voice was thick, melodic. Maybe she was an aspiring singer. “Well, that’s interesting. You know, I just may be in need of your services.”
Finally she looked up, but when she did, he truly felt the icy glare of the mal ojo she gave him. He shivered. The evil eye told him she wanted nothing at all to do with him. “I’m booked.”
“But I didn’t say when.” He tilted his head down so she could see him give her an award-winning smile. He also didn’t give up that easily. If she saw it, it didn’t have any effect on her, though.
Macy squared her shoulders and finally gave him a direct stare. Duke could see that her eyes were a golden brown. Her lips made a cute bow, even if they were frowning at him. “I don’t need to know, Mr. Rodriguez. I’m pretty booked until the time you’re gone.”
Duke pressed his lips together to keep from grinning too hard. She knew how long he was going to be in town? That gave him a glimmer of hope she’d been following his time in Tallahassee. “I would pay you double what your normal fee is.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want to pay,” Macy stated again. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t think you understand what exactly it is that I do.”
“Okay, okay, maybe we can talk about it over dinner?” Taking a long sip of his beer to figure out what he was going to say next, Duke nodded his head. “Oh wait, I guess you don’t like to cook since you do it all the time, right? You, um, did the cooking for tonight, right?” he asked when she gave him a funny look. Her left eye squinted a bit, and her smile was crooked, devilish almost.
“I did the decorating,” she clarified.
Duke looked around him, the furniture, the caramel-colored walls with the white trimming, and the fixtures. “Oh, you’re an interior decorator.”
She smiled, finally. He thought he could leave now, but he was too captivated. Her smile lit up the room. It ignited something within him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. His mother used to say he was going to fall in love at first sight, but he wasn’t quite sure if this was it. All Duke knew was that he did not want to leave this woman’s side, even if she was making it obvious that she didn’t want to be around him.
“I’m more of an exterior decorator, especially for the holidays.”
“This is interesting,” Duke replied with a raised eyebrow. Women always fell for that move. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had nothing on him. “You mean you painted the house?” She was so dainty and feminine, it wasn’t something he expected.
“No.” Macy shook her head and huffed. She was obviously growing irritated with him. He’d never had that happen with a woman. Brown curls bounced from side to side, framing her face. “I did the holiday decorations outside.”
Duke recalled the Santa, the snowmen and the elves playing outside. It was quite the picturesque scene. There were a few homes in his neighborhood that were putting up their decorations, also. In fact, he’d gotten a letter in the mail about keeping up with the neighborhood traditions. “The decorations are great. Maybe you can do the same at my place.”
She half smiled this time, then adjusted Lucia so that she was resting over her shoulder. Duke noticed that her ring finger was naked. “As I’ve said, I’m busy, Mr. Rodriguez.” She tried to move away, but Duke stepped in her way.
“Hey, maybe I can do a story on you. This sounds like a fascinating one.”
“Sorry,” Macy said. Her snarky half smile told him she could go toe-to-toe with him and with anything he had to offer. “You’re obviously new here. A story has been done.” She moved to the right, and Duke moved to the left, blocking her once again. She sighed impatiently as she looked at him. The light from the skylight hit across her eyes, turning her eyes a seductive shade of golden brown.
“I feel like you’re upset with me.”
“Now why would I be upset with you, Mr. Rodriguez?” This time she offered a forced toothy smile, showing her dimple on her right cheek. “We’ve just met.”
She was being sarcastic. He liked that. Women weren’t sarcastic enough with him. They pretty much caved to whatever he said.
And then a bomb went off in the pit of his stomach at the ultimate possibility. Maybe she genuinely just was not attracted to him. His years of speaking in front of the camera, eloquently, went out the window. He found himself beginning to stutter, “Well, I...”
And then she ambushed him with her reasoning. “Could it be because yesterday morning while I was getting my kids ready and listening to the morning news, you exposed Santa as a fraud in front of my eight-year-old? Do you realize how many mothers had to explain to their children that you’re just a pompous ass whom Santa stopped visiting a long time ago and that you’re just so bitter that you wanted to ruin Christmas for everyone?”
He winced and snapped his teeth together as she gave him a thorough tongue-lashing. When she quieted down, Duke felt guiltier than ever. Pablo had said she’d been the first to call and complain. How soon he’d forgotten, after being lost in her beauty.
“Oh...” He scratched at the back of his head, still at a loss for words.
A few people within earshot overheard and were snickering, championing Macy.
“I’m real sorry about that. Maybe I can talk to her...”
“Him.” She corrected him quickly.
Duke nodded. “I’m very sorry. Can I do anything to fix this situation?”
Once again Macy shook her head from side to side. “I highly doubt it.”
“Can I at least take you to dinner sometime? Maybe take your son out for a tour of the studio?”
Macy sighed irritably. He could see that she wasn’t a person to make angry. If her eyes could literally shoot daggers, he’d be dead right now. “There is nothing you can say or do. What’s done is done, Mr. Rodriguez.”
“Duke,” he corrected her.
“What?” Macy pulled her neck back in confusion.
“My first name, it’s Duke. My friends call me Duke.”
“You are such an athle-tante.”
“A what?” Duke laughed.
“It means you’re like one of those celebrity athletes who think you can say and do whatever you like you’re some society debutante.” Rolling her eyes, she choked out a haughty laugh, then shook her head no. “I’m not interested. So you have a nice evening, Mr. Rodriguez.”
Dumbfounded, Duke stood there and watched her disappear around the corner into the kitchen. If she went through the swinging doors without looking back, then he knew he didn’t have a shot at her. His heart slammed against his ribs, a strange reaction he’d never felt before from just meeting a woman for the first time, because when she reached the door, she pushed one side open, stopped and cast a glance over her shoulder, directly at him.
Chapter 2 (#ulink_18ccbec0-7b7c-583b-9f55-ba76cf14f810)
The day after the party, Macy found herself sitting in her office, thumbing through various sketches she’d worked on all morning. The swivel chair squeaked as she leaned back in a half stretch, half yawn, her eyes surveying the room. In times like these, she still did not believe how blessed she was to have such a successful career. The two-story Victorian office she owned in historic Frenchtown had doubled as the home where she’d raised her children until she earned enough money. Now she traveled in to work from her ranch-style home just outside the city limits.
For ten years, Macy had worked her fingers to the bone, using her skills as an interior decorator for a corporation and moonlighting during the holidays as an exterior decorator to help pad her little nest egg. Oh, how hard the first two years of starting her own business were—she’d been in the middle of a divorce from her best friend at the time, Mario Polizzi, and taking care of an infant and a precocious child.
Macy owed a lot to Mario, and it was easy to maintain their friendship now simply because they both realized they never should have gotten married. Mario and his family had played a big part in Macy’s life ever since her parents had passed away. Since they dated exclusively throughout high school, they both figured marriage was their next step. Getting pregnant right after prom sped up their plans. While trying to rebuild her life, Macy took on clients who needed help with their outside decorating ideas for the holidays. That business became a niche in town and led her to become extremely successful.
In a few weeks, all the homes in Tallahassee would be judged for their holiday spirit. Each neighborhood nominated a winner and posted their favorite home on Pinterest. From there, the home with the most votes collected a win. The award, courtesy of the mayor’s office, came with a cash prize, but more important, clout in the community for having the most spirit. In the past ten years, one of Macy’s homes had always won. Her biggest competitor was herself. But she never took all the credit. Each customer would sit down with her and give their ideas of what they wanted. Macy just put it into motion.
Now here she sat, a successful decorator, and she couldn’t focus on one single thing. The Christmas clock down the hall ticked away. The bells on the front door indicating a visitor were silent. In a way, Macy hoped the feeling of excitement when she heard her bells chime over her front door would never go away. It kept her on her toes. There was always a challenge lurking around the corner, but right now she desperately needed some motivation. The Wainwrights’ ideas weren’t sparking anything with her.
The Wainwrights were her latest clients. They were a middle-aged couple, married for twenty years, and wanted to finally get involved in the Christmas tradition. None of Macy’s suggestions had worked for them, and none of theirs were things Macy could pull off. She couldn’t make real snow appear and stick for the duration of the holiday season. They had a hard time understanding that if they did not sign their contract, Macy would not to be able to help them. They were going to have to stop just showing up every other day with their latest outrageous ideas.
Tucking her pencil behind her ear, Macy adjusted the cowl-necked sweater and strained her ear for her latest Christmas gadget, a buff, half-naked Santa with one hand on his hip and the other behind his head while he gave off a hearty “ho, ho, ho.”
Any distraction was welcome right about now. The lead from her pencil barely made any marks. For the first time in a long time, her mind was elsewhere. Her wrists flicked a few times, sketching the outline of a face that had haunted her all night long. From the curve of his lips to his chiseled jawline, Duke Rodriguez’s face was burned into her brain. Two cups of coffee couldn’t get her to concentrate. Duke’s cocky smile, his eyes and the way he flirted with her yesterday flashed through her mind.
Matters didn’t get better when the office timer went off and the television screen popped on, directly to WKSS channel seven. Duke’s deep baritone voice filtered through the office. She’d turned her back on the television, but she could still hear him as if he were right behind her. She would never admit it out loud, but his deep voice with the slight island accent made her stomach flip with butterflies. The fact that he had this kind of effect on her bothered her to no end. She was supposed to dislike him. And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
There had been a whisper running through the Baez home last night when he’d dared to show his face. Everyone with children who watched Tune In, Tallahassee, the morning show, fumed with anger. Macy expected her friends to break out the pitchforks, but all Duke had to do was walk in the room with that nice suit on, smile his dazzling smile and flash those big brown eyes of his, and everyone reconsidered their boycott. Macy found it best to hold her grudge against him. To have a crush on him from afar was one thing; it was a different story when he was in the flesh, flirting with her. And it was obvious yesterday evening that he had been hitting on her.
Macy had caught Duke staring at her quite a bit at the party but refused to give him eye contact. A man like him probably had a hundred women throwing themselves at him. And then there was the horrible way he got himself introduced. He should have been ashamed of himself for putting Pablo and Monique in a position like that. But that didn’t stop him. He actually had the nerve to try to hire her. She was glad she had a busy schedule. She had five homes to decorate tomorrow, and then every day until a week before Christmas she was busy.
The heavy bells on top of the door chimed. Macy perked up. Despite her dislike for Duke’s personality, Macy felt her heart sink a tad when she spied her assistant Serena Berks coming in the door. She had no idea why she would even think a man like Duke Rodriguez would come to her place of business. She didn’t know what she would have done with him if he had shown up, but then a devilish little voice nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her that it hadn’t been that long since she knew what to do with a man.
Down the hall, there came a grunting, a cursing and a sniffling. Poor Serena was dragging in a huge plastic mouse statue with all her might. At five foot two, Serena was just two inches shorter than Macy. The giant mouse, decked out in a red-and-green stitched scarf, had to have been about five seven. Serena’s bobbed red hair was disheveled around her freckled face.
Macy had hoped to find one or both of the male assistants she’d hired to help lift and cart around some of the heavier decorations. It was the peak season for exterior holiday decorating and the musclemen, Spencer and Andy, hadn’t shown up. Usually, they broke the frat boy stereotype by being reliable. But late last night Spencer had left an apologetic message about not being here this week. She prayed it was a horrible prank.
Getting up from her desk, Macy peered down the hall to where she had a view of the front door. She shook her head and hid her smile as she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with her pencil.
“Hey,” Macy pouted. “Santa didn’t announce your presence.”
“That’s because I threatened him within an inch of his life if he called me a ho one more time.” Serena projected her voice a little louder so that it could be heard upstairs and in the backyard. “A lil’ help here!”
“We’re the only ones here,” Macy shouted as she walked back to her desk and closed her sketchbook.
The outline of the Wainwrights’ lawn was just about done. She hoped they would be happy with it. They’d better be happy. This would be the third time changing things around, and Macy’s time was precious, not to mention that her staff seemed to be dwindling for the Thanksgiving holiday.
“Here,” Macy offered, picking up the pace down the steps and into the foyer, “let me help.”
“No, you don’t have to,” Serena argued as she stood the mouse in his upright position. The unplugged giant mouse stood with a black nose, which, when plugged in, turned red. The plastic book of Christmas carols in his hand was open. From a distance no one could read the words, but up close someone had written, “Who let the dogs out?” as a silly joke.
“Where are the boys?”
Biting her bottom lip, Macy hesitated to tell Serena the truth. From the looks of her dust-covered garnet-and-gold T-shirt and jean shorts, the bookkeeper’s morning had started off rough. She must have climbed over everything in the shed just to find the mouse. Going into the storage space went above and beyond the call of duty.
At thirty, Serena had been her assistant for the last four years while she worked on her BS and now her MBA at Florida State University. She was a pencil pusher who kept up with Macy’s schedules and appointments, yet here she was doing all the grunt work. She wondered if Serena would believe that the boys had been toppled over by a giant snowball. It was highly unlikely. The weather for Thanksgiving was scheduled to be a balmy seventy-eight degrees.
“They left an apologetic message on my answering machine saying they left early for Thanksgiving. I kind of hoped they were joking.”
“No way! I thought they agreed to be here over the break.”
Macy rested her hands on her hips as she studied the mouse. “I know. But according to the message, they somehow—” she rested her finger on her chin to recall the exact way the boys had phrased it “—scored some serious tickets.” She mocked Spencer’s surfer-boy accent with air quotes.
Serena’s laugh turned into a hacking cough. She shook her strawberry-tinted head. “That’s pretty lame of them. They worked last year. They understand how this is the busiest weekend for you.”
Shrugging, Macy tried to smile, already figuring how to handle things. In a way, she looked forward to working alone tomorrow and Friday. She was prepared. Key organizational skills helped keep Macy sane. What took most grown men all day to do, she could complete in an hour. She had a few homes in the morning with light decorations. Extra hands stringing up the lights might have been nice, but Macy could handle the work; after all, she’d started this business ten years ago with no help.
The only stickler in her plans was the Wainwrights’ home, simply because they kept changing their ideas. Typically the slots for holiday decorations got booked up by the Fourth of July. Every weekend until just before Christmas, she was busy. Most trusted Macy’s ideas. A lot of homeowners’ associations even required their neighborhoods to decorate unless religion prohibited it. Doing the work on her own wasn’t a problem, especially since the kids were at her former in-laws’ house. Perhaps it would be a bit of a hassle trying to unload her truck, but she could get it done.
“Achoo.” Serena sneezed.
Panic ripped through Macy’s body. With the boys gone, she was going to have to lean on Serena more. “Are you okay?” she asked slowly.
“Just a sneeze,” Serena said, swatting the mouse on the ear. “He did this to me, stupid dusty thing...achoo!”
Macy raised her left eyebrow in question. “Maybe you ought to drink some orange juice just in case. C’mon, I believe I spotted some when I put up some leftovers last night.”
“Maybe,” Serena answered as she followed Macy. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you who I ran into yesterday while you went to the party. Remember the party I wasn’t invited to?”
“Who?” Macy asked with a sigh, anticipating Serena’s guilt trip.
The sound of their footsteps on the hardwood floors blocked out Serena’s exasperated sigh as they crossed the former living room, now a sitting room. Macy straightened a Christmas ornament on a seven-foot Fraser fir tree and kicked one of the shiny green display presents with red polka dots out of the walkway. On the other side of the stairs, across from the living room, was once Macy’s dining room, now two downstairs offices. In the back of the house was the kitchen; access was gained from the thin hallway from the offices or directly straight back from the front door and living room. Macy opened the white double-door refrigerator. Pictures of previous jobs she’d had over the years mingled with Gia’s and MJ’s old drawings.
“I saw Mr. Officer and a Gentleman.”
“Who?”
“Ugh, Lawrence, the pilot you dated.”
Macy hardly called going out with Lawrence Hobbs dating. The whole reason Macy had gutted her Victorian home was to meet clients here in the spacious waiting room or in one of the back offices, or even better, at their homes to better survey the landscape. Lawrence, on the other hand, had one reason or another to meet her at a coffee shop, café and even the park to pick her brain about decorating. Eventually, the two of them figured out that Serena should do all the scheduling. Lawrence, a sweet man, had retired from the air force and settled down in Tallahassee. At the party yesterday, someone mentioned he’d started his own private airline, albeit a small one.
“You mean the pilot you kept leaving me alone with when he came over here?”
“Yes. I think he seemed really interested in how you were doing. I think you ought to give him another chance.”
“Really?” Macy said very quizzically with a raised eyebrow. “Because when I saw him yesterday as well, at said party you weren’t invited to, Lawrence mentioned his new girlfriend, one of the judges from last year’s holiday decoration contest.”
Serena opened her mouth, but closed it quickly. Her matchmaking skills were lost on this case, no matter how hard she tried. This time of year, dating was out of the question for Macy. Macy smiled and thought of her children and how they would react if she started dating. Their father, Mario, dated. Hell, he’d been dating before they divorced.
Macy shook her head as she bent over to look for something nutritious for Serena. These days, Macy kept the refrigerator stocked with various juices from orange to grape and apple. Today, she seemed to have only orange left. Next to the drinks were containers of leftover turkey and all the fixings. She’d made extra plates last night for herself and the boys to eat after work. Now realizing they weren’t coming in, she had extra extra leftovers. Grabbing a glass from the dishwasher, Macy poured Serena some juice and patted the bar stool. “Drink up.”
“Orange?” She frowned, being ornery. “But I don’t like orange.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Serena.”
“But I’m not begging.” Serena tried to argue, but Macy just stared at her. Playfully pouting, Serena climbed onto the high-backed bar stool. “Fine, I’ll drink even though I’m not sick. So what do you think about Lawrence?”
“I don’t think much about him,” Macy answered honestly. Lawrence was a nice-looking man. He was about five eleven with cocoa-brown skin and a trimmed beard; his was one of many faces Macy had seen yesterday. He had come over and given her a hug and thanked her again for the work she’d done on his house, but told her this year there were so many changes in his life that he wouldn’t be around to enjoy the decorations.
Serena rolled her eyes and gave a huff. “He was looking mighty hot when I saw him. He was on his way to the party I wasn’t invited to.”
But was he as hot as Duke Rodriguez? a little voice nagged in the back of Macy’s brain.
“Hmph.” Serena’s eyebrows rose. “That was a pretty funny look you just gave. Did you meet someone? Oh, wait, tell me—how was meeting Mr. Dimples?”
With a droll eye roll, Macy shook her head at the nickname her thirteen-year-old daughter had given the obnoxious anchorman. Serena didn’t help matters whenever Gia came to the office after school. They had been fans of the anchorman before he came to Tallahassee, and now they were bursting at the seams at him being here. Gia had actually wanted to miss going to her grandparents’ house for the week just so she could go to the Baezes’ holiday party and see Duke.
“Exactly as I expected.”
That had been the understatement of the year. He was also a bit more than what she’d expected. Monique warned her ahead of time that Pablo had invited Duke home for some old-fashioned Dominican cuisine. He’d arrived in a bright red Ferrari, and parked front and center of the driveway for everyone to see as they entered the house. She’d spied him the minute he walked in. Duke was good-looking, but of course he knew that. He was the only one in the room wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit. The average household in Tallahassee brought that in during one month.
“Oh my God, did you speak to him?”
“He spoke.” Macy shrugged.
“Were you nice to him?”
“I spoke,” Macy said with a coy smile.
The last thing Macy had said to Serena about Duke before the party was that she was going to give him a piece of her mind when she saw him. She’d come into the office seething on the morning of the incident, demanding to know where he got off telling the world that there was no Santa Claus. Andy and Spencer had sworn they’d never seen Macy so worked up before. Velda Thompson, her grandmother, had taught her to always act rationally. It was a long and hard lesson for Macy to learn, but she thought this situation deserved a few foul words. Grandma V must have been rolling around in her grave.
“Did you give him a piece of your mind?”
“I told that athle-tante...”
“Oh-em-gee!” Serena stopped her with squealing. She sounded just like Gia. “Please tell me you did not call him that.”
Macy shrugged. “I may have.”
“I’m going to die of embarrassment. He probably thinks you’re some sort of freak.”
She couldn’t have been that much of a freak if the man still tried to come on to her. Macy decided to omit the part about Duke’s nerve to hit on her at the party. Serena was always trying to push single men in her direction, despite Macy’s lack of time for one. Her business was booming, and when she wasn’t working, her kids kept her busy. But that never stopped her assistant from trying. Serena would always bail her out of meetings after she did a background check on the single men. She claimed that seven years of not dating, let alone no sex, was not good for a woman.
But Macy had brushed off Duke’s flirting as she did with most of the men she’d come across. A lot of men tried to use the excuse of hiring her for a job. Duke Rodriguez was no different than the rest. Well, he might have been hotter than any man she’d ever laid eyes on, but what did it matter? She had no time for someone like him. And he had no time for her. Duke wasn’t going to be in town long, and Macy saw no reason to start something that couldn’t be finished. Monique was only on maternity leave until after the Christmas holidays. She would return with the coverage of ringing in the New Year. Her stance on dating, even if it was Duke Rodriguez, wasn’t going to change. So what if he had those deep dimples or those luscious lips that made even eating food look sexy?
“Answer my question.” Serena took a long sip of juice, but kept her eyes on her boss. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened, per se. He did ask if I could work for him.”
The news made Serena choke. Macy didn’t believe her for one minute. She was the mother of two kids who always tried faking sick. Finally Serena settled down and asked, “And you turned him down?”
“As it is, we’re already short-staffed, and you’re getting sick. How am I going to take on another client?”
“I’m not sick,” Serena said, fighting back a sneeze. Macy watched Serena’s eyes redden as she tried to hold it in. If she wasn’t getting sick, then she was having a major allergic reaction to something. Her nose was a faint pink.
Macy folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the counter. “Want to bet?”
“I am working through this. I need to hear good things. Tell me more about him, Macy,” she whined.
“What is there to tell?” Macy’s upper lip curled. “He is a typical man.”
“Ugh! You are so lucky you met him,” Serena moaned. “I wish I could have.”
The doors over the glass front door opened with a jingle. The Santa monitor went off with a deep ho ho ho. Serena made a funny face the minute Macy got up to walk over to the door. Serena had closed her eyes, crossed her fingers and begun chanting.
“I wish I could win a million dollars. I wish I could win a million dollars.”
The wonders of that girl never ceased to entertain Macy. Serena was always doing something superstitious like that. She thought if she spoke a person’s name out loud and the person appeared, the same thing might happen if she spoke out loud her next wish, usually concerning money. Every time she drove by a graveyard she held her breath and crossed herself; she picked up pennies on their tails off the ground and turned them over so the next person could have good luck. Macy headed out the kitchen doorway to catch a glimpse of her customer. Instantly, her throat went dry and she felt that whiplash appeal in her neck at the sight.
There, standing by her sexy Santa, stood the one and only Duke Rodriguez, dressed down compared to yesterday. Gone was the custom-made suit, but what he had on was still just as bad: jeans made to fit his long, powerful legs, a blue T-shirt that fit across his broad chest just a little too tight and a black leather coat that probably cost the same as her fee for one Christmas-decorated house. His dark hair was cropped against his head, framing his olive-skinned face. And as he smiled, knowing she was ogling him, his deep dimples popping out as he had the nerve to modestly blush. He could have easily stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine.
She knew she’d been clear yesterday when she said she was too busy. “Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” Duke said with a dangerous, juicy, bad-boy grin. He caught Serena’s attention and nodded his dark head in her direction. “Hey, how are you? I’m Duke...”
“Rodriguez,” Serena answered for him as she moved with lightning-like speed, nearly bowling Macy over just to shake his hand. “I know. Second-string shortstop for the Yankees for two seasons before you started work as a sports correspondent, prime-time anchor on ESPN for a few years, and then working from New York and DC. I’ve followed your career. We’re so glad to have you in our little small town.”
“Well, who knew a high school kid like yourself would be so into the news? I’m flattered.”
The person most flattered was Serena. She gave an unrecognizable high-pitched giggle and swayed back and forth. Her face was the same color as the red in her shirt. Macy refrained from rolling her eyes as Serena beamed at his flattery. “Oh, no, I’m not in high school.”
“This is my assistant, Serena.” Macy made the quick introduction to keep Serena from making a bigger fool of herself. “What do you want, Mr. Rodriguez?”
“Now, didn’t I tell you that my friends call me Duke?”
Macy raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across the front of her short-sleeved red sweater. “Mr. Rodriguez.”
Serena gently reached over to wrap her arm around Macy’s shoulder. She squeezed her just a little too hard. “Excuse my boss. She’s a bit delusional.”
Duke nodded and smiled. “I see. Well, I was hoping that was the case yesterday when I asked for Macy’s services.”
“I told you yesterday, Mr. Rodriguez.”
“Duke,” he corrected.
It was useless. She could spend the rest of the afternoon playing this Abbott and Costello bit over whether or not to call him Duke or Mr. Rodriguez. Macy huffed and caved in. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get back to work. “Fine. I told you the situation yesterday, Duke. I simply don’t have time to decorate your house.”
“I’ll pay double.”
“No.”
“Please hear me out.” Duke held his large hands out, pleading. Macy spied how smooth they were, compared to hers. Subconsciously she wrung her calloused hands together. A celebrity athlete like him was used to snapping his fingers and having people, specifically women, jump to his aid. Well, Macy knew she wasn’t one of those women. If he wanted her help, he should have booked her six months to a year in advance, like the rest of her clients. “I’m begging. I came home yesterday and someone had egged my front porch.”
“Damn kids.” Serena tsked and shook her head.
“The sad thing is that I don’t think it’s the kids. It’s the mothers in my neighborhood. The day before that, someone hung Santa in a tree and toilet-papered my house. I spent all night trying to get ‘Santa Killer’ off my front door.”
An image of Duke standing in his doorway in nothing but a pair of red basketball shorts while scrubbing the door with a sponge and a foamy white bucket of soap entered her mind. She could picture the muscles on his back flexing as he held on to the door for balance while he reached down and soaked his sponge. A warm glow spread up Macy’s chest as she blinked the image out of her mind and focused her gaze on her guest. “I’m really sorry for what you’re going through, but I’m sure things will blow over.”
“You know, I could always come over and stake out your place for you,” Serena chimed in.
A tint of red touched Duke’s cheeks. “Thanks, but I think what I really need to do is throw a good old-fashioned Christmas party just to show everyone that I’m not the ogre that they seem to think. Outing Santa was an accident.”
“Sure, just like telling that athlete he needed a vasectomy, or telling a teen actress that she might want to consider dropping her parents as managers,” Macy ticked off. “Or what about you telling that singer that he ought to come out of the closet?”
“So you’ve followed my work?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. His mouth opened wide into a smile. She hated that she thought about how kissable his lips looked right now.
Perhaps wiggling his eyebrows was a dealmaker when getting a woman to come home with him, but Macy reminded herself that she wasn’t interested. To prove it, Macy rolled her eyes and feigned disinterest with a slight yawn. “My thirteen-year-old daughter follows you. I just happen to be the type of parent that monitors what she watches.”
“And so she and your eight-year-old son were watching?” He cocked his head to the side and grinned. “And you were watching me, too?”
Shifting her weight from one heel to the other, Macy shrugged her shoulders. “For your information, I happen to watch the show every morning. I was doing that before Monique went on maternity leave.” The slow, lopsided smile Duke gave her was admittedly sexy. His attempt at what he must have considered his A-game was sad. “But I may start watching the other channel.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”
“Perhaps we need to sit down for this,” Serena said.
Looking over at her, Macy noticed that her assistant was breaking out in a sweat. The last thing she wanted was for Serena to get sick. She had finals coming up soon and she needed all the studying she could get. This was exactly why she wanted the boys here this weekend: because she wanted to give Serena a break.
“Yes, please come in and have a seat.” She stepped aside and waved her hand to the left, toward the parlor area. The hardwood floors echoed with the heavy footsteps of his rather large feet. Duke sat down in the Queen Anne chair and crossed one leg over the other. He filled the chair like royalty. Serena sat beside him on the adjacent matching couch, still batting her eyes at him. Macy stepped into the kitchen first to grab Serena’s glass of juice.
Once everyone was situated, Macy sat down and sighed. “So what is it you’re trying to avoid?”
“Well.” Duke placed both feet on the ground, rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. “You seem to care about Monique, and you are aware Pablo is practically my brother. I just want to do a good job for them. I would hate for Monique lose her viewers due to my stupidity.”
“Aw, you are so sweet,” Serena cooed, leaning forward in her seat. She folded her hands underneath her chin and cocked her head to the side. It looked uncomfortable as she sipped on her juice.
If the girl flirted any more, she’d be sitting in his lap. Macy shook her head at her. Was she really going to believe this? It was a ploy, Macy thought. Somehow, Serena was doing one of her matchmaking schemes. Macy leaned back in the chair opposite him and studied his face.
“I told you, I don’t have time. On top of everything else, two of my employees took off this weekend, which is going to push any time that I have to the limit.”
“What if I paid triple?”
With that, Serena choked on her juice again.
Macy ignored her. “It doesn’t work like that, Duke. I have limited time.”
“Well, technically, you just have the homes tomorrow to do for the ones that are out of town.” Serena offered up the schedule. “Too bad we’re missing our handymen to help out.” She gave Duke a wink. Reaching out, Serena touched Duke’s biceps. “Oh my, what big muscles you have.”
He at least had the sense to blush. “Thank you.”
“Serena.” Macy sent a warning glance at her friend. “Control yourself.”
“What? I’m just pointing out that our usual muscle guys are going to the big game this weekend and I guess they drove down early.”
“So I can help,” Duke said excitedly. “I’m off until Monday, but even still, after that I am done with the morning news by seven. I can help you during the day with your work, and that will free up your time to help me throw my party, right?”
Serena sat back in the couch and grinned, ignoring the evil glare Macy shot her. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Macy. Besides, don’t forget that the boys are going to have exams coming up soon, so they’re not going to be able to help out as much over the next few weeks.”
“No.” Macy shook her head.
“Why not?” Duke asked.
Serena leaned forward and faced Macy, putting her hand over the side of her face so that Duke couldn’t see what she was saying, even though her whisper didn’t do what it was supposed to. “He’s paying triple, Macy. With your new house, the additional sheds you’ve ordered and the two trucks, the money will come in handy. Remember, I do the books...it’d be nice to see a chunk in there.”
“No,” Macy hissed.
“Why not?” Duke and Serena chorused.
“For starters, we typically meet up at four in the morning.”
“Um.” Duke cleared his throat. “I’m doing the morning news. I’m always up at four.”
There was nothing more Macy wanted to do than to protest, but if she did she would only look silly. Monique and Pablo were her dear friends. They were the first people to help her get her business started, by offering free advertising. Every year, she decorated their home for free, just because she felt she owed them. What Duke had done was stupid, but Macy also knew he could be the cause of viewers leaving Monique’s show. She couldn’t let that happen.
She could handle working with Duke. She could handle his cockiness. Lord knew she’d been through worse with Mario. Macy gave Duke a once-over. She still doubted, regardless of his solid six-foot-four frame, that he had ever done manual labor. Had he been on a ladder? Could he string lights? Would he know how to test if one bulb was broken and what to do if it was?
Macy’s mental argument raged on in her head. He’d be more in the way than anything else. And more likely Duke would ask to work inside. If that were the case, she figured he’d sit inside half the time while she stayed outdoors. That would work out perfectly, because then she wouldn’t have to spend too much time with him.
Folding her arms across her chest, she looked at him and reluctantly said, “Fine.”
“Well, that settles that,” Duke beamed. “I’m all yours.”
Chapter 3 (#ulink_3cdad5d2-bd94-55c0-8c06-e4f47df038ae)
The pot of coffee finished percolating at the same time someone knocked softly on the door. Macy stopped briefly on the bottom step in the waiting room and glanced at the grandfather clock chiming away at four in the morning. Since the kids were spending Thanksgiving with their father and his family this holiday season, she’d stayed at work last night. She slept in her old bedroom, curled up with anticipation for her day with Duke Rodriguez. Fortunately, Serena was going to act as a buffer.
Macy had awoken thirty minutes ago. And what a wasted thirty minutes it was. Not only had the Wainwrights rejected her latest designs she had bike-messengered over last night, she’d spent the first minutes trying to figure out if each pair of jeans she had in the closet of her bedroom made her look too bulky. When did she ever worry about her clothes? First thing in the morning and Duke already flustered her. Ten minutes ago, she’d settled on a pair of dark-washed jeans, comfy gray furry boots and an oversize long-sleeve gray shirt.
Cutting into the silence of the early-morning hours of the house was another knock. Macy literally stood still until the third knock, still debating whether or not she would greet Duke at the door before or after her first sip of coffee, or even let him in. She decided on the latter and opened the door. Sexy Santa greeted her with his usual ho-ho-ho greeting, which made her grin as she did so.
“Good morning,” she said sweetly. Her fingers twisted the scrunchie wrapped around the doorknob and maneuvered the band to her wrist.
Duke Rodriguez filled the doorway with the essence of a man. Macy braced herself against the door’s frame to stabilize herself from her weakening knees. He wore another pair of well-fitting jeans that hung low enough on his hips, a black V-neck T-shirt and a pair of classic wheat Timberland boots. The front part of his shirt was tucked into his jeans, showing off the obvious silhouette of his washboard abs. His face had a slight morning stubble, which made him look even more rugged. His mouth opened wide as he smiled at her. “And good morning to you!” he said cheerfully.
“I didn’t think you’d really come.” Macy held the door wider. “Come on in, the coffee just finished brewing.” She braced her back against the door, watching him stroll inside, and then pressed the door closed with the weight of her body. “You drink coffee, don’t you?” she asked, walking past him. While she twisted and secured her hair into a high ponytail with the tie around her wrist, she listened for his heavy footsteps following her into the kitchen.
“I’m Dominican,” Duke said with a heavily accented, matter-of-fact yet pompous tone.
He was Dominican? As if that was an answer! Of course she knew of his Dominican heritage. Duke put the “Spang” in Spanglish, flipping from English to Spanish at the drop of a hat depending on the person he was interviewing, typically making grown women swoon. Macy groaned inwardly when she realized that it seemed as if she knew everything about him.
He was Pablo’s best friend.
He was Gia’s major crush.
Macy knew just about everything there was to know about the man, whether she wanted to or not. She knew he was born and raised in Mao, a city in the province of Valverde, played baseball well enough to earn him a scholarship to the States, played with the Yankees for a while and then used his major in broadcast journalism to become a sportscaster, landing him his major break as a serious journalist during the 9/11 attacks. Duke’s voice had brought her out of a dark time in her life.
The 2001 attacks had sent Macy into a depression. Having lost her journalist parents, who died in a car accident heading to cover the aftermath of the World Trade Center bombing, Macy stayed up night and day watching the coverage. Had her parents been alive, they’d no doubt have injected themselves into the report as well, the thought of which, crazy as it was, infuriated Macy once again. Their desire to cover the news had always overshadowed staying at home and raising their little girl. But there was something about the way Duke reported the news, the way he let his genuine emotions out, that struck a chord with her. Without having old video of her parents reporting, Macy had never felt the bond. Duke stood in front of the rubble and as he helped the people surrounding him, he helped her see the human side of a reporter and somehow forgive her parents. Sometimes she felt she owed Duke everything.

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