Page 7 of Miles & Mistletoe

“H-how do you know I wasn’t planning on taking time off to spend with family?” she questioned, placing a hand on her shapely hip. It didn’t go unnoticed the way the navy blue dress she wore clung to her curves.

“I’ve already stated, I’m well aware of the extra hours you’ve requested during this time of year. As well as the fact that you repeatedly checked your cell phone last evening, frowning each time as if you didn’t receive the call you were expecting. Both of these signs point to the fact that you are likely not planning on visiting family, or they you, over the next few weeks. Now, can we talk about tonight’s outing?” I sat down in my seat and looked up at her expectedly. I didn’t miss the expression of sadness that quickly crossed her face. Her eyelashes lowered as she presumably thought over my request.

I was growing impatient.

“Stacia, I—”

“Okay, fine. I’ll play tag along with you over the next few weeks, as long as your events don’t interfere with me doing my job. And you have to promise me that if I do this, you won’t go to my boss and tell him about my telling you off.”

A genuine smile touched my lips. That was an unfamiliar, but for some reason, welcomed feeling. The same sensation that she’d left me standing with the previous night had returned. Which was why I was sitting here, asking a damn flight attendant to be my date at some very exclusive events over the holiday season when I could’ve had my pick of any woman. This was the first woman to make me feel anything in … well, forever. But I still wasn’t anybody’s fool.

“I don’t make promises, Stacia.”

“But you will make this promise, Ian.”

I raised my right eyebrow before letting my eye scan her body from head to toe. For a brief second I caught a flash of defiance in those chocolate eyes of hers before it was gone. I took in her toffee-colored, smooth skin. The long hair that was styled in barrel curls as it rested against her shoulders. The neat way she’d wrapped the silk blue, red, and white scarf around her neck—those were the charter company’s signature colors. The form fitting navy blue dress that stopped just above her knees. Unfortunately, her legs were covered by nude stockings, not allowing me to see how smooth her legs were, but I was certain they were just as smooth as the rest of her exposed skin.

“Agreed,” I finally pushed out. “You uphold your end of this agreement and your boss will not hear anything out of me.”

She noticeably exhaled. “Good. You have yourself a date, or a number of dates, I guess.”

“Once we get in the air, I’ll tell you what is to be expected from you over the next month and a half.”

I took one last lingering look at her before proceeding to plant my gaze on the papers covering the table in front of me. I felt Stacia’s gaze linger on me for a few seconds before she strolled off toward the front of the plane. I sighed in satisfaction. For the first time in a long time I was actually looking forward to the holidays.

****

Stacia

I can’t believe I agreed to this, I thought as I stared at myself in the full-length mirror in my hotel room. I was adorned in a red, shimmery, sleeveless dress that hugged my body with ease and went all of the way to the floor. The bottom hem just grazed the floor when coupled with the black, strappy, six-inch heels I was to wear for the night. I had no idea how, but Ian had somehow given his assistant my perfect measurements because the dress fit as if it were made for only me. I ran my hand down the side of the dress, more so to calm my nerves than to smooth out any wrinkles. There were none.

I inhaled and rechecked my makeup, ensuring that the highlight I’d chosen for the evening looked good paired with the red lip and light smokey eye. I’d chosen to wear my hair in an updo because I presumed it looked more elegant, as it showed off the slope of my neck.

“Oh!” I startled when a harsh knock sounded at my door. Even before seeing, I knew it was Ian. He had a presence that you couldn’t help but be overtaken by, even with a couple of inches of hardwood separating us. “Coming!” I answered as another harsh knock at the door sounded.

Slightly breathless from quickly stepping into my heels, rechecking myself in the mirror, and hurrying to the door, I yanked it open, pausing at the sight of Ian in a black tuxedo.

I could’ve sworn I saw his eye widen in surprise? Shock? Appreciation? I couldn’t discern the look before it disappeared. He ran his thumb along his bottom lip, looking me up and down in that discerning way he often did.

“We’re late,” he stated brusquely, but at the same time extended his arm for me to take.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around his, stepping out into the hallway and shutting my door behind me. “I hope you’re not expecting any apologies from me. I was waiting on you to arrive at my room as you’d instructed me to do,” I retorted a little more saucily than I’d intended.

I stopped short as Ian’s steps faltered as he turned toward me, staring yet again. His gazes locked on mine for a moment before simply nodding. “Touché,” was all he said before adjusting my arm around his and continuing down the hall toward the elevator once again.

This man was an enigma to me. And, of course, that left me even a little more intrigued.

“Remember this is the Christmas Tree Lighting Gala. There will be a number of important business contacts I’ll be meeting this evening. Among the most important are Nikola Collins and his brother, Andre. Both should be here with their wives. My assistant provided you with the profiles on them, correct?”

I nodded just as the elevator doors chimed, alerting us that we’d arrived on the ground floor.

“Did you read them?”

“Of course,” I retorted, slightly offended. As soon as we’d gotten off the plane, we were greeted by Ian’s limo driver who held a pretty hefty folder out to me. Inside were the names of the various events he’d expected me to attend with him over the next few weeks, as well as the profiles of the important business contacts he was meeting with and the names of their spouses. On the drive to our hotel I was instructed to read over every profile, memorize it as much as possible, and glean from them anything I could use as conversation starters.

“Good. Your job is to not embarrass me. If you can’t do that, it’s best you just keep your mouth closed at all times.”

This time when I stopped short it was at my insistence instead of Ian’s.

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