Page 3 of Sugarplum

Chapter 2

Tanya hoppedup from her chair. "This is so much better than spending Saturday doing laundry and buying groceries. I've got to get home and dig through my closet for my snow gear. Do you want me to drive?"

I followed her out of the boardroom. "I'm not sure if I'm even going to go, Tanya."

She stopped and grabbed my arm. "Are you kidding? What else do you have planned?"

"Stuff. I have stuff planned."

She tilted her head to the side. "Oh really?"

"Yep. All kinds of big, important stuff." I sighed. "I just don't want to go and hang out with Stan and watch him cuddle with his newest conquest." I motioned with my head. "Looks like Becky and Yari are making plans to drive up together. Why don't you catch a ride with them?"

"Darn it, Jen, this could be so much fun. Reconsider. We don't have to be anywhere—" Her face paled slightly, and she sealed her mouth shut.

A smooth hand touched my arm from behind. Musky aftershave swirled around me as Stan circled around with his pearl white smile.

"I've got work to do," Tanya blurted before scurrying away like a traitorous little mouse.

"Hey, Jen," Stan said, "if you need a ride up to the mountain, I've got room in the Land Rover."

"Thanks, Stan, but I'm not entirely sure I'm going. I've got stuff to do."

His dark brows pinched together. "Ah, come on, Jen, it won't be the same without you."

"Oh, I'm sure everyone will have a good time with or without me. But thanks. This is very generous of you."

He squeezed my hand again, a completely unnecessary gesture between a tech president and his designer. "Well, I hope you change your mind."

"Maybe." I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. "I've got a few things to finish up at my station." I dashed away before he could say any more or find some other non-reason for touching me.

I tried to shake off the odd encounter. My mind rushed back and forth in debate about whether I should go on the free weekend or skip it. I had one foot on each side of the fence.

I reached my computer and shook the mouse to wake it. A website popped up that I had most definitely not clicked on. My eyes dashed across a banner about some place called the Silk Stocking Inn, and I caught some cheesy phrase about filling my every heart's desire blah blah blah. I clicked the X and waited for the site to be swallowed up into cyberspace. But it stayed like melted bubble gum on the bottom of a shoe. I tapped my mouse a dozen times in an attempt to close the site. Instead of vanishing, pictures and a text box popped up. An old Victorian style home appeared next to the banner. Snow was mounded like pillows on its slate gray roof and icicles clung to the gingerbread style fascia board running across various roof lines. Even though the photo was obviously taken in the winter, a long vine of bright pink roses climbed the porch railings and arched over the portico, creating the perfect romantic exterior. I'd been so drawn to the charming vintage house, I'd ignore the text box that came with it.

I blinked at the words. "Hello, Jen, I think you should forget the ski weekend and head up to the Silk Stocking Inn."

My eyes peered over my monitor, and my gaze circled the room. Everyone was busy hunched over a computer or drafting table, working hard to finish up and take off for the snow. But, obviously, someone had finished, and they'd decided to play a prank on me. Funny. I had it narrowed down to Mitch and Shelly since they were the programming geniuses. Maybe they decided stealing my French cruller was not enough.

I looked across the vast room to Mitch's work place. He looked busy enough, and there was nothing suspicious about his behavior. The same regular old boring work scene was happening at Shelly's desk. They were good. I would bet anything they were in it together. I decided to go along with it.

"Oh my, Silk Stocking Inn, huh? It sounds amazing."

"Great. Then I can expect you this afternoon. You won't be disappointed. I promise. After this weekend, you'll never think twice about that arrogant boss again."

My gaze flashed their direction as my cheeks burned with a flush. "You guys suck. I'm done with this."

The text box filled again. "I'm sorry. Who are you guys?"

"Right. Very funny." My fingers pounded the keys.

"Fine then. See you soon."

I clicked the mouse over and over, but the site remained and the text box popped back up. "I forgot to ask—what is your favorite cupcake flavor?"

I shook my head. "Don't you mean donut? And as you know, it's middle earth. Otherwise known as French cruller."

There was a long pause. I stared at Mitch and Shelly over the top of my computer, but they kept up the farce and kept working at their stations.

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