A Mistletoe Affair (10 page)

Hands, lips and tongues all collided in the hottest, most intense kiss Jordan had ever experienced. His body ached with the need to tear her clothes off and take her right there on the table. The urge to bury himself inside her obliterated all thought from his brain. He couldn’t think of anything else he wanted more.

And that was when he realized he needed to stop.

This was moving too fast.

Yet with every soft moan that climbed up from Vicki’s throat, Jordan felt that it wasn’t moving fast enough. She wanted this as badly as he did. They were two adults. They were attracted to each other. And, most of all, they both wanted it.

But he’d learned the last time that being swept away in a fit of passion carried a price.

Jordan moved back a step, his breaths coming out so harsh it hurt his chest.

“That was...um... That was way more than just a thank-you,” he said.

Vicki’s dazed expression, her full, just-kissed lips, had him on the verge of finishing what he’d just started.

“I agree.” She nodded. “This is probably far enough for a first date.”

Jordan stared into her eyes. “I’m not stopping on the second date, Vicki.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I won’t let you.”

Chapter 7

V
icki measured out the dark blue ribbon that was threaded with gold, hoping she would have enough on the spool. Just under ten feet. She was cutting it close, but this was a last-minute job, so the customer would have to take what she gave them.

They’d better be happy she’d taken on the job at all.

Vicki could hardly choke back her resentment. The accounting firm of Crawford and Daniels had been one of her best clients. She’d provided weekly fresh flower arrangements for their lobby and decorated for several holidays throughout the year. Until last year, when they’d decided to go with a bigger florist in a neighboring town.

When the accounting firm’s office manager had called that morning, frantic because their new florist had dropped the ball and wouldn’t have their offices decorated in time for their yearly Christmas-card photo, a tiny, evil part of Vicki had wanted to turn down the job. It would have served them right for dropping her.

But she was a professional. And despite how satisfying it would have felt to be petty—and it would have felt
damn
satisfying, she had no doubt about it—she just couldn’t sink that low.

They would pay where it counted, because, even though she didn’t need the money, Vicki had tacked on a 30 percent upcharge for the rush job. She felt justified. She’d never given them reason to be dissatisfied with her work.

In a way, she owed Crawford and Daniels a huge thanks. The idea to enter a float in this year’s Christmas parade had been planted after they’d pulled their business. She’d decided then to show them—to show everyone—just what Petals was made of.

“Thank you for your disloyalty, Crawford and Daniels,” Vicki said into the empty florist shop. “It gave me the kick in the butt I needed.”

She nestled intricately painted blue-and-gold ornaments around the gigantic wreath that would hang prominently on the wall at the accounting firm. They were lucky she’d had the pine garland on hand. It was for a Christmas party she’d been hired to decorate for that weekend, which meant she would have to make a special trip to one of her suppliers so she could replace what she’d used. Maybe she should change that upcharge to 35 percent.

Vicki heard the front door open moments before Sandra and Janelle both walked in.

“Hey,” she called. “What are you two doing together? I thought you both had separate meetings.”

“With the same couple.” Janelle laughed. “The mother of the bride hired Sandra to design the dress and the mother of the groom hired me to coordinate the wedding. We didn’t realize it until we all showed up at the restaurant together.”

“Well, I hope you both told them which florist would be perfect to design the floral arrangements for the wedding,” Vicki said.

“Don’t we always?” Sandra said.

“When you have a minute we need to go over the list of floral arrangements we’ll need for the Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration,” Janelle said. “Nancy wants to make sure the centerpieces on the buffet tables are completely different from those on the tables where guests will be eating.”

“That’s Mom,” Sandra said with a laugh. “Makes you wonder why she even hired you if she’s going to stick her nose in every little detail.”

Janelle waved her off. “I go through this every year with your mother. I know what to expect.”

“Speaking of my mother,” Sandra said, a sage smile lifting the corners of her lips, “Isaiah and I had her and Dad over for dinner last night and she said Jordan came to see her yesterday.”

Vicki cursed her stomach for the flip-flop it did just at the sound of his name.

“Oh?” she said. It was the sorriest excuse for nonchalance she’d ever engaged in.

“Mmm-hmm,” Sandra murmured. “She said Jordan could not stop talking about a certain florist. She said you two went tree shopping, then you helped him with Mason’s trip to urgent care.”

“What happened to the baby?” Janelle asked.

“Teething and an ear infection,” Vicki provided without thinking.

“So you
have
been hanging out with my brother,” Sandra said with an excited lilt to her voice.

“It isn’t that big of a deal,” Vicki said.

Although it was. Kind of.

Okay, it was a
really
big deal.

Over the past week she’d seen Jordan every single day. He and Mason had come over to her place for dinner, and on the nights they were not at her house, she was at Jordan’s.

When the float builder had delivered the base for her float yesterday, Jordan had dropped what he was doing and had come over to the storage facility she’d rented to house the float while she worked on it. They’d gone over her sketches and talked out the logistics of what she planned to do. It had felt amazing to have him there with her, to see his excitement over her project.

Other things she did with Jordan felt amazing, too.

They had yet to take that next step, but the kisses they’d shared over the past week were hot enough to melt every bit of snow in Wintersage.

Vicki turned her attention to the garland twining up the banister so her friends wouldn’t see the blush that was no doubt reddening her cheeks.

“So?” Sandra prompted.

“So what?” Vicki asked.

“So what’s going on with you and Jordan? How serious is it?”

“It’s nothing serious, Sandra. I babysat Mason and helped Jordan decorate for the holidays.”
And nearly died when his hands crept up my stomach and over my breasts when he kissed me goodbye last night.
“Honestly, it’s nothing to get worked up about,” Vicki reiterated, even as she stood there as “worked up” as she’d ever been.

“Are you kidding me? I think it’s great,” Sandra squealed. “I told you that Jordan needs to get laid.”

“Who said anything about him getting laid?” Vicki asked. Her cheeks were definitely red now. “I’m just helping him out with Mason. That’s it.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Janelle asked.

“Yes!”
No!
She was doing so much more than just helping him out with Mason. “Goodness, would you two stop it!”

“Okay, okay, we’ll leave you alone,” Sandra said. “However, let the record show that I have absolutely no problem with whatever it is that’s going on between you and Jordan. Allison caused him a lot of heartache. He needs someone in his life who can show him that not every woman is like his ex-wife.”

“But Vicki said there’s nothing going on between them,” Janelle said.

With another of those knowing smiles, Sandra playfully lifted her brows before going upstairs. Janelle started to follow her, but Vicki caught her by the wrist.

She waited for Janelle to look at her before she asked, “If there was anything going on between me and Jordan—not that I’m saying there is, but if there was—would you have a problem with it?”

“Does it even matter?” Janelle asked.

“It does to me,” Vicki said.

Janelle’s eyes softened with understanding. “I know we all agreed that we would remain neutral as far as the election goes, but I can’t say that I’m not at least a little resentful toward Jordan. He’s accused my father of cheating. I can’t just pretend that I’m okay with that.” She hunched her shoulders. “It’s difficult, Vicki. My entire family is up in arms over the fact that I’m still coordinating the Woolcotts’ Kwanzaa celebration.”

“I’m so sorry this is all happening.”

Janelle nodded. “I’m sorry Jordan is still petitioning the election results. Every person who adds their name to that online petition is like a slap in the face to my dad.”

“Have you looked at it from his perspective? He has—”

“Don’t.” Janelle put her hands up. “Please don’t stand here and try to justify Jordan’s actions to me.” Janelle blew out a weary breath. “Look, Vicki. Whether or not anything is going on between the two of you, I’ll be happy for you, but I don’t want to hear about how you think Jordan is right or that I should look at things from his perspective. I just can’t.”

Vicki nodded. “I understand.”

Janelle looked down at her from two steps above and caught her chin in her hand. She smiled, and said, “Your face has had a bit of a glow this past week. If Jordan is the one responsible for it, I am grateful to him for that. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks,” Vicki said.

Janelle’s smile dimmed just a bit. “I just want you to think about something.”

“What’s that?”

“What happens when things get back to normal?”

Vicki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Once everything with this election is finally put to bed and Jordan returns to work. When Mason’s nanny returns. What happens then, Vicki?”

“I don’t know why anything has to change.”

“What about if Allison comes back wanting to reclaim the little family she left behind?”

Vicki’s head reared back. Where had
that
come from?

“Allison hasn’t been around in months,” Vicki said. “What makes you think she would return making demands?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Janelle said. “And you know what Sandra used to say about her. That Allison was like catnip for Jordan.” Janelle raised both palms up. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or another. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She patted Vicki’s hand, then turned and headed up the stairs.

Vicki remained standing there, Janelle’s words playing over and over again in her head. Thinking about Allison and the influence she’d once had over Jordan caused a bunch of Vicki’s old insecurities to resurface.

Even more upsetting, she couldn’t help but think that Janelle had brought up Jordan’s ex-wife for exactly that reason.

She hated the thought of there being a rift between her and Janelle because of her blossoming relationship with Jordan, but she also had to respect his stance, as well. Jordan understood the strain his petitioning of the election results was putting on everyone, but he believed he was right. Who was she to tell him to disregard his belief just because it made things awkward for her?

Vicki just hoped she didn’t have to choose between the man she could easily see herself falling in love with and one of her best friends.

*

“Mr. Jackson, I don’t want you to think that just because the election is still up in the air that it will affect the promises we made to Mass Mentors one way or the other. No matter what the final results turn out to be, I will make sure the program is fully funded.”

Even if he had to fund it himself, Jordan thought. His emails and texts to Oliver Windom regarding the program had gone unanswered, but Jordan wasn’t allowing that to deter him.

“I made a pledge to your program, and I’m going to make good on it,” he told the program director before ending the call.

Releasing an aggravated sigh, Jordan tossed the phone on his desk and ran both palms down his face. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. According to the schedule he’d laid out in his head, he and the rest of the transition team should be well into preparation for Oliver to take office. Instead, here he was, stuck at home, waiting for even the tiniest bit of evidence from one of the investigators he’d hired to look into the ballot tampering.

As for the candidate himself...

Jordan didn’t know what to make of Oliver’s actions since the election. For some reason, the man he’d backed and had believed in so strongly was more than willing to roll over and play dead. It frustrated Jordan to no end! Why in the hell was
he
more upset over Oliver’s loss than Oliver himself?

Jordan had tried to come at this from every rational standpoint he could, but it just didn’t add up. His polling data couldn’t have been off by so much. Someone had to have tampered with those ballots.

But what if no one had touched the ballots? What if he
was
wrong?

“It’s not as if you’ve never been wrong before,” Jordan said with a cynical, self-deprecating snort.

He swerved his chair around and grinned at his son, who was becoming increasingly frustrated with a wooden block that would not stay where he’d stacked it on top of another block.

Scooting onto the floor, Jordan said, “Mind if Daddy joins you?” He picked up a block with a green
A
on it, but Mason reached for it.

“Mine,” his son said with a frown.

Jordan raised his hands up. “Okay, okay. Looks like we need to have the ‘learn how to share’ talk when you get a little older.”

As if Mason understood him, he picked up a yellow
Y
in his chubby little hand and held it out to Jordan.

“There you go,” Jordan said. “You know how to share.”

He stared down at his son with wonder, still amazed at how much his perspective had changed in such a short amount of time. It had been a whirlwind these past couple of years. He’d met Allison and had been swept right off his feet, marrying her only six months after they’d met, after she’d gotten pregnant with Mason.

He’d known from the beginning that when it came to children, her feelings were lukewarm at best. Jordan had hoped those feelings would change once Mason was born. He’d expected her to take one look at their son and fall in love, just as he’d done.

He didn’t doubt that Allison loved Mason. She was just too selfish to give up her lifestyle in order to raise a child.

“I, on the other hand, can’t imagine my life without you,” Jordan said, placing Mason in his lap. He kissed Mason’s chubby neck, thanking God for blessing him with this unbelievable gift. It was a gift he hadn’t known he wanted, a gift that had come to mean everything to him.

Jordan’s breath caught in his throat just thinking about the sheer terror that had hit him last week when Mason had spiked that high fever.

It hadn’t been all that long ago that the only thing that concerned him was getting ahead. He’d been on track to rise to the top of his law firm faster than any associate had done in the past. His career had been his only focus.

None of that seemed important anymore.

He recalled his mother’s recommendation after he mentioned shortening his leave of absence, and realized she was right. What would he gain by returning to his law firm earlier than necessary? He had more money set aside than he could spend in a lifetime, and he sure as hell didn’t need the stress of fourteen-hour workdays.