All I Want For Christmas (8 page)

And after her meltdown, after she was asleep, the real fun had begun. Talking with Tina. Kissing and touching her, even though he knew better. Now he couldn't get the taste of her, the feel of her breasts, out of his brain. What was it about Tina Morrell that pushed reason and common sense straight out of his head? He wasn't about to analyze himself.

“Maggie's hamster escaped last night,” he added. “Luckily we found it.” He made a face, and his employees chuckled.

“That must've been awful,” Serena said. “Ellie and Cameron share a guinea pig. If he got loose…” She shook her head. “It wouldn't be pretty.”

“It was a mess,” Ryan said. “You should have seen the carpet. I must've spent twenty minutes vacuuming.”

He had meant to be funny. Instead, Serena and Danielle shot him pitying looks—a widower, raising his daughter alone. Ryan hated that. He and Maggie were doing okay. Except for the nightmares.

He glanced at his watch. “Time to go home. Are we ready to lock up?”

Five minutes later, they left the building. Thanks to the shorter number of daylight hours and the heavy rain clouds, the air was dark, cold and damp.

Traffic was light—nonexistent, compared to L. A.—and Ryan drove home on automatic pilot, his thoughts on Tina.

After what had happened last night, however, it was best to stick to his plan and steer clear of her. Between work, Maggie and Tina's upcoming job interview in Seattle, avoiding the woman shouldn't be difficult—at least until the weekend. By then, Ryan hoped he'd have a better grip on himself.

Meanwhile, he'd make sure to remind Maggie that Tina was leaving soon. If he repeated that often enough, it might sink in—with both of them.

He turned onto Huckleberry Hill Road. As he slowed to pull into his driveway, he couldn't help noting that G. G.' s living room and dining room were both lit up. The curtains were closed, though, and he couldn't see inside. He wondered whether the older woman felt better today, but figured he'd find out when he picked up Maggie from the Featherstones'. That was safer than calling Tina and asking.

He eased into the garage and killed the engine. As he strode toward the Featherstone house at the end of the cul-de-sac, he told himself that tonight he would not think about Tina at all. If Maggie mentioned her, he'd simply tune her out.

In no time at all, he'd move past this ridiculous infatuation.

“B
race yourself for a bumpy landing,” D. J. Hatcher, the handsome thirtysomething pilot told Tina.

The small seaplane—she was the lone passenger—dropped lower over Lake Washington and headed toward a small airstrip at the edge of the water north of Seattle.

Tina tightened her seat belt, gripped the armrests and stared out her window. She was relieved to see that the cab she'd ordered was waiting. That would save precious time, and since she needed to stop by her apartment and change into a suit, and then meet with June before the interview, every minute counted.

The plane had left Halo Island before eight, and the hour-long flight had been noisy and choppy. Thank heavens she didn't have a queasy stomach. Burning, yes, and en route she'd popped an antacid and munched crackers in an effort to soothe her ulcer. She'd also used the time to look over her notes and prepare for her ten-thirty interview. Which, thanks to spending all her spare time working up ideas for Captain's Catch, she hadn't even thought about.

Despite D. J.'s warning, the plane set down smoothly. It taxied across the water toward the small terminal, and seconds later it rolled to a stop.

“That wasn't bad at all,” Tina said.

“We got lucky,” he quipped.

As far as she knew, D. J. had never crashed or caused his customers any harm, and she took the comment as a pilot's attempt at humor. As antsy as she was about the interview, she barely mustered a smile.

D. J. shut off the engine, then pulled off his earphones. In the sudden silence, Tina's ears rang. “Thanks, D. J.” She unbuckled her seat belt, causing the pilot to shake his head.

“Don't get up just yet.”

He slid from his seat and unlatched the door, his broad shoulders straining his chino shirt. He was an attractive man, but Tina's interests lay elsewhere. On Ryan. She hadn't seen him since Monday night—with G. G. to care for and everything else on her plate, who had time?—but she'd certainly thought about him. And the things he'd shared with her about his wife and his feelings about his job.

Most of all, his kisses and his hands on her breasts. Even now, as stressed as she was, her body hummed at the memory.

Don't start,
she chided herself. With so much riding on her upcoming interview, she couldn't afford any distractions. Besides, what was the point of fantasizing? Ryan didn't want to start something with her—even if he
had
kissed her and more. She didn't want that, either. Really. Tina shifted in her seat.
Liar.
But what was, was, and G. G., Jefferson and the neighbors were counting on her to make them proud.

She watched as D. J. climbed down the ladder that led to the dock. The best thing for Tina was to ace the interview, get the promotion and immerse herself in work. In no time, she'd forget all about Ryan Chase. If she wanted a family of her own, she'd bury the urge for another few years—until she achieved more, career-wise, and satisfied the people who loved her.

As for Maggie…Tina wasn't sure what to do about her. If only she could do something to stop the nightmares and lift the burdens from those tiny shoulders. But she couldn't. Her best bet was to try to be Maggie's friend, no matter what happened with her father.

D. J. peered through the door. “All right, Tina, we're set now.”

She grabbed her portfolio from the overhead bin and D. J. offered her a hand down.

“Good luck with that interview,” he said.

“Thanks, and thanks again for the ride.” After the interview, which wouldn't last more than ninety minutes, she'd return to the airstrip and fly back to the island. “What's the latest I can get here and still make the one o'clock flight?”

“Twelve forty-five,” D. J. said. “See you then.”

Buffeted by the chill wind, Tina hurried toward the cab. Her hair was a mess, and the weather had probably ruined her makeup, too. Well, she'd fix that at home.

The cab waited curbside while she dashed into her brick apartment building, quickly changed, made herself look professional and grabbed her mail. After a week at G. G.' s, her one-bedroom apartment felt empty and lonely, and Tina was glad to leave.

Twenty minutes later, her driver dropped her in front of the downtown high-rise that housed CE Marketing. The seventy-story structure stretched skyward, and a person couldn't even see the top floor, where CE Marketing was based, without craning her head back.

As Tina walked through the revolving doors, her mouth went dry and her stomach seemed to turn over. She swallowed hard and wondered whether she might be sick. She'd told Ryan she wasn't nervous about the interview, but she was.

After checking in with the security guard in the bustling lobby, she entered the elevator. During the trip up, she checked her hair and lipstick. Feeling reasonably ready, portfolio and coat under her arm, she exited. On the teak wall across the way, the sleek silver CE Marketing, Inc. sign greeted her.
It's showtime.
Doing her best to appear confident, smile firmly in place, Tina strode through the thick glass doors and into the familiar plush reception area.

The receptionist, a young redhead named Shelby, signaled her to wait while she deftly fielded phone calls. When she finished, she smiled. “It's good to have you back, even if it is only for the interview. How's G. G.?”

Tina wasn't surprised at the question. This sophisticated firm wasn't so different from small-town Halo Island, with most everyone knowing each other's schedules and projects.

“It's slow going,” she said. “I've missed this place.” Which was and wasn't true. “My interview isn't for another hour, but will you let Mr. Sperling know I'm here? And could you also ask June to meet me in my office?”

“Will do.” Shelby spoke confidentially and crossed her fingers. “For the record, I don't believe a word Kendra's been saying. I'm rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

Kendra's interview had taken place the day before, and according to June, she'd come out it of smug and self-assured. No telling what she'd said about Tina. Mad at her all over again, Tina walked down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by thick carpeting as she passed offices and looked in on faces she knew as well as her own. People greeted her with smiles, and many of them wished her good luck.

As Tina entered her office, June was waiting by the window. Her round face lit up. “You made it.”

Her warmth eased Tina's jangled nerves. “It's good to see you,” she said.

“And you.” June's smile dimmed somewhat. “You haven't been eating or sleeping much, have you?”

Trust June to be candid—Tina valued that. She sighed. “I was sure my concealer would hide the circles. It's been a difficult week.”

“I can't even imagine. Of course, with you gone, it hasn't been easy for me, either. Unlike you, I eat when I'm stressed, and since you left I must've gained ten pounds. If only I could give them to you.”

Tina laughed. “I'm truly grateful for the extra time you've put in for me, and I'll make sure you're paid for every hour. I wish I could treat you to lunch today, but I have to hurry back to the island right after my interview. Let's schedule something after Thanksgiving?”

“It's a date.”

Tina glanced at her watch. “We don't have much time, so we'd best get to work.”

She sank onto her familiar office chair, glanced at her computer, fax and printer, and wheeled up to her expansive desk. The neatly stacked files and crowded in-box meant tons of work, which reassured her that regardless of whether or not she got the creative director title, she'd be too busy to think about Ryan. She
would
.

“What's with the long face?” Pulling up another chair, June sat beside her so that they both faced the desk. “Is anything wrong?”

“I was wondering how I'll ever get all this work done.”

“You will.”

They spent the next half hour reviewing files; Tina stacked those she'd take back with her.

Then Kendra strode in, her expensive suit and three-inch heels making her look like a model. “Well, well, look who came to work. Decided to finally show up and interview, did you?”

Tina looked Kendra right in the eye. “As you well know, a family member is sick, and I'm using up vacation time to care for her.”

“Yes, and I'm
so
sorry.”

“Actually, you're not,” Tina challenged her. “You've been telling people, including Jim Sperling, that since I've taken time off I must not want this position. He doesn't believe you, of course.” Tina hoped that was true. “And I don't appreciate the innuendo. You owe me an apology.”

Kendra's eyes narrowed. Without a hint of remorse, she shrugged. “One does what one must. Good luck with the interview—you'll need it. Though frankly, I don't know why you're even bothering. The creative director spot is mine.” She flipped her hair over a shoulder, pivoted toward the door and sashayed off.

“You told
her,
” June said. “She must be really scared to grandstand like that. Don't let her intimidate you.”

Believing that Kendra was every bit as qualified and talented as she was, Tina
was
unnerved. Not about to show it, she smiled. “My track record speaks for itself. I'm not worried.”

“That's my Tina.”

The intercom buzzed. Tina reached for it. “Let me,” June said, pushing the button. “Yes, Shelby?”

“Tell Tina that Mr. Sperling is ready for her.”

“Will do. Thanks.” June shut off the intercom. “You heard the lady. Go get 'em, kid.” She gave Tina a thumbs-up.

Tina freshened her lipstick and fluffed her hair. Then she stood and straightened her suit jacket. “How do I look?”

“Like the next creative director.”

Shoulders squared, knowing she looked calm and assured, she headed toward her boss's office. Inside, she felt nervous and confused, and not at all certain she wanted the position. But for G. G. and the others, she would do her best to get it.

F
OR NEARLY TWO HOURS
, Tina had faced Jim Sperling across the table in his private conference room, and still the meeting went on. She was due at the airstrip in twenty-five minutes, and she couldn't miss the flight.
Hurry up,
she silently pleaded.

In her opinion the interview had gone well and had been more like a conversation between fellow advertising professionals than the back and forth question-and-answer ordeal she'd anticipated.

Wearing a hand-tailored suit, crisp shirt and tasteful silk tie, with his silver hair expensively styled, Jim Sperling certainly looked the role of successful CEO. He nodded at her portfolio. “I like your plans for Captain's Catch,” he said, acting as if he had all the time in the world to talk business with her. “It shows great initiative, but then time and again you've proved that you're ambitious. When do you plan to contact Peter Woods?”

“As soon as I get back—the Monday after Thanksgiving.”

Her boss looked suitably impressed. Tina gave herself a pat on the back and waited for him to wrap up the meeting. But he said nothing. She had no choice but to take charge.

“Thank you so much for giving me a chance to interview for the creative director job.”

“I'd have been surprised if you hadn't wanted to.”

“I've taken up enough of your time, Jim. And I need to catch a plane back to the island soon.”

His slightly narrowed eyes worried her.

“Right.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

“This
is
my vacation,” she reminded him.

“I'm well aware of that, Tina.” Turning his back on her, he moved toward the closed door.

Stomach churning, she followed. Had she blown the interview by ending it herself, rather than waiting for him?
Of course not.

“Please give G. G. my wishes for a speedy recovery,” her boss said, opening the door.

“I will, and I'll definitely be back the Monday after Thanksgiving, ready to give the job my best.”

He gave a curt nod. “Family's important, but of course so is CE Marketing.”

The tension radiating from the man was disturbing, and this was no way to leave things. “Thanks again for interviewing me,” Tina said, smiling and holding out her hand. “So I'll know whether I got the job before Thanksgiving?” When setting up the interview, he'd said as much. Since today was Thursday and the company closed at five o'clock tomorrow for the entire week of Thanksgiving, that meant she'd hear by tomorrow afternoon.

His face gave away nothing. “I'll make my decision fairly soon.”

Whatever that meant.

“When I do,” Jim Sperling said, “I'll be in touch.”