Holiday Hearts (2 page)

She wore sneakers and jean shorts, a white tank top and a sun-visor with the company logo on it. Stumbling through the door she was holding a conversation with another employee and trying to balance the items in her hands. Ian, being a gentleman, had quickly gone to her aid. Mistake
numero uno!

“I can handle it,” she’d snapped, the minute he appeared trying to take one of the larger bowls.

With a smile he nodded. “I know. I just don’t want any of the execs getting on my case for not offering to help a lady.”

She’d frowned, but it had been such a pretty frown, and grudgingly she had allowed him to take the bowl. However, she completely ignored him as they walked over to the makeshift picnic table in the center of the room that one of the women from accounting was hurriedly putting a wrinkled white tablecloth over.

At the time, Ian had been on the tenth floor for just about two weeks. His first stop at Maser Marketing had been on the twelfth floor with the team assigned to handle media clients. Because of his stellar performance, he’d been moved shortly thereafter to the Keysa’s department where he oversaw assistant executives and project managers for Maser’s publishing clients, which included Artistry Publishing, Keysa Donovan’s account.

She was an exceptional worker—that he already knew. The fact that she was pretty was also a given. Her biting personality, well, up until this point, he hadn’t up been on the receiving end of that, but Ian was sure he could handle it.

At the company picnic, he’d tried to sit next to her and strike up a conversation. But he got the distinct impression that he’d been way too self-assured where she was concerned. His conversation fell flat the moment she gave him a tight smile, stood and walked away. A glutton for punishment, Ian had made it a point to visit her office on a weekly basis and to drop by the lounge during the times he knew she’d be eating her afternoon snack. Lunch in the lounge on their floor was like a smorgasbord every day of the week. Ian had no idea where all the food came from, but there was always something that kept the employees constantly trekking down the long hallway to snack. He was one of them.  And once he figured out that Keysa didn’t eat lunch in the employee lounge, but usually emerged from her office around two in the afternoon, he began to time his visits to the lounge accordingly.

It had been six months since their last encounter, but when Ian saw Keysa at the next office function, he’d decided to try his hand once more. He was nothing if not a tenacious man.

“Wow, I wonder who came up with this genius idea,” he’d said looking at the large fruit display in the center of the lunch table.

“I’m more interested in meeting the people who actually stand around cutting melons into little daisy shapes and dipping oranges in chocolate for a living,” Keysa said.

She’d laughed and the sound had wrapped around him as securely as cellophane. His entire body had warmed as he’d looked over at her. She was smiling, her pert mouth still coated with whatever color lip gloss she’d been wearing earlier in the day. Her hair was curly, framing her delicate features.  Her nails were painted a peachy color that he noticed when she reached out to grab one of the chocolate-covered strawberries in the basket and pulled the skewer free.

His gaze followed the strawberry as some libidinous part of his brain anxiously hoped she’d put it to her lips and take a bite. His body heated at the simple thought of watching the sweet juice trickle down her lips and onto her chin, where he, being the gentleman that he was, would promptly lick it up.

“Aren’t you going to try some?”

Her question interrupted the fantasy of his little X-rated daydream.  He had to clear his throat and take a step back from the table to inconspicuously adjust his growing arousal.

“Ah, no. Not really in the mood for fruit,” he finally managed to say noting she’d put hers on a paper plate and was surveying the basket deciding what else to select.

“The pineapple looks sweet,” he said actually thinking of her glossed lips.

“Hmmm, it does,” she agreed.

That was when she did the unthinkable. She pulled a piece of pineapple from the basket and extended it to him. “Taste it and see.”

Ian swallowed, praying for mercy.

The blouse she’d worn had a V-neck and gapped ever so slightly as she leaned over the table.  He could continue to just stand there dumbfounded, ogling her generous cleavage, or he could take a chance, lean forward and taste the damn pineapple.

He opted for the latter because watching her cleavage was proving to be more discomforting than he could bear. His lips brushed over her fingers—on purpose, of course—and he chewed the bite, savoring it as he watched her watching him.

“So is it sweet?”

“Yes, indeed,” he replied licking his lips.

She pulled back from the table tilting her head as she continued to watch him. “I don’t like pineapple,” she said finally.

Ian almost choked.

Picking up a napkin she wiped her hands and retrieved her plate with the lone strawberry. She turned like she was going to leave the room when Ian went around the table, touched a hand to her elbow to stop her.

“Have dinner with me?” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way but something told him he needed to seize the moment with Keysa.

“No,” was her quick reply.

“Please?”

“Why?”

“Because I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

“You already know me,” she said skeptically looking over his shoulder.

“I know your work. But I want to know you personally.”

She shook her head.

He touched a fingertip to her chin, lifting slightly and stopping her movement. “Say yes.”

She hesitated.

Once again he acted with boldness. Leaning forward slowly, his eyes focused on hers.  He touched his lips lightly to hers—once, twice.

“Okay,” she said hurriedly and pulled out of his embrace.

He’d emailed her a day and time. She’d replied with an “okay.” That had been their first date.

Five more had followed in the next three months.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Each time he’d asked her out, she’d said “no,” emphatically, until finally—because his pride insisted—he’d stopped asking.

Now, tonight, sitting in his office alone, he wondered why he’d given up. Why he hadn’t fought harder for her, for the feelings he had inside for her?

“Nice evening.”

Ian spun around in his chair until he faced the door and saw the person whose voice he’d just heard.

“Yeah, guess so,” he replied attempting to be polite.

“Evening like this I used to have me a nice lady friend, take her out to dinner. Candlelight, women like candlelight.”

Ian had to smile. The old janitor was leaning against his doorframe, broom in hand but obviously not interested in doing any work at the moment. He was looking off, over Ian’s shoulder towards the window, almost as if he was actually remembering a candlelight dinner with his lady friend.

“That’s true,” Ian said deciding he could spend a few minutes talking about women with this guy, if it would make him feel better. “But you know I’m more inclined to moonlight—there’s something a little more natural about it.”

The janitor nodded then looked at Ian as if finally realizing he was in the room. “Moonlight’s good. You got you a lady friend to sit in the moonlight with?”

Ian instantly thought of Keysa. It was kind of a given since she’d been on his mind anyway.

Clearing his throat he asked, “You working pretty late tonight, aren’t you?”

The janitor smiled, nodded his head. “Yeah. Got plenty to do.”

Well, Ian didn’t. And he was tired of sitting in this office acting like he did. In fact, he was tired of acting like he no longer cared about Keysa, like he didn’t dream about her just about every night.

Standing, Ian grabbed his keys and flicked off his computer, not bothering to shut it down first. He’d have an icy message from Bart, the IT guy, in the morning. “Sorry to hear that, ah…,” he trailed off.  Straining a bit he saw the janitor’s nametag, “….Jasper. It’s cold out tonight and its three days before Christmas. Nobody should be working this late.”

Jasper’s smile spread wide. He lifted a hand to touch the tip of his hat and tilted it back a bit. “You’ve got that right. So are you going home to your lady friend?”

Ian stepped from behind his desk when he met Jasper’s dark eyes. There was something there, more than the smile, more than the old deep voice. But he didn’t have time to figure it out. “Jasper, you’ve got that right.”

It was when Ian was walking past Jasper to get out the door that he felt the hand on his shoulder.

“Be careful with her, but don’t give up. She needs you.”

Turning back Ian looked at the old man in question. But Jasper had moved further into Ian’s office, swishing his broom over the shiny hardwood floors, humming a holiday tune Ian knew he’d already heard a thousand times. Still, as he walked out of his office and headed down the hall, away from the elevators, he found himself humming the same tune and declaring he’d have a merry little Christmas too.

THREE

“The workday ended almost three hours ago,” Ian said walking into her office and taking a seat across from her.

Keysa had felt his presence before seeing him. It had always been that way with Ian, which was one of things that scared her about him. He hadn’t even waited for her to respond, just walked in with that swagger that ticked-off most of the men they worked with and drove twice as many women crazy.

Being Dominican and African American gave him an exotic look. His skin was mocha toned and so smooth, she’d secretly longed to touch him all over. His silky hair, which he kept close-cropped, was a shade darker than ebony. But the eyes were the clincher—sea green, like water, deep and mysterious with the ability to see right through to her soul. That was another reason she was afraid of him.

“I don’t keep track of everyone else’s hours,” she quipped, hoping she sounded as cool and self-assured as she meant to.

“Neither do I, but when it’s a few days until Christmas and I see you here burning the midnight oil, I get concerned.”

“No need to be,” she said closing the file she’d been working on and putting the folder to the side.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Just about.”

“Good. We can have dinner then.”

“No we can’t.” That’s the last thing Keysa wanted to do was share another dinner sitting across the table from Ian, looking into those mesmerizing eyes, listening to his enticing voice, and wanting more with him than she’d ever wanted with another man before.

That was the real reason he scared her.

“How long are you going to do this?”

He hadn’t moved a muscle. Quite the contrary, he was sitting as still as a statue glaring at her—just like she’d imagined—as if he could see right through her, right through her defenses.

“Do what? Turn down your offer of dinner? We’ve done that already, remember?” Her voice sounded tired as she shut down her computer. She had to do something to keep from looking at him.

“Look, don’t deny that there’s something between us.”

“Oh, please, Ian. You’re a good-looking man and all. But that doesn’t mean I have to act the way all the other women who adore you do.”

He laughed.

She paused, looked up and confirmed. Yeah, he was definitely laughing. His normally strong jaw line and angular face was softened by a deep, authentic smile. His laughter made it seem like what she’d said was just too damned funny, and it ticked her off.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded. In her mind, she’d scored the last point by knocking him off his arrogant pedestal. He was still laughing, actually coughing now, using his hand to cover his mouth.

“Wait a minute,” he chuckled again. “Give me a minute to regroup.”

“I can give you three to get out of my office.” She didn’t have time for this nonsense.

First the janitor guy had interrupted her with his rendition of Nat King Cole’s song. Then her father had called. To her surprise, Bernard Donovan had called a couple of days earlier than she’d expected. He’d begun calling her on Christmas years ago, wishing her well, telling her he loved her, blah, blah, blah. Well, this year he’d called early to put in a special request.

“Spend the holiday with me for a change. Your sister would love to see you and Jocelyn’s really looking forward to spending time with both you girls.”

She’d cringed at his words. First, she was no longer a girl. And second, while she liked her stepmom well enough, Jocelyn wasn’t her mother. Keysa couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable by him suggesting that she spend the holidays with his family. She knew without a doubt her mother would see it as a betrayal.

“I can’t, Daddy. I have to work,” she’d said.

“You work too hard, Keysa. The job’s not going anywhere if you take a few days off to celebrate with your family. In fact, I’m sure Russell Maser is taking time off to be with his family.”