“Then why don’t you book a resort and take Jared?”

Patricia lets out a bark of laughter and gets up from her chair, still chuckling. From the fridge, she pulls out a cheese board.

“He hates sand. We’re going to visit friends for New Year’s Eve. Speaking of adult-only places, we’re going to a kink party.”

“No way!” We have never talked about this kind of thing before now. Our interactions are mostly confined to lunches and meetings with our respective clients. Guess the bourbon made Patricia’s lips loose tonight, too.

“Yep. Christmas with my parents, then we’re leaving for Vancouver the next day. When are you leaving for Cozumel?”

“Tomorrow.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Patricia looks at me as if I told her the most famous pop star on her roster joined a convent.

I mistakenly left the booking to Phil, thinking he could handle it. But who books a flight on Christmas Eve?

“Yep. It’s when Phil booked it.”

I know I should be happy that’s off my plate, but honestly, I would have booked us two days earlier.

“Okay! Present time.” Patricia dives under her tree and picks up a gold-wrapped package with a green bow. “Open.”

I balance the gift in my hands, admiring the perfectly tied bow. Smiling at my friend, I tear away the shiny paper and reveal a clothing box. Carefully, I deal with the tape and get it open.

My breath catches. Nestled in soft pink tissue paper is a gold cardigan. I pick it up, the fabric soft and luxurious in my hands. “Patricia! It’s gorgeous!”

The gold material shimmers in the soft lighting of Patricia and Jared’s contemporary house.

“It’s handmade. The artist is local. One of my clients finds the most unique things, and I jumped on them for the intel.”

“If I could get one of my actors to wear this, this artist would have so much work.” I carefully settle the sweater in the box and put it aside. “Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure. I thought it was light enough to pack, and you could wear it on the flight to Cozumel.”

I reach for the bottle on the table and pour us a half measure. I raise my glass to my friend’s. “You’re always so thoughtful. It’s perfect.”

“Good,” Patricia’s lips quirk.

“I had to come up with something that wasn’t wine. How many bottles did you get this year?”

“We’re not competing!” I laugh. One of three reasons Patricia and I are fast friends is because there is so much we relate to, being women who are executives in competitive fields.

Patricia grins. “Come on, I beat last year’s record.”

I spread brie on a cracker, hiding a grin. “The last count? Ninety-six bottles of red and fourteen bottles of white. Two bottles of ice wine.”

Much of this wine comes from other companies we work with or want us to work with.

“Impressive haul!”

“Yeah, we keep it in the closet in the office and give it out to clients when they sign the deal. I took one bottle home with me and left the others. Speaking of, I was hoping we could get Mr. Durand some friendly press while he’s taking his adorable toddler skating?”

I slyly throw the pitch. Turning off my work brain is a huge problem, but I’ve learned to live with it.

Patricia shakes her head and laughs. “Holly, this isn’t business. We can discuss it on the fifth of January when you’re sun-tanned back from Cozumel, and I’m back in the office.”

“Okay, I’m just saying the toddler is adorable, and I know they’re going to be skating at the Victoria Park Iceway around three o’clock on Boxing Day.”

“Naughty, Holly.” Ivy reaches for her cell and quickly taps out a text. “No promises.”