Page 410 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
There’s always a catch.
The prize is just worth my efforts this time. Our sprawling chain of department stores are a cash cow like the world has never seen.
And it’s all mine.
New York’s hottest bachelor is on the hunt, dressed up as Mr. Claus and he’s looking for an elf that’ll hop off the shelf and entertain him.
Just my luck that she’s cute, spicy, and doesn’t put up with me. Thankfully she looks stunning in a tutu and elf shoes.
Too bad she hates my guts.
My playboy ways and smart-mouth remarks haven’t won me any favors with her over the last ten years and that’s not ever going to change.
Or is it? It is Christmas after all.
The world thinks I’m calling the shots, but they have no idea my little elf has me wrapped around her pointed little finger.
CHAPTER 1
TINSELY
New York City had been made for Decembers. Go ahead. Name a city that feels as magical as the big apple on a dry Christmas afternoon, when the sun glinting off the windows of skyscrapers warms your cheeks but the cold air bites at your nose. Where the reflections of Christmas lights dance upon those same windows long after the sun has gone down and families are cozy in front of the fire in their twentieth-story loft. Where department store windows tease young children with displays of all their dream toys and then some. Where strangers yell Merry Christmas at each other across subway station platforms, and where for one month, it feels like everyone is in it together.
Okay, chances are there are hundreds of places in the world that feel just as magical as my home during the Christmas holidays, but to me, there has never been anything quite as special as New York after a fresh snow while carolers sing hymns and Salvation Army Santas ring bells.
I grew up here. I’ve lived and breathed twenty-seven New York Christmases, and today was the start of my twenty-eighth.
I stepped off the subway a block down from Bamford Office Towers. The platform buzzed with energy. A trio of musicians played an acoustic version of I’ll Be Home for Christmas. On my way past them, I dropped a five-dollar bill into their open guitar case, and the young man on the electric keyboard flashed me a white smile. With a spring in my step, I followed the crowd up the stairs to street level, where I emerged sucking in a breath of crisp cold air that smelled like concrete, pine trees, and the cold. The sky loomed heavy overhead with huge white clouds.
I grinned up at the sky.
Looks like it will be a snowy first of December, I thought.
A group of businessmen brushed past me with their chins tucked into their coats. I dashed after them, using their much larger frames as shields to get to the Bamford’s building. When I arrived, our doorman, Andrew, tipped his hat to me and pulled the giant glass door open.
“Good morning, Ms. Miller. May I be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas?”
“Good morning, Andrew. You’re the first every year. Merry Christmas.”
The lobby of the Bamford’s building had one of the most beautiful Christmas displays in the city, in my humble opinion. I was biased, of course. I was the one who’d designed it, right from the star-topped tips of the eight evergreen trees to the sparkling silver skirts around their bases. Fake gifts wrapped in traditional colors with sparkly bows caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. My boss, Alastair Bamford, owned the office tower, but he rented out a dozen floors to other businesses. Our offices were on the very top floor with a beautiful view of Sixth Avenue below, and it wasn’t uncommon for pedestrians to stop, press their faces to the glass of the lobby, and peer at the winter wonderland inside.
“Happy December first, Ms. Miller!” Josh Davies, Bamford’s dayshift security guard, waved at me from behind the security desk as I made my way to the elevators.
“Good morning, Josh,” I chimed as I unwrapped my poinsettia-patterned scarf from around my neck. “Have you started your Christmas shopping?”
He gave me a bashful shrug and waved his hand. “I’ll get to it. I have all month.”
“That’s what you said last year,” I said as I punched the button to call the elevator. Josh’s desk was a mere ten feet away, and he stood up to lean on the desk and rest his whiskery chin in his hand. “And I seem to recall you begging yours truly for a Christmas favor when you missed the chance to buy your little girl that doll she wanted.”
Josh winked. “Ah, but I’ve learned my lesson.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
He nodded earnestly. “Yep, ask you for your help before Christmas Eve.”
I laughed as the elevator doors opened. I stepped on and held the door open to call to him, “You’re on your own this year, Josh! No handouts. I’m not a Christmas elf.”
He protested, but the doors closed with a chime, and the elevator carried me up to the top floor and spat me out into the lavish, open-concept office of Bamford Office Towers. I crammed my scarf in the pocket of my red peacoat and stepped off the elevator. My high-heeled ankle boots clicked across the marble floors of reception before the floors gave way to thin office carpet. Fellow coworkers looked up from their desks and wished me good morning while my team of event coordinators and decorators took up space on ladders all over the place, hanging icicle lights from the ceiling in neat rows. They were almost done, and the whole office ceiling glowed with magic.
