Now he was about to step on stage in front of a room overflowing with new St. Sebastian employees, where he’d make eye contact with Chelsea, and convey…what? No harm no foul?
Shit. He was screwed. But he sure as hell wasn’t bored.
Chapter Two
Relax. Nobody will ever guess you just had sex in a supply closet.
“Your clothes are wrinkled, you’re fifteen minutes late, and you’re glowing like a Christmas tree.” Laurie Peterson’s voice carried over the coy innuendos of “Santa Baby.” “This forces me to ask, who the hell are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes and made her way toward the long table where the catering team put finishing touches on the buffet. “Sorry. I had to put out a fire.”
“You had to put out a fire here, on your day off?”
“Uh-huh.” Technically, the fire in question had been in her panties, but no need to go into those details. Determined to redirect Laurie before she wrangled the rest of the truth out of her, Chelsea stepped closer to the poinsettia-accented table where her friend stood transferring cupcakes from her baker’s cart to the serving pedestals lined up along the center. She’d decorated each little cake like a gift, complete with piped fondant paper and intricate icing bows. “These look amazing. Thanks for squeezing our order in.”
“Business is good,” Laurie agreed, with the half-dazed, half-pleased expression of the newly self-employed. She arranged the last of the cupcakes on the pedestal closest to her, examined the presentation with narrowed hazel eyes, and nodded. “But I couldn’t forget my peeps at LV. If not for the three years I spent working here, I would never have had the money or skills to open my own place.”
Pride bubbled up in Chelsea’s chest like uncorked champagne. Laurie had always dreamed of opening her own bakery, much the same way Chelsea had always dreamed of running Las Ventanas. Now here they stood, two women pursuing their dreams—Laurie as the proprietor of Babycakes, Montenido’s hippest, cutest, yummiest bakery, and Chelsea as the assistant manager of Las Ventanas, Southern California’s premier coastal resort.
Laurie grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the bar, where the early arrivals had already started to gather. “Don’t try to change the subject. Why are you all flushed and flustered?”
Chelsea wondered why the heat from her cheeks didn’t melt the stylized “LV” ice sculpture beside the bar. And yet she couldn’t tame her smile. The opportunity to shock Laurie didn’t knock every day. She decided to go for it. “If you must know, I was late because I was having sex in a supply closet.”
“Oh. My. God. My responsible, respectable best friend had closet sex at the holiday party. I’m scandalized. With who?”
The question made her want to roll her eyes. “Who do you think?” She’d been dating Paul for almost six months. As usual, Laurie preferred to pretend the relationship didn’t exist. Defensive of him, Chelsea added, “Not just closet sex—wild, passionate closet sex.”
“With Paul? Impossible.”
“Oh, come on. I know he’s not your cup of tea, but he can be very uninhibited and spontaneous. Now and then.”
“He’s got the slick, buttoned-down thing going on, but he’s not the uninhibited, spontaneous type.” She pointed a finger at Chelsea. “Which means…hold the phones…the wild, passionate closet sex was your idea.”
Chelsea blinked at the revelation, and then quickly looked around to make sure they hadn’t picked up any unwanted listeners. More employees filled the room now. A low hum of conversation competed with the music. “Guilty.”
“I’m so proud of you, stepping out of your two goody shoes for once in your life.”
“Paul did this very sweet and unexpected thing, and I couldn’t help myself.” Laurie’s arched eyebrow compelled Chelsea to elaborate. “I caught him hovering in the hallway, wearing the Santa costume I ordered for him.”
Laurie blinked. “Paul Barrington dressed up like Santa? Are you sure?”
She led the way to the buffet table, nodding and waving to people as she went. “I know it sounds out of character. He surprised me, too, because I didn’t think he was in the mood to do it. He’s been under a lot of pressure lately. He got hit with an operational audit of the entire resort. Loads of late hours and off-site meetings. Tons of extra work.”
Paul had been tense, distracted, and occasionally downright cold. The attention he’d lavished on her when they’d first started dating seemed to have evaporated the moment their boss, Mr. Merriman, had retired, and the owners had promoted Paul to general manager. She’d asked him about it weeks ago, fearing the real problem was her, and not work stress, but he’d insisted everything would be fine once the audit wrapped up. It was another reason why what happened today had been so special.
“I’m sure you got your fair share of the pressure and extra work, Chels.”
True, she had. “Paul expects everyone to carry their weight, and yes, he delegated a lot, but he handled all the interactions with the auditors. He wanted to shield me from that. There’s something brewing. He hasn’t said what yet, but something big…” She shook off the thought. Work questions could wait. “Anyway, seeing him today decked out like St. Nick? Instant turn-on. Let’s just say, I’m keeping the Santa suit.”
“I guess so,” Laurie said, clearly trying to wrap her mind around the new image of Paul. “I may have to order one, too. And find someone to wear the darn thing.”
Laurie wouldn’t lack for Santa candidates. She viewed men much like cupcakes, infinite in variety, and far too tempting to settle for just one. “I highly recommend it.”
“Now you’re gloating.”
“Maybe, but doesn’t a girl get to gloat after experiencing the best sex of her life?”
“Best sex of your life in a dark, cramped closet? Seriously?”