Filthy Scrooge

I pushed the door open with my butt and let them pass in front of me.

“Merry Christmas—I didn’t catch your name. I’m Tracey Templeton, by the way.”

“Kandy Kane.”

Her grin widened. “Oh, man. Talk about priceless. The perfect is perfect.”

Before I could ask her what that was supposed to mean, she did this little hop-shuffle-dance with her daughter down the hallway.

Mel came up to me. “What was that about?”

“I couldn’t even begin to explain it to you if I tried.”

“Mr. Murdock wants you upstairs.”

My belly cramped. It’s not like I could renege on this deal. He still held the other half of our paycheck.

Being loyal and noble royally sucked.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Okay. Can you handle the party?”

“Yes. Everything’s all set. He even gave me the last check, so all I have to do is give the caterer the rundown of cleanup. You know, what’s ours, what’s rented.” Mel kept talking, but it sounded more like a wall of white noise to me.

He’d given her the money already?

I mean he could stop the check, of course, but the chances of that happening were pretty close to zero. I could walk out and never look back. I’d pay my people and could toss my heels into the back of the closet for a blissful long weekend.

I had New Year’s parties right after, but there was no need for Santas and elves for those. One of them required a stripper friend of mine, but otherwise it was simple organization skills.

I may have specialized in Christmas, but I was an all year-round planner. And from a business standpoint, a testimonial from the Murdock family could make my career.

Just saying I’d done their party was enough, but a little extra something on my website would throw my company fully into the black. This was a no-brainer.

I had to go upstairs.

I was going upstairs.

“Is everything okay, Kay?”

“Yes.” I answered quickly, my heart beat roaring between my ears like the freaking ocean. “I just…there’s this thing.”

“What thing?” Her eyebrows rose under her bangs. “Oh, wait. Would this be the kind of thing that missing stockings would include? That kind of thing?”

“Possibly.” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “There’s something there—you know, between us.”

Mel’s eyebrows snapped down. “How much of a something? And was that a contingency for anything?”

When she said it that way it sounded way more lecherous and hinky. The fact that I’d agreed so damn readily stole a lot of the power play there. Especially when everything between us had actually been in my favor. It wasn’t like he had demanded I get on my knees and suck him off to get into the Santa suit.

That I wanted to get down on my knees and do it was the more fucked-up part. I also wanted to see if he really could help push me past the super anxious stage fright I had about sex.

I was twenty-seven years old, for God’s sake. My virgin status was so overdue to be demolished it was laughable. In a regency novel, I’d be so far past a spinster, I’d be an old maid. I was beginning to feel like one.

I lifted my chin. “No, but I think I’m going to do something crazy anyway.”

“What kind of crazy?”

“Go to his cabin for the weekend kind of crazy.”