Their Festive Island Escape
The woman behind the counter smiled and started clicking at the computer keyboard in front of her. “Right away, sir.” Her smile suddenly flattened with confusion. “Is that the correct room, Mr. Evanson?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
She returned her gaze to the monitor screen. “Our system says the room is empty, housekeeping is in there now. The guest has already checked out.”
Reid felt all the excitement he’d experienced only moments before extinguish like a blown-out flame, replaced with a pounding sense of disappointment and hurt.
She was gone.
* * *
If she kept busy enough, and took on enough projects, she could almost push Reid Evanson out of her mind for several minutes at a time. The only problem was, the days between Christmas and New Year’s didn’t exactly bring in a lot of business activity. Still, Celeste made it a point to go into her Upper East Side office in every morning to find ways to keep herself busy. Never mind that she was one of only a few people there. Most of the other employees were out preparing to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
So far, she’d gone over all her deliverables for the new year, and then she’d gone over them again. She’d studied past successful campaigns to analyze what had worked and why.
She’d even cleared out her inbox and organized her paper files via a new method. Today she figured she might tackle cleaning out the break room.
Despite the relatively empty floor, a flurry of noise drew her attention from outside her door. What was that all about?
The commotion drew closer to her door. “Ho-ho-ho!”
She stood from her desk and opened her door. Someone dressed as Santa appeared to be approaching her office. Celeste rubbed at her temples. How had this guy gotten past Security? There were no children’s daycares or anything of the sort on this floor. Not to mention Christmas was already over, thankfully.
“I think you’re lost, Santa,” she addressed St. Nick, her phone in her hand ready to call Security if need be.
His response was to reach for his jaw and pull down the pretend beard and mustache—to reveal the face she’d been dreaming of since she’d left Jamaica all those days ago.
“Reid?”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Celeste had to brace herself against the wall at her back. She couldn’t be seeing or hearing any of this. She must be having some kind of A Christmas Carol hallucination or dream. Tiny Tim would pop out any minute now.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes. But Reid still stood there. As real as the hammering of her heart.
“What are you doing here?” she stammered out.
“I had an emergency business trip to make right before the holiday. As soon as I successfully wrapped it up, I realized I didn’t get a chance to wish my lady a Merry Christmas.”
His lady?
“You flew out here just to wish me a Merry Christmas?”
They’d drawn the attention of the few other people who’d come into work. Her colleagues were staring at them in astonishment. Two of the women looked like they were dabbing at their eyes.
“I did,” Reid answered her, walking closer until he stood mere inches away. How did the man manage to look sexy in a bulky Santa suit, for heaven’s sake? It took all her will not to throw her arms around him and nuzzle her face into his neck. She’d missed him so much, still couldn’t believe this wasn’t some fantasy or dream she’d be waking up from any minute now.
“Oh, I also wanted to give your Christmas present. Didn’t get a chance to do that, either.”
He reached inside the pocket of his red fleece pants. Then shocked her to her core by pulling out a velvet box and dropping to one knee.
Flipping the top over, he revealed a sparkling diamond ring surrounded by dazzling ruby red stones. He’d been thinking of the black-and-red dress she’d worn the night of the dinner cruise. There was no doubt in her mind.
Celeste had to remind herself to breathe.
“Celeste Frajedi. You’re unlike anyone else I’ve ever known.”
Her voice shook as she tried to answer. “I am?”
“Without a doubt. I would call you the most generous person I’ve ever met. And I’d like to call you my wife.” He took her shaking hand in his. “Will you marry me?”