Skiing? During the last trading days of the year? No. No no
no
.
“I
love
to ski,” gushed Kristen.
What was she doing, angling for an invitation?
“Where are you going?”
“Engleberg.” He started toward the house. “It’s in Switzerland.”
Land of the anonymous bank accounts.
“Wow. How long are you gonna be there?”
“As long as the skiing is good.”
“You’re lucky.”
Jeremy unlocked the door. “Luck is nothing more than taking advantage of an opportunity.”
Was that what Mitch was? An opportunity? He squeezed the staple gun so tightly his hand went numb.
“Well…if you feel like taking advantage of an opportunity, I might need a ride home from school.” Kristen tilted her head and toyed with the meter she held.
Jeremy flashed his perfectly bleached and bonded teeth. “You know what my car looks like.” And he went into the house.
Chapter Ten
The door had barely closed before Mitch climbed down the ladder and folded it. “Let’s go, Lolita.” He took off toward the truck.
“Shouldn’t we—”
Mitch stopped walking and glared at her before continuing toward the truck. She could follow or not. If she needed a ride,
Jeremy
could give her one.
“Mitch.”
He didn’t trust himself to answer. He wanted to toss the metal ladder into the truck bed, but, because he was Mitch the thoughtful, Mitch the good guy, Mitch the dependable, he carefully loaded the ladder so it wouldn’t scratch the paint.
But he slammed the tailgate.
He stalked around to the driver’s side and got in.
Kristen was already inside, seatbelt fastened. “Let’s hope Jeremy isn’t watching your little tantrum.”
Mitch started the truck and shifted gears as though he’d never driven a stick before. “He’ll just think I’m jealous.”
Kristen mulled that over. “Are you jealous?”
“
No!
”
“Because you don’t need to be.”
“I am not jealous.”
“You’re
something
, and you can’t be mad at me because
I
rocked.” She counted off on her fingers. “We now know he and his parents are leaving the country, and I can show up at the party—”
“You were going anyway.”
“
And
I set it up so I can see him before then in case you need a distraction.”
“I don’t need that kind of distraction. What were you thinking?” They’d made it down the back drive to the “Chuck’s Stake” sign without Mitch running into anything and he’d really,
really
wanted to clip the bumper of a certain metallic lapis blue Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet.
“I was thinking that we were there to get information. I was thinking that we weren’t doing so well until Jeremy drove up.”
“He could have recognized you.”
“Not a chance.”
How could she be so calmly certain when he still couldn’t breathe normally? “Kristen…your face was on a
billboard
in Sugar Land when you were Miss Sweetest.”
“I was wearing a crown and make up.” She slid him a glance that he saw out of the corner of his eye as he turned onto the main road. “
You
didn’t recognize me that first day at Noir Blanc.”
True.
“
You
were in more danger of being recognized. But Jeremy saw what he wanted to see. He wanted to impress a high school girl.”
“That’s sick.”
Kristen drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. It was a youthful gesture and she
looked
like a high school girl.
“You shouldn’t have talked to him for so long.”
“Mitch, you weren’t the only one I checked out. I know Jeremy’s type. I met enough of them in Hollywood. He’s compensating.”
“For
what
?” From Mitch’s point of view, Jeremy had it all.
“For being overlooked. Not taken seriously. Dismissed. For not being admired or popular. I remembered a couple of things about him from school and I looked him up in my sophomore yearbook—when you guys were seniors. I think he’s one of those people who desperately wants to be popular, so he lets people use him in hopes that they’ll like him and then he’ll be popular, too. Only it never works out that way. They’ll take what he gives, but they’ll never give back.”
Mitch considered that while he negotiated the increasingly heavy traffic. “High school was a long time ago.”
“It shapes us.”
“Then Jeremy was warped,” Mitch grumbled.
“Here’s the thing. Jeremy believes that he’s better than everyone else and he wants it acknowledged.”
Maybe Mitch had known that about Jeremy, but it hadn’t bothered him. An arrogant self-confidence and a flashy personality had been good for business. Mitch hadn’t recognized that it had been the wrong business.
Kristen continued. “So when he drove up in his hot little car, I acted impressed.”
“You were supposed to ignore him.”
“And lose the opportunity to learn something?”
She was right. However, “Exactly where did your little sweet and sour dance fit in?”
“Didja like that?” She grinned widely.
“I would have liked it more if you’d been wearing Friday’s outfit.”
She reached out and finger-walked down his thigh. “That can be arranged.”
Mitch gripped the steering wheel as a wave of unexpected lust gripped him.
“I’ve got some really great pompoms,” she added.
“Which you must never, ever show to Jeremy.” The woman was going to drive him crazy.
Judging by her smug grin, she knew it, too. “That’s the point. I became the cute, flirty cheerleader. The kind of girl who wouldn’t have noticed him in high school. But I sure noticed him now.”
“Just like every other woman,” Mitch said in disgust. He honestly hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Mitch!” She poked him. “Oh, come on.”
“Kristen, I know you pegged his type, but people—especially women people—like that type. When we’d go out, they were all over him.”
“That’s because they knew he’d buy them drinks!” Her mouth was open in astonishment. “And he did, didn’t he?”
Mitch nodded.
“I bet he put it on his expense account, too.”
Mitch nodded again. He’d argued with Jeremy about it. Jeremy had told him to lighten up. Mitch had told him their company couldn’t afford it if they both lightened up. Jeremy had quoted the old “You have to spend
money to make money” adage and that no one would hire them to manage their money if it looked as though they weren’t rich themselves. Instead of being fiscally responsible, Mitch was actually hurting the company. So Mitch had backed off.
And when the business poured in, he couldn’t argue with what worked.
It wasn’t that Mitch was
jealous
of Jeremy’s appeal, but he was curious. “How did they know he’d buy them drinks?”
“The hotties?”
Mitch shifted in the seat. “It depends on your definition of hot.”
“Me, Friday night. I was smokin’.”
Letting out a long breath, he said quietly, “You’re always smokin’.” He glanced at her. “Always.”
She gave him a wide smile. “Mitch, you sweetie.”
Mitch did not want to be a sweetie. Not in this context. “Just pat me on the head and get it over with.”
Kristen promptly thwapped him on the head.
He ducked. “Hey! I was speaking metaphorically.”
“You were speaking stupidly. Jeremy is easy to size up as a man who needs arm candy to feel important. He buys them drinks so they’ll stick around. Otherwise, they wouldn’t.”
They were nearly back to Kristen’s house. “There’s got to be more to it than that,” Mitch said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s so…”
“Shallow?”
“Pathetic. They’re using him.”
“He’s using them! He doesn’t care about anything
but the way they look and the hotter the better. He wants every man in that room to envy him.”
“I don’t envy him.”
“Because you wouldn’t have to bribe a hottie to stick with you. You
are
the bribe. And don’t think Jeremy isn’t aware of that.”
He smiled slightly. “Yes, but are
women
aware of that?”
“Okay, well I did make you buy me a margarita,” she admitted with a laugh. “One. But look at all the mileage you’ve gotten out of it.”
In spite of himself, Mitch’s smile widened. “I always had a knack for picking good investments.”
“Listen.” Kristen let go of her knees and swiveled to face him. “Jeremy may look great with his expensive haircut, his buffed nails, his bronze skin and his bleached teeth.”
“Not that you noticed.”
She ignored him. “He can have the car and the cash and the expensive watch and the designer clothes while you’ve got nothing—”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“And you know what eats at him? He knows you’re still more of a man than he could ever be.”
Mitch pulled next to the curb in front of Kristen’s house and killed the engine. “You really are a cheerleader.”
“The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you, Kristen.’”
Instead of thanking her, Mitch reached out and tugged on her ponytail until she’d leaned within range. And then he kissed her.
It was just your basic you’re-an-incredible-woman-and-I-don’t-deserve-you kiss, but it was still a pretty good one. It was rich and layered and packed an emotional wallop that Jeremy would never experience with his shallow, anonymous hotties.
As Mitch pulled back and gazed into Kristen’s eyes, he pitied Jeremy.
“Mmm. You’re welcome,” she whispered.
He released her ponytail and leaned against the truck’s door.
She held his gaze for just a second before intently studying her thumbnail. “You’re staring at me.”
“I like looking at you.”
Every time he saw her, she looked like a different woman. At first, he’d noticed her voice and her lips. Then she was all eyes. Today, he could see the bare canvas—the face he’d see on the pillow next to his when he woke up in the mornings. Simple, quiet beauty.
Jeremy could keep his dazzle and flash.
He smiled.
“What?” she asked.
“Were you ever arm candy?”
Kristen dropped her head back and groaned. “Of course! There are a lot of men who need their egos stroked. That’s all I was doing with Jeremy.”
“He wanted a lot more than being stroked,” Mitch told her darkly.
“No, he’d insist on doing the stroking.” Kristen pulled the baseball cap off and freed her ponytail. “And he’d want to be told he was the best ever, which he wouldn’t be because with that kind of guy, it’s all about
the technique. And it’s never great when it’s all about the technique.”
Mitch made a mental note.
“But those guys never get that because they’re emotional cripples. And you realize they’ll never get it and that it isn’t about you, it’s about them, and so you want the whole thing over with.”
“I can see that.” They were veering into a territory Mitch didn’t really want to explore with her.
Kristen looked around for her jacket and grabbed it from behind the seats. “Only they’re not going to stop because they’re the best, and by golly, nothing less than your screaming gratitude will satisfy them. And so you fake it.”
“You fake, er, gratitude?”
“Sometimes you have to.” She was so nonchalant about it.
“Oh.” He swallowed. “Does that happen…a lot?”
His voice must have given him away because she laughed as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “Don’t worry. I won’t have to fake it with you.”
Hello? Mitch sat up.
Kristen pulled the sweatshirt over her head and then seemed to realize what she’d said. Her cheeks turned pink as she folded the shirt and handed it to him.
Mitch caught her eye and grinned. “Good to know.”
A
COUPLE OF DAYS LATER
, Kristen picked her way across the Town Center grass to where Mitch and The Electric Santa team were building a King Kong–sized Santa Claus who would be overseeing his workshop, represented
by the floats in the light parade. The massive structure would be the center of the display. It was fixed in position and after the parade, the floats would park around it, and complete the scene.
She heard someone call her name and waved to Mitch’s mom, who, along with Nora Beckman, was assigning display spaces to the parade floats.
All around them, volunteers roped off part of the City Hall parking lot and marked the grassy area for the float display. Vendors were starting to set up their booths and electricians were running extra power cables and lights. City workers had posted temporary directional signs and erected barriers along the parade route. Traffic had already been rerouted to accommodate all the additional visitors and keep it moving around the display site without blocking the regular flow.
This thing was out of control, Kristen thought. When she’d reigned as Miss Sweetest, the parade had consisted of her float, all sugary white, a few high school bands and their drill teams, bagpipers, the local vintage auto club, a church handbell choir in Dickensian costumes, the sheriff’s mounted patrol, some caroling groups, a fire truck, maybe another couple of floats sponsored by whatever business wanted the advertising, and bringing up the rear, Santa Claus, who threw candy to the crowd.
Everyone had been thrilled.
Now, parking near the area was a nightmare. Everybody in Sugar Land was either working on the parade or Christmas shopping at the nearby mall.
At Noir Blanc, business had slowed, which was
good because Kristen’s mother and her super secret cadre of real estate colleagues were going after Sloane Property Development and Construction with everything they had, which was a lot once they started matching names with information Mitch had given them.
Several of those names had local connections. Kristen wondered if Mitch knew that his father was playing detective. Robert Donner had been an oil company salesman and used his talents to line up sponsors for the annual parade. Now, he was calling on their suspects under the guise of asking for last-minute donations. While he was at it, he threw in a few seemingly casual remarks praising the Sloanes for going ahead with the party, even though they were leaving the country shortly afterward. This information visibly unnerved some of the people. Those names made the hot list.