Polar Opposites Read online

  I let out a small groan, shoving my face into the soft pillow. The soft, fluffy pillow.

  Really fluffy.

  I pick my head up again, sniff the pillow, and the fresh linen scent only makes me more confused.

  Did I take off the chenille pillowcases before I went to bed? Why would I do that?

  I strain in the dark and look around the room. It’s pitch black, but reality seeps in when I hear the sound of breathing.

  And it’s not my breathing.

  Fuck, fuckity, fucks.

  I freeze as the distinct sense that I’m not alone in bed crashes over me like a hot tidal wave.

  Oh my god. What have I done? There’s a streak of light coming from a closed door in the wall on my side of the bed, and my eyes adjust enough that I can see my white shirt and what I hope are my slacks and suit jacket draped over a luggage holder against the wall.

  I run my hand under the covers and feel my bra and panties in place, but the memory of the night before is only coming back in tiny bits of fractured images.

  Easing out of the bed one millimeter at a time, I remember having drinks in the bar with some guy. He was drinking scotch, and then he bought me a drink.

  Fuck.

  Jacob. My fake boyfriend.

  I get my hands on my clothes, half tripping over my shoes in the dark and hissing as I stub my toe and slap my hand over my mouth to contain the yelp.

  I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. In fact, I’ve never had any sort of stands in my life. How could I be so stupid?

  Losing my virginity to a fake, Jacob, boyfriend I don’t even know?

  Guess scotch is off my drinking list from now on, because not only do I have minimal memories of what happened after the bar, but I’ve never had a hangover like I have right now. Nothing feels real and I have no idea what time it is. I need a drink of water like I need to breathe, but no way am I doing anything right now except getting my ass out of this room.

  The body in the bed shifts on a cough, and I freeze in place, slacks and jacket over my arm, shoes in my hand. When the mystery man quiets, I squint down at the floor, seeing the outline of my purse, and I reach down and loop the strap over my wrist.

  I walk like I’m dodging land mines toward the door, but with slow precision I find the handle and turn.

  It clicks but doesn’t open.

  More fucks as I run my fingers around, finally finding the deadbolt, and like I’m disarming a bomb I turn it as slowly and carefully as humanly possible.

  Cut the red wire, then the blue, then the green.

  But to my horror, the bolt clicks anyway, the noise barely audible in most circumstances but right now, with my hangover and my desperate desire to be in stealth mode, it may as well be an M80 going off.

  I’m so close, it’s now or never, so I turn the knob quickly, open the door just enough for the piercing bright light to flow in from the hallway, then spin out, shutting the door behind me and letting my eyes dart up and down the hall. The walls are papered in some Victorian pattern of flowers and stripes that makes me dizzy.

  I see the glow of the red Exit sign, and a wall plaque with an arrow toward a door that says ‘stairway’, and I bolt. I’ve never been an athlete, but I’m pretty sure I just broke an Olympic record for the fifty-yard sprint.

  The door closes behind me and I’m panting. It takes me less than a minute to get myself back in my suit, while my head threatens to explode and my eyes feel like they are looking through fogged glass.

  The rest of my walk of shame has me digging through my purse for my coat check ticket from the office Christmas party last night. When I come out at the bottom of the staircase, I look out the windows in the lobby and see it’s still pitch-black outside.

  The lobby desk is empty and I slink my way to the coatroom down the hall where the banquet rooms are. Thank God it’s not closed up. I grab my beige camelhair coat and bolt for the front door, praying I don’t run into anyone. I can’t image what I look like, but I know it wouldn’t be a welcome sight.

  The cold air clears my head a bit as I get to my Prius and throw myself inside. As I start to drive, I look at the clock. It’s five-thirty in the morning and I’ve just spent the night with a man I don’t know.

  I didn’t even get his name. His real name at least.

  * * *

  “What happened to you?” My sister Penelope is standing in the kitchen of the house we share when I stumble in the front door. She’s still in her scrubs—she works the night shift at the hospital as a NICU nurse. “Jesus. You look like hammered shit.”

  “Don’t.” I aim a finger her way and throw my coat and purse on the sofa, and then throw myself down, face first, grabbing the throw pillow and putting it over the back of my head as I pull it down with both hands over my ears.

  “I figured you just went for your caramel macchiato fix or had an early meeting.” The sound of her voice is muffled from the pillow. “But I see that is not the case. Where’d you stay all night? You get hammered and get a room?”

  I groan and flip over, keeping my eyes closed. “Something like that.”

  “Dang. You’re a light weight. One office party and you’ve got the lampshade on your head.”

  I release a frustrated groan. “This is why I don’t drink. I suck at it.”

  I look over to see her nod in agreement. “It’s true. When I took you out to celebrate passing the bar, I ended up holding your hair back for two hours while you wasted all the shots of tequila everyone was buying for you.”

  I choke back a gag at the mere thought of tequila.

  My head feels like it’s full of pebbles being shot from bb guns against the inside of my skull, and I whimper, sitting up and resting my head against the back of the sofa as I look at my sister standing there with her mug, smirking at me.

  “Coffee. Tylenol.” I pout and she rolls her eyes, but opens the cabinet and pulls down my favorite mug with a photo of my four dogs on the front and pours the glorious brown liquid inside.

  “So, really what happened?”

  I look at the white ceiling and the room starts to spin, so I lower my eyes and try to focus on the events of the night before, trying to put any pieces back together after getting to the bar.

  “We had the office party. I think I drank two glasses of Merlot. The chicken I ordered was way overcooked, so I barely ate anything. Then, two of the senior partners made speeches, there was champagne.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re already on your way to drunk town by then.”

  I shrug. “It’s weird, I didn’t feel that bad. Then it was coffee, but Ray came back from the bar with Baileys shots and he put one in my coffee. After that, a few of the interns, along with Ray, and Tracy and the other first years, all wanted to go to the bar for one more. Ray was being way, way friendly and I must have already been pretty tipsy by then, because I told him I had a boyfriend. He said my boyfriend shouldn’t leave me alone, or something like that.” I pull my eyebrows together, thinking of what happened next. Then I close my eyes and groan. “Oh God.”

  “What?” Penelope comes over with my coffee, a glass of water, and hands me two Tylenol. “Did something happen with Ray?”

  “No. God. I pretended some rando guy in the bar was my boyfriend. I don’t even know his name. I just sort of…sat on his lap and told him to play along.”

  “Okay, so that could be fun.”

  I shake my head. “I guess. I remember he ordered me a scotch. He was some uptight, expensive suit, corporate type. Said he was in town on business. We were talking, I remember that much.”

  “Okay, so you got tipsy and got a room. That was smart.”

  I hesitate, twisting my lips and reaching for my mug.

  “I remember telling him about Gracie and Tag and Lola and Dude. He said he’s never had a pet. He had a steak, I told him I was a vegan and he laughed, but...” I squint, then remember. “Then he sent it back. Weird. I think he said he was from New York. Born and raised. I don�
�t know how anyone could live in a city like that.” I shrug, my stomach tight, unsure about telling her I woke up in his room.

  In bed.

  Next to him.

  With most of my clothes off.

  Still, listing all the things I remember about our conversation, the fuzzy parts I remember at least, that’s not what sticks with me.

  He was not just good looking. Not just sexy. He was confident and even in his sort of arrogant way, he was kind to me. I’d never seen a man that looked quite like him. Like he stepped off some Italian fashion magazine. High cheekbones and a strong face and God, his lips. I remember watching his lips.

  “Oh my God!” It floods back to me in a burst.

  “What?” Penelope jumps then hisses as she spills her coffee on the front of her scrub top. “Damn it.”

  “I kissed him.” I cover my face with my hands and double over.

  “Sounds like you had a fun night.” She reaches over and pats me on the back. “You need to let loose now and then. I’m just glad you got a room and didn’t drive. I gotta get some sleep, sis. We have dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight, don’t forget. It’s Christmas Eve Eve.”

  “I know.”

  It’s my parent’s tradition. We have our big Latino dinner the night before Christmas Eve, with all our family. The next night, real Christmas Eve, there’s a big town potluck party we always go to, with the traditional meal of turkey and ham and all the other things. Everyone brings a dish.

  Penelope's door to her room closes down the hall, and with that, I’m alone and I chill a bit, not remembering what happened after the kiss, and decide that once a decade, I’m allowed to do something stupid. This should hold me for the next two. Or more.

  I need a shower, more coffee and an hour to prep for my meeting at eight-thirty.

  It’s time to forget about bad decisions and Mr. New York suit.

  As hard as that’s going to be…

  Chapter 3

  Missy

  “I’m here now.” I stand down the hall from the conference room at our law office, chugging back yet another bottle of water, my incessant thirst unrelenting. “I’ll call you as soon as we are done.”

  William Jenkins, also known in our town as Mr. Claus, the owner of The Holly Christmas Wonderland, is on the other end of the line. “Do you think we have a shot? If this is really happening, I mean…” His voice cracks. “We’ve worked for this our entire lives. It will ruin us.”

  My heart is aching, along with the dull pain still thumping behind my eyes. “I’ll do what I can.”

  We say our goodbyes, but I already feel defeated.

  Their property runs adjacent to an enormous parcel of land that was sold to a powerful developer. That’s not the real problem though, the problem is the developer and their legal team petitioned the government for an easement to bring utility and water lines to the subdivision.

  The easement goes right through the Wonderland business property. If it goes through, it will put them out of business and take away part of the history and charm of our town. The Jenkins have been fighting the seizure of their property for going on a year now, but I finally was able to schedule a meeting with their counsel to make one last ditch plea for their cause.

  My expectations are low.

  My laptop and paperwork are already set up in the conference room, and Leslie, one of the paralegals, came and found me in the ladies’ room to tell me the developer’s counsel was here and waiting.

  I’ve known the Jenkins’ all my life as most do in our town. I’m representing them pro-bono, with the blessing of the senior partners, but it’s all sort of a formality. I’ve looked at the case from every angle and I don’t see we have much legal leverage, but I told them I would try, so here it goes.

  I pull open the wooden door and step inside, and suddenly I have tunnel vision.

  It’s him.

  Mr. New York Suit.

  He stares at me for a second, then his lips curve into a sly smile as he stands, outstretching his hand. He’s way taller than I remember. Bigger too but it’s definitely him.

  “Hello again,” he says, too cheerfully.

  I take his hand and his hand is warm against my clammy palm.

  “I don’t believe we officially met. I’m Nikolas Snow.”

  I wonder for a moment if this is all a bad dream, or I’ve been teleported into a Hallmark Christmas movie.

  “Nikolas Snow? You’re Nikolas Snow.” I repeat, releasing our handshake as I take my seat behind the spot across from him, where I’ve set my paperwork and laptop. His name was on the petition paperwork sent to the government, but I didn’t think much of it until now.

  Ironic. Nikolas Snow is about to ruin Christmas in Christmas town.

  “I am. And you must be Melissa Evergreen. Last night, you were Missy.”

  “This can’t be happening,” I say to myself, pushing my thumbs into my eye sockets then release, half expecting him to be gone.

  And yet, he is not.

  “And yet. It is.” He smirks on a sniff, leaning back and folding his hands over his mid-section, and I hate the way my belly betrays me with a flip and there’s a clench between my legs that right now can go straight to hell. “You disappeared on me. No breakfast. No goodbye. No had-fun-but-I-gotta-run. Here’s my number…” He raises his hand to his ear making the universal sign of a phone. “Call me?”

  His lips curl into a smile and I remember how soft they were. How warm and perfect his tongue felt when I kissed him.

  My mind is focused on finding out what happened from the time I kissed him until I woke up—undressed, I might add—in his hotel room bed.

  “Look. This is…”

  “Awkward?” He smiles again, and I can tell he’s toying with me so I slap my hands down on the table and give him a hard stare.

  “It’s not awkward. I just…” I lean back, taking a long breath in through my nose. “I need to know what happened last night. The details are sketchy.”

  He licks his lips and the tension is growing in my belly, even as I do everything in my power to ignore it.

  “We had a couple drinks. One thing led to another…” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

  “That’s not my usual M.O.” I start, unsure why I need to qualify my actions. “Do you feel comfortable continuing with my representation of the Jenkins?”

  “I wouldn’t accept anyone else.”

  Flashes of what he looks like under his suit intrude, and I shake them away only to have them replaced by the thought of how unfortunate it is that I can’t remember what his cock looks like.

  Maybe it’s nothing special. Definitely disappointing.

  Doubtful.

  Not from the calm confidence he carries so well. He smells so fucking good, too. It’s not fair.

  “Fine. Shall we?”

  I do my best over the next hour to stay professional, indifferent to the call of the wild that has suddenly awoken inside of me.

  “Your clients will be compensated for the market value of their property plus ten percent. There’s really no recourse.”

  “Your client could pay the extra to have the easement moved to the west. Go around the side of the Jenkins property instead of straight down the middle.”

  He looks at me for a moment like he wants to agree, but instead he folds his hands over the top of the file in front of him. “I came here as a courtesy, Ms. Evergreen. My clients would prefer to keep this out of the press. They are prepared to offer the Jenkins fifty thousand dollars in exchange for a non-disclosure agreement and confidentiality, er, clause.” He grins. “More than generous, I think you’ll agree.”

  “I don’t think that will sway my clients. They want to continue their business. They and their family have run the Christmas Wonderland for a very long time.”

  “I understand.” His eyes drop to my chest and I wonder if he’s thinking of me naked. It’s not fair, he can probably remember what I look like under my clothes but I got not
hing.

  “I’ll present them your offer.” I close my file, as there’s not much else I can do. I just hope the Jenkins take the money at least. It’s something. Not much, but something.

  “I’ll wait here.”

  I walk back to my desk, taking my first deep breath since seeing him sitting on the other side of the table. I pick up the phone and call the Jenkins, resting my forehead on the cool top of my metal desk as my heart is thrumming and I know it’s not just because they are not going to like what I have to say.

  Five minutes later, I march back into the conference room and fold my arms over my chest.

  “They will consider your offer, Mr. Snow. But they would like the opportunity to speak directly to your client. Or at least have you deliver a plea on their behalf.” I shake my head. “I know it won’t mean anything to a company like Pruitt Development, but they are desperate. I told them I would ask.”

  He considers my request, then stands, running his hands down the front of his suit. “I will take a letter to my client.”

  “Great. Thank—” My enthusiasm is stalled when he raises one hand to halt me.

  “On one condition.”

  “What?” I huff out, knowing I’m not going to like what’s coming.

  “You have lunch with me.” He flashes that smile again, and conflict tightens the muscles in my back. “My car is waiting outside.”

  He puts the file in his briefcase and comes around the table, standing three inches from my shoulder, then whispers in my ear. “I’ll tell you all about what happened last night.”

  Shit.

  Chapter 4

  Nikolas

  I walk around the outside of the limo and wave off the driver, opting to open her door myself. Something about her, demands that I be the gentleman I look like but rarely am.

  The temperature has dropped considerably now, and a light snow has been falling for the last few hours that chills my face as I reach for the door handle and swing it open, hiding myself behind it, because if I stood in front of her open door, she would be sure to see the tent of my erection.