13

Christmas Eve brought with it mistletoe and kissing in every doorway. Zebra held the party in-house this time, as it was a much smaller congregation of people than the Halloween bash. Rather than 500 plus partiers, there were barely 50, but that amount still managed to crowd the office. The flirty little green mistletoe plants dangled dangerously overhead, and every step Jessica took seemed to put her in the path of someone who wanted to lock lips with her. She smooched with Todd X, with Barton, and even once with Pete, who seemed so grateful to her for actually going through with the kiss that he couldn’t speak afterwards.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she whispered to him, watching his face turn the red of one of the shiny glass globes hanging on the tiny tree behind Alex’s desk. He nodded and ducked away, on the pretence of refilling his eggnog cup. When he moved out of the way, Jessica saw Alex watching her. Just her luck – there was no mistletoe anywhere near him.

Still, she was ready now. All he had to do was give her a sign that he would be willing. But every time she looked in his direction, he was talking with someone else. Avalon. Pete. Josh. Jessica didn’t rush, mingling with the staff members she’d grown to know over the past few months, paying attention to the little nuances that made this party different from others she’d been to in the past.

It seemed to Jessica that each time Alex looked over in Todd’s direction, the musician grew flustered. Whenever Josh got close to Avalon, the columnist skirted away. And whenever Alex got close to Dashiell, the editor-in-chief headed in a different direction. What a weird celebration, where everyone apparently was trying to avoid someone, all in a fairly tiny space.

Finally, Jessica decided she’d had enough. Making her way through the crowd to Alex, she was going to get her first kiss with him if she had to grab him by his long hair and force him to pay attention to her.

*   *   *

It was a tense spot for Dashiell. He didn’t know if Alex was aware of the one-night stand he’d had with Marina. At first, he’d pushed the thought from his mind, but he’d heard through the office grapevine that one of Avalon’s columns had been cut. And that Alex had been incensed. Was it over Marina? Did the gossip hound have that bit of information yet?

Rarely did Dashiell second-guess things that he’d done. What was the point? But he actually had a flash of guilt now. How would he have felt if Alex had done the same thing to him? If he’d followed up with one of Dashiell’s many ex-girlfriends?

Better to let time go by before bringing up the subject with his managing editor. For the party, he played a non-stop game of manoeuvring through the room just ahead of Alex. Never stopping too long to talk.

*   *   *

Yes, Josh had gone to Tiffany’s. And, yes, Josh wanted to talk to Avalon. The two events were interconnected and important. But Avalon wouldn’t even let him get close. Not by phone. Not in person. He left messages for her, but she never called him back. Whenever he tried to force a private conversation at work, she said she was busy and hurried away.

The party was the place, he decided. With all the people around, Avalon would have a difficult time ignoring him without being seriously rude. Taking a deep breath, he charted a path towards her, making it obvious that he was coming her way.

*   *   *

Avalon knew too much. For the first time ever, owning information had backfired. She couldn’t even look at Josh. No, he hadn’t brought his ex-girlfriend to the party, but from the way he kept staring at her, it was clear that he wanted to talk to her. To tell her that they wouldn’t be able to hook up together any longer. That he was turning into one of the people that they’d made fun of all these years. A stuffy, boring married person. She wouldn’t have believed that Tiffany’s ultimatum had actually worked, but obviously it had.

Still, she didn’t need to hear him say it.

For over a week, she’d managed to avoid him. Staying out of the office when she knew he made his morning phone calls, then sliding in later when he visited clients or took appointments.

She couldn’t keep this up for ever. She knew that. But for now, the method of avoidance served her purpose. So when Josh looked as if he was finally going to force her to listen to him, she grabbed hold of the nearest person for a kiss beneath the dangling mistletoe.

That person happened to be Jessica.

*   *   *

The kiss floored her. Jessica didn’t know how to react, but her body took over automatically when her mind stopped working. Leaning in, she felt Avalon’s hands cradle her, caressing her hair, stroking her shoulders through the pale pink silk dress she’d chosen. Shutting her eyes, Jessica focused on how sweet Avalon’s lips felt pressed to hers. Then those signature scarlet-glossed lips parted, and Jessica did what she would have with any lover. She met Avalon’s tongue with hers, trembling all over as the kiss deepened and lengthened.

For a second, she pictured what it would be like to be in bed with Avalon. Stripped nude, she would lie still in the centre of Avalon’s mattress as the more experienced woman took charge. Avalon would leave those lipstick imprints all over her skin. Kiss marks. Red like wine sliding from the hollow of her neck along her collar bone and down, lower.

Lower.

A roomful of people watched hungrily, and Jessica was aware of every set of eyes on her. This only made her more excited. How many times had Kelly told her that she was an exhibitionist? Yes, she’d agreed that she was into showing off. But for him. For him alone. And look at this. He’d been right after all, hadn’t he? Because her lace-trimmed blue panties were soaked in the centre now, and as Avalon moved away from her, Jessica wondered whether the columnist could sense the sexual scent emanating from the very core of her body. Wasn’t Avalon known for sniffing out the truth in any situation?

‘Mistletoe,’ Avalon whispered. ‘Couldn’t be helped.’ The blonde’s jewel-toned eyes flickered over her, and Avalon gave Jessica a friendly smile that seemed completely out of place. There was no speaking in the room, the only sounds a mixture of breathing and the music playing on the stereo, some old Commodores’ song with the chorus, ‘Oh, yeah, sweet, sweet thing.’