Christmas at Tiffany's (8 page)

“I hear champagne calling. We might as well live the dream for a moment or two, right?”

“On the money, honey.”

Laughing, Tiffany strolled toward the edge of an oval bar and stood in line, trying to discreetly search for Mitch. She found him standing near an empty table amidst a group of InfoTraxion department heads.

“OK, so, spill. Which one is CEO Charming and which one is Eric?”

Sidling her sister a sardonic look, Tiffany pointed them out which was easy since they were in the same cluster. “Do me a favor and keep the charming comments to a minimum.”

“You never let me have any fun.” They ordered drinks, waiting, then Melody chirped, “Hey, the prince spotted you and he's on the move, so look sharp. Is prince OK? Does prince work?”

“Mel—” The warning grumble had barely been fired before Mitch strode into place and gave a winning smile that skimmed Tiffany's senses and stirred a lush weakness along with an urge to simply stand still and stare.

“Hey, Tiffany.” He gave her arm a friendly squeeze then addressed Melody with that same poetic smile. “You must be Melody. I hope you're enjoying your time in New York.”

They shook hands; Melody smiled—and gawked. Tiffany wanted to cringe, but couldn't really fault her sister's reaction. It was hard not to fall into a swoon in the presence of a tall, broad-shouldered man neatly styled in a well-tailored silk suit. The shade of light gray and the pop of red color from his tie played perfectly against strong, dark features.

“Tiffany, will you hate me if I put you on the spot and make a huge request?”

She blinked free of a trance. “Not at all. What do you need?”

“In a few minutes, I'm going to give a welcome speech. After one of my standard, run-of-the-mill quarterly updates, I want to spotlight some of the things we're doing to celebrate the season. Can I call on you to talk a little about Pets Finding Home and the Shelter Helper event?”

“You…I…do
what
?” Articulation, thy name is Tiffany Zelling. She cringed inwardly and could have sworn she heard Melody release a groan, but that might have been her imagination. Oh, she'd rather have a root canal. Without anesthesia. OK, maybe a lack of pain meds leaned a tad toward the dramatic, but still…

Mitch's smile widened, and in rode a delicious tingle against her arms and neck.

“I won't feed you to the wolves. It'd just be a quick detail of what the shelter does, and you can spotlight a few of the specific things we'll be doing to help out next weekend. I'll be right next to you in case you faint or anything.”

“Gee. Thanks. You're a sport.”

His deep laugh tickled her ear like feather strokes.

“I know it's spur of the moment, but I'd really appreciate it.”

And that fact was more than enough to clinch the deal. “Well…I guess…OK.” Her voice trembled.

Mitch shot her a grateful look before he was called away.

Melody pressed a flute of chilled champagne into Tiffany's hand. “You've got this. No biggie. Just speak from the heart.”

In answer, Tiffany tipped her glass and swallowed deep, her throat and nose tingling as bubbles burst to life.

~*~

“Welcome to the InfoTraxion holiday celebration.” Mitch stood at a podium set against the window line, and addressed his colleagues via microphone. He pulled a pair of notecards from the inside breast pocket of his suit coat that provided prompts on company successes over the past twelve months; he lauded the sense of camaraderie that continued to grow within the firm then turned the focus toward philanthropy and the truest spirit of Christmas. Giving.

Prepared to join him, Tiffany stood to the side, awaiting his cue. Once introduced, she stepped smoothly to the forefront and accepted the mic. Mitch would have bet he was the only one who could detect the finite tremble of her smile.

“Thank you for the introduction, and, more than that, thank you for spearheading the fight to support causes that desperately need funding and attention. The overwhelming response to next weekend's event more than affirms the reason why I enjoy being part of the InfoTraxion family.”

She paused. He could sense her confidence and strength of conviction building. When Tiffany glanced into his eyes, he gave her an encouraging nod. Warmth lifted through his body, sliding straight into his heart.

“Action and funding. What blessings those two words become when they're combined and transformed into positive results. Like Mitch just said, our company has lent physical and monetary support to numerous worthwhile causes this year. There are so many meaningful things competing for attention right now—in fact, we're standing here, as a group of colleagues and friends, enjoying one right now, correct?”

Applause and agreeing sounds rang out; Mitch watched Tiffany, enchanted, as the flow of encouragement further calmed her nerves.

“We've sponsored volunteer drives at homeless shelters, gathered donations for charitable clothing drives, we've even adopted families for birthdays and holidays. Next weekend we're focusing on animals, on four-legged companions with needs of their own. Offering our time helps Pets Finding Home channel their resources elsewhere, into necessities such as vet care, food, cages and hundreds of other supplies.”

While Tiffany continued, Mitch came aware of a woman entering the room.

Wendy.

She glided across the threshold, respectfully quiet and as unobtrusive as possible. Her effort to be discreet was admirable, but futile. More than a few heads turned; a woman like Wendy tended to draw focus and fill a room with chic glamour and the type of charismatic energy Mitch thought he had longed for.

Until now.

Unaware, sweet and fresh, Tiffany concluded. “Connecting pets to their forever homes with loving owners is the hope and dream, and on behalf of the organization, I thank you for your efforts.”

Seeming eager to surrender the spotlight, Tiffany turned toward Mitch, a cue to conclude matters. He snapped to attention. “Thanks, Tiffany. We're looking forward to seeing a number of you at the shelter next weekend. Until then, please enjoy the food, the view, and most of all, the company of an extraordinary group of people. Happy holidays, everyone.”

A round of applause followed, imbued by renewed conversations and the musical
ching
of dishware. Tiffany looked his way; a shimmer of expectation, an invitation to linger, rolled between them. He hated to leave her side, but had to push that unspoken call to the background. There was no choice. He had to see to Wendy.

He joined his visitor who was tucked onto a tall stool at the far end of the bar, a small plate of appetizers at the ready. She welcomed him with an enticing smile. Mile-long legs were delicately crossed; her hour-glass figure was sheathed in pale pink satin. She looked like a model—but the allure was lost on him. Completely, utterly lost…

“Wendy.” He bent slightly, dotting both cheeks with a kiss. The gesture wrapped him at once in the subtle scent of lavender that should have appealed rather than disconcerted. Chestnut hair had been fashioned into a loose braid that curved against her right shoulder.

Dark eyes sparkled. “Merry Christmas, handsome. Surprised?”

Oh, was he ever. Seldom did he find himself caught off guard, but the present vignette knocked him out of bounds. “I am. Yes. I—”

Wendy's laughter twinkled. She rested a hand against his in a gesture of familiar possession and sipped from a goblet of white wine as she shifted toward him. “I hope this is OK. I wanted to see you. I've missed you very much, and it's been way too long.”

Six months, in fact. Six months cast into uncertainty by the few mystical days he had spent within the call of a woman who had come to captivate him. A woman who was the polar opposite of Wendy Pace and every expectation he held about the kind of woman who might win his heart.

Silence stretched. She peered at him, steady but curious as she sipped once more and nibbled on a petite lobster roll she lifted from the plate at her elbow. While she ate, Mitch tried to think, to formulate words, to figure out what in the world he was feeling. All at once, the answer washed through him. Standing next to Wendy, seeing her as a part of his life in New York felt wrong.

“I hope I haven't made a mistake. I'm getting the sense you're not happy with my visit. Should I apologize for showing up unannounced?”

“Of course not. I'm happy to see you.”

Wendy was lovely and intelligent. He respected her without question, but this arrival rammed home the fact that he most definitely didn't harbor romantic or long-term feelings. That wasn't her fault, or his, it simply
was
.

Her gaze flicked to Tiffany, who had melted into a group from her department. Wendy straightened and the cozy vibration she had attempted to build vanished in a beat. Her smile was beautiful, but didn't extend to her eyes. “The venue is fantastic. This setting is like being in a story book.”

Stilted atmosphere surrounded Mitch in a discomfiting instant. He had to make this right. Promptly.

“Wendy, let's take a walk.” Taking her hand in a loose hold, guiding her to the coat check area, Mitch led the way to a bank of elevators and a descent to the lobby of 30 Rock.

~*~

Who was the newcomer? Who was the stunning, statuesque brunette who had entered the Rainbow Room and caused Mitch to b-line to her side?

Tiffany had wondered of late if he had a girlfriend waiting for him in Los Angeles. When he kissed the woman in welcome, the answer rang clear. How could such a realization press hard against her chest, tighten her throat, and stir a well of tears in her eyes?

Seated at a table with Melody and a few others from work, Tiffany looked deliberately away from Mitch's reunion at the bar. In a quiet tone she addressed her sister. “I hate the Devil. He knows just what weaknesses to exploit. Precisely what buttons to push.”

“What do you mean?” Tiffany tilted a chin toward Mitch's spot at the far side of the room. Melody searched and then her shoulder slumped. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Like I said from the start, men like him and wallflowers like me”—Tiffany shook her head; a flip of her wrists and she brushed aside her emotions—“I should know better than to let myself feel this kind of attraction toward him.”

“Stop it right there.” Melody hissed the words quietly, spearing Tiffany with a sharp look. All at once, she softened. “Aw, sweetie. Come here a second.”

Melody led the way to that gorgeous window view of New York where they could embrace a bit of peace and seclusion. “You're not a wallflower, you're an introvert.”

“It runs deeper than that, Mel. How can I call myself a Christian and feel so much self-doubt? How can I overcome this instinct I possess to shy away into my own little world and stay there?”

“By realizing the cocoon you've inhabited up until now doesn't fit anymore. God's growing you, kiddo. Whether it's because of Mitch or not, maybe you need to think about leaving the comfort zone behind.”

Tiffany fingered the olive tapenade crostini on her appetizer plate, gaze pinging to Mitch.

“Tif, you're emerging. Celebrate, don't fear.”

Tiffany sighed. She looked at Mitch who carried on an intent conversation with his newfound companion and she had to admit, her heart broke a little. OK, more than just a little. “She's beautiful. She seems well-suited to the pages of Mitch's story.”

“How can you say that when you've never even spoken to her, when you don't even know her name?”

“I'm trying to be mature and realistic, Mel. Give me some credit.” Tiffany lobbed the repost then stared outside where cars and people crept along the streets far below in a world transformed into miniature by nothing more than her lofty vantage point. Like her life of late, everything revolved around perspective. She wasn't lying to her sister. Truly, there was no fault to be found in a lovely woman who swept onto the scene like a princess in a fairytale.

Melody continued to shrug it off. “I dunno. She's pretty, sure, but I notice things, Tif. Quite frankly there's no comparison. He doesn't look even half as happy right now as he did when he was talking with you, and standing at your side during your speech.”

“You're biased because I'm your sister.”

“No, I'm
honest
because I'm your sister. Big difference.”

Tiffany's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. The support was appreciated, and comforting, but when Mitch left the party a few minutes later…with his mystery lady…all Tiffany wanted to do was break down and cry.

~*~

Mitch kept a guiding hand against the small of Wendy's back as they ambled along the promenade of Rockefeller Center. Statues of trumpeting angels were nestled against rows of snow-tipped evergreens that created a pathway to the centerpiece of the city, an eighty-feet tall Norwegian spruce ablaze with thousands of multi-colored lights and crowned by a glittering Swarovski star. On the ice rink in the plaza below skaters spun, swirled, tumbled and laughed. The noise and bustle of people in motion filled the air with an ebb and flow that somehow blended with the rumble of tires, the honking horns of nearby traffic patterns.

Mitch needed to get back to the party, but wanted a private interlude with Wendy in order to set matters straight—for both of them.

How should he even start…?

“So, the woman. The one who spoke to the group just now about charity work.” Leading and concise, Wendy opened the doorway between them.

“Tiffany. What about her?” A touch of guilt, iced by defensiveness, layered the question.

Wendy shook her head, grinning as she tugged her coat collar close to her neck. “Mitch, I wish you could have seen your face, your eyes, from my perspective. Maybe it's because I know you so well.”

For a moment, Mitch couldn't summon the temerity to do much more than stop, turn and gape. “What do you mean?”