Christmas Dinner (Crimson Romance) (3 page)

“Nah, I just like to get into the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed a bottle of wine, refilling her glass.

“Christmas spirit,” she echoed dryly. She remembered that feeling. It was only two years ago that it was her favorite time of year—two heartbreaking years. “Thanks.”

She took a long gulp and went back to brooding over Brad’s status update. What if she ran into him and his fiancée this weekend? Oh, God. What if she
knew
her?

“Hey, Santa, think you could bring me a boyfriend to take home this weekend?” she asked sarcastically. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of a man in a suit. She knew its owner immediately.

“Why, Ace, are you taking resumes?”

She spun around and shook her head. Tate had taken the empty seat next to her. Her knees briefly touched his. “What the—where did you come from? Are you following me now?” She drank her wine. “I hate you,” she mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a
no
.” He pointed to her fresh glass. “I see you’re celebrating. Mind if I join you?”

She pushed off her seat. “Sorry, I was just leaving.” Her legs wobbled, and she felt a little tipsy. When had she become such a lightweight? She sat down to regain her equilibrium. “On second thought, I was here first.”

The bartender came over. “Sir, can I get you anything?”

“A stocking full of coal would be appropriate,” Amanda interjected sweetly. She glared at Tate and raised her finger directly at a group of women on the other side of the bar who were looking their way. She suspected they were gushing over Tate. Most women did.

“See that cougar in the tight sequined silver top and black hooker stilettos? I’m sure she’s one of your fans. I’d bet my paycheck she’d love to have the great Tate Ryan make her night.”

Tate nodded to the woman and pulled Amanda’s arm down. She felt his hand linger.

“I think I’ll pass.” He signaled the bartender and said, “Hey, buddy, could I get a Manhattan?” Then he turned back to Amanda. “Okay, talk to me, Mandy. Why so glum?”

“Don’t call me that. My brother calls me Mandy, and I’m angry with him right now, too.” She stood once again and reached for her purse, determined this time to get away from her co-anchor. “I think I’ll get a table—for one. Merry Christmas, Tate,” she said flatly.

She walked over to the dining area and scanned the room for an empty table. There was one near the window. She plopped down in a chair.

Tate sauntered over.

“Oh, no. No, no.” She raised her hand in protest. “You are not sitting here.”

“Look, you can’t still be angry with me for what happened earlier.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Ace, you know I didn’t sabotage you.” He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

Amanda sighed. “I know.”

“Listen, let’s order some dinner. My treat. I’m starving, and I’ll bet you are, too. We’ll eat, and you can tell me why you’re here drowning your sorrows because this can’t all be my fault. Start from the beginning. I’m a great listener.” He scrolled through his iPhone. “Was it really that bad of a day?” he asked, glancing up.

“You can’t be serious. You did not just ask me that.”

Tate shrugged. “It’s one story. There will be others.”

“Not like this one.”

“You really believe that?”

Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know what I think anymore. Let’s just order. Will you promise to leave me alone after we eat?”

“Deal. Okay, where to begin? All right, why do you hate me? No. Wait.” Tate jerked his hand up in the air in a halt. “Don’t answer that. Let’s start with a softball question. Why do you hate the holidays?” He grabbed the other menu on the table.

“I don’t hate the holidays.”

Tate smirked. “Amanda, you pretty much tell anyone who wishes you a Merry Christmas to go to hell.”

“That’s not true.”

“Not to mention I had to twist your arm for you to do the kick-off story on this year’s toy drive.”

“That hardly makes me a scrooge. I agreed to it, didn’t I?”

He pointed at the window. “Speaking of toys, did you see that huge Santa and sleigh on the flatbed truck in the parking lot? It’s filled with all kinds of fun things. What do you think they’re doing with all those toys?”

Amanda followed his gaze out the window. In the darkness, she could just make out a life-size Santa and sleigh. God, she hated sleighs.

She could also see Tate’s reflection in the glass. The man certainly knew how to wear a suit. Why did he have to be so incredibly good looking? His eyes met hers, causing her cheeks to warm. She glanced away and reached for the breadbasket. “Does it really matter?”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He flipped his menu to the other side.

She sighed. He was right. It was common knowledge around the station that she wasn’t a big fan of the holidays.

“You’re right. I do get somewhat uptight this time of year,” she admitted. “I was planning on going home tomorrow, but now I don’t know—”

Tate looked up and interrupted. “You’re not going home for Christmas? Why?”

“I don’t know what to do. My mother will kill me if I don’t. My older sister’s about to have a baby.”

“Everything okay?”

“With her, yes. It’s just I received some unsettling news about my ghost from Christmas past.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She slid back in her chair and took a drink. “It’s just hard to be single during the holidays, I guess.”

Tate studied her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type of woman who gets down in the dumps for being single this time of year.”

“I’m not.” She paused. “Well, maybe I am a little. You think you’re headed down this precise path to achieving all of your carefully planned out goals—good grades, great college, solid career, the guy, perfect marriage, great sex—”

“Why, Ace, I could help you with that last goal.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. Of course he could. She continued, “Adorable kids and a nice house.” She sat up in her chair. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy in Wilmington. I’ve got a wonderful career, good friends, and my beautiful beachside condo bought and paid for. It’s just . . . I don’t know. You think everything is on track and then a—”

“Teleprompter jams,” he finished.

Her eyes started to water. “Something like that.” She immediately looked out the window to hide the evidence. Tate could not see her cry.

“So how long has it been since you’ve been home?”

“Two years.” Amanda grabbed a piece of bread and broke it apart.

“That’s nothing. What’s kept you away?”

“Long story.” Amanda grimaced and shoved the bread in her mouth.

“Might help to talk about it.”

She swallowed. “If you must know, my boyfriend of five years dumped me two years ago on Christmas Eve in front of all my family and friends.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.” She picked up her glass and swung it up in the air. “Then I get a text tonight telling me to check my Facebook, and guess what?” she asked, her voice rising. She didn’t wait for Tate to respond. “The bastard’s getting married!” She slammed her glass down. “Freakin’ engaged.”

“Is it really the end of the world?” Tate motioned for the waiter to bring Amanda a glass of water.

“Clearly you’ve never been in a relationship.”

“You just said you were happy here.”

“I am.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “He might have broken up with me, but I realized we really weren’t meant to be. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

Amanda stared at Tate. Why was he so interested in her love life? “I guess I don’t understand why Brad gets to have his happy ending before me. Two years ago he didn’t want it.” Her eyes watered. This time she couldn’t hide the evidence as one tear slid down her cheek. “At least not with me.”

Tate grabbed a napkin from the table dispenser and handed it to Amanda. “Let’s turn this around.”

“How?” She sniffed, dabbing her eyes.

“Okay, here’s how I see it. Your sister is radiantly pregnant and about to pop out your mother’s first grandchild. Is your brother in a relationship?”

“Yes, with my best friend from high school.”

“I see. It’s all making sense. There you will be at Christmas dinner, sandwiched between both couples. You have a great career and some would say a pretty good life here down south, but the humiliation of what happened with Brad will be the unspoken elephant in the room all weekend. Am I painting an accurate picture?”

With each stroke of his verbal brush, he certainly was. “I think you should order your dinner to go,” she said icily. It had obviously been a bad idea to share her love life with Tate.

“I think I can help—no, I
know
I can help you.”

“Help me? How?”

“If you brought a new man home, it would show everyone that you’ve moved on.”

“Maybe, but it’s not like I can rent one.” She thought for a second—could she?

“No need.” Tate reached for his drink and took a sip. “You can take me—free of charge.”

Amanda studied Tate. Was she hearing things?

“Take me home with you and introduce me as your boyfriend. I’ll fill that seat at Christmas dinner this year.”

“I was kidding with the bartender.” Amanda scoffed. The idea of bringing home a handsome boyfriend was intriguing. It would prove to everyone she was over Brad and past the humiliating breakup. But this was Tate. Handsome, yes. Her boyfriend? She didn’t think so. He rattled her on most days. They’d never pull it off.

“Well, just think about it. We can leave tomorrow.”

“Why on earth would you want to spend Christmas with my family pretending to be my boyfriend? Don’t you have to ingratiate yourself to your own family? Or did they not invite you home this year?”

From his uncomfortable expression, she could tell the last question stung. “I’m sorry. Your family is none of my business.” Reaching for her wine, she took another sip. She wasn’t completely heartless during the holidays, despite what he and apparently everyone else around the news station thought. She was also no one to judge when it came to going home for Christmas.

“Consider the offer an olive branch—an apology for my contributing to your bad day,” Tate said.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is. Plus, it would be nice to get out of this town for a bit,” he said, glancing at the gaggle of women from earlier who continued to circle the bar. “Meet some new fans.” He locked his eyes with Amanda’s. “Do we have a deal?”

“No,” she shot back and drained her wine glass. “Absolutely not.”

She’d definitely said no. At least she thought she had. So why was Tate sipping coffee at a dining room table still wearing his suit from yesterday, and why was she lying on a couch in a Boston University sweatshirt with North Carolina State shorts? The red and white school colors combo made her dizzy.

Amanda reached up and touched her forehead. A soft piece of satin material brushed against her cheek. She looked down to see a royal blue tie wrapped around her wrist.

Tate’s tie.

Oh, no. What have I done?

She shut her eyes tightly and yanked the blanket over her head. “Where am I?” she murmured, realizing she was on a black leather couch and not her beige suede one. Was Tate sitting at
his
dining room table? This couldn’t be his place, could it? Did they?

Think, Amanda, think.
They’d been at the bar and had a couple drinks. There was Tate’s tongue in cheek offer of great sex. Why was his tie snaked around her wrist? Did last night get kinky? “We don’t even like each other,” she whispered, sinking deeper into the couch.

“Good morning, Boss! Time to wake up.”

Amanda whipped off the blanket. Lacy stood in front of her with a coffee mug in her hand.

“Lacy!” Never had she been happier to see her assistant. “Thank you, Lord.” This must be her apartment. “I mean, thank you, Lacy. I could really use coffee right now.” She took the mug.

“I’m out of milk so it’s strong. It’ll help you open your eyes.”

Amanda inhaled the rich aroma. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Um, Lacy, why is Tate here?” Amanda nodded in his direction. He was talking on his phone. “And why am I here?” She rubbed her temple. What a night. She vaguely remembered a Santa hat and inhaling smoke.

Lacy plunked down in a matching black leather recliner across from the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. “You don’t remember? He brought you here last night. You wouldn’t tell him where you lived.”

“I wouldn’t?”

“Nope. You were in pretty rough shape. I put you to bed in my roommate’s room. She’s at NC State for the weekend.”

“Explains the shorts,” Amanda mumbled.

“Tate slept on the couch,” Lacy quickly added.

“Then why am I on the couch?” Amanda asked.

“Hey, Lois Lane.” Tate was off the phone and walking over to Amanda. “Or wait . . . Should I say Candy Cane? Lacy, what on earth did you give her to wear?”

Lacy giggled. “What do you mean? It’s my favorite BU sweatshirt. I bought it my freshman year.”

“Amanda, I think you have something of mine.” He grinned mischievously and pointed to his tie still coiled around her wrist.

She immediately pulled it off and flung it at him. “Lacy was just about to tell me how I ended up on the couch where, apparently, you were sleeping?”

“I got this, Lacy.” He winked and turned to Amanda. “You came out here earlier this morning mumbling something about needing to make sugar cookies for the tree deliveries. What was that all about anyway? I got up to use the bathroom, and when I returned . . . well, there you were snuggled up on the sofa. Out like a light.”

Amanda sipped her coffee. His recount of how she’d ended up on the couch was innocent enough. She would have preferred that her assistant didn’t see her after a few drinks, but at least she didn’t make a mistake with Tate.

“I really do need to go.” She set her mug on the coffee table. “I still need to pack. I should have been on the road by now. Lacy, would it be too much trouble to take me to my car?” She stood up and looked around for her clothes. She hoped her Nissan was still at the Singing Surf.

“Sorry, Boss. My roommate has my car. She drove to Raleigh last night. I’m sure Tate can take you.” Lacy retrieved Amanda’s suit from the back of the recliner and handed it to her.