Mistletoe Bachelors

This submission was the worst one yet.
Madison Grey glanced at the man awaiting her response to
his article proposal.
“Thank you for your submission, but it’s not
quite
what we had in mind.”
Behind her forced smile, her brain was frantic. In two months, not one decent Christmas themed
article had crossed her desk. Time was running out, but she refused to publish a story about
Santa’s forgotten elf in a women’s quarterly magazine. She slid the problem-filled manuscript
toward its owner. This new face-to-face submission process was draining.
What was her boss
thinking to implement such a crazy policy
?

Cole Harris smiled.
Madison sighed.
That won’t work
. She didn’t doubt those handsome upturned lips often did
the trick, but not with her. Tall, dark, and handsome with a fantastic smile used to be her type.
Now she preferred her men at a distance. She knew the type, and she was about as far from
interested in him romantically, as she was in his disappointing submission.
She turned in her chair and straightened her pencil skirt as she stood, “A pleasure meeting
you. Good luck with the writing.” She extended a hand to Cole.
He took it in his, and his grip tightened around her slender hand. “So you won’t publish the
story?” Cole remained seated. His eyes left hers to travel the length of her thin frame. They
paused on her long bare legs.
Her eyes narrowed.
Seriously?
She tugged her hand away and supressed the urge to sigh.
Why were they always so hard to get rid of?
She took a deep breath searching for the most
professional way to tell him the article was awful. “As I’ve explained Mr. Harris, the magazine is
featuring Christmas romance stories next month, and
your article would be better suited
for…well, children.”
Or the garbage can under my desk
. She walked toward her office door
aware of the piercing blue eyes watching her every step. Uncomfortable under his gaze, she
opened the door and hid behind it.
Cole stood and joined her. He rolled the typewritten pages and tucked them into the inside
pocket of his leather jacket.
“I have another meeting shortly, so if you’ll excuse me…” Madison glanced at her watch
and gestured for him to leave. She’d had about as much as she could take this week with the
number of awful submissions she’d rejected, the part of the job she enjoyed least. However, Cole
didn’t look as disappointed as the other rejects.
An amused smile spread across his face. “How about I take you to lunch, and maybe you
could give me some pointers? You know…help me with the writing.” He slid into his leather
jacket and checked his watch.
“That’s not part of my job.” Madison stiffened.
Was he seriously hitting on her?
She fought
to hide her annoyance. “Ashley, our receptionist can provide you with a list of critique groups if
you’re interested.”
Please go away
. He’d wasted enough of her time already.
“How about just lunch then? You do eat?” Once again his eyes took in her tall, slender
figure.
Not lately
. A lunch break was a luxury these days as her workload increased with the
holiday season, and the December issue deadline was drawing near. Every morning, her coffee
went cold before she could finish it, and it was well after dark before she left the office most
evenings. She tucked a stray lock of long brown hair behind her ear and folded her arms across
her chest. “I can’t.”
“Fine, dinner tonight. That’s my final offer.” Cole leaned against the doorframe.
Madison’s eyes narrowed “No.”
This guy was persistent
. “Ashley’s desk is the last one on
the right.” She pointed down the hall. “She will be happy to help you.”
In more ways than one
I’m sure
.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” Cole held his hands up in defeat and shook his head as he walked past
her out into the hall. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you around.” He gave a quick wave as
he headed down the hall toward the elevators.

God, I hope not.
She stood in the otherwise empty hallway staring after him.
Where had she
seen him before?
The nagging feeling, she knew him from somewhere, had plagued her from the
moment he’d entered her office.

“Wasn’t that, Cole Harris?” Her friend and co-worker, Samantha, poked her head out of the
copy room across the hall.
“Yes.
Please
tell me where I recognize him from.”
So, he
was
someone she should know
.
“Madison, that was,
Cole Harris
.” Samantha shot her a look of disbelief. She added more
paper to the photocopier and shut the tray.
“Yes, that part, I know.” Madison gestured for Samantha to continue.
Samantha
stood and
rolled
her
eyes. “Cole
Harris, the most popular
journalistic
photographer in New York. His photos appear in the New York Times almost daily.” Adoration
was evident in her voice. “And what a cutie.” Samantha leaned down the hall, watching Cole
disappear inside the elevator.
“I hadn’t noticed.” Madison went back into her office and opened her
Outlook
calendar.
Meeting with her boss in twenty minutes
. The reminder was unnecessary
. How could she forget
about a meeting she’d been anxiously anticipating for a week?
Samantha joined her in the office and took a seat across from her. “Yeah, right. You might
have sworn off men, but you’re not blind. What was he doing in your office?”
“Who?” Madison looked puzzled.
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Cole Harris!”
Oh, right
. “He submitted a manuscript.” Madison typed,
Cole Harris
into
Google
search.
Aha. That’s where she’d seen him before
. The New York Times had presented him with a
photography award, three years before at a journalism banquet in Manhattan. The same year,
Madison had been awarded editor of the year. A lifetime ago it seemed. The memory crossed her
mind of what had been one the best and worse nights of her life. Her husband had missed the
award dinner, one of the greatest moments in her career, claiming he was working late at the law
firm. She shivered at the memory of arriving at his office, award in hand to discover him
working on undressing his legal assistant. A month later, she’d moved to Staten Island, three
weeks before Christmas. This time of year made her crazy. She studied the picture of the
handsome photographer. He couldn’t be much older than her twenty-eight years.
“Weird. I didn’t know he could write too.” Samantha peered over Madison’s shoulder,
surveying the pictures on the screen.
“He can’t.” Madison shut the search engine and turned her attention to her friend. Big
snowflake earrings hung from Samantha’s ears. “Where do you buy the crazy Christmas
jewelry?”
“What’s wrong with my jewelry?” Samantha pretended to pout. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt
you to be a little more festive.” She scanned Madison’s office, the only one in the building not
decorated for the season.
“You know, I don’t do Christmas.” Madison frowned at the thought. At one time, Christmas
had been her favorite time of year. She’d cherished the familiar holiday traditions—the hustle
and bustle of last minute Christmas shopping, the tree lighting ceremony in the park and curling
up in front of a fireplace on Christmas Eve. Since the divorce, she’d found more than enough
excuses to avoid the festivities.
Samantha sighed, looking around the office, void of personal touches. “I know, I just think it
wouldn’t hurt to have a small tree or something…”
“Drop it. We’ve had this discussion. I’m not putting a tree in here or anything else with a
fake pine smell.” Madison wrinkled her nose and pointed a finger at her friend. “And don’t even
think about spraying my windows with that, snow from a can crap, like you did last year.”
“Fine. Be a Grinch.” Samantha lowered her voice, as she closed Madison’s office door and
took the seat Cole Harris had just vacated. “Hey, guess what I heard?”
“That the new owners are planning to make some big changes to the magazine next year?”
Madison took a sip of her cold coffee and grimaced. The company had been sold earlier that
year, and so far things had remained the same. She suspected that wouldn’t be the case for long.
Samantha nodded. “I feel a promotion coming for you.” She swivelled in the office chair
and smiled.
“I don’t know about a promotion, but more work looms on the horizon.”
Of that she was
sure
. Her boss had told her a week before—he had a new assignment for her. It required
traveling throughout most of the holiday season. She’d jumped at the opportunity to avoid
Christmas, at least in the traditional sense. It
had
to be a writing assignment. Her long awaited
opportunity to prove she could write for the magazine.
“Kim in circulation told Marge in marketing that they are also starting to bring in freelance
writers and photographers to help with the advertising campaigns for the New Year.” Her friend
interrupted her thoughts.
“Freelance writers?” A frown clouded Madison’s soft features.
“Oh, but I wouldn’t worry…” Samantha shook her head. “I’m sure the main articles will still
be assigned to staff writers.”
Madison wasn’t convinced.
Freelance writers
. She didn’t like the idea.
“So, when is your meeting with Damian?”
“This afternoon.” Madison glanced at her watch. “In twelve minutes actually…Sorry, I
guess lunch is out of the question. You know how Damian is about being on time.” Their boss
was a clock-watcher.
“Don’t worry, go. I can’t wait to hear about it. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
Samantha stood and opened the office door.
“Thanks.” Madison drained the cold contents of her coffee cup. She had a feeling she would
need it.

Eleven minutes later, Madison stopped cold, as she saw Cole Harris waiting near the office
elevator.
What was he still doing here? Man, the guy obviously couldn’t take
no
for an answer
.
Dealing with him would make her late for the meeting. She bit her lip and hesitated. Maybe she
should take the stairs.

Shit, he saw her
. She couldn’t run away from him now. “If you’re here to ask me out
again…” Madison joined him next to the elevator, annoyance creeping into her voice.
He held his hands up in defense. “I’m not.”
“You’re not?” She folded her arms across her chest, and eyed him with suspicion. She
glanced at her watch.
Forty-two seconds. She’d have to sprint from the elevator
. She looked
down at her four-inch stilettos.
Maybe Damian’s clock would be slow.
“I have another meeting,” Cole said, as the elevator doors opened.
Madison rushed inside. “Mr. Harris, if you’re planning to meet with another editor to try to
get that story published, it won’t do you any good. Here, at
Women’s World,
we all adhere to the
same policies and guidelines. Your story doesn’t fit. You won’t get your work published here.”
There she said it. How much clearer could she be without sounding rude?
The elevator numbers
lit up one by one. Four, five, six…
Cole grinned and leaned against the wall, studying her. “Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” Twenty-six seconds. Nine, ten, eleven…
Damian’s clock better not be fast
.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“We’ll see.” He winked.
The elevator doors opened on the fourteenth floor.
She dashed into the hall.
He followed.
“Fine, whatever.” In less than nine seconds she was ready to argue her case about why she
deserved a writing assignment, if Damian wasn’t offering one. The last thing she needed to
concern herself with was Cole Harris. She’d let another editor deal with him. She rounded the
corner at the end of the hall.
Cole did the same.
She glanced back at him.
Where is he going
? Damian’s office was the only office down this
hallway.
Oh no
. She turned and collided with his solid chest. He was bigger and taller than he’d
appeared earlier in her office. Up close, his light blue eyes were almost gray. She shook her
head.
Who cares what color his eyes are?
“Where do you think you’re going?” She glared. Her watch beeped indicating the hour.
So
close
. She sighed.
“You’re really intense for such a tiny person.” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.
“You have a meeting with Damian? Now?” She yanked free from his grasp.
What was going
on?
Damian hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be attending the meeting.
“Yes, and you made us late.” Cole grinned, as he opened Damian’s office door and shoved
her inside.
She stumbled on the plush, tan carpet and her eyes narrowed as her gaze met Cole’s.
“Good, you two have already met.” Damian greeted as they entered. “Come on in, grab a
seat. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Damian, pleasure to see you again.” Cole extended a hand and smiled at the older man
behind the mahogany desk.
Madison watched the exchange, more uncomfortable by the second.
What had she signed on
for this holiday season?