Once Upon a Power Play (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

C
hloe glared at her computer, wishing the damn thing would just implode so she could go home and drown her sorrows in a bottle of wine. Or maybe a box. Yeah, a cheap box of wine would do nicely, matching her shitty mood perfectly.

Over the years, she’d suffered her fair share of indignity at the hands of the male species, but it was impossible to think of another time she’d been so completely and utterly humiliated. Because there wasn’t one. She was sure of it. Never before had she put herself out there, more or less throwing herself at a guy, to have him totally shut her down—
hard
.

Talk about going down in flames. It may have been her first attempt at phone sex, but it would also be her last, considering it had been the definition of an epic fail. No way in hell would she ever put herself in that position again. Ryan the Jerk had reared his ugly head, acting like a total asshole and treating her like some stupid, puck bunny groupie. The memory of it made her cheeks burn.

Just because he was having a bad night, didn’t mean he had to take it out on her. She’d only been trying to help, figuring sex would take his mind off the game. That’s what they were about wasn’t it? Why else would he have called? She huffed out an angry breath. A notch on her bedpost? He could take that bedpost and shove it up his—

“Morning, Chloe.” Cole stood at the edge of her cubicle, leaning against the partition that separated her work space from the other Junior Associates. “How’re things going with the Garden of Dreams campaign?”

“Great,” she said, swallowing her anger and forcing a smile that was anything but authentic. “The trial run of the new spot ran at The Garden and returned over one hundred thousand dollars in donations. A few more tweaks and we’ll be ready to officially roll it out.” She nodded at her monitor, directing his attention to the Twitter analytics she was reviewing. “The online response has been strong among the test group as well.”

“Good. PBA made an aggressive commitment to increase donations fifteen percent through year-end with the new campaign. We have to deliver.” He gave a curt nod. “Tough game last night. How’s Ryan?”

“I really wouldn’t know.” A hot ball of rage formed in her belly. She imagined it pulsing like a supernova, threatening to blow her apart from the inside out. Time to change the subject. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do for Garden of Dreams today.”

“My apologies,” Cole said, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Chloe sighed, feeling like an asshole. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just having a bad day. I didn’t sleep very well.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” he responded, waving off her apology and moving down the aisle.

It wasn’t Cole’s fault she was feeling pissy and short tempered. It was most definitely Ryan’s fault. Or was it hers? Had she gone and screwed up again, getting too invested in whatever it was she and Ryan were doing? She didn’t think so. In fact, the only feelings she could muster for him were loathing, anger, and disgust. Then again, it was impossible to see past the mountain of disdain she’d built up over the last twelve hours, so who knew? Better to not waste any more time analyzing the situation and just stick to the plan: focus on work and protect her traitorous heart at all costs.

Shoving the fight—if it could even be called that—with Ryan aside, she returned to her analytical work, promising herself she wouldn’t spend her day obsessing about all the ways she was pissed off.

It worked, but damn if it wasn’t exhausting. The day had stretched interminably, and by the time five o’clock had rolled around, she’d had one foot out the door. Chloe went straight home and busted out her yoga pants and corkscrew, curling up on the couch with the remote. Flipping through the channels, she finally settled on the local news. She guzzled her wine as the blond anchor, whom she’d dubbed Susan the Smile due to her impossibly perfect teeth, rattled off the day’s events. When Ryan’s face appeared in the upper right corner of the screen, she almost changed the channel. Almost. In the end, curiosity won out and she dropped the remote on the couch.

“New York Ranger Ryan Douglas is spreading the holiday spirit this season, promising to donate five-thousand dollars to the Garden of Dreams Foundation for each game the Rangers win through the end of the year.” Susan turned to her co-anchor. “And that’s not all, John, he’s challenged his fellow team captains to do the same!”

The screen cut to a clip of Ryan, looking sinfully sexy in a dark polo shirt and faded jeans, speaking passionately about the work GoD was doing to serve children locally. When he flashed that panty-melting grin of his, Chloe’s ovaries took notice.

“Quite a bold, and potentially expensive, move,” John replied with a practiced smile. “Any word yet on whether the challenge has been accepted?”

“We haven’t received an official statement from the organization or the players yet,” the Smile responded. “But you can bet your jersey they’re in. After all, it’s a great cause. How could they say no to these faces?” she asked, flashing a picture of the kids playing hockey at The Garden with the hashtag #BlueshirtChallenge.

“Well, we certainly wish all the best to the Rangers this holiday season,” John responded, wrapping up the segment.

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. The kind of press this stunt would generate couldn’t be bought. It would spread like wildfire on social media. News and sports outlets would be talking about the challenge—and Garden of Dreams—before and after every Rangers’ game for weeks. A fact Ryan surely knew, just as he knew how much Garden of Dreams meant to her. What he’d done, what he’d done
for her
, well, it was one hell of an apology. No one had ever done anything like it for her before. That didn’t mean he was off the hook just yet. They still had unfinished business.

“T
his better be good,” Ryan muttered, dropping his beer on the kitchen counter and moving down the hall to the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he was hardly in the mood for uninvited company. Throwing the lock back, he skipped the peephole and common courtesy.

“What?” he practically growled as he ripped the door open.

“Well, hey there yourself,” Chloe retorted, a smug grin stretching from ear to ear, as if she knew just how miserable he’d been the last two days while she refused his calls.

For a second, Ryan just stared, processing the fact that Chloe Jacobs was standing at his front door. Uninvited. Unexpected. But totally welcome. He might’ve dared hope she was on the other side of the door, but he certainly hadn’t expected it. Which led to his second question. “How’d you get up here?”

Totally unfazed by his lack of manners, she shrugged. “Doorman let me up. Apparently having your face splashed all over Page Six does have its perks. Are you going to invite me in?”

“Of course. Sorry,” he said, swinging the door wide to let her pass. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. You caught me a little off guard here.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she teased, winking at him as she slipped by. Ryan followed her to the living room, admiring the way her hips swayed as she sauntered down the hall in those fucking gold snakeskin heels that turned him inside out. Had she worn them on purpose just to torture him? Probably.

Chloe stopped in the center of the living room and spun on her heel, facing him. The woman was practically glowing. She was up to something. No doubt about it. Whatever it was, he sure as hell deserved it after the things he’d said to her. He’d known his words were a dick move as soon as he’d said them, but he couldn’t take them back. So he’d lain awake all night trying to think of a way to make it up to her. The challenge was the only thing he could think of to show her he was sorry. He knew how much the Garden of Dreams account meant to her, both personally and professionally. So he’d taken a chance and hoped for the best.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, closing the distance between them. And it was. With a winter flush in her cheeks and those wild curls, she was as beautiful as he’d ever seen her. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

She raised her brow but said nothing.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick the other night,” he said, pulling her body to his and loving the way she fit against him perfectly, as if she were made for him alone. He went to work on her coat, starting with the top button. “I was completely out of line. I was having a bad night and my leg was killing me, but that’s no excuse for how I behaved or for how I spoke to you. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way and if you never wanted to see me again, I’d understand.” He searched her eyes, looking for anger, forgiveness, anything, as he worked his way through the remaining buttons. “But I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I promise.”

“I may be able to find it in my heart to forgive you,” she said, slipping out of her coat and letting it fall to the floor. “But you’re going to have to work for it.”

Ryan’s gaze slid down her bare shoulders and over the mounds of her breasts, his brain short-circuiting at the realization that the woman was not wearing any clothes. It was thirty-five fucking degrees outside and all she had on was the tiniest black lace corset and a pair of string bikini underwear. Paired with those sheer thigh highs and gold heels? It was the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen.

Fuck, yeah.
He’d work for it all right. He’d been prepared to grovel, but this was a far more interesting proposition. Snaking an arm around his neck, she drew him in for a kiss, her tongue skating over his lips. His cock responded immediately. Needing to touch her, he deepened the kiss, running his hands over her hips and lacing them around her waist. His fingers skimmed over the barely there panties, kneading the soft flesh of her backside. A low moan rolled from her lips and she melted against him. Damn he’d missed this, missed her.

“So, I’m just going to let myself out. You know, before things get totally X-rated up in here. You kids have fun tonight and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Ryan froze, realizing too late he’d forgotten all about his other visitor. Shifting his body to block Wright’s view of Chloe, who’d become frozen in his arms, he gave his smart-ass teammate the finger. They didn’t need words. The message was clear:
worst timing ever, asshole
.

A few seconds later, the door to the apartment opened and closed, signaling his departure.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Karma, you dirty bitch!” Chloe shrieked. She dropped to the floor and grabbed her coat. She hastily stuffed her arms into the sleeves. “Please tell me that did not just happen? I am going to die of embarrassment. Seriously. Why didn’t you tell me you had company?” she asked, pinning him with an anxious glare.

Ryan grabbed her hands, preventing her from buttoning the coat. “I didn’t exactly know you were naked under there. And once I knew? Believe me, Wright was the last thing on my mind.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” She pulled her hands away and went to work on the buttons again. “They make it look so freaking easy in the movies.”

“Trust me, it was a great surprise.” He stroked her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin. “Don’t leave.”

“How can you even think about sex right now?” she asked, incredulous.

He looked her up and down. Wasn’t it obvious?

She rolled her eyes and then froze. “If this ends up on Page Six—”

“First of all, Wright’s not going to say a word about this—
ever
. Second of all, trust me, he’s very jealous right now. You look amazing. And if you leave now, you will be solely responsible for the abuse I’ll have to inflict on my body in the shower.”

“I can live with that,” she said, buttoning her coat and backing down the hall. She paused at the front door. “Consider it your penance.”

“Princess, I’m going to consider it foreplay because this little fantasy? It’s going to happen. And next time? There will be no escape.”

Chapter Fifteen

R
yan let out a low whistle. “Impressive” seemed inadequate to describe the party Chloe and the other volunteers had put together for the Garden of Dreams families. More like mind-blowing. The banquet hall had been transformed into a Winter Wonderland, complete with Santa’s workshop and… Was that a stable? Couldn’t possibly be. But, no, there was an honest-to-God reindeer prancing around the pen, a carrot dangling from its mouth. Reindeer in New York City? Now he’d officially seen it all.

Spotting Chloe, he made a beeline for the diminutive holiday cheer-tator who appeared to be handing out assignments to the other volunteers and guiding them to their stations. The families would be arriving soon and judging from the looks of it, the organizers were expecting a big turnout. She worked her way through the entire list without calling his name.

“What can I do to help?” he asked, stepping forward as the last of the volunteers dispersed.

Her head jerked up, and surprise washed over her face, that sexy little mouth of hers forming a perfect O. He winked, liking the fact that he’d caught her off guard this time. “I didn’t know you were volunteering today,” she said, clamping her mouth shut. Her eyes darted to the clipboard in her right hand. “Your name isn’t on the list.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He gave her a lopsided grin, which earned him an eye roll.

“Merry Christmas, Ryan. Your name isn’t on the list.”

“I was a last minute addition.” He leaned down, whispering conspiratorially. They were so close he could smell her perfume, and… sugar cookies? Yum. “Surely you aren’t going to turn away a perfectly good pair of hands due to a technicality? Where’s your Christmas cheer?” he teased, flicking the bell that dangled from the end of her green elf hat.

“I have cheer,” she replied, planting a hand on her hip and shifting her weight. She pointed to the hat. “If this ain’t holiday cheer, I don’t know what is. And, no, we aren’t turning away able-bodied labor, list or no list. We’re shorthanded, and the families will be thrilled to see you.” She chewed her bottom lip, as if deciding what to do with him. A not so innocent grin spread across her face, sending up warning flares in his brain. “Do you mind helping out with the food? Some of the trays are monstrous, and I’m sure the ladies would be thrilled to have a big strapping hockey player to help with the heavy lifting.”

Sounded easy enough, and he was happy to work wherever he was needed. “I’m on it. Just point me in the right direction.”

An hour later, Ryan knew exactly why he’d been assigned to help with food. Sure, his muscles were an asset when it came to lifting the hot, steamy trays, but damn if the women weren’t frisky. He’d has his ass pinched or patted no less than a half dozen times, once by a woman old enough to be his own grandma. Although it was harmless, disturbing didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Having a holly-jolly good time?” Chloe asked, slipping an apron over her head.

“Why do I get the feeling you were on the naughty list this year, princess?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, turning doe eyes on him. He might’ve believed her, too, if only she’d been able to keep the shit-eating grin off her face.

“My ass.”

Chloe burst into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “And what a fine ass it is.”

Pretending to be flattered by the attention, he puffed out his chest. “That does seem to be the general consensus.”

They worked side by side for the next hour, filling plates and chatting with the families who passed through the serving line. When Chloe wasn’t looking, Ryan slipped the kids extra cookies. It was tradition. He did the same thing for his nieces and nephews back home and he hadn’t been caught yet. Just one of the many advantages of having quick hands.

“What’s so funny?” Chloe asked, stepping up beside him.

“Nothing. Just thinking about my family,” he confessed, uncovering a fresh tray of perfectly frosted sugar cookies shaped like snowmen. “This is the first year I haven’t been home for Christmas, which, as the youngest of six kids, is kind of a big deal. My parents go a little crazy around the holidays. So crazy, in fact, they’ve got eleven Christmas trees.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Did you say eleven?”

“Yes, eleven.” He glanced at his watch. “Right about now they’re probably diving into my mom’s famous eggnog cheesecake.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose.

“What?” he asked. “You don’t like eggnog.”

“You do?” She shuddered. “
Eww.
I didn’t think people actually consumed eggnog in real life. Must be a Midwest thing. Your family sounds great though.”

Ryan laughed. “It’s always memorable, that’s for sure. Which is why I was actually kind of dreading spending the holidays in the city, but they’re shaping up better than I could have hoped.” Shifting his body so Chloe wouldn’t see, he slipped Isaiah two extra cookies and brought his finger to his lips, signaling it was a secret. “Being part of this event and spending the day with the kids? Totally worth it.”

She nodded like she understood, and maybe she did. Her involvement with GoD had morphed from a job to a passion in a matter of weeks. “So, what kept you in the city this year?” she asked, dumping a basket of rolls into the buffet and smiling at the young girl who reached up to grab one. “Merry Christmas, Janelle.”

“Our game schedule is pretty tough this week. I couldn’t risk getting jammed up in Minnesota with all of the other holiday travelers. Besides, I need the extra training.” He gritted his teeth. “What about you? Where’s your family today?”

Bouncing around like a pinball, she moved from the rolls to the condiments and busied herself refilling the dishes. “My parents are vacationing in the Caribbean. The holidays aren’t really a big deal in my family. I’m exactly where I wanted to be today.” She offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it home for Christmas. That totally sucks reindeer balls.”

C
hloe knocked on the dressing room door for the second time, wondering what the hell was taking Santa so long. And for the second time, there was no answer. “Third time’s the charm,” she grumbled, pounding on the door with the palm of her hand. “Let’s go, Santa. We’ve got lots of good little boys and girls out here who can’t wait to meet you.”

Still no reply.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she tested the knob, hoping like hell the old guy was dressed. She had zero—make that less than zero—interest in seeing the jolly old elf in the buff. The door swung open and Chloe let herself in, closing it behind her. The last thing she needed was for one of the kids to see Santa parading around in his underpants. And why was it so damn dark? Feeling along the wall, she searched for the light switch, flipping it with gusto when she finally found it. Fluorescent light spilled down, illuminating the couch where Santa lay sprawled out with his pants around his ankles.

“Santa?” Chloe’s stomach dropped. What was wrong with him? Was his chest moving? She couldn’t be sure. Not good. She rushed to his side, hoping like hell the old guy was catching a nap, because she really didn’t want to explain the alternative. Approaching the couch, she noticed something white peeking out of his jacket pocket. It sort of looked like a—wait, was that a prescription bottle? Surely not. She’d done her homework. Looked at over a hundred profiles. Checked references. The agency said he was the best! No way her Santa was a pill head. Throwing privacy out the window, she snatched the bottle from his pocket and scanned the label. Yeah, he really was. And the dude was out cold. She poked him in the shoulder and got an incoherent groan for her efforts. “What the fuck, Santa?” She poked him again, harder this time. “Get your jolly ass off that couch right this minute.”

He didn’t budge. Eventually he managed to peel one eye open. “You’re a hot little elf, aren’t you?”

“You are a disgrace to Santa’s everywhere,” she said, pocketing the bottle. What was she going to do? She couldn’t send him out there like this, even if he could walk on his own two feet, which she was pretty sure was an impossibility given that he was barely conscious. No Santa? The whole party would be ruined.
Ruined
. And it would be all her fault. The kids would be devastated. How could she tell them Santa wasn’t coming? They’d been looking forward to the event for weeks, and for some of them the foundation’s gift might be the only gift of the day. This just wouldn’t do. She had to figure it out. Like, right now. She glared at the wasted Santa. “Son-of-a-bitch-no-good-pill-popping-rat-bastard-good-for-nothing-overpaid-Rent-a-Santa!” she yelled, stomping her foot in frustration.

“Whoa. Now I know you’re on the naughty list.” Ryan watched her with that irritating smile of his, once again bearing witness to one of her finest moments. The man was like a freaking ninja, sneaking up on her when she least expected. “A name like that? That must get you like, a whole stocking full of coal.”

“This is not the time,” she said, pointing a menacing finger at him.

His eyes darted to Santa and somehow that stupid grin of his managed to get even bigger. “Looks like Santa had a little too much Christmas spirit!”

“Don’t you dare laugh. Don’t. You. Dare,” she warned, wringing her hands. How the hell was she going to fix this? She fished the prescription bottle out of her pocket and tossed it to Ryan. “So much for references. I found this in his pocket.”

He read the label and pulled out his phone, typing on the screen. When he looked up, his lips were pressed into a firm line. “Mirapex,” he explained, nodding at the incoherent Santa. “Either he’s got Restless Leg Syndrome or Parkinson’s. Unfortunately, side effects include daytime sleep attacks.”

“Narcolepsy? You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” Chloe groaned and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Does it say anything about hallucinations?”

Ryan quirked his brow. “How’d you know?”

“Call it a lucky guess. What am I going to…” She eyed the sleeping Santa thoughtfully. “Take off your pants.”

“Excuse me?” Ryan looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head.

“Take off your pants,” she ordered, reaching for the buttons on Santa’s coat. “You’re going to be Santa while this sad sack sleeps it off.”

“You’re not serious?” He snorted. “No way. I don’t know the first thing about being Santa. That is literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“I seriously doubt that,” she replied, fixing him with the withering glare she’d seen on her own mother’s face more times than she could count. “Ryan Douglas, you will get your ass in that suit right now.” She stalked across the room and grabbed his arm, wheeling him around and cracking the door. “See all those shiny little faces out there? They are waiting for Santa and we are not going to let them down. Are we?”

“No.” He sighed as if the words actually pained him. “You’re right. I’ll do it for the kids.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But that’s your Santa. You get the suit.”

“Piece of cake.” Chloe grabbed the pill bottle from him and dangled it in front of Santa who, fortunately, still had one eye open. Thank Frosty for small favors. “You want your pills? I want the suit. Strip.”

“If you wanna see the North Pole,” he said, grabbing his balls, “all you gotta do is assssk, sweet cheeks.”

Drawing on years of experience tending bar, she didn’t miss a beat. “Jingle your own balls, fat boy. I just want the suit.”

He threw his head back and chortled. The man freaking chortled. And was it her imagination or did his belly shake like a bowl full of jelly? He really was the perfect Santa. Except for the whole pill thing. That, and being a perv.

When Santa dropped his suit on the floor and kicked it toward Chloe, she held up her end of the bargain and returned his prescription. Far be it from her to stand between a man and his medication.

She turned to Ryan. “My work here is done. Get dressed.”

Grudgingly, he slipped into the suit, stuffing one of the couch pillows into his pants to create a nice round belly over his sculpted abs. “How do I look?”

“Dashing. Or is it Dasher?” she asked, tapping her chin and pretending to think about it as he patted his stomach. “I never was good at reindeer games.”

Narcolepsy Santa’s leg shot out, bending at the knee and kicking Ryan square in the groin. Chloe gasped. Then she broke out in a fit of giggles as Ryan doubled over, sounding more like Bad Santa than Old Saint Nick.

“Santa just kicked me in the balls,” he growled, his cheeks flushed with anger. Or maybe that was pain.

“Right?” Chloe snorted. “Guess Santa has a case of RLS after all.”

“Sorry,” Santa grumbled. “New medication.”

Ryan winced and straightened his back, keeping his eyes glued to the leg that had damn near rendered him sterile. “We’ve got another problem.” He sniffed his sleeve. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure Santa shouldn’t smell like a nursing home.”

Chloe ground her teeth together. Then she did the first thing that came to mind. She grabbed a can of air freshener from the table and sprayed the crap out of him. The smell of cedar filled the room. Ryan gagged, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “Problem solved.”

Shaking his head, he pulled on the matching hat and beard. Then, with a determined look in his eye and not a single complaint, he rejoined the party.

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” he shouted. The kids came running, squealing with delight. Their laughter was infectious, and she found herself laughing right along with them. It was the worst Santa impression she’d ever seen, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The children loved him. And that? That mattered.

Ryan settled into the big cozy chair nestled in Santa’s village, and the children lined up, taking turns climbing into his lap. Santa Ryan worked out better than she could have hoped. He already knew most of the kids by name, which took them by complete surprise. They looked up at him with such awe, such wonder. And wasn’t that what the season was all about? When he caught her eye and winked, she thought her tiny little heart might’ve grown a size or two. It really was the sweetest damn thing she’d ever seen.