A Baby For Christmas Read online

  “So,” he said. “Let’s start here—what do you know about my company?”

  Richie shot me another look, one that seemed to say “Remember what I told you about talking.”

  “CooperWare’s a top educational software development firm,” said Richie. “Specializing in the latest in VR tech for the K-12 curriculum.”

  Colton raised his eyebrows. “Couldn’t have said it better if I’d read off one of our own press releases,” he said.

  “And you also strive to make sure that the software is affordable, so low-income schools can have access to the same resources as other, more advantaged institutions,” Richie added.

  A warm smile spread across Colton’s face. “That’s right,” he said. “And one of my top priorities here. After all, what good is helping kids if all you do is widen the gap between the haves and the have-nots?”

  Another look from Richie suggested he wasn’t all that pleased at being upstaged.

  “Anyway,” said Colton, “I just wanted to see what you knew about my company. We’re still relatively new, but we’ve had some major successes in the short time we’ve been around. And when you rise so quickly, people tend to scramble to figure out just who the hell you are, sometimes filling in the details on their own.”

  Colton reached under his desk and produced a silver remote. He aimed it at the large TV over the fireplace, turning it on.

  “Let me walk you through what we’ve been up to here at CooperWare.”

  Another smile formed on his handsome face as he turned his attention to the TV.

  I couldn’t help but be struck by how warm and personable Colton was. If I had to guess, I would’ve thought a man in his position with his success and his wealth would’ve been more standoffish or snobby or impatient. But Colton was convivial and a pleasure to be around.

  And, of course, the fact that he was about the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on didn’t hurt matters any.

  The display on the TV went through the finer points of his virtual reality program, showing children placing the sleek, white headsets on, their mouths breaking out into expressions of delight. Then the screen flicked over to what the kids were watching.

  They were all incredible first-person displays showing various scenes from history. One was a pilgrim seated at a long, outdoor table with Native Americans and other pilgrims, ready to take part in the first Thanksgiving. Another was from the perspective of a French king on a throne, looking out over his court of well-dressed lords and ladies.

  “Wow,” I said. “It’s incredible.”

  “Really, really amazing stuff,” said Richie.

  “Thank you,” said Colton, pressing pause on the video. “It’s all in its infancy now, but I think that we’re on the verge of something very special. Think about it—what better way to get kids to learn history than by having them be a part of it? There’s something about the power of visual media that makes learning so much more engaging than just reading facts from a book or struggling to pay attention during a lecture.”

  “The hands-on touch,” said Richie. “Makes it stick in the brain.”

  “Exactly,” said Colton. “Think about how much more vividly you remember the history you’ve seen portrayed in movies.”

  “The problem with movies, though,” I cut in, “is that they can take liberties with the facts.”

  Colton snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “That’s right!” he said. “And that’s why all CooperWare learning modules will be as historically accurate as possible.”

  I had to admit, it was quite a thing listening to him talk. Colton was high-energy, and his enthusiasm was totally infectious.

  He waved his hand through the air.

  “But that’s all something to worry about in the future. What you’ve just watched looked good, sure, but it’s all still in the very beginning phases of development. Right now, the teams downstairs are hard at work getting the code designed, and while they’re working I want to have more teams busting their butts on the graphics.”

  He leaned forward in his chair and placed his hands on the edge of his desk. “And that’s where Liminal will come in.”

  Richie glanced over to me and raised his eyebrows.

  “Tell me,” said Colton. “How big is your firm?”

  “We’re about a dozen employees,” Richie said.

  “And how many could be freed up to work directly with CooperWare on what I have in mind?”

  “Right now, I could give you six employees, including Shayla and myself.”

  Copper nodded slowly, taking in the information.

  “Great,” he said. “And when could you start?”

  “As soon as you give the word,” said Richie, clearly champing at the bit.

  “Because after looking at the work you have done,” Colton went on, “especially Shayla’s, I know that you’re all the perfect fit for the job.”

  I felt another blush break out. My hand shot in front of my face as I attempted to hide it.

  “Really?” said Richie. “That’s awesome!”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” said Colton. “Starting next Monday your team from Liminal can report here, working directly with my team. You’ll be in charge of the graphical user interface and work closely with my staff.”

  Another tinge of anxiety ran through me. I’d never been in a leadership position like that before.

  “Now,” Colton continued. “I’m not going to lie—this is going to be a hell of a lot of work, and we’re running on some tight deadlines. And things are just going to be crazier with the holidays.”

  “But the fun kind of crazy,” Richie hedged.

  Colton raised an eyebrow. “Can I take that to mean you love the holidays?” he asked.

  “Oh, you have no idea!” said Richie. “I was just telling Shayla on the way over that they’re the best time of the year. Like a reward for—”

  “—getting through the year,” finished Colton.

  I realize that Richie had found a fellow holiday fanatic, and it was none other than the CEO of the freaking company.

  The two of them laughed.

  “I wanted to say that your decorations outside are just fantastic,” said Richie. “Whoever’s in charge of them has some killer holiday taste.”

  “Why, thank you,” said Colton. “Those are actually my doing. Things get busy around the holidays, but I always make sure to see that the décor gets a personal touch.”

  “Oh, God,” I said under my breath, realizing I was about to get an onslaught of total Christmas enthusiasm.

  I must’ve spoken more loudly that I’d intended, however, because as soon as I spoke the words, Colton’s attention turned to me.

  “You okay over there, Shayla?”

  Richie flashed me a cutting expression. “Oh, don’t worry about her,” he said, letting out a nervous chuckle. “She’s just not much of a holiday person. A little bit of a Grinch is what I always tell her.”

  “Is that right?” asked Colton. “Not a fan of the holidays?”

  It was silly, but I knew I had to play it carefully. I didn’t want to screw up the deal with my lack of enthusiasm. But at the same time, I hated to lie.

  “It’s just…never really been my thing,” I said, hoping this would put the subject to rest. “I’m more of a summer girl.”

  I hoped my little addition would make it sound like it was more of a weather preference than anything else. The last thing I wanted was to get into my personal history in the middle of a business meeting.

  “Oh, come on,” said Colton with a smile. “The food, the music, the snow—what’s not to like?”

  “How about the feeling of a blast of freezing air in the face while you’re walking through Manhattan?” I asked, returning his smile.

  He nodded, conceding the point.

  “There’s that, sure, but the freezing weather only makes getting home in front of a toasty fireplace even more satisfying.”

  I kept my mouth shut. A billionaire like Colton probably didn’t stop to think that in a city like New York, fireplaces were a total luxury—one that my Bushwick walkup didn’t have.

  “All the same,” I said. “I usually prefer to put my head down and work through the holidays. Which is probably exactly what you’re needing right now for this project.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “But keep in mind that all of my employees take a mandatory Christmas break. Even workaholics need some time off.”

  Then another excited expression flashed on his face, followed by him pulling open one of his desk drawers. Colton removed a green-and-red tin and popped the top, revealing a selection of frosted cookies.

  “Now, I know Christmas is still a few weeks off, but my mom is just like me and can’t wait to get started on the holidays. I just got these in today, and I think they’re her best batch yet.”

  He took one for himself before setting the tin on the desk and pushing it over to Richie and me. “It’s a little early for a drink, so how about in lieu of a toast to celebrate our working together, we mark the occasion with a Christmas cookie?”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Richie, his hand shooting out and taking one of the cookies, a red-and-white candy cane-shaped one.

  I regarded the cookies hesitantly, each of them a little physical embodiment of the holiday that I didn’t care for one bit. But both men eyed me expectantly, and I knew that there was no way of getting out of this. I reached into the tin and removed a tree-shaped cookie, the frosting a dark green with little sparkly candy balls for tiny ornaments.

  “Well,” said Colton, raising his cookie as though it were a flute of champagne. “Here’s to a fruitful working relationship.”

  “And a festive holiday,” added Richie.


  Colton nodded in agreement, and the two men took bites of their cookies. I stared down at mine for a long moment before sinking my teeth in. Just like Colton said, it was delicious—crunchy and moist at the same time.

  “Would you look at that!” said Richie, pointing to the window over Colton’s shoulder.

  Colton turned, and I looked up to see that the first flurries of snow were falling from the slate gray sky overhead.

  “Snow!” said Colton. “If that’s not a good omen, I don’t know what is.”

  He turned back to us and placed his hands on the desk, an eager expression on his face.

  “Now, let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 3

  Colton

  A Week Later

  The holiday buzz was in full swing, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. The office bustled with activity, and the last of the decorations had been put up. And, of course, I had my favorite Christmas tunes playing as I worked.

  The day was drawing to a close, and through the windows of my office, I could see that most of the employees were beginning to file out for the evening. A gentle knock at my office door snapped me out of my focus.

  “Yes?” I called out over the strains of a classical rendition of “Little Drummer Boy.”

  “It’s me,” spoke a familiar voice.

  “Come on in,” I said, adding a few last notes to the design mockup on my computer.

  The door opened and in stepped the tall, wiry figure of Trey, the recent NYU graduate who’d been my personal assistant for the last few months. He was dressed in gray slacks and stylish dress shoes all offset by an unbelievably garish Christmas sweater.

  “Have I told you how jealous I am of your ugly sweater collection?” I asked with a smile.

  “Oh, this old thing?” he asked, tugging at the face of a bizarrely proportioned Santa on his sweater. “Something from my grandpa’s closet.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “You should’ve saved it for the ugly sweater competition at the holiday party—it’s a winner for sure.”

  “Trust me,” he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs near the door and crossing his legs. “I’ve got something special set aside for that.”

  I laughed and sat back in my chair. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Just checking in to see if there’s anything else you need from me before I take off for the evening.”

  I looked away, thinking about the question. “Nope,” I said. “I think you’re good to go.”

  “Awesome,” he said. “And I take it you’re heading out soon?”

  “Nah,” I said. “Tons of work to get done around here.”

  Then there was a pause, and a brief expression of worry flashed over Trey’s face.

  “There’s something else,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, turning his attention back to me. “Just noticing that you’ve somehow been working even more hours than usual. I didn’t think that was possible, even for you.”

  He was right—I’d been spending just about every waking hour at the office these last couple of weeks, and my office couch had been doubling as my bed more than a few nights.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “There’s just been so much with the last crunch for this VR program. I’d love to relax a little, but I need to make sure the finishing touches are all perfect. Especially with the graphics.”

  “If you insist, boss,” he said. “I just don’t want to see you croak before the holidays. Not just you, though—that new graphics design team you contracted have been here non-stop. And I’ve noticed you’ve been really taking a special interest in them.”

  He was right about that. And though I didn’t admit it, there was more to why I was paying such close attention besides just making sure everything was perfect. Shayla had completely caught my attention.

  “The graphics are going to be the key to all of this,” I said, getting up from my desk and pouring a cup of coffee. “This is a VR program, after all, and if the graphics aren’t perfect, it doesn’t matter how good everything else is. Which is why I brought in the extra help.”

  “You won’t hear me complaining,” Trey said. “Those guys have been busting their butts. And on top of that, they’ve been great to have around the office. That Shayla girl’s really been a hit.”

  My heart skipped a beat at hearing her name. It was a strange feeling, something I hadn’t felt since I was much younger. I couldn’t get over the effect this woman had on me in such a short time.

  I glanced over Trey’s shoulder out to the office area where, as always, Shayla was busy at work at her desk.

  “The Liminal team’s been a great addition, if I do say so myself. If they keep turning out the quality work they have been, we’re going to be ready for the new year with the VR program.”

  “That’d make it a very happy holiday indeed,” said Trey with a smile. Then, his eyes widened as he spotted something over my shoulder. “Oh, shoot,” he said. “Snow’s starting up again. Gotta get going before the trains start getting crazy.”

  He gathered his things and headed out the door. “See you tomorrow, boss.”

  I gave him a goodbye wave before taking my coffee and turning around to watch the snow. Pure white flurries had begun to drift down from the dark sheet of clouds above, and it wouldn’t be long before a fresh blanket of powder covered the city. I took in a slow breath, enjoying the sight of the snow drifting down.

  After a few sips of my coffee, I decided to make my rounds through the office. At least, that’s what I told myself. Deep down, I knew it was because I wanted to swing by Shayla’s desk and say hello.

  The office was already looking fairly desolate, only the graphic design team and a few other employees still sticking around. Once I reached the aisle where Shayla’s desk was situated, I took a moment to admire how beautiful she was.

  I didn’t know what I liked the most about Shayla—her raven-black hair, her rose-red lips, her cream-white skin, or her slim, shapely figure. Her eyes were a sparkling blue that flashed whenever she spoke excitedly about something, and the gently floral scent of her perfume seemed to linger on my skin long after we’d speak.

  There was a problem, however: her strangely hostile attitude toward the holidays.

  I couldn’t figure it out. I loved them, of course, but I knew they weren’t for everyone. Shayla, though, wasn’t just indifferent to Christmas; she seemed actively against it. Just the mere mention of the holiday was enough to make her bristle.

  Which is why I had made it my personal mission to have her come around on the subject.

  I approached her desk, her gorgeous eye flicking over to me as she saw me coming. A slight smile spread across her face, her cheeks turning a soft shade of red. Just the sight of her happy to see me was enough to make my heart feel tight.

  “You see that it’s snowing?” I asked.

  “Ugh,” she said, shaking her head. “You know what that means.”

  “That the city’s going to look its most beautiful?” I asked. “Seriously, is there anything more picturesque than New York covered in fresh snow?”

  “Sure,” she said, turning her attention from her screen. “It looks great—for about three hours before the cars start driving through it and it all turns to gray sludge.”

  “Isn’t that just a perfect metaphor for how you and I talk about the holidays?” I asked with a grin. “I point out something cheery, and you turn it into gray sludge.”

  She chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it. Or you could say that I’m being practical about it. Which is surprising, because I’d think that someone like you who runs a company like this would be practical above all else.”

  I leaned back against a nearby file cabinet, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Just because I’m practical about some things doesn’t mean I can’t get excited about others,” I said. “And the holidays happen to be one of those things.”

  “I’ll say,” she said. “You almost have a childlike sense of wonder about it. It’s kind of endearing, actually.”

  “Happy to endear myself to you,” I said.

  I turned my attention to her work. On the monitor in front of her was a beautiful Renaissance-style portrait of a religious scene of some sort. The detail was impeccable—it looked like something out of a museum.