nails were plain, she wore next to no makeup and her honey hair was a mass of curls held back by two clips—but with her natural beauty she didn’t need to fuss.
Then he’d seen her bra. He’d been innocently standing over her at the computer when her blouse gaped and there it was. Pink and lacy, cupping the soft rise of her breasts, and he’d wanted to tear it off with his teeth.
To escape the urge, he’d dropped to a crouch, only to get trapped in a close-up of her face in all its appealing detail—her snapping green eyes, edible mouth, that hint of a dimple when she smiled, right next to a beauty mark—pretty punctuation for her face—and her breasts close enough to—
“How do you want to handle it, Chase?”
“Handle…huh?” Had she read his mind? He whipped his attention to her words. She was looking at him impatiently.
“The work. The prep party and Black Friday itself. Officially both are GM duties. I’ve handled the prep party the past two years, though, since it was my idea, but it’s up to you.”
“Why don’t you keep doing that, then?” he said.
“All right. Black Friday is new and a lot of work as you saw. We have Olive, our marketing assistant, but she’s about to have her baby and has cut back her hours. Cyndi will do what she can, but she’s stuck on phones, so—”
“This is your plan, Sylvie. You know it inside out, so you should be in charge of it.”
“I’d love that, of course,” she said with a sigh, “but that was when I expected to be the GM. I’ve got operations to manage. This is your job, Chase. And it’s crucial. Black Friday revenues are make-or-break for our shops. I’ll help as much as I can, but it will take all of us working as hard as we can to pull this off. I’m not kidding.” Her eyes flashed at him. “You said you wouldn’t leave us hanging.”
“I won’t.” But he sure as hell wasn’t ready to throw the kind of energy at this stuff that Sylvie was. She was clearly worried, chewing her lip like mad. She’d already put so much work into this project, he wanted her to see it through.
“What then?”
She clearly doubted him. She had a point. “Okay, I get it. I don’t know a door buster from a loss leader, while you could do this job in your sleep.”
She went pink. “I wouldn’t have put it so bluntly, but basically, yes.” She lifted her chin to emphasize the point.
“So, here’s what I propose. You manage the Black Friday extravaganza and the tenant prep party. You know the plan, so that makes the most sense. I’ll fill in where I can with what I can.”
“But what about—?”
“Your operations job, right. It’s full-time and you already work twelve-hour days. Got it. I want you to hire someone short-term to get us through the holidays. Divide up the duties between the three of us however you think will work best. Just keep me informed.”
“Oh.” Sylvie looked startled. “Really? I can hire someone? We don’t have the budget for that, Chase.”
“Take it out of my salary line. No sweat.”
“Really? Oh. Well, okay….” He could see ideas flying behind her eyes, how this changed her goal, which had no doubt been to let the door hit him on the ass on the way out.
“Let me see if I understand,” she said slowly, her expression deadly serious now. “You’re telling me that you and I will share GM duties and I can hire someone to fill in the gaps as I see them? On a short-term contract, hourly wages. And it’s up to me who does what?”
“Within reason,” he said. “I have veto power and you and I need to stay in close communication.”
She beamed. “Then that’s great. That will work, I think. Thank you for being reasonable.” She was trying to restrain her excitement, he could tell. He liked seeing her eyes light up like that. One bright spot in an exhausting and irritating day.
“There’s one more thing I need from you,” Sylvie said, scooting forward, leaning toward him.
How about sex? Right here. Right now. The thought came unbidden and he leaned even closer. “Anything you want, Sylvie.”
“It involves costumes,” she said, her voice low and honeyed, her expression all sex kitten.
“Oh, I’m in.”
“I’m glad to hear that. How about Marshall and Fletcher? You think they’d be in, too?” She licked her lips slowly.
“Eew.” He sat up straight. “Forget it.”
Sylvie laughed her musical laugh. “Relax, I just need you three to dress up like Santa and his elves.”
“Are you nuts? Now, you and me, French maid and butler, would be great. But that…too kinky to even picture.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. It’s the perfect publicity stunt. Holiday shopping news stories are a dime a dozen, so we need a fresh angle to get TV coverage. Starlight Desert is a family-owned, homegrown mall. That’s our hook. How better to illustrate that than to have Marshall McCann be Santa Claus and his two sons Santa’s elves?” She grinned like Christmas morning. “You are nuts,” Chase said faintly.
“You and Fletcher would lead the kids to Marshall’s lap and take their photos. I know TV would eat that up. Chase? Your mouth’s hanging open.”
“You want my father to be Santa Claus? I can’t imagine anyone less jolly. And Fletcher in green tights and pointy slippers with bells?” He burst out laughing.
“He could wear a blazer and a tie if he wants.”
“Business Elf, right. I’d love to see that.”
“Don’t laugh too hard. You’ll be in green tights and bells, yourself, Chase.”
“I don’t see either of them agreeing to that.”
“It would just be for the opening weekend. We’d promote it on Facebook and Twitter.”
“The mall is on Facebook?”
“I created a persona—Bright Star. She’s a personal shopper who posts deals from our shops along with general shopping tips and tidbits.”
“Very smart.”
“So what do you say?” she said, her big eyes drilling him. “You can talk them into it, Chase. It’s important. They’ll have fun, too. And the store owners will love it.”
“I don’t know. I’d have to talk to Fletcher.”
“So call him.” She whipped out her cell phone.
“Jeez, you’re relentless, you know that?” He waved her away and pulled out his own phone. Sylvie had somehow made the most ridiculous idea sound vital to the mall’s survival.
He did like her. He surely did.
“Fletcher, listen. I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said when his brother answered.
“Uh-oh. First, I’m supposed to remind you about the big dinner tomorrow night. Nadia’s afraid you’ll forget.”
“I’ll be there, no worries. Listen, I’ve got Sylvie here with me and we’re talking about Christmas at the mall and—”
“Sylvie’s there? Yeah?”
“She is. And—”
“Put her on, would you?” Fletcher interrupted, his tone abruptly determined, as if he had a job to do.
“Okay….” What the hell? “He wants to speak to you,” he told Sylvie, shrugging as he handed her the phone.
Sylvie looked as puzzled as he felt. “Hi, Fletcher,” she said hesitantly. “I’m