Christmas at Tiffany's (10 page)

“For now, forget everything else and do me a favor.”

“What's that?”

“When we're finished here, I want you to show me New York City. Through your eyes. Do you have plans?”

Jump, she told herself. Jump. Her entire spirit quivered—just like that terrified little calico not far away. Nonetheless, she met his gaze straight on. “It seems I do now. Challenge accepted.”

8

Following a cozy, burger and fries dinner at a diner in Midtown, Mitch expected Tiffany to lead him to all things quintessentially New York—to Rockefeller Plaza or the elaborate window displays along Fifth Avenue. He should have known she'd bypass them all. Instead, she guided him to Washington Square Park, with its triumphal marble arch majestically spotlighted. An enormous Spruce tree, draped by thousands of lights, was centered perfectly within its curved opening.

From there they cabbed to the New York Palace hotel, which took him by complete surprise, until he stood within its snow-dusted courtyard which was decorated to resemble a Christmas fairyland.

“This is my favorite spot at Christmas.”

“Why this spot in particular?” He could assume, of course, but wanted to hear her impressions—in her words—from her heart.

“It's elegant, romantic, and full of Christmas spirit. It's tucked away from the bustle, which is the best thing of all, and you have to admit, the view is incomparable.”

No argument there. A massive, live tree glowed. A snowflake princess and palace guards stood ready for photo-ops so Mitch opened the camera app on his phone and commissioned a bystander to capture the moment with Tiffany.

Directly across the street, standing proud sentinel, loomed the soaring spires and chiseled statuary of St. Patrick's Cathedral, beautifully illuminated by ground lights that shone toward the heavens.

Next came what seemed to be her lone concession to typical New York tourism: they indulged in a horse-drawn carriage ride to Central Park and followed a number of hearty folks who made their way to Gapstow Bridge. Curving gracefully across a narrowed portion of the nearly frozen Pond at Fifty-Ninth Street, the fieldstone structure was dotted by people, and the darkness of night was punctuated by occasional camera flashes. At the highest point of the bridge, the skyline of the city sparkled as though covered in angel dust.

He leaned against cold, dark stone and dared to pull her close.

She didn't pull away. “Tell me something about you. Tell me something about you that no one else at InfoTraxion knows.”

Tiffany's challenge, light and almost flirty, caught him off guard. She meant to be fun and easy, he could tell, but Mitch decided to zig when she wanted to zag. He paused for only a moment. “OK, here it is. When you walked into the Christmas party, I couldn't look anywhere else. I didn't want to. You take my breath away. I don't quite know what to do about that fact, but it's a fact nonetheless. Plus, your smile pulls at me like gravity.”

Tiffany stared into his eyes. Mitch cupped her face in his hands, reverent and gentle, careful of where this road might lead…but unable to avoid its destination.

“What about Wendy?”

“Wendy isn't a factor.”

“But…at the party, I saw…I just…”

“You saw Wendy.” He caressed her blush-warmed cheek. “Then you vanished.”

“No I didn't.”

“OK, not literally, but ever since then you've withdrawn, so I want to explain.”

“There's no need to. Really. I mean, it's not like—”

“For me, there is a need.” He cradled her chin in a gloved hand and tipped her face upward. He wanted to sink into those dark, sparkling eyes, float and savor. “Last weekend, while you focused on Wendy, all I saw was the way you outshone every other person in the room.” His reward for blunt honesty was the way she relaxed, the way she surrendered.

“I don't want to get hurt. You could hurt me.” She murmured the words, leaving her commentary at that.

“That's what you need to understand, Tiffany. The same holds true for me.” A slight impasse followed. “I've loved being with you. You're special. Bring everything that you are to the surface. Don't be afraid to show the world who and what you are.”

And in doing so, convince me to stay…

More and more often of late, the thought of permanence in New York City drifted into his heart, a wispy enticement to all that the future might hold.

While they stood on the bridge, people moved past. Snow began to fall in a lacy, ethereal dance so he removed his gloves and used a gentle stroke to whisk the delicate flakes from her cheeks then her lashes.

“So, what's next?” he asked. “Ice skating?”

She responded to the tease with a relieved laugh as they meandered along a pathway leading to the perimeter of the park. “You're from California. What do you know about ice?”

“I watch a lot of hockey. Come on, don't you trust me?”

“I trust you, I just don't trust the”—her heel caught on a patch of compacted snow. She tumbled against him and Mitch reacted swiftly, capturing her with ease and confidence—“ice. It's slippery, you know.”

“Rumor has it.”

“Next time, OK?”

Next time. The words rang with pleasure and innocent promise, but an instant later, Tiffany cringed seeming to regret the words.

“I mean…ah…not that I expect...umm…”

Mitch used a gentle tug to bring her footsteps to a halt and turn her around so they were eye-to-eye. “Next time sounds great to me. And, from the fair warning department, I happen to be pretty smooth on the ice.”

“I don't doubt it. Why would ice make any difference?”

So, she was finding her feet, along with her playful sass. That delighted him even further, and he laughed. Once they reached the crowded, traffic-laden street he hailed them both cabs so they could begin the journey home. He reached into his wallet and paid the cabbie up front, in excess, for her trip to Brooklyn. A sense of protectiveness rode in.

“Text me when you get home, OK?” She gave a silent nod, watching him, visibly reluctant to leave…just like he was. “Good night, Tiffany.”

“Good night.”

~*~

I don't want this time with him to end.

The thought consumed; a yearning caught fire. Captured by longing, Tiffany froze, wishing she knew how to express herself, trapped by indecision. Mitch was about to walk away; a spot in her heart started to ache, and she discovered she missed him already. He took a few steps then looked over his shoulder. Puzzled, Tiffany watched, and waited. Following two decisive return strides he stood before her, breathed out as though to find steadiness.

“I want next time to come soon.” He spoke quietly, held her face between his hands. “I hope you do, too.”

His head dipped. She had just enough time to brace for the burst of pleasure that swamped her senses and danced against her skin as he claimed her mouth. He was tender as the night, but at the same time lovingly possessive. Another heated wave swept in, deftly pulling her from all that was familiar into everything tantalizing and new.

His arms encircled her waist. She clung to him, responding to his call by lifting to tip-toe and tucking against him in a form of perfect, puzzle-piece alignment. The glide of his lips against hers prompted an answering response of her own, a seeking of his taste, his textures. Eyes closed, a soft exclamation passed through her chest as she weakened and spun, yet all the while she was held safe. His lips continued to move warm against hers. He traced a path from the underside of her jaw to her neck, then the sensitive lobe of her ear where he nuzzled and hummed.

She tumbled into a moment of sweetest desire that pushed a languid heat through her veins. Still, the exchange came alive with something much greater than mere physical need. This kiss coaxed; it pulled and heated and melted. This was a Christmas kiss, touched by tantalizing measures of hope…and breathtaking magic.

Senses going sharp she came aware of her urban surroundings; the waiting cabs, the push of people, bleating vehicle horns and splashing slush. At the same time, while they stood in a continuing embrace, while snow formed a blanket against their hair, faces and coats, the moment ripened into tenderness, an expression of love she promptly craved. The reality of Mitch put to shame any dream, any wish, she had ever held with regard to the kind of man she wanted to be able to one day call her own.

When he pulled away, heat tempered to warmth. He rested his forehead against hers. “I'll see you Monday.”

Reluctance pressed a heavy weight on the words. Touched—transformed—Tiffany caressed his cheek, leaned forward to kiss that cheek slowly in farewell. “See you Monday.”

She settled into the cab which pulled promptly away, leading her toward home while Mitch remained stationary for a few extra moments on the crowded sidewalk, watching after her.

The image stayed with her for the entire trip, sweeping her into a world of enchantment.

Floating across the threshold of her apartment, Tiffany slipped her arms free of her wool coat and shook snow from the shoulders and sleeves, pegging the garment on a nearby hall tree.

Wow. A kiss.
Their
kiss. A kiss that had shaken her deep and released a tidal wave. She had been kissed before, sure. There were the pre-functionary, emotionless good night and goodbye kisses. There had even been some promising interludes with kind and thoughtful men. But this? Amazing.

Releasing a light sigh, Tiffany picked up Audrey and snuggled the feline close. Oscar, meanwhile, wound around her legs in a tight, happy circle of welcome. Tonight Tiffany's whole world had shifted. She was aware, to a dangerous degree, that this level of emotion had left her saturated, and threatened to leave a forever mark.

She deposited Audrey on the ground and gave Oscar's back a long, slow stroke. Could she hold on to Mitch's affection and the kind of love she had seen in his eyes? Most of all, what did the future hold once he was replaced and he returned to California? All of a sudden, time became an enemy that left a bitter aftertaste.

9

A New York night with Tiffany followed by a post-church Sunday afternoon spent studying Scriptures specific to goals and relationships revealed much to Mitch about the truth of his heart and brought him to a startling realization. The situation he had nearly embraced with Wendy could be best encapsulated in one simple word: loneliness. Even when standing at Wendy's side, Mitch had felt lonely. He experienced the opposite reaction when it came to Tiffany.

Now, he needed to be pragmatic and deal with facts. Tiffany had accomplished the impossible; she'd made him think of New York City as home. She'd made New York beautiful to him, helping him to find home in the most unexpected ways.

Monday morning dawned and whirled quickly into a work-related storm. At nine o'clock sharp, InfoTraxion CEO Scott Wayne strode into New York HQ followed closely by JR. Internal sirens howled as Scott called for a private meeting between the three of them. Mitch followed his colleagues into an empty conference room, wondering what had happened in L.A. to prompt this unexpected visit.

“We've come to a decision about the future of east coast operations, and wanted to make sure we could rely on your buy-in.”

Mitch wasn't surprised by Scott's precious little preamble. He had always been the type to move forward with swift, decisive actions rather than dwelling on minutia.

“Which is?” Mitch folded his hands, calmness overshadowing any sense of anxiety. God, he knew, would see to everything that was to come. He hoped…he believed…but most of all, he trusted.

“I understand there have been issues of reluctance from both you and JR with regard to the first batch of candidates we sent your way for vetting.”

“True.”

“Mitch, I understand, and even applaud your reluctance to surrender this position to someone else,” Scott said, his attitude patient and genuine. “Handing over the reins when you've run the region with success and dedication is difficult. However, your efforts have been commended, which we've made clear in a promotion package that we believe is both large, and well-deserved. We need you in California, and if I can help move matters along and put you in an even stronger role with the company, then I'm glad to be here and help.”

JR received a prompting look from Scott, so JR leaned forward and addressed Mitch. His friend appeared to be in full-on HR mode, which made Mitch stiffen and brace himself.

“Tom Keelor has been chosen as your replacement. Scott met with him Friday night over dinner and is impressed with what he can deliver.”

“I wasn't included?” Mitch fought to keep from bristling.

“Jay wasn't either. There was no need,” Scott soothed promptly, arranging the fall of his suit coat as he stretched back in his chair. Sharp and distinguished at middle age, this was a formidable man with whom to spar. “You had already met with him last week. Since the two of you arrived at a split decision with regard to hiring, I thought it would be prudent to fly out and conduct a final interview. A tie-breaker if you will. It's not a reflection on you, or JR, or even Tom. Sometimes, in upper-echelon hiring, this type of step needs to be taken. Tom's resumé, his personality, his strategies to grow the business, tick all the boxes. Plus, his arrival will free you to rejoin the west coast team in the expanded role we've already discussed. Vice President of West Coast Operations has always been your goal, yes?”

“It was.” Past tense, most definitely.

“I know transitioning can be difficult, especially when it involves moving from one end of the continent to the other.” Scott blew right past Mitch's emphasis on the word
was
. “Ties are created with people and places, but we need your drive and expertise in LA. We've upped everything—including our expectations—to keep you at the front of InfoTraxion's hierarchy. In some ways, the company is a demanding mistress, but with ample compensation.”