LITMIR.BIZ

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place was packed already, with women wearing glittering red and gold gowns. The men wore slick suits with festive ties, reminding her of the cartoon reindeer ones her mum always bought her dad when she was little.

      The memories were warmer now, not tinged with sadness, maybe because enough time had passed. More than likely it was because, officially, she was there as Nicole Porter the Temp tonight, not Natalie Taylor, the girl who had planned this party right down to the gourmet buffet being set up in the far corner. Separating herself made all the difference. Nicole didn’t have guilt or sadness, just a love of all things Christmassy.

      Tom was right about one thing though; if Mick the Dick knew about her extracurricular activities his face would be a picture and he would probably sack her on the spot.

      She’d turned his company into the first point of contact in the city if you wanted a party, especially during the holiday season. What thanks had she gotten for her hard work that first year? Nothing except a ton of overtime with no extra cash in her wages that month, or any month since. This was her way of getting something for herself out of it. And for Rose. But Rose wasn’t with her this time.

      She squished down the pang of sadness and accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Determined to make the most of it, she headed towards the buffet table and grabbed a plate. A few men had already gathered and were stocking up on miniature mince pies, but it wasn’t the cakes or pastries she was after – nobody’s compared to Rose’s. Instead she filled her plate with the cold food that wouldn’t spoil easily, leaving the seafood nibbles for her next trip to the table.

      When nothing else could fit on her plate without tumbling off, she made her way to an empty table at the back and filled the food bags she’d brought with her, stuffing her stash into her handbag.

      When she looked up she caught the dark gaze of a guy across the room. He lifted one eyebrow, nodding to her bag and her cheeks flushed.

       Busted.

      But the guy just smiled a little mockingly, shook his head in amusement, and picked up a glass of champagne. No doubt Mr Perfect, in his expensively cut navy suit, wouldn’t need to stock up on free food to save a penny or two. And going by his broad shoulders and slightly muscled forearms hugged deliciously by the suit, he ate very well.

      She waited for him to wave over security, or maybe even a waiter, but all he did was eye her from her silver pumps, all the way to the sequinned neckline of her royal blue dress. He lingered on her chest and she told herself that the increase in her heartrate was down to the stress of almost getting caught plundering, or maybe even indignation caused by the way he was ogling her.

      He took another sip of champagne, then winked and she felt her cheeks heat up again. But not from embarrassment.

      Now that she was reassured he wasn’t going to come barrelling over and chuck her out, she took a moment to really look at him.

      His jaw was dusted with dark hair, black or maybe dark brown. He was lightly tanned, either a sunbed lover or he’d just come back from abroad. The answer to that didn’t matter though, because she and Rose had rules for successful party crashing and right at the top of the list was Do Not Get Personal With Anyone.

      And she’d seen first-hand how important that was after Rose met Tom. Her friend had broken that rule, but kept her alter ego. Rachel the Assistant aka Rose had also gone on to break rule number two – Do Not See Anyone More Than Once.

      Nicole the Temp didn’t want to see this guy more than once, or find out about his golden glow. She did, however, want to wipe that grin off his face – maybe with some time under the mistletoe or a little indecent grinding on the dancefloor.

      And given his unashamed appraisal followed by a wink that suggested he liked what he saw, she guessed he was only interested in much of the same.

      Deciding to take the lead, she got up but another man appeared in front of her, blocking the way.

      ‘Hi, I’m Mark, have we met before?’ he asked, holding out his hand.

      Natalie took the offer and shook back. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve just started as a temp. I’m Nicole.’

      Mark wasn’t so bad. He was a little thinner than the other guy with the mocking grin, clean shaven and had thick, blonde hair, a little darker than hers. No tan either, but he was quite hot.

      ‘Ah, I heard they got temps in to update the new systems,’ Mark said, interrupting her evaluation. ‘How are your fingers from all that data entry?’ He pretended to wince, and she smiled.

      Feigning stiffness, she clenched her fingers a few times. ‘It’s touch and go.’

      ‘Well, maybe this will help.’ Mark waived over a waiter and then handed her a fresh glass of champagne.

      He pulled out a chair for her, assuming she’d sit with him now and she couldn’t help looking over for the guy who saw her plundering, but his attention was on a pretty, petite redhead who seemed to not only be hanging off his arm, but on his every word.

      Well, it looked like that ship had sailed.

      She took the lead from Mr Perfect and slid into the offered chair with a flirty smile for Mark, trying to steer the conversation away from work or anything personal. He seemed keen to find out more about her, probably to make her feel more comfortable in her new job, so she went with her rehearsed and fabricated backstory.

      This was the part Rose always hated, which was why she’d probably told mostly the truth when she’d met Tom.

      Natalie held back a sigh. The worry in her friend’s eyes when she left just reminded Natalie of her own worry that she was going to lose her best friend. The feeling of impending doom weighed heavily on her so much so she had to concentrate to keep up with the conversation.

      Perhaps because of that, or because of the five glasses of champagne she drank on an empty stomach, but she found herself saying to Mark, ‘Let’s dance.’

      Sliding her bag under the sparkly trimmed tablecloth, she took his hand and he led her to the dancefloor. The live band playing Christmas music made it hard to navigate through all the bodies that seemed to have the same idea.

      Little bouquets of mistletoe were strung from the ceiling directly above them and she tugged Mark beneath one, looking up, then at him expectantly. A knowing smile pulled at his full lips before he bent down and brushed them against hers.

      The kiss was nice, slow and building, but not the sort she read about in books that turned her body into a furnace and buckled her knees. A long time ago, she’d resolved that fiction was not real life, people didn’t always get happy-ever-afters and a pair of strong hands holding her up as she clung to muscled biceps with a desperate sort of passion was not in the cards for her, maybe not anyone.

      But she tried harder to feel more, feel something, throwing everything into the kiss and twisting her fingers through his thick, silky hair. Mark returned her enthusiasm, prying her mouth open with a swipe of his tongue, tangling it with hers. A familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach bloomed and she was about to suggest they find somewhere more private, but it was Mark who broke away first.

      ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to maul you like that,’ he said, sounding shocked at himself.

      ‘It’s okay, I don’t mind being mauled by you.’ Which was true. He was a nice guy and she was single. What was the harm in having a little fun? Especially since she was just getting into it.

      Someone knocked her forward, into Mark’s arms and she bumped against the growing bulge in his pants, a reminder of what she’d been hoping for. A little bit of passion, even if it seemed to mostly be on his part. But she was definitely getting there.

      Mark swallowed hard. ‘Let’s get off this dancefloor and talk.’

      What warmth she felt sizzled out. He was really a nice guy – probably wanted to take her out on a date or ten before there would be any more heated kisses. Which would breach her second rule and be her cue to leave.

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