Джессика Леммон – A Christmas Proposition (страница 3)

“And Blake’s a renegade douchebag.”

Of all the bad decisions Stef had made during her thirty brief years on this planet, why this one? Why had she fallen victim to that man’s false charms?

“If you were anyone other than my sister-in-law, I’d advise you to get married.”

“To Blake?” Stef practically shrieked.

“No! My God. No. I’m saying the best way to trump Blake’s claim that he’s engaged to you is to marry someone else. Know any eligible bachelors?”

Stef was staring in shock. This certainly wasn’t the advice she’d expected to get from Penelope.

“I’m joking.” Pen gave Stef’s shoulders a little shake before moving back to her desk. Laptop open, she started typing. “I’ll craft a plan to detangle this mess that will work for you and your brother the mayor.”

“Thank you.”

Pen smiled up at her. “And I promise it won’t involve nuptials.”

Two

Emmett Keaton had been Chase Ferguson’s close friend, arguably his best friend, since college.

He could say with authority that Chase rarely allowed his feathers to ruffle. But today his feathers weren’t only ruffled, they were scattered to the four corners of the earth.

Since it was Emmett’s job to keep the mayor’s office safe, he’d have to assume the role of “the calm one” today. As the scandal currently wreaking havoc had to do with Stefanie, he found it challenging to bank his own anger.

The youngest Ferguson had a talent for finding trouble.

“When I get my hands on that sniveling weasel,” Chase grated out through teeth that were welded together, “I swear on everything holy—”

“Chase.” Penelope—wife to Chase’s brother, Zach—stood in front of Chase’s desk, arms crossed. She was dressed in a white pantsuit, her long blond hair pulled into a neat twist at the back of her head. Her stance broadcast one undeniable truth: she wasn’t intimidated by power. She’d handled many a powerful man as a public relations specialist over the years, and had become a trusted friend when Chase hired her to care for Stef the first time she stepped in it with Blake fucking Eastwood.

Because Chase trusted her, Emmett did, also.

“I’ve got this,” Pen said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

A muscle in Chase’s jaw ticked but he gave his sister-in-law a curt nod. She returned it with one of her own and spun on one very high-heeled shoe to leave.

Once she was out the door, Chase glanced at Emmett with irises so dark they bordered on black.

Chase punched a button on his phone. “Cynthia. Get my sister on the line.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sure you want to do that, boss?” Emmett asked.

Chase didn’t answer.

A moment later, the desk phone rang.

“Where the hell are you?” Chase barked into the receiver. A brief pause and then, “You have thirty seconds.” He slammed the phone down on its base and glared at the only target in the room. Emmett took the blow without flinching. “She was already on her way.”

“Good.”

Chase needed to redirect his anger? Fine.

It was better than him unleashing it on Stefanie.

The door burst open almost exactly thirty seconds later. Stefanie strode into the office in a short red designer dress, tall boots with dangerous-looking heels and a painted pout in siren red.

“I saw Pen on my way in.” Stef tucked her cell phone into an oversize handbag. “She warned me that you weren’t in the best mood. I’m assuming you’re mad at me.”

Nostrils flared, Chase pulled in a deep breath through his nose. When he spoke, his words were carefully measured. “I’m not angry with you, Stefanie. I’m—”

“Don’t say disappointed.” She dropped the handbag onto the leather chair in the corner of the room and sent Emmett a derisive glare.

Typical.

She hated him for reasons he’d yet to discern. He’d only ever offered assistance when she’d needed him—whether she’d asked or not. If memory served, she’d never asked.

“I’m concerned,” Chase said, and her head swiveled back to her brother. “Your Christmas retreat is soon, yes?”

“Yes.” A smile of pure delight crested her red mouth.

That smile lit her face like a string of holiday lights. Emmett had never seen someone so in love with the idea of Christmas. Loving the holiday was as foreign to him as understanding anything else about the lush lifestyle his best friend’s family led. In spite of his own amassed fortune, Emmett had no desire for frills of any kind. And he certainly had no desire to celebrate an occasion that brought forth bad memories and worse consequences.

“Where is it this year?” Chase asked.

“San Antonio.”

“Cancel it.”

Her face morphed into tortured shock. “What? Never. Absolutely not.”

“That wasn’t a request. There was no question mark at the end of my sentence.” Chase pointed at her, his quaking arm revealing his anger. “Because you don’t have the sense to stay away from Blake Eastwood, my campaign is suffering from the fallout.”

Emmett’s hands balled into fists at his sides.

He was rarely in disagreement with his friend, but in this case, Chase’s comments were out of line. Stef had been briefly involved with Blake—whom Emmett would love to go a round or two with, bare-knuckle—but the accusation that she was to blame was harsh.

“Whatever you have to do in San Antonio with your girlfriends can be done from Dallas just as easily. You’re not leaving the city, and if you do go out, you’re going to be chaperoned. Do you understand me?”

Her stricken expression faded into a laugh of disbelief. “You can’t ground me, Chase. You’re not my father. And even if you were Dad, he can’t ground me, either. I’m thirty years old!”

“Then why are you acting like a spoiled teenager?” Chase roared.

“Hey!” Emmett’s outburst was so unexpected that both Fergusons faced him wearing shell-shocked expressions.

He took a step closer to Chase, instinct more than decision driving him. “Let’s keep the blame where it should be. On Blake. Stefanie’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you piling on.”

Chase’s lips pressed into a thin, frustrated frown. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and leaned both hands flat on his desk.

Emmett flickered a glance over at Stefanie, who, for the first time in her life, regarded him with something akin to gratitude. He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“I’m asking, Stefanie—” Chase addressed his blotter before sitting in his chair and meeting his sister’s eyes “—for your cooperation.”

“Penelope is amazing at her job. There’s no reason she can’t—”

“I’m asking,” Chase repeated, his voice firmer.

“I look forward to this retreat every year. I can’t cancel an event that happens in four days.”

“Why not?” Chase’s forehead dented. “Can’t you and your girlfriends drink champagne and talk about fashion another time? Mail them their gifts. Hell, invite them here. You can host at my mansion.”

“I...can’t do that.” She regarded her impractical boots, appearing tormented by the idea of canceling.

Disappointment, Emmett could understand. Torment didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.

Stef loved her family above all else. Over the years, Emmett had witnessed the special bond she and Chase had—she respected her brother. And she would never lie to him. So why was Emmett getting the distinct impression that she was trying hard not to do just that? Why couldn’t she party here in town? Why did she have to travel to San Antonio?

She wasn’t lying—not yet—but she was definitely keeping from saying too much.

“Plans can be changed. I’ll foot the bill for it, if you like,” Chase told her. “I’ll grease some palms and find you a last-minute venue in Dallas. You can’t leave town with this mark on your back. I forbid it.”

“What mark? Do you think I’m going to be kidnapped by Blake’s henchmen or something?” Stef let out an exasperated laugh. Emmett didn’t find it funny. His back went ramrod straight, his senses on high alert at the idea that any harm would befall her.

He forbade it.

“You do things without thinking,” the mayor said. “Who knows what could happen?”