The Magic Of Mistletoe

“What’s that?” she asked.

Duke took the opportunity to explain; hopefully his translation of a Dominican superstition might impress her. “Oh, you see, in the Dominican, if a woman passes over the top of her husband’s head, he will get all her morning sickness.”

Her perfectly manicured eyebrows came together in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

“Most women carry the brunt of the morning sickness. Her body has to pass over his head. I mean, usually this happens when the man is sitting on a step and the woman will swing her leg over his head, like a high kick.” Duke winked and held his hand over the top of his head. Did he really wink? He wished he could take it back. She seemed so sophisticated. Did she smell like sweet coconut? Suddenly, his train of thought was lost, and he just stood there staring at her, willing the next words to come out of his mouth.

Saving him, Pablo used his beer hand to nudge Duke once again and pointed toward the front stairs. Duke knew Pablo had had the house built for his wife. The stairs were a grand ordeal, coming right out of the pages of Gone with the Wind. “See that sixth step right there?” He looked back at Duke and Macy to make sure they were watching. “I was walking by these steps, minding my own business, when my wife nearly flew from that step onto the floor over the banister right over my head. It was like watching one of those bad seventies movies.”

“Hey,” Monique laughed, “I was barely eight weeks pregnant and still jogging every morning. but there was no way I could pass up a chance to test out the superstition.”

The image made everyone laugh. Duke noticed how Macy was even prettier up close and smiling. The lighting framed her heart-shaped face, highlighting her café-au-lait skin, haloing the top of her light brown curly hair. Because of her flawless skin, he could not determine her age. The news anchors he’d worked with would kill for the illegal lengths of Macy’s lashes. Her brown eyes crinkled in the corners as she stared at the three of them, her lips parted. Duke still stared, trying not to be a pervert, but the dangerous curves on her reminded him of the beautiful women back home—thick in the thighs, breasts and behind. His breath caught in his throat again. Asking if she was a model would have been something she’d already heard. She could have been on television. He wondered if she was in the business. He prayed not, because the last thing he wanted was to get involved with another woman in the industry. His last relationship had played out in the gossip tabloids from beginning to end, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

A lull fell across the foursome. Seemingly nervously, Monique cleared her throat. “So Duke, are you enjoying yourself? Pablo wanted to make sure you got some of the old Dominican traditions.”

“Everything is great. Who made pasteles en hojas?”

“Pablo.” Monique beamed. It didn’t surprise Duke to learn that. The masa, or dough, was made up of plantains and other root vegetables. Getting it to the right consistency took a lot of time.

“That’s good. It will go great with the bottle of Anis del Mono I had shipped in.”

For most people, the anise in the liqueur had a strong flavor like licorice, thus making it an acquired taste. Ready for the strong Spanish liqueur, Duke looked around the room at the traditionally festive holiday atmosphere. Christmas was less than six weeks away, and they’d already had their home decorated in bright red, green and white. The Christmas tree in the family room had to be about seven feet tall and was decorated with matching red and green ornaments.

“The food, the decorations, everything looks great, Mo.”

“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Monique said.

“No?” Duke could see Macy out of the corner of his eye. She held baby Lucia close to her and with expertise. Despite Duke’s status as godfather to all the Baez kids, he still always felt awkward holding one.

Monique hit herself lightly in the head. “Oh my God! Where are my manners? Macy, this is Duke Rodriguez, practically one of the family. Duke, this is our dear friend Macy. She’s the one who did all of this.” She waved her hand around the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Duke said, extending his hand. Since she was holding the baby with both arms, she couldn’t shake. Duke felt a little foolish. Quickly, he shoved his hand in his pocket.

“Nice to meet you.” Her words sounded polite, but there was a clip in her voice that told Duke she was just being nice.

Not counting the echoing chuckle as Pablo took a sip from his beer, there was another awkward silence between them. Kenny G’s melodic holiday saxophone notes were easily heard as the sound system dispersed the music through the rooms. Forks scraping against plates and champagne glasses being clinked in toast filtered through the air, as well. Monique raised her eyebrow in Duke’s direction. He could read it. She’d done her part, and now it was time for him to make an impression. After years of dating, years of having women throw themselves at him, Duke felt something strange; he was at a loss for words.

Macy didn’t seem the slightest bit awestruck looking at him. She’d barely glanced up when Monique made the introductions. With one hand in his pocket and one still holding his now-room-temperature beer, Duke stood there, rocking back and forth.

He towered over her by a good half a foot. Up close, he could see that her chocolate-brown hair was highlighted with little streaks of gold. She still wouldn’t give him eye contact, but he could see that she had the longest lashes and barely any makeup on her top lids. When she smiled down at baby Lulu, he could see her regal cheekbones rise slightly.

Monique reached over and popped her husband on the arm. “Oh my gosh, I told you not to let me forget the thing.”

“Ouch. The what?” Pablo asked, rubbing his arm.

A person had to be blind not to notice how Monique tilted her head toward the kitchen. She was obviously trying to give the two strangers a moment. Macy wasn’t blind, but she was clearly devoting all her attention to the baby in her arms. “Macy, will you be a dear and watch Lucia for me for a second?”

“Not a problem,” Macy replied sweetly, looking up for a moment.

Even when they were alone, Macy avoided Duke’s eye contact. He wasn’t going to leave until she smiled at him. “So you’re a caterer?” he guessed.

“I cater to people, but not like you may think.”

Her voice was thick, melodic. Maybe she was an aspiring singer. “Well, that’s interesting. You know, I just may be in need of your services.”

Finally she looked up, but when she did, he truly felt the icy glare of the mal ojo she gave him. He shivered. The evil eye told him she wanted nothing at all to do with him. “I’m booked.”

“But I didn’t say when.” He tilted his head down so she could see him give her an award-winning smile. He also didn’t give up that easily. If she saw it, it didn’t have any effect on her, though.

Macy squared her shoulders and finally gave him a direct stare. Duke could see that her eyes were a golden brown. Her lips made a cute bow, even if they were frowning at him. “I don’t need to know, Mr. Rodriguez. I’m pretty booked until the time you’re gone.”

Duke pressed his lips together to keep from grinning too hard. She knew how long he was going to be in town? That gave him a glimmer of hope she’d been following his time in Tallahassee. “I would pay you double what your normal fee is.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want to pay,” Macy stated again. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t think you understand what exactly it is that I do.”

“Okay, okay, maybe we can talk about it over dinner?” Taking a long sip of his beer to figure out what he was going to say next, Duke nodded his head. “Oh wait, I guess you don’t like to cook since you do it all the time, right? You, um, did the cooking for tonight, right?” he asked when she gave him a funny look. Her left eye squinted a bit, and her smile was crooked, devilish almost.

“I did the decorating,” she clarified.

Duke looked around him, the furniture, the caramel-colored walls with the white trimming, and the fixtures. “Oh, you’re an interior decorator.”

She smiled, finally. He thought he could leave now, but he was too captivated. Her smile lit up the room. It ignited something within him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. His mother used to say he was going to fall in love at first sight, but he wasn’t quite sure if this was it. All Duke knew was that he did not want to leave this woman’s side, even if she was making it obvious that she didn’t want to be around him.

“I’m more of an exterior decorator, especially for the holidays.”

“This is interesting,” Duke replied with a raised eyebrow. Women always fell for that move. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had nothing on him. “You mean you painted the house?” She was so dainty and feminine, it wasn’t something he expected.

“No.” Macy shook her head and huffed. She was obviously growing irritated with him. He’d never had that happen with a woman. Brown curls bounced from side to side, framing her face. “I did the holiday decorations outside.”

Duke recalled the Santa, the snowmen and the elves playing outside. It was quite the picturesque scene. There were a few homes in his neighborhood that were putting up their decorations, also. In fact, he’d gotten a letter in the mail about keeping up with the neighborhood traditions. “The decorations are great. Maybe you can do the same at my place.”

She half smiled this time, then adjusted Lucia so that she was resting over her shoulder. Duke noticed that her ring finger was naked. “As I’ve said, I’m busy, Mr. Rodriguez.” She tried to move away, but Duke stepped in her way.

“Hey, maybe I can do a story on you. This sounds like a fascinating one.”

“Sorry,” Macy said. Her snarky half smile told him she could go toe-to-toe with him and with anything he had to offer. “You’re obviously new here. A story has been done.” She moved to the right, and Duke moved to the left, blocking her once again. She sighed impatiently as she looked at him. The light from the skylight hit across her eyes, turning her eyes a seductive shade of golden brown.

“I feel like you’re upset with me.”

“Now why would I be upset with you, Mr. Rodriguez?” This time she offered a forced toothy smile, showing her dimple on her right cheek. “We’ve just met.”

She was being sarcastic. He liked that. Women weren’t sarcastic enough with him. They pretty much caved to whatever he said.

And then a bomb went off in the pit of his stomach at the ultimate possibility. Maybe she genuinely just was not attracted to him. His years of speaking in front of the camera, eloquently, went out the window. He found himself beginning to stutter, “Well, I...”

And then she ambushed him with her reasoning. “Could it be because yesterday morning while I was getting my kids ready and listening to the morning news, you exposed Santa as a fraud in front of my eight-year-old? Do you realize how many mothers had to explain to their children that you’re just a pompous ass whom Santa stopped visiting a long time ago and that you’re just so bitter that you wanted to ruin Christmas for everyone?”

He winced and snapped his teeth together as she gave him a thorough tongue-lashing. When she quieted down, Duke felt guiltier than ever. Pablo had said she’d been the first to call and complain. How soon he’d forgotten, after being lost in her beauty.

“Oh...” He scratched at the back of his head, still at a loss for words.

A few people within earshot overheard and were snickering, championing Macy.

“I’m real sorry about that. Maybe I can talk to her...”

“Him.” She corrected him quickly.

Duke nodded. “I’m very sorry. Can I do anything to fix this situation?”

Once again Macy shook her head from side to side. “I highly doubt it.”

“Can I at least take you to dinner sometime? Maybe take your son out for a tour of the studio?”

Macy sighed irritably. He could see that she wasn’t a person to make angry. If her eyes could literally shoot daggers, he’d be dead right now. “There is nothing you can say or do. What’s done is done, Mr. Rodriguez.”

“Duke,” he corrected her.

“What?” Macy pulled her neck back in confusion.

“My first name, it’s Duke. My friends call me Duke.”

“You are such an athle-tante.”

“A what?” Duke laughed.

“It means you’re like one of those celebrity athletes who think you can say and do whatever you like you’re some society debutante.” Rolling her eyes, she choked out a haughty laugh, then shook her head no. “I’m not interested. So you have a nice evening, Mr. Rodriguez.”

Dumbfounded, Duke stood there and watched her disappear around the corner into the kitchen. If she went through the swinging doors without looking back, then he knew he didn’t have a shot at her. His heart slammed against his ribs, a strange reaction he’d never felt before from just meeting a woman for the first time, because when she reached the door, she pushed one side open, stopped and cast a glance over her shoulder, directly at him.

Chapter 2

The day after the party, Macy found herself sitting in her office, thumbing through various sketches she’d worked on all morning. The swivel chair squeaked as she leaned back in a half stretch, half yawn, her eyes surveying the room. In times like these, she still did not believe how blessed she was to have such a successful career. The two-story Victorian office she owned in historic Frenchtown had doubled as the home where she’d raised her children until she earned enough money. Now she traveled in to work from her ranch-style home just outside the city limits.

For ten years, Macy had worked her fingers to the bone, using her skills as an interior decorator for a corporation and moonlighting during the holidays as an exterior decorator to help pad her little nest egg. Oh, how hard the first two years of starting her own business were—she’d been in the middle of a divorce from her best friend at the time, Mario Polizzi, and taking care of an infant and a precocious child.

Macy owed a lot to Mario, and it was easy to maintain their friendship now simply because they both realized they never should have gotten married. Mario and his family had played a big part in Macy’s life ever since her parents had passed away. Since they dated exclusively throughout high school, they both figured marriage was their next step. Getting pregnant right after prom sped up their plans. While trying to rebuild her life, Macy took on clients who needed help with their outside decorating ideas for the holidays. That business became a niche in town and led her to become extremely successful.

In a few weeks, all the homes in Tallahassee would be judged for their holiday spirit. Each neighborhood nominated a winner and posted their favorite home on Pinterest. From there, the home with the most votes collected a win. The award, courtesy of the mayor’s office, came with a cash prize, but more important, clout in the community for having the most spirit. In the past ten years, one of Macy’s homes had always won. Her biggest competitor was herself. But she never took all the credit. Each customer would sit down with her and give their ideas of what they wanted. Macy just put it into motion.

Now here she sat, a successful decorator, and she couldn’t focus on one single thing. The Christmas clock down the hall ticked away. The bells on the front door indicating a visitor were silent. In a way, Macy hoped the feeling of excitement when she heard her bells chime over her front door would never go away. It kept her on her toes. There was always a challenge lurking around the corner, but right now she desperately needed some motivation. The Wainwrights’ ideas weren’t sparking anything with her.

The Wainwrights were her latest clients. They were a middle-aged couple, married for twenty years, and wanted to finally get involved in the Christmas tradition. None of Macy’s suggestions had worked for them, and none of theirs were things Macy could pull off. She couldn’t make real snow appear and stick for the duration of the holiday season. They had a hard time understanding that if they did not sign their contract, Macy would not to be able to help them. They were going to have to stop just showing up every other day with their latest outrageous ideas.

Tucking her pencil behind her ear, Macy adjusted the cowl-necked sweater and strained her ear for her latest Christmas gadget, a buff, half-naked Santa with one hand on his hip and the other behind his head while he gave off a hearty “ho, ho, ho.”

Any distraction was welcome right about now. The lead from her pencil barely made any marks. For the first time in a long time, her mind was elsewhere. Her wrists flicked a few times, sketching the outline of a face that had haunted her all night long. From the curve of his lips to his chiseled jawline, Duke Rodriguez’s face was burned into her brain. Two cups of coffee couldn’t get her to concentrate. Duke’s cocky smile, his eyes and the way he flirted with her yesterday flashed through her mind.

Matters didn’t get better when the office timer went off and the television screen popped on, directly to WKSS channel seven. Duke’s deep baritone voice filtered through the office. She’d turned her back on the television, but she could still hear him as if he were right behind her. She would never admit it out loud, but his deep voice with the slight island accent made her stomach flip with butterflies. The fact that he had this kind of effect on her bothered her to no end. She was supposed to dislike him. And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

There had been a whisper running through the Baez home last night when he’d dared to show his face. Everyone with children who watched Tune In, Tallahassee, the morning show, fumed with anger. Macy expected her friends to break out the pitchforks, but all Duke had to do was walk in the room with that nice suit on, smile his dazzling smile and flash those big brown eyes of his, and everyone reconsidered their boycott. Macy found it best to hold her grudge against him. To have a crush on him from afar was one thing; it was a different story when he was in the flesh, flirting with her. And it was obvious yesterday evening that he had been hitting on her.

Macy had caught Duke staring at her quite a bit at the party but refused to give him eye contact. A man like him probably had a hundred women throwing themselves at him. And then there was the horrible way he got himself introduced. He should have been ashamed of himself for putting Pablo and Monique in a position like that. But that didn’t stop him. He actually had the nerve to try to hire her. She was glad she had a busy schedule. She had five homes to decorate tomorrow, and then every day until a week before Christmas she was busy.

The heavy bells on top of the door chimed. Macy perked up. Despite her dislike for Duke’s personality, Macy felt her heart sink a tad when she spied her assistant Serena Berks coming in the door. She had no idea why she would even think a man like Duke Rodriguez would come to her place of business. She didn’t know what she would have done with him if he had shown up, but then a devilish little voice nagged at the back of her mind, reminding her that it hadn’t been that long since she knew what to do with a man.

Down the hall, there came a grunting, a cursing and a sniffling. Poor Serena was dragging in a huge plastic mouse statue with all her might. At five foot two, Serena was just two inches shorter than Macy. The giant mouse, decked out in a red-and-green stitched scarf, had to have been about five seven. Serena’s bobbed red hair was disheveled around her freckled face.

Macy had hoped to find one or both of the male assistants she’d hired to help lift and cart around some of the heavier decorations. It was the peak season for exterior holiday decorating and the musclemen, Spencer and Andy, hadn’t shown up. Usually, they broke the frat boy stereotype by being reliable. But late last night Spencer had left an apologetic message about not being here this week. She prayed it was a horrible prank.

Getting up from her desk, Macy peered down the hall to where she had a view of the front door. She shook her head and hid her smile as she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with her pencil.

“Hey,” Macy pouted. “Santa didn’t announce your presence.”

“That’s because I threatened him within an inch of his life if he called me a ho one more time.” Serena projected her voice a little louder so that it could be heard upstairs and in the backyard. “A lil’ help here!”

“We’re the only ones here,” Macy shouted as she walked back to her desk and closed her sketchbook.

The outline of the Wainwrights’ lawn was just about done. She hoped they would be happy with it. They’d better be happy. This would be the third time changing things around, and Macy’s time was precious, not to mention that her staff seemed to be dwindling for the Thanksgiving holiday.

“Here,” Macy offered, picking up the pace down the steps and into the foyer, “let me help.”

“No, you don’t have to,” Serena argued as she stood the mouse in his upright position. The unplugged giant mouse stood with a black nose, which, when plugged in, turned red. The plastic book of Christmas carols in his hand was open. From a distance no one could read the words, but up close someone had written, “Who let the dogs out?” as a silly joke.

“Where are the boys?”

Biting her bottom lip, Macy hesitated to tell Serena the truth. From the looks of her dust-covered garnet-and-gold T-shirt and jean shorts, the bookkeeper’s morning had started off rough. She must have climbed over everything in the shed just to find the mouse. Going into the storage space went above and beyond the call of duty.

At thirty, Serena had been her assistant for the last four years while she worked on her BS and now her MBA at Florida State University. She was a pencil pusher who kept up with Macy’s schedules and appointments, yet here she was doing all the grunt work. She wondered if Serena would believe that the boys had been toppled over by a giant snowball. It was highly unlikely. The weather for Thanksgiving was scheduled to be a balmy seventy-eight degrees.

“They left an apologetic message on my answering machine saying they left early for Thanksgiving. I kind of hoped they were joking.”

“No way! I thought they agreed to be here over the break.”

Macy rested her hands on her hips as she studied the mouse. “I know. But according to the message, they somehow—” she rested her finger on her chin to recall the exact way the boys had phrased it “—scored some serious tickets.” She mocked Spencer’s surfer-boy accent with air quotes.

Serena’s laugh turned into a hacking cough. She shook her strawberry-tinted head. “That’s pretty lame of them. They worked last year. They understand how this is the busiest weekend for you.”

Shrugging, Macy tried to smile, already figuring how to handle things. In a way, she looked forward to working alone tomorrow and Friday. She was prepared. Key organizational skills helped keep Macy sane. What took most grown men all day to do, she could complete in an hour. She had a few homes in the morning with light decorations. Extra hands stringing up the lights might have been nice, but Macy could handle the work; after all, she’d started this business ten years ago with no help.

The only stickler in her plans was the Wainwrights’ home, simply because they kept changing their ideas. Typically the slots for holiday decorations got booked up by the Fourth of July. Every weekend until just before Christmas, she was busy. Most trusted Macy’s ideas. A lot of homeowners’ associations even required their neighborhoods to decorate unless religion prohibited it. Doing the work on her own wasn’t a problem, especially since the kids were at her former in-laws’ house. Perhaps it would be a bit of a hassle trying to unload her truck, but she could get it done.