Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,28
toward camera C, please.”
I perked up. Morticia!
I had run through a few scenarios regarding what she might be wearing. Would she go on-brand with a skimpy spiderweb string bikini or ironic with a retro Christmas-themed two-piece?
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Keeley asked loudly as Morticia paraded out with her tray.
“That’s not a bathing suit,” I said, frowning.
“Actually,” Morticia clarified, “this is a bathing suit. In fact, it is a pattern modeled on one of the first instances of such an item.”
“You’re wearing a dress and pants!” Keeley complained.
“Pantaloons,” Morticia corrected, handing me a tall, frosty glass of ice water.
I took it gratefully, gulping it down.
“You can’t bring water for your cocktail,” Keeley insisted.
“Just a palette cleanser to wash the trash out of his mouth,” Morticia said.
I still couldn’t believe what she was wearing. Morticia had on stockings, thin leather shoes, and a dark charcoal-gray dress with a collar and short puffed sleeves.
“Are you actually swimming with all that on?” I asked in shock.
“Of course,” Morticia replied. She handed me a donut then carefully stepped into the hot tub and waded right to the middle, her bathing suit floating around her like a bloom of ink. “Now eat your donut. It has bacon on it.”
I took a bite. It did have bacon. The icing had bourbon in it and had a light burnt-caramel flavor that contrasted nicely against the salty, crispy bacon.
“Shit,” I mumbled, taking another bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Do you have any more?”
“They didn’t want you to ruin your appetite,” she told me with a slight smug smile that I imagined she might wear after she got me off. “But I’m sure someone might save you some.”
She handed me the other cold glass on the tray. “Drink up before the ice melts. I made a mistletoe martini with the elderflower liqueur,” she said.
The cocktail was bright, fresh, and ever so slightly tart. The cranberry garnishes burst in my mouth when I bit down on them, complementing the elderflower liqueur.
“Thoughts?” Morticia asked. “Comments?” She lay back in the water, buoyed by all her skirts.
The Victorians might have actually been onto something, because when she sat back up, the fabric clung around her curves enticingly.
“I need another donut.”
I was not going to get another donut, however. Instead, I was subjected to hypersweet dessert after hypersweet cocktail. When the bake-off was finally done, I felt nauseous and too hot. I was also pretty drunk.
Morticia glared at my hand when I held it out to her to help her out of the hot tub.
“You can’t possibly hate me so much that you’d rather drown in the hot tub than let me help you,” I slurred.
She took the offered hand. “I was more concerned that you were going to fall in and drown.”
Fuck. I wanted to peel her out of those layers of clothes and fuck her in the pool.
“Or,” I murmured in her ear, “were you worried that you might have given me the wrong idea by letting me see your bare ankles? Trying to tempt me with something else sweet to eat?”
“I would have thought you would be all sugared out, but I suppose I underestimated you,” she replied, shoving me away.
“Oh, I’m definitely about to barf up a lot of different colors, but I think I can manage it if you’re feeling up to it,” I said with a crooked grin.
“Uh, no. I work for you now, remember?” she said, wringing out her dress.
“You’re a consultant, and I’m your customer,” I corrected.
“Yes, and I don’t need to give you a reason to sue when your harebrained plan goes down the drain.”
“It won’t,” I said confidently. “I have complete faith in you, and I expect to see great things at the meeting tomorrow.”
Now that I was out of the hot tub and the winter wind was freezing the droplets of water on my skin, I was feeling much better. But Morticia seemed cold. All that sopping-wet fabric was starting to freeze, and her already pale complexion was getting even paler.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her inside. “Need any help undressing?”
“No thanks. I’ve spent as much time in close proximity with you as I want to. Besides, after all the sugar you’ve eaten, I have no desire to play nursemaid to you,” she added.
After grabbing a towel from one of the producers and dripping off to a bathroom, I went in search of another donut. Though, yes, I had eaten a lot of