Christmas at Tiffany's Read online

  Mitch fought back a sigh, thinking. For the love of everything precious, Tiffany, learn to lock your monitors before you leave your desk. Before Mitch could begin an explanation, Eric barreled ahead. “Everyone knows she’s working on her Masters in Counseling. She’s all about animal therapy and bettering herself beyond IT system designs and analysis. Good for her. However, this lapse in professional drive clearly illustrates the point that she’s not invested when it comes to my development team.”

  Mitch seethed within an onslaught of heat. “Eric, I can easily explain what happened. She wasn’t on the rescue site for personal reasons. At my request, she was researching the methods by which InfoTraxion might support the shelter where she volunteers. In honor of Christmas, I intend to seek corporate approval for a charitable contribution to the organization.” That piece of news didn’t stem the fire in Eric’s eyes, not that Mitch expected it to.

  “I laude her compassion and empathy, but this presentation is important, and could land a two million dollar project for the firm.”

  “I’m aware of the proposal. Congratulations on securing the opportunity.” Eric’s lips curled and he leaned back in his chair, happily preening. The team leader’s self-righteous behavior prompted Mitch’s protective instincts. “I’m also aware of the fact that she’s not being forced to recreate the wheel. She won’t need to execute hours of research and data alignment in order to deliver a top-rate explanation of the infrastructure and processes necessary to build the network Webber Strategic requires. You said so yourself: she can utilize the foundation of a previous playbook. Meanwhile, I have every confidence she’ll flesh out the finer details of the client’s requirement and deliver an excellent product. I don’t see an issue here.” With that, Mitch moved in for a kill-shot. “By the way, was she given adequate prep time?”

  Eric leaned back slightly—a retreat of sorts—and his eyes lost a bit of that haughty indignation. “She was given enough notice, yes.”

  Sure she was. It was Mitch’s turn to battle against a knowing sneer. “Then my advice would be to leave the project to her. If she fails to follow through, let me know. I’ll handle it.”

  The meeting ended but Mitch knew Eric was far from satisfied. Too bad. Mitch knew Tiffany’s history with the company. She had been part of the systems development team for almost three years, proving herself as pro at follow through and an exceptional end product. He had tamped Eric’s fiery crusade for the time being, but sensed the deeper reach of the man’s personal tensions toward Tiffany. Mitch wouldn’t tolerate them for long. Tiffany was quiet to the point of studious—introverted and pleasingly shy. He severely doubted she had earned the show of hostility based on professional capabilities.

  His mind’s-eye drew the portrait of a woman with large, dark eyes and a short, straight cap of black hair worn in those soft, tempting type of layers that caught the air when she moved, dancing and shifting like ripples around a fair, heart-shaped face.

  Pursing his lips, tilting his chair backward so he could look outside, he contemplated the view of a winter storm on the brew. He ignored the onslaught in favor of his own personal countdown. In one short month—January 1st to be precise—he’d be back in Los Angeles, and he could leave the snow-cast gloom of the east coast behind in favor of sun, warmth, beaches and incomparable mountain vistas.

  He had done his time and earned his spurs on behalf of InfoTraxion. With all due respect to NYC, he couldn’t wait to get back home to California. Meanwhile, the Christmas season was kicking into full swing, and he wanted to encourage philanthropy. Business focused and intent, Mitch returned to his computer and crafted a meeting invite to Tiffany’s e-mail address and clicked send.

  2

  Tiffany arrived at her desk to a cyber-alert summoning her to a three o’clock meeting with Mitch Alexander. She checked the time on her watch. Forty-five minutes from now.

  All jokes about CEO Charming aside, the man intrigued her—and had ever since his arrival at InfoTraxion at the start of the year. She had crossed paths with him just often enough to catch the scent of a polished and confident man who commanded the office but seemed to enjoy engaging with his employees. He had assumed the interim position of regional manager when long-time employee Ted Buckford retired.

  In a manner so intrinsic to her character, Tiffany enjoyed watching Mitch more than initiating any form of direct interaction. That way she could simply observe his character and nuances. Most of her colleagues hoped he would assume the east coast post permanently; Tiffany agreed. Mitch Alexander possessed a core of kindness evidenced by his commitment to InfoTraxion’s philanthropic endeavors. From a business perspective, he had earned fast approval for being aggressive but astute. He was the kind of man she loved to study—but the prospect of a meeting did a fantastic job of intimidation. His request had to be about the charitable contribution she had requested on behalf of Pets Finding Home.

  Or, perhaps it was about Eric…

  Stomach rolling, she responded in the affirmative and went to work polishing the Webber Strategic infrastructure and pitch-specific data management analysis. At three o’clock, Tiffany rinsed and dried her tea mug, nerves escalating as the hour-hand inched forward. She returned to her desk and stacked a short sheaf of papers that detailed the efforts of the organization. She paused long enough to pray the Webber project was the purpose of the meeting, not a reprimand of some sort. She saved her contribution to Eric’s playbook—it was nearly finished—and straightened the fall of her long, stone necklace. Hoping for the best, she tugged a few ripples from the lapel of a short black jacket she had paired with a silk tank and black slacks. Stylish, professional, confident.

  Oh, well. Two out of three wasn’t bad.

  Before entering Mitch’s office, she rapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe to nab his attention. When he looked up from his monitor, when his curious gaze touched hers, anxiety vanished on a welcome swirl of warmth. Then he smiled. All she wanted to do was freeze the moment in place and stare, savor the image of him without need for explanation or apology.

  “Hi, Tiffany. Come on in.”

  His office was large, his desk tucked close to an expansive window line that framed the far side of the room. Outside, the snow fell and the world bustled, but this space was secluded from the wide-open, 360-degree style featured throughout the rest of the office. Although heavy snowfall partially obscured the view, Tiffany felt as though she could reach out and touch the buildings across the way.

  While she gawked, Mitch lifted to a stand. “Let’s work at the conference table. It’ll be more comfortable.”

  He gestured toward a dark wood table surrounded by four matching chairs, which was tucked by the window. Tiffany followed his lead but remained drawn to the stunning, winter-drenched landscape of Midtown. A native of the city, she loved New York in all its shapes, colors and seasons.

  “Before we get started, I want to hear about the Webber Strategic project you’re working on. How’s it going so far? Landing their work would be a fantastic win.”

  The observations were friendly, even innocuous. Nonetheless, Tiffany bristled, sorely tempted to chuck the file she had compiled straight into the shiny chrome wastebasket next to Mitch’s desk.

  Evidently part of this meeting was about Eric.

  “I understand, and I want you to know the capabilities overview is ready to go, and is fairly standard. The deeper study of Webber’s IT network is nearly complete as well. I’ll have it ready for presentation before the close of business today.”

  She maintained her poise, but defensiveness ate beneath the deliberately smooth surface. Tiffany left her dream world behind and focused instead on professional compliance and her over-all boss. Given the events of the day, she felt a need to prove herself, and certainly didn’t want the regional director of operations questioning her commitment or skills. She needed this job in order to pay for school, and there were literally hundreds of thousands of hungry people out there looking for an opp
ortunity like the one she had earned at InfoTraxion. “I’m confident my portion of the bid package will be ready for Eric by ten o’clock tomorrow morning, which is the deadline he delivered.”

  At first, the smooth—albeit rapid—explanation didn’t stir much of a reaction from CEO Charming; that fact further convoluted her emotions about being tyrannized by Eric. There must have been an underlying bite to her tone because Mitch took the opposite route. Deliberately calm—gauging—he leaned back in his chair. Quiet for the time being, he appraised her in a steady manner then gave a nod.

  “All of that in spite of the short warning you were given. From what I hear you received the assignment less than twenty-four hours ago. That’s impressive, and I appreciate your efforts. Now, let’s talk about your charity request.”

  He understood. The realization pushed relief through her system in a spinning rush.

  After shifting gears, he left the table just long enough to retrieve a manila folder of his own, which gave Tiffany time to relax once more and further scope her surroundings. Mitch had shucked the suit coat he typically wore. A silk number in deep gray hung neatly against the back of his chair. Broad shoulders were swathed by a crisp, white shirt and accented by a perfectly knotted tie of deep gold that fell to an even line against his chest.

  That’s when Tiffany realized—she wasn’t focused on her surroundings at all—she was focused exclusively on the man.

  Unaware, thank goodness, Mitch returned to the mini-conference table and opened the file; she discovered it contained the information she had forwarded days ago about Pets Finding Home. He didn’t seem to miss a beat, but Tiffany stared after him, mysteriously pulled.

  “I’m glad you brought this group to my attention. I could tell the organization means a lot to you by the e-mail you sent to the selection committee. The vote of the philanthropy board was unanimous. We intend to support your work at the shelter.”

  The affirmation snapped her mind from attraction and planted it straight back on solid ground. She had agonized over the nomination papers and poured her heart into its words. Happiness danced against her skin. “Thank you! I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “I’m further proposing that the monetary benefit be just one aspect of our Christmas donation.”

  “Really? What do you mean?”

  “I want InfoTraxion to consider an effort to recruit staff members to volunteer at the facility. We could organize a weekend or evening volunteer shift. It’s service, yes, but I also see it as a team-building exercise.”

  “That would be amazing.” There was no way she could dilute the pleasured surprise in her tone. “I know Pets Finding Home would welcome the support; there’s so much to do and like any non-profit they struggle to find a steady pipeline of hands-on help.”

  “Tell me about the work you do there. You’re a regular volunteer, correct?”

  “Yes, I’m classified as a non-veterinary volunteer. I don’t assist with the medical treatment of incoming animals. Instead, I try to place people with animals, whether that happens through the adoption process, or through using animals in conjunction with efforts at counseling and therapy, or even participating at PR events like adoption drives or information booths at civic events, you name it.”

  “And aiding human counseling and therapy through the use of animal contact is what you’re studying at school, right?”

  He knew about that? Really, why should that surprise her? Of course he did. She had spelled out a number of details about her volunteer efforts and college curriculum as part of her formal pitch to win some much needed funding. All the same, he paid close attention to details and she found that impressive.

  “Yes, I’m studying to be an LPC, a Licensed Professional Counselor. When I graduate, I want to counsel people using both direct therapy and animals. I’d be able to provide assistance at retreats for troubled teens, or with inpatients at psychiatric hospitals. But in the meantime, I volunteer each week at Pets Finding Home. It gives me experience, and more to the point, I love it. I build and help maintain the intake records when animals are found or surrendered. I also spend time with families who are looking to adopt a pet and help them understand what to expect. Other times, I simply provide care at the shelter, feeding, filling water dishes, cleaning cages and playing with them. It may sound corny, but I believe animals have spirits. Just like human beings, I think they need to know they’re loved. Animals are powerful—and untapped—adjuncts to the process of helping people heal.”

  For the longest time, Mitch rested in silence, watching her. Tiffany climbed close to the point of worrying that she had overstepped boundaries with her level of enthusiasm.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow?”

  “I admire your passion, Tiffany. It’s impressive, and contagious.”

  A light laugh bubbled through her chest. “I was thinking the same thing about you, and your efforts to have the company help out. Corporate support is a tremendous benefit to the organization. Truly, I can’t thank you enough.”

  Silence swirled for a moment. “Actually, the smile in your eyes says more than enough. I’ll work on the authorizations, and I’ll also see about getting some of our employees on board for a volunteer session. Let me get to work on that and I’ll keep you posted.”

  “That’s more than I ever expected—and I appreciate it very much.”

  Tiffany’s afternoon, featuring Eric’s machinations and hot-winded posturing, had begun on such a sour note. Thanks to Mitch, she had found even footing. At the conclusion of their meeting, she all but floated from his office.

  ~*~

  “Hey. You’re still here. I think we’re the last ones standing.” Mitch’s smooth stride came to a stop at Tiffany’s desk.

  Tiffany looked away from her monitor after checking the time in the lower corner—it was closing in on six o’clock. She absorbed his presence then wondered why he left her tongue-tied. She regrouped fast, though, and gave him a ready smile. “Instead of battling the rush-hour crowds and the snow, I figured I’d catch up on a few assignments I’ve had to push to the back burner while finishing my analytics for Webber.”

  “Dedication bordering on psychosis. I can relate, so I laude your efforts.”

  “Oh, I’m slightly more mercenary than that. It’s mostly because I don’t want to endure the crowds that are piling onto an already storm-sluggish mass transit system right now.”

  “Good call.” He glanced out the nearby window and heaved a sigh. “I won’t lie. With all due respect to hearty New Yorkers, this kind of weather, and the way it turns the city into a tangled up parking lot leaves me longing for California.”

  “Yeah, because traffic patterns are so much better in SoCal.” She glanced away from her monitor to deliver a cheeky grin which earned her a lovely wink of acknowledgement. He was brunette featured, with a strong, angular face touched by Mediterranean-style olive skin. He fit into the east coast mold, but she knew he had spent his life out west.

  “Teasing aside, I’ve lived in New York City all my life but I’m still not used to episodes like this, so I can’t say that I blame you.” She didn’t want him to walk away, which was surprising, since by nature she was most happy being an introvert. The recognition prompted a light, nervous drum of her fingertips against the keyboard. “I saw your email to the staff about the Shelter Helper Drive in two weeks. What a catchy name for the volunteer effort. Thank you for that.”

  “You’ve been saying ‘thank you’ a lot today.” The teasing spark in his eyes stilled her nervous strumming, at once drawing her into a land of hard-focused warmth.

  “That’s because I’ve meant it a lot today.”

  “Touché. We’ll need to get the Christmas party out of the way first, but I'm looking forward to recruiting people to help. It’s a great cause.”

  Her heart did a happy flip, launching into a rapid-fire thud. Her senses were going haywire all of a sudden—maybe because of a sudden shift in the barometric pressure or something�
�� “I’ll be the first to sign up, and you might want to be careful. I’m just about ready to say ‘Thank you’ again.”

  “For?”

  “For referring to our corporate gathering this weekend as a Christmas party.”

  He lifted a shoulder then leaned against the window frame. A handsome man, framed by the silver, brick and glass structures of midtown—and a blanketing snowfall. She nearly sighed with a purely female sense of admiration.

  “Company policy prohibits religious references, so I have to call it a holiday party in office communications, but to my mind the season is Christmas. Period.”

  “I like that attitude, and I agree.” The man was a believer. Could this sudden and rampant swell of attraction become any headier?

  He straightened and returned to the side of her desk. “Are you at a point where you can stop what you’re working on? If so, let me at least treat you to a meal. I think the deli downstairs might still be open.”

  Eats and Treats was the shop to which he referred; the restaurant and sundry was a ready convenience Tiffany haunted frequently during the work week.

  “That sounds great. Give me a minute to polish off this section and click SAVE.”

  “I’m going to sign off as well. Be right back.”

  He turned to walk away; that’s when a thought crossed her mind. “One more thing?” Brow arched, he slanted a look over his shoulder and waited. Tiffany fought an intoxicating inner dance. “Thank you.”

  His answering laugh tripped against her skin.

  ~*~

  So, the quiet one had some spark and sass. Mitch enjoyed that small, but powerful revelation. An elevator ride to the lobby led to the discovery that Eats and Treats was closed, prompting Mitch to modify their plans and lead the way to Scarpello’s instead. Scarpello’s was an on-site Italian restaurant that catered to higher-end lunch and dinner gatherings and the place was filling fast. Evidently a number of snow-bound detainees had chosen to wait out the five o’clock to seven o’clock commute blitz. Tiffany matched his stride with an even, effortless grace that for some unknown reason appealed to him.