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“What’s that?” Matt finally asked. His own voice was still surprisingly even.
“They’re hanging mistletoe out in the hall. People are grabbing each other left and right and puckering up.”
“Are you serious?” Matt sat up a little straighter.
“Yeah. Dead serious.” Cayden grinned like they were old friends. “You should come see. It’s pretty hilarious. Mrs. Dews just kissed Ron from sales. I think she’s going to be seventy-something next week.”
“Ron? Isn’t the guy barely past twenty?”
“Yeah. The one and the same.”
Matt slammed back the rest of his drink and stood. Someone should put an end to whatever drunken foolery was going on in the hall before someone started recording. It made Matt feel like he was a hundred fucking years old.
By the time he made it through the room, dodged a few well-meaning stragglers wanting a few minutes of conversation about this and that, someone who offered him another drink ticket, like he needed it, the frazzled DJ running around with a cell trying to figure out if someone could get to his place and pick up some cord or other, a group of women in their fifties and sixties trying to dance- music or no music, servers actually putting out midnight lunch and those trying to get plates, there were only a few people remaining in the hall. In short, the whole thing had pretty much turned into a giant shit show.
The folks that were there were already shrugging into their jackets and staggering down to rooms booked or cabs waiting. At least he fucking hoped it was cabs that they were heading to. Matt glanced behind him. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost Cayden. Go figure.
Sure enough, there was an errant spring of plastic mistletoe dangling from the top of the hall’s doorframe. He reached up to pull it down and right as his fingers closed in above his head, someone slammed into him hard from behind.
Matt struggled to stay upright. He flew forward a few steps and managed to catch himself before he fell flat on his face. He whirled, ready to lay a strip into someone, a nice strip since it was a corporate thing and all. His eyes widened when he saw his secretary, Callie, of all people, fumbling around. She was drunk. Real drunk. As in, couldn’t stay upright drunk.
She had her hands out in front of her like she was feeling for something, probably the air. No, more likely the wall, so she could brace herself. She caught the toe of her shoe in the carpet and nearly fell flat on her face.
Matt couldn’t take it. He rushed forward and put out one arm, which she grasped with the death grip of someone who was drowning.
“Oh… I’m so sorry,” she stammered. She didn’t sound drunk, but those eyes of hers were so unfocused, she definitely looked it.
“I…”
Matt didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do about the whole situation. Find a cab and put Callie in it? Would she be sober enough to tell the driver where she lived? Find her friend, one of the other girls who did admin, the one he saw at Callie’s desk throughout the day? Did she have a room booked at the hotel?
Just as he was trying to make up his mind, he breathed in and got a heady noseful of floral-scented perfume. It wasn’t the horribly gross kind and she hadn’t bathed in it. It was subtle, which probably meant it was expensive. The office was a scent free environment and he’d never smelled anything on her before.
He took a brief second to glance down into her upturned face. She was shorter than him by half a foot, but then again, so was the rest of the world. She had sandy blonde hair which was curled into ringlets that were starting to go straight and limp with the passing of the night. She didn’t normally wear makeup at work, at least not anything overly noticeable, but she looked… she looked beautiful at the moment. Red lipstick set off a pair of seductive lips. A hint of blush defined high set cheekbones. Her cornflower-blue eyes looked bluer due to dark eye makeup and her lashes were long and thick and dark with mascara.
At the office, Callie always dressed in work attire. He’d never really even taken a minute to notice her before, really notice her. He noticed her at the moment. In a big way.
She had on a tight black dress. It was possibly a little too tight. It pushed her ample breasts upwards so that just the tops swelled above the square neckline. The dress hugged her curves deliciously, like a second skin. It cut off just below the knee where the world’s most perfect set of shapely legs began. She had heels on, which he’d also never known her to wear, and they only outlined the definition in her legs.
