Chapter Eight

She walked into Vintage and took a moment to admire her handiwork.

It was beautiful. Jameson had allowed her to go hog wild with Christmas decorations and hadn’t even complained. Sure, she’d caught a few grunts at the classic mistletoe, and he looked at the endless colored and white lights like they were his enemy. But this past week he’d changed. Softened.

Maybe it was the kissing.

The outside patio was outfitted with large heaters amidst the tables adorned with red cloths, high white candlesticks, beautiful pine centerpieces, and photos of the dogs. Wreaths and mini Christmas trees lined the edges brimming with colored glass balls and topped with stars. “Frosty the Snowman” belted from the speakers amidst barks, panting, and the occasional worried whimper.

Her gaze traveled over the gorgeously dressed guests all paired with dogs. Each person or couple had adopted a dog for the evening, and was able to spend some one-on-one time with the lucky canine in a roped off area dubbed the Meet n Greet. Jameson’s staff brought around finger foods and mimosas on holiday platters. The double doors were open to the interior tent where a buffet would be served and dancing offered by one of the local singers.

Her favorite part was the Doggy Bar. It was filled with bones, treats, and toys for each of the dogs to indulge in. The auction table was nicely padded with gift certificates, baskets, and fun goodies to bid on.

There were six dogs as the main guests. Each were adorned with red and green collars with little bells. They’d been groomed and pampered and carefully chosen as mascots because they were good with people and crowds. If they were able to get homes, it would free up precious shelter and foster space, allowing Judith to take in more rescues who needed help.

Her heart gave a twinge at the knowledge Bear couldn’t be here to strut his stuff. His fear of other dogs made it impossible to bring him, so she’d taken some photos and turned them into mini displays to showcase his goofy grin and sweet personality. She’d agreed with Jameson leaving him home for a few hours would be more bearable than being with his own peers.

Everything looked perfect. She’d been racing around nonstop doing finishing touches until Jameson ordered her to go home and get ready. Judith was finally out of quarantine and had managed to take over the rest of the activities, so Devon had felt okay coming a bit late.

She took a deep breath and headed in, but she was immediately halted by a line of people wanting to chat. She managed to grab a mimosa and then turned on the charm, schmoozing with the locals and business owners to talk up the rescue and all they did amidst gossip about the town, politics, the housing rental shortage, the beach cleanup, and a variety of other topics.

Devon relaxed into her role, enjoying the social chatter. She bent down and balanced on high heels while petting and speaking with the dogs. Beethoven was a friendly Australian cattle dog with brown and white spots who drew a lot of interest. Two poodle mixes in inky black happily chewed and played with their togs from the dog bar. Devon spotted Virginia Woof, the German Shepherd in the far corner, cocking her head with interest as she surveyed the crowd. The goofy terrier tore around outside, a bit too enthusiastic to be dignified. And of course, Willow the Queen Bee of Chihuahuas was being carried around like the royal she was.

Devon knew she’d go fast to some lucky owner.

Judith and Vishya drifted over and greeted her with hugs and excitement. The owner of the rescue looked elegant with her white hair cut into a short bob and a winter cream wool dress. Her blue eyes were kind yet sharp, and Devon had learned she was both a softie and ruthless when it came to her business of helping dogs. “Devon, you’ve literally saved us this season,” Judith said. “The place looks like a winter festival, it’s absolutely perfect. I just wasn’t up to dealing with the gala—the brain fog has been terrible.”

She shook her head in sympathy. “Covid is rough and hits us all different. I’m just happy you’re better and thriving again. And don’t thank me—Vishya has been amazing at the rescue. He entrusted Bear to me instead of sending him to another shelter.”

Vishya gave her a high-five. He wore a fancy green suit with a red Hawaiian shirt opened at the neck. Somehow, he pulled it off beautifully.

“Speaking of Bear, how is he? I heard Jameson has been helping out with taking care of him?” Judith asked.

Devon caught the judgy look in her gaze but couldn’t blame her. Jameson’s reputation had taken a hit in the town, especially when he tried to get out of hosting the gala. “Yes, and he’s been wonderful,” she said smoothly. “They’ve formed a bond, which is important. We just need to get Bear some help with accommodating other dogs. It’s a big restriction for an adoptee to take on.”

Vishya and Judith shared a look. “We may have some issues getting a behaviorist in,” Judith said.

“I’m sure we’ll make it work,” Vishya cut in, always the lovable peacemaker. “Let’s focus on the animals here tonight and getting them placed. Or at least, getting us lotsa money.”

Devon relaxed and pushed further into the crowd to grab one of Jameson’s mini lobster rolls. She was about to take a mouthwatering bite when the back of her neck prickled with awareness. Slowly, she cranked her head around.

Then sucked in her breath.

He was gorgeous.

The tuxedo was classic, simple black, and obviously custom made to fit his form. His thick hair was neatly slicked back, exposing his highbrow, carved cheekbones, and clean shaven, square jaw. His eyes glittered and smoked behind his glasses, which only added to his appeal. Her fingers curled into fists as she imagined touching him again, smoothing the jacket over his shoulders, caressing the lean muscled length of his arms.

He walked toward her.

Devon felt as if the room and all the people surrounding her faded away. It was like one of those movies she’d watch and make fun of, not imagining any man holding that type of rapt attention in the middle of a noisy, glittering crowd.

But Jameson Franklin owned her with each step closer. He eased past tight clusters of groups with his gaze fastened only on her.

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment was simple, but it was the hunger and want in his stare that made the words come alive. Her voice was husky when she managed to speak. “So do you.”

A smile touched his lips. “Are you happy with the way things turned out?”

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” Devon couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and touching his red tie. “You dressed up for Christmas.”

His smile deepened. “I dressed up for you, Devon.”

The breath whooshed out of her lungs. The sexual tension swirled around them like a cloud. It took her a few moments to realize people glanced at them curiously, as if they noticed the connection. Thank goodness she was used to it and didn’t care.

But poor Jameson may find himself the main topic of gossip tomorrow that had nothing to do with the dogs.

Still, she didn’t move away. “Last week, you warned me the food would be simple so you didn’t waste money.”

“That’s right.”

“I see lobster rolls, scallops wrapped with bacon, mini sliders, and crab cakes. Those aren’t cheap.”

His shoulders moved in a shrug. “I had leftovers.”

“You’re making specialty cocktails, too. I was informed there would only be budget wine and light beer.”

“We used the cheap vodka and no-name rum. Your dress makes me think of bad things.”

She jerked. Her heart pounded wildly and her body peaked at his words, ready to play. Devon had taken particular care with her outfit for this exact reason. The silky, gold fabric wrapped around her like a present, clinging to all her curves. The V-neckline was generous. She’d twisted her hair up in an elegant braid that showed off her naked skin. “Bad in a bad way? Or bad in a good way?”

A low growl escaped his throat. “Oh, very good. Uncomfortably good.”

“That is a slim cut designer suit you’re wearing. Must be difficult.”

He threw back his head and laughed. More glances cut their way. She grinned, cheeks flushed, and wished desperately they were alone. Suddenly, Jameson reached out and snagged her around the waist, a public declaration so bold and so sexy, shivers raced down her spin. “Devon—”

Jordan interrupted with her usual drama, sporting a black mini dress that showed off her perfect legs. “There you are! I was stuck outside while Dooby played ball. Sistine got trapped by Caesar, who won’t shut up about the influx of city people buying all the properties and renting out to tourists, so she needs rescuing ASAP. Oh, hi, Jameson.”

He dropped his hand from her waist and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Nice to see you again, Jordan.”

Jordan grunted, obviously not sharing the sentiment.

Devon bit her lip as her bestie treated him to a cold look. The last time they’d spoken, Jameson had been enemy number one. With all the chaos this week, and her friend buried in wedding dress madness, they hadn’t spoken. She’d have some explaining to do once Devon admitted she’d had a complete change of heart and was now seriously thinking of dragging the enemy into her bed.

Devon grabbed her friend’s hand. “Let’s go get Sistine,” she said brightly, shooting Jameson an apologetic look. “I love your dress.”

“Thanks. You look gorgeous as usual.” Jordan tossed her hair in dismissal and followed her across the room. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner from the asshole. Ugh, it was like he stuck like glue to your side. Gross.”

She winced. “So, about that. I forgot to tell you that things have changed. He’s not a bad guy after all.”

Jordan rolled her dark eyes. “Riiight. He just ruined Vintage, tried to cancel the Fur Gala, fired Santa, and tried to get you to do all the work for this event last minute. He’s a Georgia peach.”

“No, Jordan, I mean it. He’s not what we thought. He’s…kind of nice.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. You didn’t smoke before this, did you?”

A frustrated laugh escaped her lips. “No!”

“I can’t believe I called him hot! He’s really not that good looking, either. Way too stiff and reserved to translate to anything good. Can you imagine how robotic he’d be in bed?”

She was going to D.I.E.

Sistine interrupted with a shriek, hugging her tight, and obviously not trapped by Caesar. Clad in a scarlet jumpsuit, her red hair a tumble of waves down her back, Sistine was a stunner and the sweetest human on the planet. “You haven’t checked in all week,” Sistine complained. “Jordan was working extra shifts at Vera’s Bridal and you were imprisoned by the Grinch of Cape May. I was lonely.”

“I missed you, too. But I have to tell you both something. It’s about Jameson. I—”

Sistine jumped in. “Jordan told me everything. He’s horrible. He took away the pancakes! He made you do all the work when poor Judith was sick. I mean, sure, Avery said he took Bear to help you out but I think it was in his master plan to pretend to be nice so he could get customers back to eat here. People have decided to ban Vintage until Mac gets back.”

Devon rubbed her temple. When her friends got revved up, it was almost impossible to get in a word. She raised her voice to be heard over the music and the chatter and the dogs. “Please listen for a moment! I didn’t get to tell you because it happened so fast but I changed my mind about Jameson.”

Jordan waved her hand in the air. “You are way too nice, Devon. Always the first to forgive, or give second chances, but babe, don’t waste your time on this guy. He’s a cheap carbon copy of his cousin and an outsider. Soon, he’ll go back to New York and things will return to normal.”

“Agreed,” Sistine said. “We love you, Devon. Don’t even think about him.”

“Dammit, I need to say something now!”

Jordan patted her hand, which made her grit her teeth in frustration. “Sure. We’ll talk later.”

There was a high pitch behind her, like a speaker was cranking. A loud voice cut through the room with some type of announcement, turning Sistine and Jordan’s head, and Devon lost her temper, needing to let them know the truth.

Gathering her breath, she raised her voice as loud as she could.

“I like Jameson Franklin! I think he’s hot!”

The words exploded into a suddenly silent room.

Frozen in shock, she half closed her eyes. No. No, no, no…

It seemed like centuries before she gathered the courage to turn slowly around. Jordan and Sistine gaped at her. Jameson stood at the front of the room, a microphone in his hand, surrounded by dozens of locals who began to titter and smile and murmur to each other while they all stared.

Devon fell mute as the horrific nightmare of this faux de pau struck her full force.

She had humiliated both of them at the holiday Fur Gala.

Miserable, red with embarrassment, Devon waited for him to say something.

Jameson cleared his throat. “As I was saying, the buffet is now open. Please proceed into the back and help yourself.”

Oh, hell. She was getting out of here.

Pivoting on her high heels, she took a desperate step toward the door.

His voice rumbled over the speakers. “Oh, one last thing. I happen to be crazy about Devon Pratt. And I think she’s sexy as hell.”

Mic drop.