but she couldn't figure out what.
She envied mailroom Jake a little. A bit of inebriated
action with a work crush that one or both of you might very well forget by
morning didn't sound too bad. She returned Malcolm's smile and wondered if he
could read the something more in her expression.
He jumped like someone had pinched him.
“Sorry.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell
phone. The smile that brightened his face moments ago faded. “It's a client.
Excuse me for one minute. But don't go anywhere, please. I'll be back.”
She liked that he said please. With a sigh, she turned back
to watch the action under the mistletoe. Some people avoided more passionate
displays; others took full advantage of the opportunity to release their pent
up sexual energy under the guise of innocent holiday fun. After a few minutes,
Malcolm was still missing in action and Sasha was beginning to feel conspicuous
standing there all alone with her empty glass. It wouldn't hurt to wander over
to the refreshment tables.
As soon as she had a mouthful of shrimp cocktail, a deep
voice sounded from behind her.
“Ms. Carlson. Very happy you could join us this evening.”
She whirled around, pressing a napkin to her lips, to face
Edwin Cathcart, one of the founding partners of the firm. She almost choked on
the shrimp when she saw his attire. His ample physique and silver hair had
always reminded her a little bit of Santa Claus, but the beard he'd been
growing for several weeks sealed the deal. The red Santa suit didn't hurt,
either.
“Santa—I mean, Mr. Cathcart. I’m happy to be here. Having a
wonderful time.”
He snagged two fresh glasses of wine from a passing waiter
and handed her one. “Having an equally wonderful time working for us, I hope?”
“Yes, very much.” They chatted for a few minutes, then Mr.
Cathcart extended his hand.
“You wouldn't deny old Father Christmas a dance, would you?”
He wasn't drunk, and had been nothing but friendly and
polite, so she took his hand. He was surprisingly light on his feet, and a more
than competent dancer. Halfway through the song, he drew her a little closer.
Her pulse quickened. She didn't know what to expect next.
“I don't want to rush things, Ms. Carlson, but the word
around the office is that you are tenacious and hard working.”
She let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been
holding. She blamed Malcolm for planting thoughts of mistletoe and
inappropriate advances in her mind.
“In fact, you've been doing some of the best work we've seen
from any of our interns in a long time. It's early yet, and I can't make any
guarantees, but I certainly hope you'll consider us after you've graduated.”
Sasha couldn't believe her ears. Between her own rushing
blood and the music that was now fading, she wasn't sure if she'd heard him
correctly.
“I—yes. Yes, I would like that very much,” she managed to
stammer.
“Wonderful. Why don't you come see me first thing Monday and
we'll talk about our options.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He bid her goodnight and she turned around in a daze. Merry
Christmas to her! It wasn't a job offer, but it was close.
“There you are. I thought I told you not to move.”
She grinned at Malcolm and his smile widened in response.
“When the boss wants to dance, you dance.”
“It can't just be the old man's dancing that has you
grinning like a fool.”
She relayed the brief conversation, trying her best not to
sound too much like a schoolgirl who'd just been asked out by the hottest guy
on the football team.
“That's fantastic news,” Malcolm said. “And good to know the
boss hears us when we say things. You'd be a real asset to the office.”
She was sure she blushed.
“Well let's have it, you two. Don't stand there all night
staring at each other.”
Sasha turned toward the male voice. Jake, and the pretty
assistant he'd been kissing just minutes ago.
“We all did it. Your turn,” the young woman said.
Sasha
She envied mailroom Jake a little. A bit of inebriated
action with a work crush that one or both of you might very well forget by
morning didn't sound too bad. She returned Malcolm's smile and wondered if he
could read the something more in her expression.
He jumped like someone had pinched him.
“Sorry.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell
phone. The smile that brightened his face moments ago faded. “It's a client.
Excuse me for one minute. But don't go anywhere, please. I'll be back.”
She liked that he said please. With a sigh, she turned back
to watch the action under the mistletoe. Some people avoided more passionate
displays; others took full advantage of the opportunity to release their pent
up sexual energy under the guise of innocent holiday fun. After a few minutes,
Malcolm was still missing in action and Sasha was beginning to feel conspicuous
standing there all alone with her empty glass. It wouldn't hurt to wander over
to the refreshment tables.
As soon as she had a mouthful of shrimp cocktail, a deep
voice sounded from behind her.
“Ms. Carlson. Very happy you could join us this evening.”
She whirled around, pressing a napkin to her lips, to face
Edwin Cathcart, one of the founding partners of the firm. She almost choked on
the shrimp when she saw his attire. His ample physique and silver hair had
always reminded her a little bit of Santa Claus, but the beard he'd been
growing for several weeks sealed the deal. The red Santa suit didn't hurt,
either.
“Santa—I mean, Mr. Cathcart. I’m happy to be here. Having a
wonderful time.”
He snagged two fresh glasses of wine from a passing waiter
and handed her one. “Having an equally wonderful time working for us, I hope?”
“Yes, very much.” They chatted for a few minutes, then Mr.
Cathcart extended his hand.
“You wouldn't deny old Father Christmas a dance, would you?”
He wasn't drunk, and had been nothing but friendly and
polite, so she took his hand. He was surprisingly light on his feet, and a more
than competent dancer. Halfway through the song, he drew her a little closer.
Her pulse quickened. She didn't know what to expect next.
“I don't want to rush things, Ms. Carlson, but the word
around the office is that you are tenacious and hard working.”
She let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been
holding. She blamed Malcolm for planting thoughts of mistletoe and
inappropriate advances in her mind.
“In fact, you've been doing some of the best work we've seen
from any of our interns in a long time. It's early yet, and I can't make any
guarantees, but I certainly hope you'll consider us after you've graduated.”
Sasha couldn't believe her ears. Between her own rushing
blood and the music that was now fading, she wasn't sure if she'd heard him
correctly.
“I—yes. Yes, I would like that very much,” she managed to
stammer.
“Wonderful. Why don't you come see me first thing Monday and
we'll talk about our options.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He bid her goodnight and she turned around in a daze. Merry
Christmas to her! It wasn't a job offer, but it was close.
“There you are. I thought I told you not to move.”
She grinned at Malcolm and his smile widened in response.
“When the boss wants to dance, you dance.”
“It can't just be the old man's dancing that has you
grinning like a fool.”
She relayed the brief conversation, trying her best not to
sound too much like a schoolgirl who'd just been asked out by the hottest guy
on the football team.
“That's fantastic news,” Malcolm said. “And good to know the
boss hears us when we say things. You'd be a real asset to the office.”
She was sure she blushed.
“Well let's have it, you two. Don't stand there all night
staring at each other.”
Sasha turned toward the male voice. Jake, and the pretty
assistant he'd been kissing just minutes ago.
“We all did it. Your turn,” the young woman said.
Sasha
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