The Billionaire’s Second Chance Christmas (Christmas with the Denton Billionaires Book 3) Page 4

Chris sneered. “Sure. Looks like you have your own fan club in attendance. So let’s see who’ll do anything for the media, okay?”

  He stormed away, and Mara only stared after him, his words cycling through her. Now she regretted hooking up with him last night. That had been a not-so-subtle reference to Dan, which incited a strange cocktail of emotions. Part of her was almost flattered that he noticed Dan paying attention to her. That meant…something, surely.

  But what?

  Chris stood at the far line of counters, inspecting some of his team’s work. She tried not to watch, but she could hear the undertones of his anger coursing through the multipurpose room. Gazes snapped his way from all around the room.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Chris asked, leaning in closer to his employee to really look him in the eye. “This is a gingerbread competition. Not a school bake sale. If you don’t know how to ice the gingerbread, then I need you to get the fuck out of my kitchen. Do you hear me? I don’t have time or room for idiots.”

  The multipurpose room quieted a bit after that outburst, and Mara could see the reporters craning their necks. A few of them even had phones poised.

  She went about her work, unwilling to let Chris distract her further. Everyone in the room knew he was an asshole, and she needed to stay focused. For all she knew, it was a distraction tactic. Hired actors and all that. Who knew with this guy?

  When she looked up again, she saw Chris rubbing at his face. And then he placed his hands on the employee’s shoulders and murmured, “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Let’s start over.”

  But within the hour, one of the crew members showed her the consequences of Chris’s temper. A video was already circulating the internet; one of the reporters had captured the tail end of it, F-bombs and all. The headlines touted everything from “Overheated Cook” to the crew member who got the “serrating of his life.” But none of them mentioned, or probably were even aware of, the fact that Chris had apologized directly after.

  Mara couldn’t help but follow the drama—especially since she’d been present for it. She peeked at her phone on occasion, checking comments and looking at the hashtags trending around the Cooking With Chris world. Chris himself looked dour for the remainder of the day once a staff member had shown him the video. And knowing that he knew about it, yet had barely flinched? It just made her even more curious about what his celebrity life really was like.

  This was probably par for the course. People twisting things out of context. Only publishing his worst moments.

  So much for focus. When the end of filming arrived, it was a relief. And as everyone started to file out of the multipurpose room, her curiosity got the better of her.

  “Hey,” she said, once Chris had stored the last of his dough. She crossed her arms, studying the ground as she prepared herself to make the offer better left unsaid. “You want to come grab a cup of coffee with me?”

  Chris turned to her, looking a little startled, but mostly suspicious. He studied her for a few moments, and then he blurted out, “Let’s go.”

  7

  The whole point of the competition was a slight brand adjustment on the part of the network.

  That’s what Chris was here for. To become a hometown hero. To reach a new, broader demographic with more family values and higher purchasing power.

  And what better way to do that than return to his hometown and win a baking competition?

  Except returning to his hometown was way more work than he’d bargained for. And now he had a serious problem—his little bitch fest that afternoon had gone viral, and everybody and their grandmother was sharing his blow-up with their social networks. If he’d been trying to ingratiate himself with the family demographic, this viral video wasn’t helping things.

  One of the reporters had captured it and spread it—probably Dan—and unfortunately, the show contract allowed for little dramatic slips like these under the Teasers and Previews clause. Really, this was exactly the sort of thing they wanted, in theory.

  But things felt more precarious than ever. Because the only route to truly achieving what he wanted—an international cooking tour that the network still hadn’t greenlighted—would only come on the heels of giving them what they wanted: an ultra-family friendly baking contest with high ratings.

  Chris followed Mara out of the multipurpose room. Once they were bathed in the cool quiet of the hallways and heading toward a small lounge where coffee and snacks were on hand all day long, he finally let a sigh escape him.

  “I’m surprised that you’re letting it bother you,” Mara said, a few paces in front of him.

  “Why wouldn’t it bother me?” He clenched and unclenched a fist in his pocket.

  “You’re a hardened celebrity, Chris. This is your world. Aren’t you used to it by now?”

  “I know it might be hard for you to believe,” he said carefully, trying to strike that balance between firm and condescending, “but I’m still a person. So yeah, I’m used to it in some ways. Doesn’t mean it’s still not a bitch to deal with.”

  Mara watched him for a few moments, her long, dark lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks as she studied him. They stopped just outside the double doors to the lounge.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t.” Chris breezed past her and pushed into the lounge. “But thanks for asking, I guess.”

  He went to the coffee maker and poured two cups. He turned to hand her one, and her face was wrought with confusion. Regret slashed through him. This whole thing was confusing, and he’d never been good at managing his temper. But he was fucking trying. And dammit, most people didn’t understand the push and pull of celebrity and network negotiations and having your personal life on display constantly.

  Besides, Mara had always been there for him in high school, making sure he was okay—just like this. But this was present day, not high school. She shouldn’t give a shit about him. There was no way this concern of hers was genuine.

  “Sorry. Let’s just call it work stress. Cheers?” He handed her the small Styrofoam cup of coffee and they “clinked” cups.

  “I can’t imagine what it must be like,” Mara murmured, staring down at the coffee in her hands. She took a tentative sip. “This coffee really sucks.”

  “You’d think the network could at least get French press.”

  A smile ghosted her face for a moment before disappearing. “So what’s the game plan? Just ignore it?”

  “Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. Truthfully, it wasn’t often that he got caught up in the gossip mill for stuff like this. Which made this incident even more frustrating. He had been working at curating his image better. And now… “I mean, my publicist will probably have a few action plans in place after this. I’ll recover. I just wish I knew which one of those bastards leaked it.” He sipped his coffee, seeking Mara’s gaze. “I’m thinking your good friend Dan probably had something to do with it.”

  Mara cocked her head, eyes narrowing to slits. “My good friend Dan?”

  “Yeah. You two look pretty cozy.”

  She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Hardly. And I have no idea if it was him. But who it was doesn’t even matter. You need to just not let it bother you.”

  “Kinda hard to do,” he said before downing the rest of his coffee. “There’s a lot of eyes on me now. Always, actually.”

  She stepped closer, forcing him to meet her mossy green gaze. “And so what? If it’s always like that, then what’s new? You always get through it, right?”

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, trying to figure out what her angle was. It didn’t make sense. She was his competition. She should want him to get distracted and go down in flames. “Why are you trying to help me through this?”

  Her nostrils flared, and she took a step back. “Just seemed like you were upset.”

  “You should want me to fail. I don’t get why you care.”

  Mara frowned. “I don’t want you to fail
. I just want you to…lose the contest. There’s a difference.”

  Her admission was somehow charming. It even made him smile. “At least you’re honest.”

  “Like you don’t want to win?”

  “I have to win,” he clarified, feeling some of the stress return to his shoulders. “There’s a difference there, too.”

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek and then took another sip of her coffee. “Well, yes. But I’m just saying, gossip dies down. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t influence your actual work.”

  Chris wanted to correct her, but as his gaze washed over her strawberry blonde tresses and that button nose, it was hard to say anything. Really, he just wanted to stay here and bask in her essence. Like he had in the old days. Mara had always been his pillar, and he shouldn’t be surprised that she was showing up as a pillar yet again.

  Even if he hadn’t asked for it.

  “Thanks.” He sniffed and tossed the coffee cup. “Well, we should go clean up, right?”

  It was a test. Leaving the decision in her hands. Now that they were tucked away and out of sight, desire hummed through his veins, even amid the confusion and irritation. He wanted to touch the silk of her hair again, feel the warm curves of her flesh beneath his fingertips. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her she made that noise that was part girl, part animal.

  His cock twitched in his pants. Mara lifted a brow.

  “What else would we do?” she asked, voice turning slightly husky.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He took a step closer, gaze soldering to her lips. They were the perfect mix of plump and soft. He could kiss them for the rest of his life and still want just one more taste. When they’d first broken up, he’d thought that he might be scarred by her kisses, that he’d never find anyone he shared so much chemistry with. But then as he whiled away his twenties in New York and found success and found even more women to distract him, he eventually forgot about these lips.

  But now? He realized that she had scarred him.

  Nobody else’s kisses came close.

  Mara smirked, and Chris knew this was his chance. He leaned forward, cupping the sides of her face in his hands as he coaxed a soft kiss from her that made his cock go from half-mast to rock hard.

  She whimpered, clutching at his hands on her face as they kissed.

  A movement behind her made him jolt. Through the viewing pane of the swinging lounge door, he saw a crew member approach.

  “Someone’s coming,” he whispered, and then snagged one last quick kiss. “One for the road.”

  She giggled, pushing at his chest before heading out of the lounge. Chris waited a moment for her to make it down the hallway, smiling at the crew member who came into the lounge after her.

  He wasn’t sure what was going on and knew even less if he could trust her.

  All he knew was that the chemistry between them was alive and well.

  And it was damn near impossible to say no to that.

  8

  By the end of the first week of filming, Mara had the majority of her gingerbread base complete. Her secret plan, which was becoming more obvious the more she completed, was an entire gingerbread village. Roughly thirty-five individual gingerbread cottages, set in an idyllic scene that looked a helluva lot like the wooded areas of Glenford.

  It was sure to be a hit, because this was all about supporting Glenford. That, paired with her expert skill, would make sure she won this competition.

  Besides, Chris’s plan was still unclear, but it didn’t seem to be very far along, though his work area had been cleaned and oven replaced. Something like a gingerbread skyscraper had begun to tower on his prep table, but she couldn’t tell if he was making a building or an elevator shaft. Time would tell.

  But what his gingerbread plan would become wasn’t the only thing time would tell. Each day, Mara wondered if they’d steal another kiss or have another furtive meetup in the hallway or, God forbid, on a work surface. Chris hadn’t made a move, so she decided that she wouldn’t either.

  She knew better than to follow that path. Especially during such a cutthroat competition.

  But his kisses still lingered in the back of her mind, and each night alone in her bed, she replayed the images from their lovemaking while her hand worked overtime down the front of her panties.

  Filming wrapped around seven on Friday, and they had the weekend off. Good thing, too, because Mara needed some downtime. A chance to not stare at Chris’s perfect face and hands each day, so that she could remember what her life had been like before he’d come home.

  She grabbed her coat and purse before leaving and then remembered she’d left her phone on her work station. As she swept into the multipurpose room to get it, she decided to take one last glance at her gingerbread village before leaving. It was already her pride and joy, and one of the most intricate projects she’d ever undertaken. If this thing didn’t win, then the contest was rigged.

  “Staying late?” Chris asked as he slid off his apron.

  “I’m in a rush to go, actually. Just wanted to make sure everything looks good.” She offered him a tight smile, still unsure of what the rules were for whatever they had going on. Rivals but also lovers. Long-lost sweethearts but also strangers.

  “Where you heading?” Chris asked as he slid on his winter coat.

  “Downtown for ice skating with my sister and parents.” She rolled her lips inward as she slid the tray where her village assembly had begun out of the tall fridge. “Family tradition.”

  “Ah. That’s right. The Christmas season now technically begins in November.”

  “Exactly.” She smirked as she assessed the village. But when she got to the church, the latest structure to be assembled, she gasped. “Fuck.”

  Mara carried the tray carefully over to the workspace, her heart pounding. The two largest walls of the church were sinking, damn near collapsing inward. Closer inspection revealed the sad truth.

  The church walls were shit, and the entire structure had to be redone.

  “Dammit,” she hissed, covering her forehead with her palm. She wracked her brain for possibilities. She’d personally overseen the construction of this church. Nothing had gone wrong. So what on earth…

  “What’s the problem?”

  Chris’s smooth voice behind her made her jump. He’d entered her space without her realizing, peering over her shoulder at the sad truth.

  “My church is collapsing.” It was hard to keep the panic out of her voice. She couldn’t leave it like this for the weekend. She needed to get to work now, so that things didn’t totally derail come Monday. “We spent all day working on this, and it’s fucking ruined.”

  “What’s your plan?” Chris sounded more like a surgeon assessing his next patient than a world-famous cook.

  “Stay here and redo it,” she said with a sigh. “What other choice do I have?” Disappointment crashed through her as she fished her phone out of her pocket and made a quick call to her sister. She nibbled on her lip as the phone rang.

  “Hey, sis,” Kaitlyn said in her trademark bubbly voice.

  “Hey. Listen, I have bad news.”

  “You got in a car wreck.”

  Mara paused. “Well, no. Worse news. Or maybe better. I’m not sure.” She drew a deep breath. “I have to stay on set tonight to deal with a setback. My gingerbread church collapsed, and I have to redo it. You guys will have to go ice skating without me.”

  “Awww but, Mar-Mar!” Kaitlyn’s little sisterly whine was perfectly honed throughout the years, and she brought it out in full force now.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be there next year. But with this competition going on, I can’t mess up. You know this. I love you, and I’ll talk to you later.”

  Mara hung up before she could get any more blowback from Kaitlyn. Her sister understood, but Mara didn’t want to deal with the familial disappointment. Family holiday traditions were important to her—but right now, this contest was the most important.


  She pocketed her phone and slid off her coat. When she turned to drape it over a nearby chair, she noticed Chris taking off his coat too.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Staying to help you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides,” he jerked his thumb toward the collapsed church, “that’s going to take a while. You need the help if you want to get out of here before midnight.”

  Mara tried to fight the smile that threatened to take over her face. She was touched by the offer—maybe a little too much. She practically floated over to the cabinets to get the ingredients ready.

  “Well, all right.” She brought out the flour and butter, as well as the appropriate mixing bowls. “If you want to and are offering, I won’t say no.”

  The cool smile that covered Chris’s face threatened to undo her resolve to stay away from him during the competition. Because with looks like his, it was practically criminal to say no. And right now, while his blue eyes crinkled at the edges and took her in, all she wanted to do was melt back into his arms and get another taste of those kisses.

  But no. This needed to stay work. Even if she’d continue to fantasize about him every night of the competition.

  “I can mix your dough while you get the mold ready.” Chris offered.

  She nodded, handing over the utensils. “Great idea. And thanks.”

  The two of them worked seamlessly for the next couple hours as the dough baked and they tried to salvage the best parts of the current church. The dough needed to cool and harden overnight, so they wouldn’t be able to assemble the actual church that evening. But they made real headway and saved her a significant amount of work come Monday morning.

  Once they’d cleaned and stored everything again for the evening, they high fived.

  “Thanks, Chris.” Mara beamed up at him, feeling a little giddy. Probably because it was almost nine p.m. and she was still at work. “You really helped me out. I didn’t get a chance to be with my family, but at least I’m not going to be behind by an entire day next week.”