Myths and Mistletoe

And a cup of good cheer...

If there was one thing that Nick disliked more than holidays, it was wearing a tuxedo. All of his bosses and coworkers paraded around in circles with their spouses or dates, while the bachelors bonded together over free flowing cups of champagne. While everyone mingled and danced, Nick stood as far in the back and out of sight as was possible. He had no desire to be there, but his boss made the rules and he had ruled that Nick's presence was necessary.

It was hard to believe that ten years had passed since he and his dear wife, Adelyn, had strolled into Kerril with a few digital sketches and a far from perfect prototype of a doll they had collaborated on after the birth of their first child, Erica. It was a budding company at that time, still looking for that one product that would make them a household name. As it turned out, their Princess Pretty dolls were going to just that. Two years later, Erica, the first Pretty Princess, became a Christmas must have topping every little girls list. Now there were five dolls, all very different from the other, but all beautiful in their own way.

But it had been two years since Pretty Princess had a newcomer to their royal line. Adelyn had been the visionary behind the dolls. The only credit Nick could take was in the mechanics and moral support. Since her unexpected death a year and a half ago, it was inconceivable to him to create something without her to direct his hand. Now, Thomas Kerril, owner and president of the now prominent toy manufacturing corporation, has made it he personal mission to get his leading toy designer back on track and it was his thinking that some social time with familiar faces would revive a spark of the passion Nick had felt when working on the dolls. What Mr. Kerril did not understand was that his passion had been focused on the joy the dolls had brought to his wife and daughters.

The vibe around the room increased when someone shouted the time and informed all that it was thirty minutes till the new year. Party favors were passed out and glasses of champagne were eagerly refilled by the catering staff as the focus of the guests gradually shifted to the floor to ceiling windows. Beyond their clear panes was a wonderous view of the brightly lit Times Tower where the beakon of the impending new year hovered above the city. This year, the ball was an intricate pattern of green, red, and white light. It reminded him of something one would see when looking through a kaliedescope.

"Reminds you for Christmas, doesn't it?" 

Nick jumped at the sprightly voice that sounded right beside her ear. He fumbled to reclaim his grip on the stem of his champagne glass, but it found its way free and fell soundlessly to the carpet. Luckily it had been emptied moments ago, so there were no contents within it to damage to the pristinely white and beige matting. He swung around to confront the person who had startled him an inch from a heart attack.

She wore a strapless gown of deep red chiffon with a high waist that was accentuated with a white satin sash. Her platinum blonde hair was arranged in an alluringly messy updo, a deep red ribbon wrapped around it with its long ends left to dangle down her back. Her rose petal lips matched her gown and headband, brilliant against her fair skin. Blue eyes as bright as a clear winter sky glittered with amusement as the watched him. As they watched him stare at her like some dumb struck kid looking at a woman for the first time.

Nick rushed to pull his senses together, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing, much to his chagrin, would come out. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around, hoping that his elbow would conceal the increasing warmth of his flushed cheeks. He hadn't made a fool of himself this much in front of a woman since the first time he met Adelyn.

The woman peeked around his elbow and smiled brightly, revealing perfect pearly white teeth. "If I didn't know any better, I would begin to suspect that I was the first woman ever to say hello to you. Cat got your tongue, Mr. Rafferty?"

Nick cleared his throat again and tried his luck at speaking once more. "You scared me, is all. Do you make it a habit of sneaking behind people when they least expect it?"

"Numerous time," she giggled. "But I am not normally one to make my presence known. One might call me more elusive than pretentious."

Nick cocked his head to the side, not at all sure what to make for the strange woman. Or the fact that she seemed to know who he was when he had not the faintest idea of who she was. "And you are?"

She abruptly held out her hand. "You may call my Kristine. I have had many names over the years, but Kristine is one I seem to favor these days. My friends back home call me Kris."

"Many names, as in married names? Have you been married often?" he asked, his head spinning as he fought to understand what it was he was being told.

"Oh, my gosh! No, never! I am far too busy for that. Besides, a man that could understand what it is a I do for a living and be genuinely accepting of it? Well, that is a nearly impossible endeavor." She paused for a moment, tapping her index finger against her ruby lips. "Why are you standing back here alone?"

"I might ask you the very same question?" he countered, his defenses rising up.

She was the one to cock her head to the side this time, his parry having its intended affect. Her pretty brow knotted as she took his words into consideration. "It was not my intention to upset you, Mr. Rafferty. Quite the opposite, in fact,"

A disbelieving humph was the only response he gave her. Kristine fortified demeanor with a wide smile and pulled her shoulders back, visible proof that she was not so easily discouraged. Elegantly dressed as she was, he could not deny that she was an exquisitely beautiful woman, but there was something about her that set her apart from other women. Something he could not quite put his finger on.

 "Do you work at Kerril?" he asked to prevent any further stretch of awkward silence. It was a valid question. This was a company new years eve party, after all, and she was a little over dressed to be a member of the staff.

She shrugged, swiping two glasses of sparkling champagne from a caterer as he passed with a full tray. She graciously handed him a flute to replace the one that lay forgotten on the floor. "Not exactly, but Mr. Kerril and I are old friends. He and I are both fervent toy entrepreneurs."

 Nick arched a dark brow, his skin bristling with suspicion. "Old friends, huh? You wouldn't happen to work for a rival company, would you?"

Kristine arched a pale brow in return, her eyes watching him intently. If he were to assume by appearance alone, he would peg her age to be around the mid-twenties, but the wisdom that sparkled behind her crystal gaze seemed almost ageless. When she looked at him, there was a sense of familiarity, but at the same time there was an intriguing curiosity that invoked a need to sate it.

The corner of her mouth curled enticingly just before the rim of her glass hid it as she took a slow slip of the bubbling liquid within the narrow flute. Kristine was an enigma and she enjoyed the ambiguity, that he was fairly certain of. What was she doing at the company party if she was not, in fact, a part of the company?

As if reading his mind, or simply answering his question belatedly, she lowered her glass and said, "I am a consultant of sorts. I am not so much in the business of creating toys, well, at least not anymore. I work more of a distribution angle."

"How is it that I have never met you before, especially if you are such an old friend of Kerril's? I have known the man for ten years."

"You are a man of many questions, Mr. Rafferty," she giggled, a musical sound that could uplift the weariest of spirits. "I am hear to help Mr. Kerril with a  current concern."

"And what concern would that be?" he asked, his interest thoroughly aroused.

She put her empty glass down on a nearby table and took a step toward him that made his heart leap into his throat. Oh, she was beautiful. And she damn well knew it. He swallowed hard, trying to shift his internal organs back into place. She took another step, bringing her toe to toe with him. She was tall, only a couple inches shorter than his six foot frame. She leaned nearer, her breath hot against his ear. In a soft, throaty voice, she whispered, "You, Mr. Rafferty. I am here for you."