Sweet Temptation

|1| 𝑩𝑭𝑭

Making a list

Checking it twice

Need a good scotch

With a lot of ice.

Julia Bennett checked Schedule Santa’s Elves off the bullet-point list in her calfskin Montblanc agenda and closed the book. She eyed the remaining action items she still needed to execute for the Deck the Halls show. When she checked off the final bullet point, she would finally be free from the shackles of tinsel and red ribbons.

Not a moment too soon.

Less than two weeks until Christmas, and Julia was sick to death of forced cheer, candy canes, and those blasted holiday ear-worms slithering through her brain. If she heard “Frosty the Snowman” one more time, she’d take a flame-thrower to the fat little creature. And if one more person offered her a stale gingerbread cookie, she’d grind it beneath the heel of her pointed-toe suede Balenciaga.

Yes, it was a shitty attitude for the woman who was coordinating the extravagant show for the final night of the Indigo Bay Holiday Festival. Every year, the coastal California town hosted a cherished two-week festival involving a gingerbread house contest, arts-and-crafts fairs, musical events, and children’s activities—all culminating in Deck the Halls on Christmas Eve, held onstage in front of the town Christmas tree and Santa’s Sleigh.

Julia had been more than confident in her ability to coordinate the show of Indigo Bay’s resident talent. After all, she owned a successful styling company, organized fashion shows and high-end photo shoots, had worked at top fashion magazines, and hosted numerous events for her sister’s charity foundation. She was experienced, gifted, skilled.

But she’d underestimated the festival committee’s urge to micro-manage her while knowing perfectly well that Julia Bennett refused to subordinate to anyone. Not to mention the show’s lack of budget and the differences between corralling models and corralling thirty acts involving bell ringers, five-year-old tap dancers, poodle acts, a barber shop quartet, amateur magicians, and heaven knew what else.

While the townspeople made up for in enthusiasm what they lacked in actual talent, the whole event had Julia ready to dive into the spiked eggnog and not come out until summer.

She also hadn’t considered the fact that all six of her nephews and her adored niece would be in town for the holidays and that they would expect every single family tradition to be carried out to perfection since, of course, Aunt Julia had it all planned. Just like she did every year.

Except every other year she hadn’t been reeling from a catastrophic business failure that had her questioning her entire career.

Every other year, she hadn’t been facing a milestone birthday looming like a boulder at the top of a cliff, poised to crash down on her like something out of an Indiana Jones movie.

Every other year, Warren King—president of the Candy King Company and the man Julia would have called her BFF if she were prone to employing teenage-girl terms—hadn’t been hiding something from her.

Every other year, her composure hadn’t been fraying at the edges like a badly made pashmina scarf.

Julia turned her attention back to the sketched design and photograph on her desk. She crossed her arms and tapped her French-manicured fingernails on the sleeves of her Chanel suit. Then she sent a lethal glare to the young woman seated across from her.