Kissing Under the Mistletoe by Marina Adair Read Free Book Online Page A

Richard still talks to her?”
    “A guy doesn’t forget a woman like that,” Nate said.
    And that was quickly becoming Gabe’s problem.

    “I was sure you’d get it,” Jordan said, taking a long swig of wine. “Juliette said they had an opening, and your work is phenomenal. I don’t understand what happened.”
    “Gabe DeLuca happened,” Regan mumbled, then finished her wine in one gulp and seriously considered, not for the first time this week, doing something immature, like sticking Randolph right up Gabe’s ass...
    “Regan.” Jordan sat back in her chair, her brows raised, lips pursed in disbelief, reminding Regan of the time she’d been called into the principal’s office for shoving Sarah Carter’s face in the toilet. Sarah had told everyone that the only reason Regan got into St. Joseph’s Academy for Girls was becauseher mom cleaned the toilets. So Regan wanted to let Sarah see just how clean those toilets were, and that her mom and her career as a cleaning lady were not up for discussion. “I’ve known the DeLucas since I was a kid. They can be stubborn and annoying, but they don’t have a cruel bone in them.”
    Jordan had also never slept with their sister’s husband.
    “He showed up at every interview, Jordan. Every single one.” Regan worked hard to soften her voice. “I know he’s your boss, which makes it that much more amazing that you still want to be seen with me let alone help me find a job, but the man has it out for me and he won’t be happy until I am homeless and broke.”
    “Over a failed marketing campaign?” Jordan scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
    “Is that what he told you?” Regan had to swallow. She also needed another glass of wine. Maybe the whole bottle.
    Why would Gabe have lied?
    “Don’t tell me you were former lovers?” Jordan leaned in, eyes wide with interest. “Because if so, I want details. All of them.”
    There was no point in lying. Regan had never hidden what she’d done, and her mom had raised her to own up to her mistakes, to learn from them. These women had every right to hear the truth about who they were aligning themselves with.
    “We were never lovers.” Although, Gabe had been appearing in some pretty steamy dreams lately. “But what I did wasn’t very far off.”
    “Oh my God, you slept with Trey.” Frankie looked horrified. “I mean, he is way closer to your age. But he is such an asshat.”
    “No, I dated Richard for a little over a year.”
    Jordan was the first to react, her eyes going hard. “You’re the one?”
    And here it goes
, Regan thought.
    “Shut your face,” Frankie exclaimed, her hand over her chest, the first feminine gesture Regan had witnessed from the winemaker. The chipped nails and thorn-scratched hands ruined the effect. “You slept with Abby’s husband?”
    “Yes, but before you crucify me and tell me what a slut I am, or that I’m a home-wrecker—” She’d heard it all before. “I had no idea he was married.” Something the rat bastard conveniently left out when expressing his undying love and sliding that diamond on her finger.
    “How could you not know?” Jordan countered. “Their wedding was all over the society pages.”
    “I lived in Oregon. I was trusting and stupid and nineteen. I had no idea who Richard was, other than this handsome, sophisticated man from Italy who made me feel special.”
And wanted to take care of me.
Something Regan would never let happen again.
    “You were nineteen?” Frankie slammed her palms on the table, silencing the entire bar. “He must have been, what?”
    “Thirty,” Regan whispered, hoping Frankie would take the hint and lower her voice. She didn’t.
    “Talk about daddy issues.”
    They had no idea. “Sophomore year of college I interned with the National Vintner’s Historical Society for the summer. Richard was my mentor. It was a rough summer, my mom was sick and, well, I found out about Abby the night Gabe found out about me.”
    Regan had