Standing in the soft light of his office, I watched Vincent pour himself a glass of Cognac while Frank Sinatra crooned Jingle Bells in the background. He brought the rim to his nose and closed his eyes, savoring. There was something sexy about a man in a black tux holding a glass of amber liquor strong enough to burn a hole in your hat. One day I'll join him and it won't feel like failure.

"So, I need details on Beth, the board of director who throws festivals," I said as I held up my compact mirror and applied a coat of lip gloss to my heavily-rouged lips. "Hit the highlights. Stuff I can use tonight."

Vincent captured me over the top of his glass, smiling languidly. "She leads the procurement department of Valentino Enterprises. She is married to Samuel Martin, owner of MegaManhattan Magazine. And, she's an excellent chef. Before you ask... Yes, Beth and I saw each other naked prior to her engagement to Sam."

"I see. And did she sign a non-disclosure agreement?"

"Yes. She was instrumental in helping me discover Kinbaku. Beth is a smart, no-bullshit female. I think you'll like her, but if you feel uncomfortable at any time during the party, tell me. We are only committed to an hour." Vincent rose from his Cognac-infused reverie and walked toward me. "This evening is about you and me enjoying each other's company among the company of others. There is finesse involved if you want the evening to end in success. And by 'success' I mean 'sex'. A lot of it."

Sweet.

With Rizzo at the helm of the Escalade, we cruised to the upper east side of Manhattan where Sam and Beth Martin lived in a moderate-sized brownstone. It was said to accommodate thirty people comfortably, but during Christmas, two hundred honored guests and photographers passed through the doors of their home over the course of a weekend.

I never had the privilege of photographing or even attending an event of such local prestige. So, to say I was nervous would be a gross understatement. Twice, Vincent extracted his hand from my clenched fingers and reassured me I was destined to be the hit of the night, but that was my problem right there, and no amount of antacids could cure the anxious burn.

Laughter carried out the front door and down the steps as we arrived, and Vincent's hand was at my back the moment my Louis Vuitton's hit the sidewalk, but we weren't bombarded by a cellphone-wielding mob as I expected. This allowed me to focus on taking the stairs in four inch heels, using Vincent as my back up in case of a fail.

We were greeted at the door by a gorgeous guy wearing a fur-lined bomber jacket and a polished smile. Who cared that his hair had more product in it than mine, and his teeth were cosmetically-enhanced. I would have dropped my panties for him if he asked. Wait. That was the old me. This was the new, committed relationship me, and I smiled back at hunkmiester as I accepted the small gift box he handed me.

"A memento of the evening from the hosts," he said with a friendly wink. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his attention was quickly snatched away by Vincent's larger than life voice.

"Donny, you still playing this gig?"

Donny's blue eyes sparkled like the waters of the Bahamas as he made the switch from my face to Vincent's. "I look forward to it each year. I get to see every beauty that crosses this threshold. This must be the clever girl who settled your ass down."

"Of course, it is. Reese Kentwell, meet Donny Seven."

Donny shook his head. "Am I ever going to live that down?"

"Not until you hit eight. I take it you don't have a gift for me?"

"Nope. So, I hope you brought your own condom." Donny grinned at Vincent then he turned his megawatt smile on me again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Reese."

"You too." The words barely left my mouth before Vincent nudged me rather firmly into the house, and I managed to step over the threshold without taking a dive.

Geez.

Rather than ask Vincent to tone down the jealousy, I decided to cut him some slack. This was probably going to be a difficult night for him.

The next person to stop us wore wait staff attire. The young man practically glowed in his bleached white shirt and matching bowtie as he offered us champagne in silver flutes. Vincent declined on our behalf and tugged me further into the home, closer to the source of a lively tune, something piped-in through speakers. It didn't sound like any Christmas song I'd ever heard. It had an Asian melody, with flutes and strings.

The decorative theme embraced Christmas in a white doves and silver bells motif, reminding me of a wedding set in the eighteenth century. Lace garlands swagged from each corner of the living room and hung between open doorways where bodies mingled and glasses clinked. As I examined my surroundings closer, I found that beneath the holiday decor, the home had a shiny, black lacquer vibe, with dashes of jade and cherry blossom red. Definitely Asian.

"Vincent, you made it." The voice came from a spritely woman dressed in an elegant emerald kimono. Even with the heels that peaked under her dress, she couldn't have reached more than five foot two. Her jet black tresses weaved down her back in an intricate style, incorporating a series of hair knots held together with porcelain chopsticks, and face powder gave her skin a pale, matte finish. Bold red rouge covered her lips, while her dark, almond-shaped eyes peered out through heavy kohl. Stunning did not begin to describe her.

"I told you we would, Beth," Vincent said as the two exchanged a polite bow. Was this little spit of a woman, Beth? How did Vincent not crush her in bed? Why was I asking myself that question? "I would like you to meet my fiancée, Reese Kentwell. Reese, this is Beth Yoshida-Martin."

"It is an honor to meet you, Reese." Beth exchanged the same greeting with me, but I'm sure my bow didn't come across as graceful as hers. "I don't know what your secret formula is, but it appears to be working on Vincent. I have never seen him so relaxed."

I could have mentioned the Cognac he'd polished off before we left for the party, but I was trying not to embarrass myself. "I'm not sure about a secret formula," I said. "But I've been known to whip up a mean batch of chili."

Beth trilled out a laugh. "Perfect analogy. I'm sure your chili is plenty spicy." Her lashes fluttered provocatively, and I felt my cheeks burn. "My husband, Sam, wants to talk to you, Reese, so stick close to your man and it won't be difficult for him to find you. Enjoy yourselves." She bowed again and slipped away into the milling crowd.

"Go ahead, ask me," Vincent said as he caught me in a feisty gaze. "I don't mind satisfying your curiosity."

I shrugged my innocence, but I knew it would annoy me until he revealed the details. "Okay. How did that work out? She only comes up to your bellybutton."

"She isn't that short, but she is extremely limber. She used to be a contortionist during her youth. There isn't anything she can't do with her body."

"Okay, I can see the appeal, since I feel the same way about your body." I didn't have to stretch far to kiss him, but the moment I did, I regretted my flagrant disregard for place as a flash went off. "Damn. I'm sorry," I said as I pulled away.

"Don't be." Vincent tugged me against his form-fitting suit, lifting me up to kiss me passionately. A tempest of clicks went off around us, and all I could do was hope the Instagrammers would be kind.

As my heels met solid ground again, Vincent and I stared at each other like a love-struck couple on their honeymoon, and a photographer standing half-hidden behind the Christmas tree continued to pop off shots. I noticed his Canon, so I had to assume he was hired for the occasion. A moment later, Beth made a beeline across the room, trapping him against the wall. Based on the number of times the guy nodded, I suspected he was being asked to tone it down.

"They make a delicious whipped eggnog," Vincent said once he finished showing off for the paparazzi. "Both alcoholic and non. Would you like some?"

"Please."

The beverage table had been dressed to look like a banquet thrown by an English aristocrat, with an ivory damask tablecloth contrasting against bold evergreens and holly berries. The festive garlands surrounded silver platters and King Henry-sized wine goblets. Frothy egg nog flowed over a multi-tiered fountain, a pair of them, virgin and non, and we walked away with our goblets filled. Vincent found a private spot near a window, and we stood to take in the party atmosphere.

I watched a woman open her gift box, unwrapping an adorable paper lantern. It appeared to be a tree ornament. Did my box contain a paper lantern, or something else equally adorable? I set my eggnog on the windowsill and studied my box, admiring the silver wrapping and black velvet ribbon. Before I dug in, I made a quick sweep of the room. All the other boxes had been wrapped in simple brown paper tied in raffia.

"I'm going to open my gift," I said. "I saw another woman open hers and she got the cutest paper lantern ornament."

Vincent eyeballed my box. "Why don't you wait to open it. There's something that goes with."

"More gifts? Should we have brought something?"

Vincent reached for my goblet and handed it to me. "Beth loves spending her money, and she and Sam have plenty of it, so a gift for them would be superfluous."

I offered an eyebrow lift. "You never fail to discombobulate me with your charming wit and vocabulary."

"Discombobulate?"

"It was the best I could do on short notice."

"Are you saying I confuse you?"

"Sometimes."

A broad-shouldered man wearing a neatly-trimmed beard in a rusty shade of orange approached us, and I immediately recognized the face of Sam Martin, owner of MegaManhattan Magazine. Suddenly, I realized I didn't have an empty hand to shake with, and I set down my gift box in preparation.

"Vincent, glad you could make it," Sam said as the two men shook hands. "Beth owes me five bucks."

"Did she bet you I wouldn't show up?" Vincent asked incredulously.

"No, she bet you would show up with a different date, but I have always been the more optimistic one. I take it this is Reese Kentwell, the woman who made an honest man out of you?"

Vincent held his stoic pose, but his lips lifted into a dashing smile that he turned to share with me. "I was not a man before I met her."

It was about the most romantic thing a guy could say to a girl in front of another guy, and as I melted under Vincent's smitten gaze, Sam chuckled.

"And I just won another five. Beth also bet you weren't in love with her."

"Beth doesn't have as much faith in me as I thought she did," Vincent mused casually, although I wondered if Sam's announcement disappointed him. Did Sam know his wife had been tied up by Vincent? Did Sam and Beth have a hook and pulley system in their attic?

"She sees you during board meetings. What other opinion would she have?" Sam leveled his gaze on me and smiled through his beard. "I was very impressed with your photography in this month's issue. Vincent looks more dashing than Saint Thomas himself. I take it that's where you two met and fell in love?"

I bit my lip to suppress a giggle, but Vincent didn't hold back, filling the room with his buoyant laughter. "I don't think it was love for her that day," he said. "She told me to take a hike."

Sam's eyebrows lifted, emphasizing his pale blue eyes. "Now there's a switch, huh? A girl who makes you work for her affection. Excellent approach, my dear. So, Reese. Would you be interested in something permanent with us? It would be in a photography capacity with a graphic art component. We're compiling photos for a book of collective works, and I believe you would be an asset to this cause. I'm sure our competitive pay would exceed your expectations."

One thing you could say about Sam Martin, he got all his points across in one fell swoop, but a guy doesn't become a mogul by beating around the bush. I had to admit, I felt a little taken aback by his proposition. I wasn't expecting to make an important decision tonight.

"That's a gracious offer, Mr. Martin," I said, stalling as I sipped from my goblet.

"Please, call me Sam, and I apologize for my straight-forward manner. It's both an asset and a flaw. I'm sure you didn't come to the party to make life-changing career moves. I'll let you two enjoy yourselves. You can get back to me on Monday."

He offered Vincent a wink, and if I was reading my bro language correctly, the gesture was code for 'Hold onto this one'. I liked the guy already.

Sam made his exit, and Vincent slipped his hand into mine. "I'm taking you to the backyard. Be prepared for introductions. You're not required to remember every name." He tugged me through the house, and we followed a trail of people to the back door. I was introduced to over half of them, but I only managed to remember two names, Bram because of Dracula, and Shelly because of Frankenstein. Too bad it wasn't Halloween.

As it turned out, the patio held the real party. Despite the limited size, a good forty people filled the small backyard, standing elbow to elbow on the red brick deck and among the Italian cypress trees lining the fence. Some chatted beneath the eaves of a wooden gazebo, while multicolored lights twinkled overhead like painted lightning bugs.

The mood felt festive, yet this was definitely an intellectual crowd. Everyone respected each other's space, and nobody had gone nutso over Vincent and me, although every woman who noticed him got that lusty look, like they were undressing him with their eyes. It didn't bother me though, since I would be the one taking him home at the end of the night, and I could undress him with my teeth if I wanted to.

The evening progressed smoothly, and I started relaxing in front of the photographer who spent the better part of an hour moving surreptitiously around the perimeter, capturing Vincent and me in various conversations with others. Eventually, Beth and Sam emerged from the back door, followed by a flood of guests, and everyone volleyed for position around the hosts as Beth called for attention with a rap on her wine glass.

"Welcome to you all, and thank you for joining Sam and me tonight," she announced in a small but fearless voice. "I'm not fond of long, rehearsed speeches..." She paused to acknowledge the laughter that followed. "Although, my husband tells me I'm quite good at them. Tonight is about improvisation and conversation. The ladies among you should have received a small token of my friendship when you arrived. I hope you like them."

Beth raised a gift box over her head, wrapped like the others, in simple, unassuming paper. Unlike my gift, which was...wrapped...in... Shit! I left my box inside the house. I glanced, wide-eyed at Vincent, ready to share my grief, when I realized he was already looking at me.

"I...um..." I stuttered.

"Yes? What is it, Reese?"

My focus turned to a pair of women tearing into their gift boxes, and they squealed when they saw their lanterns. One by one, faces lit up as brightly-colored lanterns swung from fingertips. Some were red, some green, some orange, each one with a hand-painted Japanese symbol in black ink. They were gorgeous, and I wanted mine. I turned away from the action to confess my sin to Vincent.

"I left my gift box in the house." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling ashamed, and I heard Vincent chuckle. When I blinked my eyes open, he was holding my gift out to me. "Oh, Vincent. You rescued it. Thank you."

I took my perfect little box and made easy work of the ribbon, depositing it into Vincent's waiting palm. The wrapping paper had been affixed with one square of tape on either side, which came loose with a quick tug. When I had the box unwrapped and sitting in my hand, I realized the color didn't match the other boxes. They were made of white cardboard, the kind you get cute Christmas ornaments in. While mine was a red cedar box with a gold Verragio insignia stamped on it.

Holy crap.

My heart thudded inside my chest, and everything faded into the background for a moment. Every voice, every musical note, the twinkling of a million stars in the cypress trees. That all fell away as I opened the lid on my perfect little box. Inside, another star waited to greet me. Set in white gold with diamonds twisting around the band, a pear-shaped rock just smaller than Gibralter winked at me like I was the lucky winner of the day.

I wanted to call him an over-the-top-bastard, but I was struck mute when Vincent lowered to one knee in front of me. Suddenly, I didn't feel so confident with four inch pencils under my heels.

"Reese Kentwell, I never knew love until I met you," Vincent began as he took the box from my trembling hand and plucked the ring from its satin pillow. "You set the bar on compassion and forgiveness, which you'll need a lot of with me. Please accept my apologies, in advance, and my hand in marriage."

Really? A formal marriage proposal? Here? Of course, I loved the big guy for doing it properly, but a little warning would have been nice. I realized my internal tangent had taken a few seconds, and before I could embarrass Vincent any further, I nodded. "Of course, I will."

A collective "Aw" echoed throughout the crowd as Vincent fit the ring on my finger, and cameras flashed when he stood to kiss me, taking his time to work the moment for all it was worth. The press would be creaming their jeans with this one.