EATING HER CHRISTMAS COOKIES

Chapter 1 - Chloe

I could tell New York City was preparing for Christmas as I rode in the Uber on the way to Frost Tower. Even though Thanksgiving had only been yesterday, workers were hanging garlands on buildings and wreaths with big red bows on lamp posts. The advertisements on the sides of the various kiosks screamed reminders about holiday shopping, and there were light snow flurries in the air.

"It's so magical," I sighed, gazing out of the window. I'd always wanted to live in New York City, ever since I'd come for a middle school trip. Now I was back—broke, desperate for money, but back.

"You're going to be singing a different Christmas carol after you've lived in this city a few months," the driver said. "Or maybe not if this is where you're living."

"Is this Frost Tower?" I asked him. We had stopped in front of an all-glass tower that reached up to the cloudy sky. It was beautiful, like an ice sculpture, but it did not inspire warmth or Christmas cheer. In fact, unlike the other buildings we had passed in which Christmas trees and other holiday decorations were visible in the lobby, Frost Tower was barren.

"Don't forget to give a five-star rating," my driver said and winked as I stepped out of the car.

"Spare some change?"

I turned to see a tipsy-looking Santa Claus waving a coffee cup in my face.

"Get outta here!" the driver yelled at him as the homeless man staggered off. "You'd think a fancy building like this would have better security." The driver carried my suitcase and my crate of high-end cookware to the door, waved, and then returned to his car.

I entered and looked around. The lobby was completely empty. There were no people, no artwork, and no Christmas decorations. It was all glass and polished concrete with clean white walls. On the wall near the elevator lobby was a handwritten sign that said ROMANCE CREATIVE PRODUCTIONS 37^th FLOOR.

I stepped in the sleek elevator feeling slightly apprehensive. What if they didn't want me to be in the show anymore? I couldn't go back to the Midwest. There wasn't anything for me there, and besides, my credit cards were almost maxed out.

"I guess I found all the people," I said to myself when I stepped off the elevator. The large elevator lobby was packed with people pushing carts, carrying cables, and toting heavy lighting.

"Are you Chloe Barnard?" asked a tall, elegant woman with long, dark hair. I nodded and held out my hand.

"Hi, I'm Dana Holbrook. I’m one of the producers. We talked over email. That’s my co-producer, Gunnar Svensson." Dana gestured to a tall blond man talking intently on the phone. "We're very excited to have you. Let me show you to your room." She tapped the elevator button, and we rode up another twenty floors.

"Your Instagram is very impressive," Dana said as we walked down the hall of one of the upper residential floors. "You have hundreds of thousands of followers, and they all seem quite active. The Great Christmas Bake-Off isn't airing on network or cable TV, it's only on the web, so we'll need you to leverage your social network to make this show a success. Make sure you send out lots of photos of the contest!"

"That's what I'm planning on," I told her. "I want to use The Great Christmas Bake-Off as a platform to hopefully start my own café or at least be offered a cool job."

"We anticipate this show will be very popular," Dana said as she punched a number. I tried to memorize it but failed.

"I emailed you the code," she said and opened the door. The apartment was beautiful, with big windows, a large kitchen, and a view over a nearby park.

"Believe it or not," Dana said, "this is considered a big apartment for New York City."

"It's perfect," I told her, setting my bag down.

"Pick a room. You're the first contestant to arrive. You'll have to share, unfortunately, but it's only a five-week contest. We'll be done filming by Christmas."

By the time I had unpacked my things, no one had arrived yet. I sat on the small bed in the room I had chosen and checked my email. There was a message from Dana with a scant amount of information, just a tentative shooting schedule and the key code.

When I had auditioned for this contest, the paperwork had said there would be a cash prize of $20,000 for the winner. It wasn't enough to open my own restaurant, but it would at least let me pay off my credit card debt. My druggie cousin had stolen my money, and against my oma's protests, I had filed a police report. That had been the only way the bank would refund my money. Though it returned a few thousand of what I had lost, it still hadn't refunded the full amount, and almost a year had passed since the incident. After my oma had passed away, I hadn’t had the energy to fight with the bank. Now I was slowly trying to build a life without her.

I was starting to feel morose, so I snapped a selfie in front of the window and edited it, then posted it to Instagram. I was immediately rewarded with dozens of likes.

"That's all you needed, a nice ego boost," I told myself as I headed downstairs. Maybe I could make friends with someone who could help me win or at least navigate the contest.

"What am I supposed to do with all of this garland?" someone was yelling as I stepped off the elevator.

"Just hang it up, Zane!" I heard Dana shout.

"I am not an interior designer!" the man yelled back. He had on a headset that held back his long hair.

"I guess this isn't a polished production," I joked, walking over to him.

"What gave it away?" he said, shaking his head. "The decorator quit—was offered a better job. So now I have all of these Christmas decorations. I'm supposed to put everything up in the soundstage, and I don't know what to do." He made a disgusted noise. "We're starting filming tomorrow morning. They better pay is all I have to say."

"Yeah," I agreed, "I need the prize money." I started pawing through the boxes.

"There's nice stuff in here," I told him and started pushing the loaded cart toward the double doors. "Come on, I'll help you deck the halls."

The camera guy followed me gratefully. "You're a lifesaver. You're Chloe, right? I've seen your Instagram—it's super cool. I’m glad you're helping. I can make a camera shot look good, but I just don't have the decorator's touch."

We spent the next several hours putting up decorations, and when we were done, the studio set looked like Christmas. Zane looked around in awe.

"You really did an amazing job," he said. I had arranged bunches of pinecones and ribbons, hung big fat strands of garlands, sprinkled fake snow, tucked little ornaments here and there, and put up lights to make the place sparkle.

"Are the fairy lights going to mess up the cameras?" I asked in concern.

"Nah," he said. "I have them plugged into the lighting board, so the lighting guy can adjust as needed."

I took out my phone to take a picture for my Instagram account. Dana said we should be promoting, so I hoped it was okay. It was the only thing going right in my life right now, especially since this contest was clearly not a Food Network–level production.

There were some decorations left over, so I hung them up out in the lobby to make it feel more festive. As I was returning from stacking the boxes in a storage room, I heard more yelling.

"It stinks!" a deep voice said. "My whole tower smells disgusting."

"It smells like Christmas," I heard Gunnar reply.

In the lobby off of the soundstage was a gorgeous man. He was tall and broad shouldered with silver-white hair and icy blue eyes. Framed against the Christmas decorations, he made a perfect picture.

I snapped his photo. I knew who he was. Jack Frost—the billionaire owner of Platinum Provisions. I thought his company made some type of very expensive, highly specialized surgical equipment along with drill bits for mining and other applications, but I only knew them for their line of cooking tools and molecular gastronomy equipment. It was high precision and expensive.

I had my own special collection of thousands of dollars’ worth of Platinum Provisions cooking and baking tools, and they were among my most prized possessions. My collection contained tiny knives that rarely needed sharpening, distillery equipment to extract the flavor from various ingredients, and high-precision frosting guns and icing pipers to make intricate decorations. Some of my most-liked Instagram posts were of the perfect miniature cakes I had made with these Platinum Provisions baking tools.

Speaking of Instagram—I snapped Jack Frost's picture again. He was too perfect.

"Don't take my picture!" he said, his attention snapping to me.

"Holy smokes, Jack, calm down!" Gunnar said.

"I can't believe I let you rope me into judging this competition. You know I hate Christmas," Jack said.

"You don't like Christmas?" I blurted.

"I hate Christmas," he snarled, "I hate the scented candles and the decorations and the holiday baked goods."

"Not even Christmas cookies?" I asked, flabbergasted. Who didn’t like Christmas cookies?

He walked up to me, closing the distance between us and invading my personal space. I was sure my eyes were wide in my head. I was wearing boots, but he was still tall enough to loom over me, his icy blue eyes boring into me.

Wouldn't it be great if he was boring something else into you?

I told the naughty elf living in my subconscious to shut up.

"I don't like cookies," Jack said, "and I don't like little girls who believe in the magic of Christmas."

"You'll like my cookies," I told him, not sure where that surge of courage had come from.

"Don't bet on it," he replied and turned on his heel, followed by Gunnar.

A bake-off judge who hated sweets. Awesome.

Chapter 2 - Jack

The day had not gotten off to an auspicious start.

My younger brothers, Matt and Oliver, had left that morning, and I already missed them. I was never able to spend that much time with them now that they were away at college, and they didn't even want to stay all of Thanksgiving weekend to see me. Instead, they wanted to return to Harvard early and play video games with their friends.

Now I had to contend with this bake-off that was going to start filming tomorrow. I already regretted agreeing to allow Gunnar and Dana to film in my tower. The whole place reeked of sugar, butter, marzipan, and spices. And Gunnar didn't have enough money to pay a third judge, so I had been enlisted as a judge–not that I was qualified.

To make matters worse, now the short little blonde was taking my picture. I better not see it plastered all over the internet, I thought.

As I loomed over her, I could smell the sugar wafting off her, mingled with the scent of fresh pine boughs. She smelled like Christmas, and when I said I hated cookies, she gaped at me, eyes wide with shock, as if I was the Grinch personified.

"I cannot wait for Christmas to be over," I muttered to myself as Gunnar ran after me and grabbed my upper arm.

"You need to remember why it is that we're filming here at all," he hissed. "You can't find tenants for this tower, and no tenants equals no rent money. Romance Creative is a paying tenant—"

"You haven't paid me a cent yet," I said to him.

"But we will, as long as this show is popular. You want the rent money? We can't have any more problems. The decorator quit, I barely have enough money to make payroll, and now you're threatening Chloe, who is the contestant with the most popular Instagram account by a wide margin."

So Chloe was her name. Not that I cared, of course.

"It's The Great Christmas Bake-Off, Charlie Brown," he said, patting me on the shoulder, "and you need an attitude adjustment and a heaping tablespoon of Christmas cheer. This is going to be good publicity for both of us. We'll have fancy establishing shots of the tower and B-roll of the contestants in that beautiful lobby. Speaking of which, we need more decorations outside and in the lobby to make it seem festive."

Though this was far from the ideal situation, I knew Gunnar was right. This bake-off was my last shot at drumming up paying tenants for Frost Tower.

I walked with Gunnar down to the lobby to try and find someone who could procure and install Christmas decorations inside and out. I needed the tower to look impressive. I glanced over at the empty retail space off of the lobby. It was an expansive two-story space. I had envisioned it as an upscale restaurant, but now it sat empty.

The security guard was nowhere to be found.

"I can't believe I pay that useless man," I said irritated.

And to pour a tanker’s worth of gasoline on this dumpster fire, along came the person I despised most in the world aside from my parents: Hartleigh, the girl who had been obsessed with me and had stalked me since I was a young teenager.

She saw me, shrieked, and made a beeline in my direction.

"What is she doing here?" I yelled.

"Seriously, Jack, you need to stop accosting contestants," Gunnar said.

"Hartleigh cannot be a contestant, she's my stalker!" I protested.

Hartleigh looked at me as if I was a piece of meat and she was a hyena.

"Jack," she purred, sidling up to me and wrapping her arms around me. She was wearing some sort of vintage fur stole, and it made me sneeze.

"As soon as I heard this show was filming in your tower, I had to be a participant." She grabbed the lapels of my suit and pulled me in, rubbing our noses together. I pushed her away.

"We're meant to be together, Jack," Hartleigh said, making a kissy face at me.

"If you'll just check in upstairs," Gunnar said, and Hartleigh sashayed away. Not that she did it convincingly. She was thin, bordering on scrawny.

"She'll make for great TV," Gunnar told me while I brushed little pieces of fur off of my suit. "Is she really the girl who's been stalking you?"

 I nodded, and Gunnar looked thoughtful.

"I guess she does look kind of unhinged," he said. "Still, if she tries to murder you, wouldn't that put the show on everybody's radar! Romance Creative needs all the publicity we can get."

I glowered.

"Kidding, Jack," Gunnar said.

The elevator dinged, and a familiar blonde walked out—Chloe. Her eyes narrowed at Hartleigh as my childhood stalker blew me another kiss.

"Dana said you needed more decoration down here," Chloe said, looking around at the space. "But I don't think we have enough."

"We should buy more," Gunnar said. I looked at Gunnar. He looked at me. I frowned then sighed and handed Chloe a credit card.

"Oooh!" she said, taking it in her hand. "It's heavy."

I looked at her, and she blushed. "I mean it’s a very thick credit card."

"It's American Express Black," I said. "They make them special."

"Will it even fit?"

Gunnar was silently laughing.

"I mean in the card reader," she clarified, her face almost as red as her holiday sweater.

"Go shopping!" Gunnar said, spreading his arms. "We need to fill this place with Christmas cheer."

"I'll make it look like a winter wonderland," she said, smiling up at me.

Chapter 3 - Chloe

I hadn't had time to shop the day before, but Zane had said they weren't releasing the first episode for about another week, so there was still time to decorate the lobby and produce the establishing shots.

We had had orientation the previous day, which went late and barely left any time to learn more about the other contestants.

Now it was early the next morning, too early, and I was on set for the first day of the bake-off filming.

As I took my place at my station, Nina, another contestant and my roommate, said, "I'm so nervous."

"Me too," I told her, inspecting the long worktable that would be my kitchen home for the next five weeks.

"I'm not," Hartleigh announced. She was at the workstation on my other side. "Jack and I go way back, and I know he's going to give me the best score." She tossed her hair, or she tried to at least. Hartleigh had straw-like hair that looked like it had been blow-dried, colored, and straightened within an inch of its life. I itched to give her a honey leave-in conditioner treatment.

I also wanted to redo her makeup. It looked caked on and gave her skin a chalky texture. The production didn't have the budget for makeup artists, so we contestants were on our own. I checked my makeup in the compact mirror I had put in my apron. I looked okay, if a little tired.

A pretty, willowy young woman practically waltzed over to me. Her makeup and hair were stunning.

"You're Anastasia from the blog Whimsical Dining!" Nina exclaimed. Anastasia air kissed us.

"I love you!" I gushed. "I wish I could travel all over and eat at Michelin-star restaurants. Your blog is amazing!"

Anastasia did a proper hair toss, her chestnut locks cascading down her back. My curls and I had come to an uneasy truce, but they would never look like Anastasia's hair.

"You're so sweet," she said. "And I just adore you! I love your Instagram feed—you're so cute!"

"Are you judging the bake-off?" Nina asked.

"I'm hosting," Anastasia replied.

Before we could ask Anastasia any more questions, Dana walked into the room, followed by the three judges. She motioned to Anastasia, and the camera crews moved into position.

As Dana, Anastasia, and the judges talked in low whispers, I studied the judges. More importantly, I studied Jack. He looked amazing in a deep navy-blue suit with a very subtle pattern. The billionaire seemed irritated that he had to be here. His mouth was a cold line, and a frown interrupted his smooth features.

"Don't even think about it," Hartleigh hissed at me. "He's mine. We have a history."

"Yes, I heard you the first time," I told her.

Dana left the studio, and Anastasia turned to the contestants as the judges took their seats on stools at a long butcher-block table.

"Welcome to the first episode of The Great Christmas Bake-off, sponsored by Trader Mike's," she said. "This show is about watching expert bakers create beautiful holiday-inspired desserts. We don't do gimmicks, weird contests, sabotaging, or timed rounds. We give our contestants the space and time they need to create the most beautiful and tasty Christmas desserts possible. This is a five-week contest, with two episodes a week."

She turned to the judges, the cameras following her movements.

"For our judges, we have Anu Pillai, a chocolatier and baker from Lil' Masa bakery in NoLiTa. Then we have Nick Mazur, a pastry chef and restaurant owner with businesses all over the New York area. Finally, we have Jack Frost, founder and CEO of Platinum Provisions, a global company that designs and produces, among other things, a line of specialty items for cooking and baking."

I felt charged and anxious while Anastasia talked. I knew about the two chefs who were judging. They were critically acclaimed and made award-winning desserts. They would be tough.

"For this first challenge," Anastasia continued, "we'll ease everyone into the holidays with the Santa's Christmas Cookie challenge. Everyone has the experience of selecting the perfect plate of cookies to leave out for Santa Claus. Now we want you all to create the perfect plate of cookies for the judges. Do the judges have any advice before the contestants start?"

"What I look for in a cookie is that it needs to be soft but have some yield," Nick Mazur said. "I don't want to just taste sugar. It needs to have a complexity of flavors."

"I concur," said Anu. "Cookies are quite deceptive. They are finicky, and to make the perfect cookie, all steps in the process need to be completed perfectly. Since this is Christmas, we will also be looking for cookies that evoke the memories of childhood and holidays spent with family. Food has a power in that it can be transportive and take you back to places, memories, and people you thought were long gone."

Anastasia nodded then said, "Jack, do you have anything to add?"

Jack looked even more annoyed, which I didn’t think was possible.

"Jack," Anastasia repeated.

He looked right at the camera and said, "You have ample time to make beautiful creations. This evening, when the round is over, don't show up with something that looks homemade. My company has products that can help you create high-precision decorations with icing and other edible fluid ingredients. There is a range of equipment at each of your stations. I suggest you make use of it."

"Don't forget," Dana said as she walked around us as we were gathering ingredients, "the aim here is viral videos and beautiful pictures for Instagram. This show won't sell well with advertisers if you all just hack some horrible cookie together. We want beautiful desserts. You have all morning and most of the afternoon. Keep in mind we may ask you to redo something so we can get a better shot. This is supposed to be more like the Buzzfeed food shows you see on YouTube, not a scripted Food Network production. Do good work. There's a fan favorite prize as well, so make sure you are promoting the show on social media."

I gathered the flour, butter, sugar, eggs, and almond extract I would need for my cookies. I had a perfect recipe for a sugar cookie—it had some bite, but it was fluffy, and the almond made it taste a little nutty. I mixed the dough, put it in the fridge, and contemplated the best way to make a winning plate of cookies.

Baking the same types of cookies wouldn't be enough to win, but I didn't want to go wild and make a thousand different types. That wouldn't photograph well, and I always liked to keep the photograph in mind—my Instagram fans wanted to see gorgeous photographs. I decided to use the same dough but make different shapes and sizes and decorate them differently.

"Do you mind talking a little about what you're planning?" Anastasia asked, coming over to my workstation trailed by two cameramen.

"I'm making an assortment of sugar cookies," I told her as I rolled out my dough. "I don't want to overdo it, I just want a tasty, pretty cookie, but I also don't want it to be too precious. I'm using the cookie cutters to make some, and others I'm freehanding. I want big cookies and small ones to compose a balanced plate."

I didn't mind talking to Anastasia. We had most of the day to work, and soon the thoughts of Jack and Hartleigh and the contest faded away, and it was just me and my baking. The cookies came out of the oven perfectly. The snowflakes I had hand-cut held their shape, thankfully. You could never tell with an unknown oven. I let them sit on the baking sheets to bake the rest of the way with the residual heat. Then I prepped the icing. I was debating between a stiff buttercream and a royal icing. The royal icing would let me draw more intricate patterns by hand compared to buttercream, but I personally liked the taste of buttercream better.

Fortunately, I had the Platinum Provisions icing piper.

The tips were very tiny and made the most intricate patterns. The icing piper was easier to use than the bags because it was run by forced air. I plugged it in and did a few tests, making sure the consistency of the frosting was right.

It wasn't magic, though, and it still took me longer than I had hoped to decorate the hundred or so cookies we had to make. Each judge needed to have a plate, and we had to make additional plates for the camera teams to film and photograph.

I arranged each plate of cookies and taste-tested one. It was perfect. It had some bite, and while I could taste the almond, it wasn't overwhelming. The buttercream was a light layer, but it made intricate patterns on the snowflakes, reindeer, bells, and other shapes I had chosen for my cookies. I snapped a few of my own pictures while Anastasia checked that everyone was finished.

I looked over at Nina and Hartleigh's workstations. Their plates of cookies looked well made too. This was going to be a stiff competition.

"You can all go to the waiting area," Anastasia told us, "except for Chloe. You're first up."

I took a deep breath and picked up my plates of cookies. Jack, the ice prince, was perched on a stool, watching me as I walked up with my plates of cookies and presented them to the judges.

Chapter 4 - Jack

When Anastasia said that the contestants had all day to bake, I half considered grabbing one of the candy canes that decorated the studio and stabbing myself in the eye with it. Thankfully, we were allowed to leave after the cameras took the shots they needed of the judges reacting to the start of the bake-off. Anu and Nick actually stayed to give more narration and talk to the contestants. I could tell they were really into this baking stuff.

I was not into baking, and I fled to my penthouse. My husky needed to be walked, plus I had work to do.

"I cannot believe I'm wasting my time on this," I complained to Milo, my dog. He was excited to go out, and I knew it was better for him that I was stuck at the tower a few days a week. He would see more of me that way. The husky strained at the leash as we walked out the door. He sniffed at a homeless Santa slumped outside, and I yanked the dog away. I really needed better security for Frost Tower.

The day passed too quickly, and soon I had to report for bake-off judging duty in the studio. As I took a cursory glance at the finished products, I was begrudgingly impressed. I saw intricate frosting work, impressive variety, and generally very professional-looking cookies. One girl had even made 3D cookies, which even I could see would photograph nicely.

I looked at Chloe. She was intently taking pictures of her cookies. From far away, they didn't look as impressive as the others. I hoped she knew what she was doing. She couldn't be sent home already—I still needed her to decorate my lobby.

After the rest of the contestants filed out of the studio, Chloe approached the judges’ table. She was covered in frosting; it speckled her Christmas apron and her hair. There were streaks of it on her face, and I wanted to reach out and lick a little green dollop off of her nose.

I crushed that thought. Since when did I want to lick icing off of anyone?

The other two judges smiled at her. I did not. I didn't want to spend the rest of my already wretched day stuck in this studio eating cookies.

"Can you tell us a bit about yourself?" Anu asked as Chloe put the plate of cookies in front of us.

"I'm from the Midwest," Chloe said. "I learned to cook from my oma. She loved Christmas! She loved the decorating, the large gatherings, and cooking. But she really loved baking. She passed away a few months ago." She wiped away a tear.

Here we go, I thought, the desperate ploy for sympathy.

I ignored her sob story and inspected the cookies. Though I had originally thought they were plain, on closer inspection, I saw that they were intricately decorated. I studied the frosting work on the cookies. Chloe had some sort of lace design that looked like patterns of frost on a window. It was a subtle nod to the holiday season and very clever.

"I'm using this contest as a platform to show the breadth of the types of desserts I can bake," she told the judges. "I would like to one day open my own line of cafés like Christina Tosi and Milk Bar Bakery."

Nick smiled at her, and he and Anu each chose a cookie. I picked out the smallest one I could. It was a tiny, perfect snowflake.

"I hand-cut that," Chloe told me.

"It's very nice," I said begrudgingly. They were really pretty.

"Cheers," Nick said, and he and Anu tapped their cookies against mine, raining crumbs and sugar all over my expensive designer suit.

I scowled.

"Don't make that face, or it's going to freeze like that," Chloe said.

"Is that so," I said.

Anu took a bite of the cookie. "This is a perfect cookie!"

Nick broke off a piece and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. "I love how there's some give and how I have a complexity of flavors. I mean, my mom didn't make cookies that tasted like this, but it still feels like coming home."

I didn't want a transformative experience. After Nick's reaction, I was worried the cookie was going to cause me to do something rash.

"Don't you want to taste my cookie?" Chloe asked me, her eyes wide and innocent. The apron clung to her body, emphasizing her curves. I wanted a taste of something of hers but not the cookie.

Don't sleep with a contestant, I chastised myself. That sounds like a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.

I looked at Chloe's cookie. It looked like it was sweet and sugary. I took a bite. It wasn't bad. It was sweet, but I could also taste a hint of almond. Chloe's snowflake had a deeper flavor than store-bought cookies. Thankfully, I didn't feel the need to break down in tears and rehash my less-than-ideal childhood. I scraped my teeth with my tongue. I could feel them start to rot from the sugar.

"You know sweets are bad for you, right?" I said to Chloe.

Chloe looked upset, but she calmed her features and replied, "You just need a little milk with it."

Was she flirting with me? I couldn't tell. Hartleigh had ruined that for me. I couldn't trust any woman.

"I don't like sweets," I said, wiping my mouth, "but your decoration is perfect, and Anu and Nick seem to think your baking is superb. So…" I swallowed, trying to get the taste of the frosting out of my throat. "Good job."

Each of the other nine contestants came up and explained their cookies. They seemed expertly baked to my untrained eye, though Chloe's decorating was still the best, I thought.

We had to take a bite out of each cookie, and by the time we were down to the last two contestants, I had a headache and was probably prediabetic.

Contrary to Chloe's cookies, the rest were very sweet—cloyingly so. They had some flavor, but mainly I tasted sugar of varying consistencies.

The girl whose workstation was next to Chloe's, Nina, was the second-to-last contestant. She had made the 3D cookies that were a sleigh and reindeer. She had fresh berries and whipped cream piled in the sleigh. I was glad to have the fruit if only to cut the sweetness of the cookies.

Finally, Hartleigh, the last contestant, stepped up. Her boobs were pushed up ridiculously high, and I was afraid they might pop out of her apron. Speaking of nightmare material, Hartleigh was the reason I didn't date. We had grown up next door to each other, and she had stalked me in earnest since high school, when I would find her in my room rifling through my things. She even showed up at Harvard periodically while I was a student there. And here she was again.

Dana and Gunnar clearly were running some sort of substandard operation if they couldn't even complete a simple background check.

I wished Belle was here. I wished for the thousandth time that my sister hadn't cut off contact with us. If she were still in the area, Hartleigh wouldn't come near me. My sister was the only person Hartleigh was afraid of.

I took a bite of her cookie.

"Not as great as Chloe's," I said. "Also, while I see you used my company's icing piper, Chloe had a better mastery of the tool. Her cookies look like art, and yours don't. You and Chloe did basically the same cookie, but hers were better. "

I could tell she was furious.

"I have to agree with Jack," Anu said. "You need to step it up if you want to win."

After Hartleigh stomped off, Anastasia said, "Now that you've reviewed every contestant's cookie, could the judges please discuss the best and worst."

"I actually really love this 3D cookie idea," Nate said. "It should be cheesy, but it's executed so well. I could serve this at my restaurant. "

"It's not a plate of cookies," I countered. "Anastasia said a plate of cookies like you would leave out for Santa." I was so annoyed at this whole bake-off. These people didn't even follow their own rules!

"Chloe's decorations were technically very perfect," Anu said.

"Yes, but she used the machine," Nick added.

"What's wrong with using a machine?" I countered. "You didn't have the contestants start their own fire. It's not as if my company's product is a magic wand. For example, Hartleigh clearly didn't do as great a job as Chloe."

"Chloe definitely has a mastery of the tools," Anu said.

"I do agree with Jack, however, that the 3D sleigh isn't really a cookie. It is inching more into a general dessert for me," said Nick.

After we had reached a verdict, the contestants all filed back into the studio. The middle-of-the-pack people were told they were safe. We sent the contestant who had made a stack of lackluster chocolate cookies home, then it was time to announce the winner.

Nina and Chloe stood together, holding hands.

"And the winner is…"

Chapter 5 - Chloe

"I won the round! I can't believe it!" I exclaimed. After the camera crew took all of the shots they needed, Nina and I went back to our stations to clean up.

"And you're runner-up," I said to Nina. She looked pleased. I was glad she wasn't mad that she hadn’t won the round.

As I cleaned my equipment, I watched Jack talk to Anastasia.

"It's too bad Jack didn't have a transformative experience," I said to Nina.

"Just be glad you won," she said, "and that we weren't sent home."

"Maybe I just have to find his favorite cookie. Do you think he would like gingerbread? Or a linzer cookie? Maybe more of a shortbread?" I mused.

Jack looked in our direction and scowled.

"What's his deal?" I whispered to Nina.

"I don't think he's scowling at us," she replied and looked pointedly at Hartleigh.

"What's up with you and Jack?" Nina asked Hartleigh.

"We have a bond, a connection," Hartleigh said imperiously.

That made me annoyed. I shook off the feeling. I wasn’t jealous, was I? I didn't even like Jack; he was a meanie who hated Christmas.

"Now that we're in the same tower, I bet we rekindle our romance. I didn't win this round because Jack doesn't want to play favorites," Hartleigh told me as we dumped the bowls and spoons in a large bin to be washed by some unknown staff person.

"Could you all come shoot interviews?" Dana called, waving us over. "We don't need much since Anastasia talked with you guys during the round."

"I need a shower," I complained.

"You're fine," she said.

"I'm covered in frosting."

"This is supposed to feel looser and more authentic than those highly scripted reality TV shows," Dana said. "It's a positive that you look like you just spent all day baking."

While we waited, I made a silly face and took a selfie and posted it.

I immediately received comments. One said,

You still look beautiful even covered in frosting

I replied,

Thanks!

The person wrote back,

Can I send you fan mail?

That made me excited. I loved receiving mail!

Sure! Send it to Frost Tower. That’s where we're shooting.

I received a smiley face wearing a Santa hat in return.

"Someone's sending me fan mail!" I squealed to Nina.

"Be careful," she warned. "There are a lot of nutcases in the world."

"It's fine," I said, waving her concerns away. "I have a baking Instagram. How crazy can baking fans be?"

When it was my turn to sit in front of a decorated Christmas tree and be interviewed, I talked about the decisions I had made, what I hoped to do next, and how I felt about the judges' comments.

By the time we were done, the whole day had passed, and I hadn't even eaten a real meal.

"There are no places to eat around here, unfortunately," Anastasia said when she heard Nina and me complaining about our hunger. "We're between subway lines in this weird sort of Bermuda Triangle."

"Leave it to Jack Frost to find the only place in New York City that's not booming," I said as Anastasia waved and stepped onto the elevator.

After we showered and changed, Nina and I cooked a simple dinner of broiled fish and charred Brussel sprouts in the shared kitchen. Then we both posted pictures and interacted with our followers on social media. My fans were clamoring for the first episode. I didn't know when it would be online, but I promised them it would be out soon. Jack's photo came up as I scrolled through my phone to find more bake-off pictures to post. He looked elegant and delicious, like a perfectly artistic cookie, glazed in frosting.

"He's really handsome," Nina said, looking over my shoulder.

"Don't even think about it," Hartleigh snipped, coming into the room.

"Look here, you crazy b—"

"Let's go out," I said, standing up and grabbing onto Nina. "I need to buy Christmas decorations." I still had Jack's credit card, and I was itching to spend money.

"You have his credit card!" Nina said when I showed her in the elevator.

"It's the closest I'll ever be to a billionaire's kept girlfriend!" I said with a giggle.

The mall was crowded. It was nothing like the dead malls filled with discount stores in my hometown. This was a high-end mall catering to customers with no-limit credit cards and expensive tastes.

Jazz renditions of Christmas carols played over the sound system, and the expansive atrium in the center of the mall was filled with holiday décor. In the middle of the large space stood a giant Christmas tree decorated with oversized glass ornaments and big wrapped boxes underneath. As we walked along toward the cluster of home furnishing and decorating stores, Nina pointed.

"It's Santa and the elves!"

We stopped to watch the kids be placed on Santa's lap. He seemed jolly and happy to be interacting with the children. Nina and I cooed at the kids. Some of them seemed excited to be meeting Santa, and some of them were completely freaked out.

Santa saw us looking and waved. We waved back then headed on our way.

The first store we stopped at had a huge amount of décor to choose from.

"Did Jack give you a budget?" Nina asked as we walked to the display of Christmas decorations that took up most of the back half of the store.

"Nope," I replied, fingering a wreath festooned in gold ribbon. "We shouldn't go crazy, but we do need to buy enough so that the lobby looks decorated." I pulled up a picture of the space on my phone and started choosing items.

"I like these white-painted abstract Christmas trees, but I think we will need a few more in different sizes," I said to Nina as I snapped pictures. I thought I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye.

"Maybe we can ask a sales associate if they have any more," I said as I turned around to look at Nina. Then I screamed.

"Santa!" I said with a nervous laugh. The red-suited man gave a fake chuckle.

"Shopping for Christmas decorations, I see," he said.

"Something like that…" I replied. Had he followed me here? Where was Nina?

"Are you on break?" I asked him. Wasn’t he supposed to be doing pictures?

"Come have a drink with me," he said.

"Uh, I'm busy. I have to decorate for Christmas. You know how it is," I said, starting to back away. Santa reached out and grabbed for me, pulling my hair out of its loose bun. At that moment, Nina came running over with a sales associate, and Santa hurried away.

"Are you okay?" the salesperson asked.

"Sure," I said, patting my hair back into some semblance of order. "I think he's just filled with a bit too much Christmas cheer."

We finished our shopping. Nina and I found several large wreaths, garlands of different styles, and sets of candles.

"I think we should buy three Christmas trees," I said. "The lobby is such a large space. We can intersperse it with these abstracted Christmas trees in white and metal." They were pretty, they had little lights on them, and I was envisioning creating a sort of forest in Frost Tower. The lobby was a somewhat cold space with polished concrete and glass, and I wanted to keep the same restrained, almost industrial nature and complement it instead of trying to hide it.

"You should add some of these," the salesperson said, pointing to large metal letters etched in tiny lights. They spelled out words like JOY and HOPE.

"Perfect," I said.

The sales associated helped us carry our purchases to the garage. I had to call three large SUVs to hold everything.

"Do you think this is too much?" Nina asked.

"I'm thinking this might not be enough," I said as we loaded in the last of the boxes.

Our next stop was a Christmas tree lot. I picked three of the largest, fullest blue spruces I could find.

"Do you have garland as well?" I asked the seller.

"Yes, miss," he said, loading up several bags’ worth. "Have in-laws to impress?"

"Ha!" I laughed. "I’m just decorating for a TV show."

He strapped the trees onto the cars, and we loaded up the boxes of garland. I was turning Frost Tower into a winter wonderland, and Jack the Grinch could suck on a candy cane.

Chapter 6 - Jack

I pulled one of the prepared meals out of my fridge. I had a personal chef make them, but it wasn't as if he had them waiting for me whenever I wanted. He made them every few days, packaged them, and had them delivered to my penthouse. It was convenient and probably better than takeout every night. I dumped one of the containers on a plate and heated it up. Milo whined for food as I ate standing up at the kitchen counter. It wasn't that enjoyable, but it was energy.

Speaking of energy, Milo looked like he needed another walk. Huskies had an insane amount of energy. They probably shouldn't be kept in cities, but Belle had given him to me a few Christmases before she left, and there was no way I was letting the dog out of my sight, let alone sending him off to the suburbs.

Milo was happy to run around in the park, and he was tired but content on the walk back to Frost Tower. As we approached the lobby, I saw a caravan of cars pull up.

"What on earth?" I muttered.

As I approached the entrance, I saw Chloe and Nina chatting to the drivers. They were unloading bags and boxes and carrying them inside.

"What is all this?" I demanded, hurrying into the lobby.

"Christmas decorations," Chloe said. Her cheeks were rosy, and she was wearing a red coat with a fur hood. She looked cuddly, and I just wanted to scoop her up and snuggle her. I shook my head. Clearly the stress of the financial situation of my tower was affecting me.

Milo head-butted Chloe, wagging his tail and acting like she was his long lost-friend.

"You're the worst guard dog," I told him as Chloe and Nina petted and cooed over my husky. I watched helplessly as the drivers finished unloading the cars and propped the Christmas trees up in the lobby.

Yes, trees. Plural.

"Who needs three Christmas trees?" I said in disbelief.

"This space does," Chloe said, giving Milo one last pat.

"Those need to go in water," one of the men helping to move the boxes inside told us, pointing to the trees.

"Right."

Chloe looked at me.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to tip them?" she asked.

I slipped the men a few twenty-dollar bills while Chloe and Nina started rummaging through their purchases.

"I hope this didn't cost an arm and a leg," I said.

Chloe handed me the credit card and a wad of receipts then gave me a slightly guilty smile.

"It's for a good cause," she said.

"Is it?"

"Now you'll have a lobby full of holiday cheer!"

As I watched Chloe and Nina ooh and ahh over their purchases while I waited for the elevator, I felt a small smile creep onto my face. I immediately stamped it down. This sight should not inspire cheer, Christmas or otherwise. Chloe had spent what looked like thousands of dollars on decorations. That was money I shouldn't be throwing at Frost Tower.

I knew that financially the best decision was to cut my losses and find a buyer for the tower. Though it was illogical, I didn't want to give up, and a part of me hoped Chloe's Christmas magic worked. I hated losing, and signing away the tower felt like admitting defeat.

When I returned to the penthouse, I forced myself to prep for the morning meeting with Svensson Investment. They were partial owners in Frost Tower, and they were not pleased with the performance of their investment.

***

The next morning, I took the subway to the Svensson Investment tower. I knew this was not going to be a pleasant meeting.

"There's our Christmas-baking-loving judge!" Liam Svensson, my Platinum Provisions cofounder, said when I walked into the lobby of the Svensson Investment tower. He threw an arm around my shoulders.

"You really are grasping at candy canes," he said jovially, "if you're judging a baking competition to try and convince my brothers not to force you to sell that tower."

"I just need a few more months," I told him. "I don't want to lose. I don't want that black mark on my resume."

"Who cares if Frost Tower goes under?" Liam said. "It's the real estate business. These things happen."

"It's my first real estate venture," I told him. "I can't fail on my first try."

"Everyone fails their first real estate venture," he said as the elevator door opened. "When I was eighteen, I bought this car wash, and it hemorrhaged money. I finally burned it down. It was a complete disaster. "

"Yes, but this is a skyscraper that cost hundreds of millions of dollars to build. There is already an uncomfortably long section on my Wikipedia page about what a failure it is," I told him.

The elevator for the top floor pinged. I tried to steel myself.

"You should move to Frost Tower," I told Liam.

"I'm living rent free in one of my brother's condo towers," he said. "And the rest of my brothers are there. Besides, Frost Tower doesn't even have a restaurant. What would I eat? I would starve."

He must have seen the dejection I was trying to hide.

"I'll see if we can't convince them to keep your tower on life support for another quarter," Liam said, clapping me on the shoulder. "But my brothers are going to want results soon."

"I know," I said. "I should have stuck to the industry I excel at—making products people can buy and use. Real estate is nothing but dark magic."

Walking into the large boardroom at Svenssons felt like going to a funeral. There were two broad-shouldered blond men, spitting images of Liam, seated at the table, and they did not look happy.

Greg Svensson stood from his place at the head of the table and came over to me to shake my hand.

"You smell like frosting," he remarked.

"It’s The Great Christmas Bake-Off," I explained. "It permeates the air."

"I don't care about the bake-off," Greg said, sitting back down. Carl, Greg and Liam's other brother, tapped at his tablet. A screen descended from the ceiling, and the lights dimmed.

"As you know," Carl began, "I handle a large portion of Svensson Investment's real estate portfolio."

A graph popped up on the screen.

"Your tower is our worst-performing asset," he said. "By quite a large margin."

"I know," I said through gritted teeth. It was like a punch in the gut to see such low numbers on the screen.

"There is an eighty-seven percent vacancy," Carl said. "The tenants you promised to deliver never materialized—"

"The financial technology firm that was going to lease several floors the building is having difficulties right now," I said, cutting him off. "The Securities and Exchange Commission has them under investigation, and the senior leadership is probably all going to prison. Our other big tenant declared bankruptcy because they were defrauding their investors. That's hardly my fault. It's just one of those things. I promise I'll find more tenants, better tenants."

Greg looked at me steely-eyed.

"Furthermore," Carl continued, "only two of the luxury condos were sold, one to yourself and one to a young woman named Anastasia."

"I had foreign buyers lined up, but they were from Russia, China, and Brazil, and with the sanctions against those countries, the deals fell through. Some of the condos the feds are still sitting on because they froze the transactions. It's just bad luck," I said, "but this is New York City; we'll find buyers eventually."

"We don't have until the end of time," Greg said. "In real estate, you live or die by your pro forma. You are wasting too much time and energy on this tower, Jack," Greg said. "You're neglecting your real company, Platinum Provisions."

"I'm not neglecting it," I countered. "We are bringing in more revenue than ever."

"Be that as it may," Carl said, "the tax bill on Frost Tower is going to be due soon. And Svensson needs a return on our investment. I have a Canadian buyer who is interested in the tower as well as a Qatari buyer."

I looked to Liam.

"Just give him one more quarter," Liam said. "It's Christmas, and it's not like much is going to happen this month that would be ready to go in the first quarter."

"I just don't see how you can turn it around," Greg said, shaking his head.

"Look," I told them, launching into my spiel. "Frost Tower was well designed, though currently it comes off as a bit bland. It lacks character and a sense of place, but I think if I could find the perfect ground-floor tenant, like, say, a popular restaurant, it would attract the type of creative companies and pique the interest of residential buyers looking for new property next year. Gunnar's Romance Creative holiday production should help put Frost Tower on everyone's radar."

Greg rolled his eyes, and Carl smirked.

"Our half-brother is half crazy. I can't believe he and that Holbrook are filming a web show in your tower," Greg said.

"They're paying tenants," I countered.

"Are they?" Greg said, his mouth quirking slightly in disbelief.

"They will be," Liam assured him. "Jack's having the tower decorated for Christmas, and there will be nice establishing shots. The contestants were picked because they have huge Instagram and social media followings. This one girl, Chloe, has hundreds of thousands of very active followers. I had one of our marketing analysts take a look at her profiles."

Greg looked at Carl, who shrugged. "Okay, fine, you have another quarter," Greg said.

I walked out of the meeting feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

"Thanks, man," I told Liam.

"We'll figure something out," he said. "Maybe you can convince Starbucks to come into that vacant retail space you have."

"I just need a Christmas miracle," I said.

"Or you need a Christmas lay," my friend replied with a wink. "That girl, Chloe, is cute. You could dress her up in a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit."

That was a tantalizing thought. I could feel the heat rush straight to my groin.

"Or there's always Hartleigh," Liam said impishly.

I grimaced. At least my boner was gone.

I had hoped to avoid Hartleigh for the duration of the contest, but luck was not on my side. She was down in the lobby with Chloe and Nina. The space looked… well, it looked magical. I could appreciate how the décor might make this space more desirable. Chloe was snapping pictures, for her Instagram I presumed.

She jerked up when Hartleigh saw me and shrieked, "Jack!"

I ignored her and asked Chloe, "Are you quite finished spending my money?"

Chloe glared at Hartleigh, then she turned to me. She had bits of tinsel and pine needles in her hair and on her sweater.

"We're only partially finished, but I think it's coming along nicely. Aren't you feeling the Christmas spirit?" she asked, running her hand under her ample chest. Her tits strained against the sweater. Liam's words banged like a bell choir in my head. Christmas lay… Chloe in a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit.

It took me a second to register that she was not in fact implying that her tits were there for my Christmas cheer. Instead, she was referring to the blinking reindeer on her sweater.

"You know I hate Christmas," I told her. "Also, you have garbage in your hair."

She patted her head, fluffing the glittery pieces of ribbon clippings and tinsel out of her frizzy blonde hair.

I swept around her, catching a whiff of pine and sugar.

Concentrate on saving the tower, I told myself. Chloe will only be a distraction.

But I bet she would be a tasty one.