The Magic Of Mistletoe. Carolyn Hector

godfather to Pablo’s first three children, Wellinson, Angel and Maylen, Duke knew that women held a soft spot for men who liked kids. Women blatantly hit on him whenever he took the children out to the park or to a game, slipping him their business cards or hotel key cards.

      Growing up in Mao, a city in the Dominican Republic, Duke never realized he was poor. His father, Ramon, would say they were blessed. Christmas traditions were more like a big celebration with fireworks and lots of eating. When he got older and came to the States at eighteen, he realized that other people around the world celebrated completely differently from him. It was all about the commercialization of the season. And when it came to his godchildren, Duke was in sync with everyone else.

      Duke fell back into step with Pablo. They crossed the hardwood floors of the living room, ignoring some of the eye-rolling that took place when Duke walked through. In the dining area, they found Monique beaming at the sight of them approaching. She opened her arms for him to hug. Duke reached for her and twirled her around. The tie of her black wrap dress flowed through the air as the curls of her blond hair bounced up and down.

      “You look way too good to have just given birth two weeks ago,” Duke said. “The both of you look great.” He smiled down at baby Lucia. “Dios lo bendiga.”

      “Oh, Duke, you always know what to say.” Monique giggled and batted her blue eyes at him.

      Their playful banter always warranted a growl from Pablo. “Don’t listen to her,” Pablo grumbled miserably. “She passed over my head the minute she found out she was pregnant.”

      Macy looked up from the baby for a moment. Duke noticed her light brown eyes and felt his breath get caught in his throat. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

      “What’s that?” she asked.

      Duke took the opportunity to explain; hopefully his translation of a Dominican superstition might impress her. “Oh, you see, in the Dominican, if a woman passes over the top of her husband’s head, he will get all her morning sickness.”

      Her perfectly manicured eyebrows came together in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

      “Most women carry the brunt of the morning sickness. Her body has to pass over his head. I mean, usually this happens when the man is sitting on a step and the woman will swing her leg over his head, like a high kick.” Duke winked and held his hand over the top of his head. Did he really wink? He wished he could take it back. She seemed so sophisticated. Did she smell like sweet coconut? Suddenly, his train of thought was lost, and he just stood there staring at her, willing the next words to come out of his mouth.

      Saving him, Pablo used his beer hand to nudge Duke once again and pointed toward the front stairs. Duke knew Pablo had had the house built for his wife. The stairs were a grand ordeal, coming right out of the pages of Gone with the Wind. “See that sixth step right there?” He looked back at Duke and Macy to make sure they were watching. “I was walking by these steps, minding my own business, when my wife nearly flew from that step onto the floor over the banister right over my head. It was like watching one of those bad seventies movies.”

      “Hey,” Monique laughed, “I was barely eight weeks pregnant and still jogging every morning. but there was no way I could pass up a chance to test out the superstition.”

      The image made everyone laugh. Duke noticed how Macy was even prettier up close and smiling. The lighting framed her heart-shaped face, highlighting her café-au-lait skin, haloing the top of her light brown curly hair. Because of her flawless skin, he could not determine her age. The news anchors he’d worked with would kill for the illegal lengths of Macy’s lashes. Her brown eyes crinkled in the corners as she stared at the three of them, her lips parted. Duke still stared, trying not to be a pervert, but the dangerous curves on her reminded him of the beautiful women back home—thick in the thighs, breasts and behind. His breath caught in his throat again. Asking if she was a model would have been something she’d already heard. She could have been on television. He wondered if she was in the business. He prayed not, because the last thing he wanted was to get involved with another woman in the industry. His last relationship had played out in the gossip tabloids from beginning to end, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

      A lull fell across the foursome. Seemingly nervously, Monique cleared her throat. “So Duke, are you enjoying yourself? Pablo wanted to make sure you got some of the old Dominican traditions.”

      “Everything is great. Who made pasteles en hojas?”

      “Pablo.” Monique beamed. It didn’t surprise Duke to learn that. The masa, or dough, was made up of plantains and other root vegetables. Getting it to the right consistency took a lot of time.

      “That’s good. It will go great with the bottle of Anis del Mono I had shipped in.”

      For most people, the anise in the liqueur had a strong flavor like licorice, thus making it an acquired taste. Ready for the strong Spanish liqueur, Duke looked around the room at the traditionally festive holiday atmosphere. Christmas was less than six weeks away, and they’d already had their home decorated in bright red, green and white. The Christmas tree in the family room had to be about seven feet tall and was decorated with matching red and green ornaments.

      “The food, the decorations, everything looks great, Mo.”

      “Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Monique said.

      “No?” Duke could see Macy out of the corner of his eye. She held baby Lucia close to her and with expertise. Despite Duke’s status as godfather to all the Baez kids, he still always felt awkward holding one.

      Monique hit herself lightly in the head. “Oh my God! Where are my manners? Macy, this is Duke Rodriguez, practically one of the family. Duke, this is our dear friend Macy. She’s the one who did all of this.” She waved her hand around the room.

      “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Duke said, extending his hand. Since she was holding the baby with both arms, she couldn’t shake. Duke felt a little foolish. Quickly, he shoved his hand in his pocket.

      “Nice to meet you.” Her words sounded polite, but there was a clip in her voice that told Duke she was just being nice.

      Not counting the echoing chuckle as Pablo took a sip from his beer, there was another awkward silence between them. Kenny G’s melodic holiday saxophone notes were easily heard as the sound system dispersed the music through the rooms. Forks scraping against plates and champagne glasses being clinked in toast filtered through the air, as well. Monique raised her eyebrow in Duke’s direction. He could read it. She’d done her part, and now it was time for him to make an impression. After years of dating, years of having women throw themselves at him, Duke felt something strange; he was at a loss for words.

      Macy didn’t seem the slightest bit awestruck looking at him. She’d barely glanced up when Monique made the introductions. With one hand in his pocket and one still holding his now-room-temperature beer, Duke stood there, rocking back and forth.

      He towered over her by a good half a foot. Up close, he could see that her chocolate-brown hair was highlighted with little streaks of gold. She still wouldn’t give him eye contact, but he could see that she had the longest lashes and barely any makeup on her top lids. When she smiled down at baby Lulu, he could see her regal cheekbones rise slightly.

      Monique reached over and popped her husband on the arm. “Oh my gosh, I told you not to let me forget the thing.”

      “Ouch. The what?” Pablo asked, rubbing his arm.

      A person had to be blind not to notice how Monique tilted her head toward the kitchen. She was obviously trying to give the two strangers a moment. Macy wasn’t blind, but she was clearly devoting all her attention to the baby in her arms. “Macy, will you be a dear and watch Lucia for me for a second?”

      “Not a problem,” Macy replied sweetly, looking up for a moment.

      Even when they were alone, Macy avoided Duke’s eye contact. He wasn’t going to leave until she smiled