Linda Thomas-Sundstrom - The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres

She didn’t have to set one red-hot foot in his apartment. She didn’t have to breathe in his goddamned ear. Those were daydreams. Man stuff. Wishful thinking. Most men were wired with those kinds of thoughts. All she had to do was cave on one little point, encapsulated by a single paragraph on paper.

But again, and to her credit, Kim didn’t run away.

“Who is offering the contract?” she asked politely.

“I’m not at liberty to say. Not until you agree to help out.”

“I did mention that I’m on vacation next week?”

“I’ll give you a longer vacation at another time.”

“I can’t help you,” she declared. But contrary to sounding smug about this persistent refusal, Chaz heard in her voice something else. Sorrow? Wishfulness? A silent desire that she didn’t have to be so stubborn and inflexible?

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you really of a religion that shuns this holiday?”

She shook her head. “Irish. Completely. Three generations back.”

“Ah.” Chaz’s breath caught in his throat as one of her hands rested lightly on top of his hand on the table, flesh to naked flesh, and cool from her grip on the martini glass.

The urge to tug at his collar returned.

“I’d like to be honest with you.” As her eyes met his, Chaz couldn’t help but feel as if he were drowning. The look in her eyes made the crowd around them disappear.

“I’d appreciate it if you would,” he said, slightly shaken by the intimacy of her touch and her sudden change of expression. Truly, it wasn’t a normal occurrence for him to be affected by the antics of a woman. He wasn’t sex starved. He didn’t need to count on Kim for those fantasies when the pretty brunette at the next table continuously looked his way.

“It would be better for me if you didn’t pressure me into this,” she told him in a carefully modulated tone that deepened her accent.

“Explain, and maybe I won’t. I am human, you know.”

When she frowned, the delicate skin around her eyes creased.

“I have a problem,” she said.

Her fingers moved on his as if trying to stress a point he didn’t see. Chaz found himself listening especially diligently for whatever excuse she’d come up with next. He could hardly wait to hear what she had to say.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, a provocative, erotic action.

“It’s embarrassing to speak of, so I don’t,” she began. “If you were to fire me because of sharing this very personal confidence, I don’t know what I’d do.”

She hadn’t removed her hand from his. His gaze lingered on her mouth.

“I have a problem with Christmas.” As she spoke, earrings buried somewhere in her fair blond hair tinkled with a sound like stardust falling.

“It’s not the holiday itself that bothers me,” she went on. “An objection to the commercialism of Christmas would be funny in our line of business, wouldn’t it?”

Kim’s wan smile lifted the edges of her lips. “That’s not the source of my problems.”

“I’d sincerely like to know what is,” Chaz said.

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