“I’ll see you at eight,” Monroe said, breaking the standoff.

The sensation of his warm breath on her face gave Kim a ridiculously flushed and tingly feeling. The look in his eyes doubled that. What kind of boss was he? The kind who wouldn’t mind breaking a few laws in order to get his way? The kind with a casting couch?

She broke eye contact. Her lashes fluttered. She stood there, helpless to get out of this, speechless for once, before backing up and turning abruptly.

She left Chaz Monroe, knowing that he stared after her, feeling his heated gaze. That scrutiny was so hot, she had an absurd longing to run back to him and press her mouth to his in a brief goodbye kiss, then laugh manically as she headed back to her cubicle to clear out her things.

The strangest bit of intuition told her he wanted that, too. In those insane moments of confrontation and unacceptable closeness, her senses screamed that Chaz Monroe had wanted to kiss her.

The Boss’s Mistletoe Manoeuvres

Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LINDA THOMAS-SUNDSTROM writes contemporary romance and paranormal romance novels for the Mills & Boon® Nocturne™ and Desire™ lines. A teacher by day and a writer by night, Linda lives in the West, juggling teaching, writing, family and caring for a big stretch of land. She swears she has a resident Muse who sings so loudly, she often wears earplugs in order to get anything else done, but has big plans to eventually get to all those ideas.

Visit Linda’s website: www.LindaThomas-Sundstrom.com.

Connect on Facebook: www.facebook.com/LindaThomasSundstrom

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

One

Chaz Monroe knew a great female backside when he saw one. And the blonde with the swinging ponytail walking down the hallway in front of him was damn near a ten.

Lean, rounded, firm and feminine, her admirable backside swayed from side to side as she moved, above the short hemline of a tight black skirt that did little to hide a great pair of legs. Long, shapely legs, encased in paper-thin black tights and ending in a pair of perfectly sensible black leather pumps.

The sensible pumps were a disappointment and a slight hiccup in his rating overall, given the sexiness of the rest of her. She was red stilettos all the way, Chaz decided. Satin shoes maybe, or suede. Still, though the woman was a visual sensory delight, now wasn’t the time or place for an indulgence of that kind. Not with an employee. Never with an employee.

She wore a blue fuzzy sweater that molded to her slender torso and was on the tall side of small. Her stride was purposeful, businesslike and almost arrogant in the way she maneuvered through the narrow hallway, skillfully avoiding chairs, unused consoles and the watercooler. Her heels made soft clicking sounds that didn’t echo much.

Chaz followed her until she turned right, heading for Cubicle City. At that junction, as he hooked a left toward his new office, he caught a whiff of scent that lingered in her wake. Not a typical floral fragrance, either. Something subtle, almost sweet, that would have decided her fate right then and there if he’d been another kind of guy, with a different sort of agenda.

This guy had to think and behave like the new owner of an advertising agency in the heart of Manhattan.

Taking over a new business required the kind of time that ruled out relationships, including dates and dalliances. In the past two months he’d become a freaking monk, since there wasn’t one extra hour in his schedule for distractions if he was to turn this company around in a decent amount of time. That was the priority. All of his money was riding on this company making it. He’d spent every cent he had to buy this advertising firm.

Whistling, Chaz strolled past Alice Brody, his newly inherited pert, big-eyed, middle-aged, fluffy-haired executive secretary. He entered his office through a set of glass doors still bearing the name of the vice president he’d already had to let go for allowing the company to slowly slide from the top of the heap to the mediocre middle. Lackluster management was unacceptable in a company where nothing seemed to be wrong with the work of the rest of the staff.

“There is one more person to see today,” Alice called after him.

“Need a few minutes to go over some things first,” Chaz said over his shoulder. “Can you bring in the file I asked for?”

“I’ll get on it right away.”

Something in Alice’s tone made him wonder what she might be thinking. He could feel her eyes on him. When he glanced back at her, she smiled.

Chaz shrugged off the thought, used to women liking his looks. But his older brother Rory was the real catch. As the first self-made millionaire in the family, his brother made headlines and left trails of women in his wake.

Chaz had a lot of catching up to do to match his brother’s magic with a floundering company. So there were, at the moment, bigger fish to fry.

First up, he had to finish dealing with old contract issues and get everyone up to speed with the new company plan. He had to decide how to speak to one person in particular. Kim McKinley, the woman highly recommended by everyone here for an immediate promotion. The woman in line for the VP job before he had temporarily taken over that office, going undercover in this new business as an employee.

More to the point, he had to find out why Kim McKinley had a clause in her contract that excluded her from working on the biggest advertising campaign of the year. Christmas.

He couldn’t see how an employee headed for upper management could be exempt from dealing with Christmas campaigns, when it was obvious she was a player, otherwise.

He’d done his homework and had made it a priority to find out about Kim, who spearheaded four of the company’s largest accounts. Her clients seemed to love her. They threw money at her, and this was a good thing.

He could use someone like this by his side, and was confident that he could make her see reason about the Christmas campaigns. Intelligent people had to be flexible. It would be a shame to issue an ultimatum, if it came to that, for Kim to lose what she had worked so hard for because of his new rules on management and contracts.

Chaz picked up a pencil and tucked it behind his ear, knowing by the way it stuck there easily that he needed a haircut, and that haircuts were a luxury when business came first.

He was sure that his upcoming appointment with Kim McKinley would turn out well. Handling people was what he usually did best when he took over a new company in his family’s name. Juggling this agency’s problems and getting more revenue moving in the right direction was the reason he had bought this particular firm for himself. That, and the greedy little need to show his big brother what he could do on his own.

The agency’s bottom line wasn’t bad; it just needed some TLC. Which was why he had gone undercover as the new VP. He figured it would be easier for other employees to deal with a fellow employee, rather than an owner. Even an employee in management. Pretending to be one of them for a while would give him a leg up on the internal workings of the business.

He would be good to Kim McKinley and all of the others who wanted to work and liked it here, if they played ball.

Did they have to love him? No.

But he’d hopefully earn their respect.

Chaz turned when the door opened, and Alice breezed in without knocking. She handed over a manila file folder held together with a thick rubber band. Thanking her, he waited until she left before sitting down. Centering the file on his desk, he read the name on it.

Kimberly McKinley.

He removed the rubber band, opened the folder and read the top page. She was twenty-four years old, had graduated from NYU with honors.

He already knew most of that.

He skimmed through the accolades. She was described as a hard worker. An honest, inventive, intelligent, creative self-starter with a good client base. An excellent earner recommended for advancement to a position in upper management.

A handwritten scribble in the margins added, Lots of bang for the buck.

There was one more thing he wished he could check in the file, for no other reason than a passing interest. Her marital status. Single people were known for their work ethics and the extra hours they could put in. McKinley’s quick rise in the company was probably due not only to her ability to reel in business and keep it, but also to her availability.

What could be better than that?

He stole a glance at the empty seat across from him then looked again at the overstuffed folder. He tapped his fingers on the desk. “How badly do you want a promotion, Kim?” he might ask her. The truth was that if she were to get that promotion, she’d be one of the youngest female vice presidents in the history of advertising.

And that was fine with him. Young minds were good minds, and McKinley truly sounded like the embodiment of the name her coworkers had given her. Wonder Woman.

Although he was already familiar with her tally of clients, he checked over the list.

Those four clients that he’d classify as the Big Four, refused to work with anyone else, and it was a sure bet McKinley knew this, too, and would possibly use it as leverage if push came to shove about her taking on holiday-themed campaigns that didn’t suit her. Would those clients turn away if he accidentally pushed McKinley too hard, and she walked? Rumor had it that three of them had been hoping she’d add Christmas to her list and stop farming those holiday accounts out.

He looked up to find Alice again in the doorway, as if the woman had psychically picked up on his need to ask questions.

“What will Kim have to say about believing she has been passed over in favor of me in this office?” was his first one.

Alice, through highly glossed ruby lips, said, “Kim had been promised the job by the last guy behind that desk. She’ll be disappointed.”

“How disappointed?”

“Very. She’s an asset to this company. It would be a shame to lose her.”

Chaz nodded thoughtfully. “You think she might leave?”

Alice shrugged. “It’s a possibility. I can name a few other agencies in the city that would like to have her onboard.”

Chaz glanced at the file, supposing he was going to have to wear kid gloves when he met McKinley. If everyone else in town wanted her, how would pressure tactics work in getting her to stay put and take on more work?

He nodded to Alice, the only staff member who knew what his real agenda was for playing at being the new VP, and that he now owned everything from the twelfth to the fourteenth floor.

“Why doesn’t she do Christmas campaigns?” he asked.

“I have no idea. It must be something personal,” Alice replied. “She’ll attend meetings when necessary, but doesn’t handle the actual work.”

“Why do you think it might be personal?” Chaz pressed.

“Take a look at her cubicle.”

“Is something wrong with it?”

“There’s nothing Christmasy about it. It’s fifteen days until the big holiday, and she doesn’t possess so much as a red and green pen,” Alice said.

An image of the blonde in the hallway crowded his mind as if tattooed there. He wondered if Kim McKinley would be anything like that. He tended to picture McKinley as a stern, no-nonsense kind of a gal. Glasses, maybe, and a tweed suit to make her seem older than her actual age and give her some street cred.

“Thanks, Alice.”

“My pleasure,” Alice said, closing the door as she exited.

Chaz leaned back in his chair and scanned the office, thinking he’d like to be anywhere but there, undercover. Pretending wasn’t his forte. To his credit, he had been a pretty decent young advertising exec himself a few years back, before entering the family business of buying up companies. In the time since then, he’d made more than one flustered employee cry.

He was responsible for the decisions regarding the upper echelon of this agency. But once he revealed he was the new owner, the future occupant of the VP’s office would require more than a rave review on paper and a few happy clients. He found it inconceivable that anyone considered for such a promotion would avoid working on campaigns that brought in big revenue for the company. What was Kim McKinley thinking?

Chaz swiveled toward the window, where he had a bird’s-eye view of the street below. Though it was already dark outside, he got to his feet and peered out, counting four Santas on street corners collecting for charity in a city that was draped in holiday trappings.

When the knock came on his door, Chaz looked around. He wasn’t expecting anyone for another hour, and Alice never bothered to announce her own entrance. The thought that someone could bypass Alice seemed ludicrous.

The knock came again. After one more sharp rap, the doorknob moved. It seemed that his visitor wasn’t going to wait for permission to come in.

The door swung open. A woman, her outline exaggerated by the lights behind her, straddled the threshold in a slightly imperious stance.

“You wanted to see me?” the woman said.

Chaz figured this could only be the notorious McKinley, since she was the only person left on his list to see that day.

After realizing she wasn’t actually going to take a single step into the room, he blew out a long, low breath without realizing he’d been holding it, and squelched the urge to laugh out loud.

Had he wished too hard for this, maybe, and someone had been listening?

The woman in his doorway was none other than the delicious blonde.

Yep, that one.

* * *

“The Kim McKinley?” the man by the window said.

Kim was so angry, she could barely control herself. Her hand on the doorknob shook with irritation.

“You wanted to see me?” she repeated.

“Yes. Please come in,” he said from behind the desk that should have been hers. “Have a seat.”

She shook her head. “I doubt if I’ll be here long enough to get comfortable.”

This was an unfortunate double entendre. Chaz Monroe was either going to praise her or hand her a pink slip for being his closest competition.

With a familiar dread knotting her stomach, she added, “I have a pressing appointment that might last for some time.”

“I won’t keep you long. Please, Miss McKinley, come in.”

She stood her ground. “I have a tight schedule to maintain today, Mr. Monroe, and I came here to ask if we can have our sit-down appointment at a later time?”

She had been expecting this talk from the new guy, but truly hadn’t expected this. His looks. The shock of seeing the usurper in the flesh held her in place, and kept her at a slight disadvantage. At the moment, she couldn’t have moved from the doorway if she’d tried.

For once, rumors hadn’t lied. Chaz Monroe was a hunk. Not only was he younger than she had imagined, he was also incredibly handsome...though he was, she reminded herself, in her office.

This newcomer had been handed the job she had been promised, and he’d summoned her as if she were a minion. He stood behind the mahogany desk like a king, impeccably dressed, perfectly gorgeous and not at all as rigid as she had anticipated he would be.

In fact, he looked downright at home. Already.

She stared openly at him.

Shaggy dark hair, deep brown, almost black, surrounded an angular face. Light eyes—blue maybe, she couldn’t be sure—complemented his long-sleeved, light blue shirt. He flashed a sensual smile full of enviable white teeth, but the smile had to be phony. They both knew he was going to gloss over the fact that he’d gotten this job, in her place, if he’d done any research at all. He no doubt would also ask about the Christmas clause in her contract, first thing, without knowing anything about her. He’d try to put her in her place, and on the defensive. She felt this in her bones.

A shiver of annoyance passed through her.

She was willing to bet that this guy was good at lording over people. He had that kind of air. Monroe was a devil in a dashing disguise, and if she didn’t behave, if she said what was really on her mind, she’d be jobless in less than ten minutes.

“Did you want something in particular?” she asked.

“I wanted to get acquainted. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I have a few questions about your file,” Monroe said, his eyes moving over her intently as he spoke. He was studying her, too. Maybe he searched for a chink in her armor.

She’d be damned if she’d let him find it.

A trickle of perspiration dripped between Kim’s shoulder blades, caused by the dichotomy of weighing Monroe’s looks against what he was going to do to her when she refused to play nice with him. Maybe it wasn’t his fault that she’d been passed over for the promotion, but did he have to look so damn content?

And if he were to push her about her contract?

Monroe had only been in this building for two days, while her guilt about Christmas was years-old and remained depressingly fresh. Her mother had died only six months ago; it hadn’t been long enough for Kim to get over the years of darkness about the Christmas holidays that had prevailed in the McKinley household.

Kim shut her eyes briefly to regroup and felt awkward seconds ticking by.

“Please come in. If you’re in a hurry, let’s talk briefly about the Christmas stuff,” he said, verifying her worst fears.

“If it’s the Christmas files you want, you’ll need to see Brenda Chang,” she said coolly. “Brenda’s the one down the hall with the decorated cubicle. Red paper, garlands, tinsel, and holiday carols on CD. You can’t miss it. Brenda oversees some of the December holiday ads.”

She watched Monroe circle to the front of the desk, where he sat on the edge and indicated the vacant chair beside him with a wave of his hand. Just a friendly little chat...

Refusing to oblige his regal fantasies, Kim stubbornly remained in the doorway, anxiously screwing the heel of one shoe into the costly beige Berber carpet.

He maintained eye contact in a way that made her slightly dizzy from the intensity of his stare. “And you don’t have any Christmas accounts, why, exactly? If you’re one of the best we’ve got, shouldn’t you be overseeing our biggest source of revenue?”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t do this particular holiday. I’m sure it’s all there in my file. I can help Alice locate my contract before I go, if you’d like.”

Monroe’s calm, professional expression didn’t falter. “Perhaps you can explain why you don’t do Christmas? I’d honestly like to know.”

“It’s personal. Plus, I’m very busy doing other work here.” Kim held up a hand. “Look, I’d love to have this get-acquainted chat.” The words squeezed through tight lips. “But I’ll have to beg off right now. I’m sorry. I really am expected somewhere.”

“It’s almost five. Do you have a work-related appointment?” Monroe asked.

Kim started to ask what business it was of his, then thought better of voicing such a thing because like it or not, he was her boss, and it was his business. She had agreed to meet some friends for a quick drink in the bar downstairs, and it was important that she got home right after that, before the beautiful holiday lights made her think again and more seriously about dishonoring her mother’s memory.

Lately, she’d been having second thoughts about what she’d experienced growing up, and what she’d been taught, both about the insensitivity of men and the pain of the holidays.

Her mother hadn’t approved of anything to do with Christmas. For the McKinleys, Christmas meant sorrow and the extremes of loss. It meant sad memories of a husband and father who had deserted his wife and five-year-old daughter on Christmas Eve to be with another family.

Kim looked at Monroe levelly. No way she was going to tell him any of that, and she shouldn’t have to dredge up the details of something that had already been hammered out a year ago when she negotiated her contract with somebody else on this floor.

“Sure, meeting later would be fine,” Monroe said. “Maybe around eight?”

“I’m usually in by seven, so yes, I can return first thing in the morning if that’s what you’d like,” Kim said.

“Actually, I meant tonight. 8:00 p.m.,” he clarified, enunciating clearly. “If it wouldn’t be too terribly inconvenient, that is, and you’re still around. We can keep it casual and meet in the bar downstairs. That’s not too much out of the way, right?”

“The bar?” Kim heard the slip in her tone.

“In the bar, yes,” he said, without losing the charming, almost boyish smile.

Damn him. It was a really nice smile.

“I’m told it’s a regular meeting place after hours for employees,” he continued. “Maybe we can snag a quiet table?”

So they could do what? Have a friendly drink before the ax fell? Before the arguments began?

Don’t think so.

“Will you be finished with your appointment by then?” Monroe pressed.

Realizing that she couldn’t lie, and since others from the agency were going to be in that same bar, and still might be hanging around at eight, she said, “Yes,” adding in another job-related double entendre, “I’ll be finished.”

With those last three words dangling between them, Chaz Monroe got to his feet and walked right up to her.

She had to wince to keep from backing up.

He came very close. Obviously, he had no intention of preserving her tiny circle of personal space.

Then he invaded it.

And hell...

Up close, he was even better.

“Your appointment isn’t a date?” he asked in a husky tone that wasn’t at all businesslike.

Kim felt breathless so close to this incredibly gorgeous guy who was her new boss, and chastised herself for being affected by him in such a physical way. Monroe was a time bomb comprised of every woman’s sexual addictions, from his shaggy hair to his loafered feet. In order to become desensitized to this kind of personal frontal attack, she’d have had to experience quite a few near misses in the past with men of Monroe’s caliber.

No such thing was in her dating history.

Her feet inched forward to close the distance to him before she could stop them. Her breasts strained at her sweater with a reaction so unacceptable, she wanted to scream. But she heard herself say, “Not tonight. No date.”

The words wrong and harassment sailed through her mind. He was close enough to touch. Why?

He was also near enough to punch, but she didn’t take a swing.

Chaz Monroe was a head taller than she was and smelled like man, in a really good way. He radiated sex appeal and an easy, unattended elegance. He didn’t wear a coat or a tie, yet what he did wear was confidence, in an unintimidating manner. His casualness was reflected in the fact that his shirt was open at the neck, revealing a triangle of bare, lightly tanned skin. That taut, masculine flesh captured her attention for what seemed like several long minutes before she glanced up....

To meet his blue eyes.

That’s when she heard music.

She shook her head, not quite believing it, but the music didn’t go away. It was Christmas music, she finally realized, coming from the lobby and signaling the nearness of closing time for most of the staff. She had to get out of there and was caught between a rock and...a hard body.

“Good. I’ll see you at eight,” Monroe said, breaking the standoff.

The sensation of his warm breath on her face gave Kim a ridiculously flushed and tingly few seconds. The look in his eyes doubled that. What kind of boss was he? The kind that wouldn’t mind breaking a few laws in order to get his way? The kind with a casting couch?

Had her mother been right about overly attractive men being saps, after all?

She broke eye contact. Her lashes fluttered.

“Eight o’clock. In the bar,” he said in a tone that gave her an electrical jolt and made her clothing feel completely inadequate as a barrier against the sleek, seductive hoodoo he had going on.

Excuses for her reaction beat at her from the inside. The air around her visibly trembled with the need to shout “Go to hell!” Yet she stood there, helpless to get out of this, speechless for once, before backing up and turning abruptly.

She left Chaz Monroe, knowing that he stared after her, feeling his heated gaze. That scrutiny was so hot, she had an absurd longing to run back to him and get it over with. Just press her mouth to his in a brief goodbye kiss, then laugh maniacally as she headed back to her cubicle to clear out her things.

The strangest bit of intuition told her that he wanted that same thing. In those insane moments of confrontation and unacceptable closeness, her senses screamed that Chaz Monroe had wanted to kiss her.

She knew something else, as well. Because of the fire in her nerve endings and the way her heart thundered, meeting Chaz Monroe at the bar tonight was a very...bad...idea.

Two

Chaz faced the distinct possibility of being in serious trouble before Kim McKinley had left him standing in the open doorway. He had very nearly just breached every rule of decorum in the book. Well, he had thought about it, anyway.

She hadn’t helped any.

Resisting the urge to loosen his collar, which was already loosened, he cleared his throat and looked to Alice, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow. Only practice allowed him to keep his expression neutral when he felt an annoying shudder in the abs he had worked so hard on in the gym before his takeover of this company shot down his regular routine.

Nodding to Alice, he stepped back into his office.

“Damn.”

He had gotten up close and personal with an employee. His idea to dish some of that haughty attitude of McKinley’s right back at her had backfired, big-time.

Not only were her body and her sexy scent tantalizing as hell, Kim’s face and voice were undeniably appetizing. She had an accent, a slight Southern drawl that resulted in a slow drawing out of syllables. Her voice was deep, sultry and a lot like whispered vibrations passing through overheated air.

As for her face...

It was the face of an angel. The pale, silky-smooth, slightly babyish oval wasn’t in any way indicative of her crisp attitude.

He could feel the residual intensity of her expressive hazel eyes, and didn’t even want to think about her lips. Pink lips, moist, slick and slightly parted, as if just waiting to be kissed.

Chaz touched his forehead absently. Hell, if he didn’t have a bone to pick with her over the Christmas stuff, and if he actually relied on first impressions of a physical nature, he’d have been tempted to throw in the towel and give her the office right then and there—anything to get closer to her.

Anything to taste those lips.

Man. His mind had taken an inconvenient slip, a sudden, unexpected detour, and he wanted to laugh at the situation and at himself. However, there was more to be considered here. If he was going to be around Kim McKinley on a regular basis, he’d have to be able to keep his mind on business; a real feat, given the outline of the world-class breasts he’d seen through the thin layer of cloud-blue cashmere.

Damn it, why hadn’t anyone told him about that?

Returning to the desk, pulling the pencil from behind his ear, Chaz scratched Personnel files should contain all pertinent information in the future on a yellow notepad.

Tapping the pencil on McKinley’s file, he vowed not to debate with himself about what a pouty mouth like hers might do, other than kissing, while realizing that X-rated thoughts had no place in contract negotiations or the boardroom.

He shook his head. In spite of the untimely, if temporary, dilemma, Chaz didn’t lose the smile when he looked again to the doorway where Kim had just stood, cute as a bug from the neck up and devilishly delicious from the neck down, while she made a decent attempt at blowing him off.

Can we talk later?

I have a schedule to keep to.

Kim McKinley, it seemed, wasn’t going to take losing this office well. She was angry and trying to deal. It was possible that as long as she remained on his payroll, thinking he had the job she coveted, she might do everything in her power to either avoid him or bust his chops.

True, he had pushed her a little, and hadn’t explained what he was doing here, undercover—which would have defeated the purpose of being undercover.

Could she really be so good at her job? She might be decent at what she did for this agency and damn nice to look at, but no one was so indispensable that they could afford to anger the new man in charge within the first sixty seconds of meeting him.

Yet that’s just what she had done. Sort of.

Reopening her file, Chaz pondered the question of whether she had actually just offered up a challenge. Had McKinley meant to wave a flag in front of the bull, a flag bearing the legend Leave me alone, or lose me?

The back of Chaz’s neck prickled the way it usually did when the anticipation of a good challenge set in. This particular tickle was similar to the feelings he’d had when he had handed over ten million dollars for a company he had every intention of making more successful than it was before he stepped in. The tickle was also similar to the one brought about by thoughts of the self-imposed challenge of tackling his brother’s track record of successful takeovers, and proving his own business acumen.

Testy employees had no place in either of those particular goals, except for doing the jobs assigned to them. He really could not afford to be distracted right now.

Chaz stared at the door, where Kim McKinley had drawn an invisible battle line on several levels. His mind buzzed with possibilities. Maybe she used her looks to get what she wanted, and that was part of her success. It could be that she believed herself to be so valuable that he wouldn’t mess with her if she resisted his logical suggestions.

Or if she resisted his advances.

What? Damn. He hadn’t just thought that. Advances were totally out of the question.

Sitting down in his chair, Chaz placed both hands on the desk, disgusted that he’d been waylaid by this surprise. Kim McKinley just wasn’t what he had expected, that’s all. And the firm could always find someone to replace her if her attitude got out of hand.

Was that a fair assessment of the situation?

As he tapped his pencil on her file, he mulled over the fact that she had avoided their first sit-down appointment. Did she consider that a point for her side? Would she believe she had racked up another point for failing to give him any of the information he had been seeking, or meeting his demands on that Christmas clause head-on?

Was she the type to keep score?

Chaz rubbed the back of his neck where the darn prickle of interest just wouldn’t ease up. Buttoning the collar of his shirt, he firmed up his resolve to get to the bottom of the McKinley mystery. Wonder Woman would be wrong if she thought him a fool. He was a master at compartmentalizing when he had to. He hadn’t gotten to where he was in business by tossing employees on the carpet according to whim, or dumping their sorry backsides in the street without real cause. He was bigger than that, and he always played fair.

He would meet Kim McKinley tonight and set things straight. He’d give her the benefit of the doubt about adhering to his company plan, and get her onboard, whatever it took to do so.

“Your contract. No question marks. Not up for negotiation.”

He practiced those words aloud, repeated them less forcefully and set his mental agenda.

The bar, in three hours.

They’d have a friendly chat and get to the specifics of the deal. McKinley might turn out to be a good ally.

As for the bedroom dreams...

He let out a bark of self-deprecating laughter over the time he was spending on this one issue, a sure sign that truly, and admittedly, he hadn’t been prepared for the likes of this woman.

He really would have to be more cautious in the future, because, man-oh-man, what he needed right that minute, in Kim McKinley’s saucy Southern wake, and in preparation for meeting her again was...

...a very long, very cold shower.

* * *

Kim tumbled into her chair and laid her head down on her desk. She turned just far enough to eye the golden plaque perched next to her pencil sharpener that had been a gift from her friend Brenda.

Kim McKinley, VP of Advertising.

“Some joke.” She backhanded the plaque, sending it sailing. Who had she been kidding, anyway? Vice president? A twenty-four-year-old woman?

There would be no big office with floor-to-ceiling windows in her immediate future. No maple shelving for potted plants, and no opportunity to implement her plans and ideas for the company. So didn’t she feel exactly like that jettisoned plaque—shot into space, only to land with a dismal thud right back in her own six-by-six cubicle?

Could the moisture welling up in her eyes be tears? As in about to cry tears?

Unacceptable.

Twenty-four-year-old professionals didn’t blubber away when they were royally disappointed, or when they were overlooked and underappreciated at the office.

No tears. No way. No how.

She was mad, that’s all, with no way to express how sad she was going to be if she had to leave this building and everything she had built here in the past five years.

“Why does everyone want to push me about the damn contract?” she grumbled, figuring that Brenda, in the next cubicle, would be listening. “Haven’t I worked extremely hard on every other blasted campaign all year long? I’ve all but slept in this cubicle. I keep clothes in my desk drawers. Would it be fair to dock me over one single previously negotiated item?”

Inhaling damp desk blotter and the odor of evergreen that now pervaded the building, Kim reviewed the proverbial question on the table.

Was there another person on earth who could say that Christmas had been their downfall?

Plunking her head again on the desk, she muttered a weak “ouch.” Rustling up some anger didn’t seem to be working at the moment. It was obvious that she needed more work on self-defense.

“You okay?” a voice queried from somewhere behind her. “I heard a squeak.”

Kim blinked.

“Kim? Are you, or are you not okay?”

“Nope. Not okay.” She didn’t bother to sit up.

“Are you in need of medical attention?”

Moving her mouth with difficulty because it was stuck to some paper, Kim said, “Intravenous Success Serum would be helpful. Got any?”

“No, but I’ve got something even better.”

“Valium? Hemlock? A place with cheap rent?”

“An invitation to have drinks with the new boss tonight in the bar just arrived by email.”

Kim muffled a scream. What had Brenda just said? They were both to have drinks with Monroe? The bastard had invited a crowd to witness her third degree and possible dismissal?

“Now’s not a good time, Bren,” she said. Having a coworker for her best friend sometimes had its drawbacks. Like their close proximity when she wanted to pout by herself.

“I think now would be a good time, actually,” Brenda countered. “We can find out what the new guy is like, en masse.”

“I’ll tell you what he’s like in one word. Brutus!”

Brenda stuck her head over the partition separating their cubicles. “I’m guessing your meeting didn’t go well?”

Kim pried her cheek from the desk, narrowed her eyes and turned to face Brenda.

“So not afraid of that look,” Brenda said.

“That’s the problem. Neither was he.”

“Yes, well, didn’t you just know that the damn Christmas clause was going to jump up and bite you again someday? I mean how could they understand when they don’t know....”

Kim held up a hand that suggested if Brenda said one more word along those lines, she might regret it.

“I’ve probably just lost my dream job, Bren. For all intents and purposes, this agency considers me an ancestor of old mister Scrooge. And by the way, aren’t best friends supposed to offer sympathy in times of crisis, without lengthy lectures tacked on?”

Not much taller than the five foot partition in her bare feet, Brenda, who went shoeless in her space, was barely visible. All that showed was a perfectly straight center part halving a swath of shiny black hair, and a pair of kohl-lined, almond-shaped eyes. The eyes were shining merrily. There might have been a piece of tinsel entwined in a few ebony strands near Brenda’s forehead.

What Brenda lacked in stature, however, she made up for in persistence. “I might suggest that nobody will believe that anyone actually hates Christmas, Kim. Not for real.”

Brenda didn’t stop there. “That’s what the new guy will be thinking. So maybe you can come up with an alternate reason for holding back on the holiday stuff that he will buy into. Like...religious reasons.”

“Seriously?” Sarcasm returned to Kim’s tone as she offered Brenda what she thought was a decent rendition of a go-away-and-leave-me-alone-or-else look.

Brenda performed a glossy hair flip. “Still not afraid,” she said. “Or discouraged.”

Kim got to her feet and smoothed her skirt over her hips. “I think it’s already too late for help of any kind.”

“Tell me about it,” Brenda said. “But first you have to dish about whether Monroe really does have a nice ass.”

Kim kneaded the space between her eyes with shaky fingers, trying to pinpoint the ache building there.

“You didn’t think he was hot?” Brenda continued. “That’s the word going around. H-o-t, as in fan yourself.”

“Yeah? Did you hear anything about the man being an arrogant idiot?” Kim asked.

“No. My sources might have left that part out.”

“I don’t actually care about the nice ass part, Bren. I prefer not to notice an area that I won’t be kissing.”

“Don’t be absurd, Kim. No one expects you to kiss anyone’s backside. It isn’t professional. What happened?”

“I’ll have to start over somewhere else, that’s what. Monroe won’t let me off the hook. He expects me to explain everything. He’ll expect me to cave.” She waved both hands in the air. “I can’t tell him about my background. I can barely talk about it to myself.”

“You told me.”

“That’s different. Best friends are best friends. How I grew up isn’t any of his business.”

“What about the fact that you’ve been wanting to forget about this issue with your family for some time now, anyway?” Brenda asked. “Maybe it’s the right time to take that next step.”

Kim couldn’t find the words to address Brenda’s remark. She wondered if anyone really knew how bad guilt trips felt and how deep some family issues went, if they hadn’t experienced it.

She had a hole inside her that hadn’t completely closed over and was filled with heartaches that had had plenty of time to fester at a cellular level. Her mother had constantly reminded her of how they’d been wronged by a man, and about the dishonest things all men do for utterly selfish reasons.

Her mom wouldn’t listen to advice about getting help in order to emerge from under the dark clouds surrounding her traumatic marital disappointment. Instead, she had spread those dark clouds over Kim.

The guilt about wanting to be rid of the deep-seated feelings of abandonment was sharp-edged, and nearly as painful now as the old heartaches. The warnings her mother had given her had calloused several times over.

Kim had thought long and hard about this since her mother’s death. What she had needed was a little more leeway to get used to the fact that with her mother gone, she could embrace change without angering or hurting anyone else. Still, did that entail capitulating on the Christmas issue so soon? Was she ready for that, when this particular holiday had played such a negative role in her life?

Brenda hurried on. “If you don’t want to tell Monroe the truth, you have about an hour to formulate a reason he’ll accept in lieu of the truth. Fabricating illusions is what we do on a daily basis, right? We make people want to buy things.”

After letting a beat of time go by for that to sink in, Brenda spoke again. “Call me selfish, Kim, but I’d like to keep you here and happy, and so would a whole host of other people. I doubt if the new guy would actually fire you, anyway. He’d have no real reason to. You can work this out. Also, you could try the truth. Talking about it might be cathartic.”

Kim shook her head. Brenda hadn’t witnessed Monroe’s show of personalized aggression in his office doorway. Monroe had used the physical card to get her to back down, intending to intimidate her with his stockpile of charisma. And it had worked. There was no way she’d talk to a complete stranger about complicated and painful personal details and have him laugh them off as childish. Or worse, have him wave them away as being inconsequential.

“If the truth is still too painful, maybe you can spin the issue another way.” Brenda snorted delicately. “You could tell Monroe that you have a Santa fetish.”

Kim gave her a look.

“You can tell him a therapist explained that your Santa fetish means that you’re looking for a father figure to replace yours, and you’ve attached yourself to a fantasy ideal. So much so, that it’s embarrassing to discuss or work with.”

Kim knew a ploy to lighten the mood when she heard one.

“Bren, you are usually so much better than that.”

“The source of the idea wouldn’t matter, Kim. Mention the word therapist, and Monroe would be afraid of a lawsuit if he were to ever fire you for mental health reasons.”

Brenda had the audacity to giggle, despite the seriousness of the subject matter, because she was on a ludicrous roll. “You secretly long for the person who is supposed to possess magical powers that he uses for good, and this longing makes you crazy at this time of year.”

“Bren, listen to yourself. You’re suggesting that I tell my boss I have a secret hard-on for the guy whose belly shakes like a bowlful of jelly, and reindeer with dorky names.”

“Humor aside, isn’t that what you’re actually waiting for? Haven’t you been searching for a man with the ability to override your background issues by making dull things seem shiny and bright? You’d like to find an honest man who could disprove your mother’s ideas about relationships.”

Kim rubbed her forehead harder. Brenda was right. She did want a man with those quasi-magical qualities. Someone caring, understanding, strong and above all, loyal. She got breathless just thinking about it, and about separating herself from the dark spell her mother had woven.

The problem was, she seemed to only date men who had none of those things to offer. Every one of her companions so far had come up short of ideal. Maybe she’d made her poor choices to subconsciously confirm her mother’s philosophy of relationship instability and injustice. She could see this. It made sense. Honestly though, she did not want to end up alone, and like her mother.

She sagged against the wall. “There’s a fatal flaw in your reasoning, Bren. If I had a desire for Santa Claus and his magic, why would I be opposed to working on Christmas? I’d love Christmas. But you are partly right.”

Kim pressed the hair back from her face and continued. “Secretly, I’ve always wanted to dump the darkness and embrace the holiday celebrations. I’ve wanted that for as long as I can remember. It’s been my secret heartache.”

More to the point, she couldn’t stand anger and blame and insidious hatred, and had missed a good portion of her childhood fantasies because of her mother’s take on those things. The idea of a real Santa Claus had been her one ongoing illicit passion from early on. A dream. A ray of light in the dark world she’d grown up in.

She had never disclosed this secret longing to anyone. What good would it do? What child didn’t want to lighten the load and share celebrations with her friends, in spite of the fact that some things were forbidden?

Guilt was a desperate emotion. Its tentacles ran deep and clung hard. Nevertheless, contrary to her mother’s feelings, she had never wanted to commit her father to the fires of Hades for making her mother’s life miserable. For Kim, there had only been sadness, emptiness. Little girls needed their fathers.

She had grown up desiring the ability to absorb pain, table it and move on. She wished to fill the emptiness inside her with something better than loss. Creativity had done that for her. This job had done it. She made other peoples’ fantasies come true on a regular basis. Just not hers.

Not that one specific fantasy, anyway.

“I want to participate in the holiday festivities and be really truly happy,” she confessed. “I just don’t know how to go about it, or where to start. I’m afraid my mother might roll over in her grave if I did.”

As for the theory of cheating men, wrong men...that image seemed to fit the new boss, Chaz Monroe. Although she’d had tingly feelings in his presence, and her heart rate had skyrocketed, all that proved was that her pattern of choosing inappropriate males hadn’t ended. She was attracted to flighty men caught up in their own needs. If she went down that particular path, led by Chaz Monroe, she’d regret it.

“I’m considering shock treatment,” she said. “I don’t rule it out.”

“To my way of thinking, a little therapy now might save you a load of trouble in the long run,” Brenda agreed. “Please don’t be mad that I’m telling you this. Friends have obligations.”

Way too much time had been spent on this. Kim could hear her watch ticking.

Brenda sighed. “There is always plan B. If you don’t want to discuss this tonight, you could distract him. Throw Monroe a curveball. A sexy new outfit and some killer shoes worn as a talisman against unwanted negativity might work. At least it might give you another day or two to decide what to do.”

“I didn’t know shoes could repel negativity.”

“They can if they’re the red stilettos in the window of the shop next door.”

“Those shoes cost more than my rent.”

“Won’t they be worth it if they work?” Brenda pointed out.

“If they don’t, will you pay my bills?”

“I have a little cash saved up,” Brenda admitted.

Kim tried not to choke on the Tree In A Can spray coming from Brenda’s cubicle. She didn’t want to bring Brenda down with her. The fact was that this new boss was likely going to create some havoc, and she’d have to wiggle her way out of the situation in order to prolong her employment. Chaz Monroe hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy who was used to compromises.

Was Monroe a jerk? Maybe. He’d wanted to make her uncomfortable with all that forbidden closeness, and his method had scored. Worse yet, he had seen her squirm. If he got close to her again, though, she’d cry foul, in public, where she’d have witnesses to his behavior.

Oh yes, Chaz Monroe, playboy, would be trouble, all right.

“He has big blue eyes,” she said wistfully, then looked to Brenda, hoping she hadn’t just announced that out loud.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Brenda concluded. “Because real demons have red eyes. And tails.”

A chill trickled down Kim’s spine, messing with the heat left over from her meeting with Monroe. Misplaced heat waves aside, the real question was whether she wanted to keep this job, and the answer was yes. No one wanted to find out how long the unemployment lines would be in December. Plus, she truly liked most of the people she worked with.

So...could she afford to allow Christmas to be a deal breaker, or was she willing to fight for what she wanted?

“A sexy dress and some shoes, huh?” she said.

Brenda nodded. “It’s a bit aggressive, but it’s been done for ages. Think Mata Hari.”

Kim tilted her head in thought.

“Uh-oh,” Brenda said, disappearing from behind the partition and appearing in the entrance to Kim’s cubicle. “I don’t think I like what I see in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You wouldn’t do anything stupid, right, like trying to seduce Monroe out of his title?” Brenda advanced. “You wouldn’t play the harassment card, if it came to that? Seduce him and then blow the whistle to get him out of the way? That would be a terrible plan, Kim. It would be desperate, and unlike you.”

Kim nodded. “In any case, I’m thinking I might have to get plastered before that meeting in the bar.”

“You don’t drink. You never drink.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” Brenda said doubtfully. “But if it goes all haywire, please leave me the red shoes in your will for when this is all over, and the comfy chair by the window in your apartment.”

Kim grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Brenda was right. Revenge wasn’t like her. Not even remotely. However, if Chaz Monroe continued to play the intimidation card, and if he proved himself to be another unreliable male adversary, she’d have to find the strength to enact Plan C. Char his ass.

“Cover for me, Bren,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m going shopping.”

“May the force of Mata Hari be with you,” Brenda called out conspiratorially as Kim headed for the door.

Three

Chaz had pegged the bar scene perfectly. Young people were expensively turned out. Women in chic attire carried neon martinis and threw air kisses. At thirty-two and in a sports coat, he felt like their slightly out-of-it older brother, though women eyed him up and down with avid interest and unspoken invitations in their eyes.

Half of these people probably worked for him in some capacity or another and didn’t yet recognize him by sight. By the end of the month, he would know each and every name on his payroll, and all ten of the building’s janitors. Just now, however, he needed to remain incognito and observe the scene while he waited. For her.

He chose a table in a dark corner and sat on a stool with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door.

“Big Brother is watching you,” he said beneath his breath.

He didn’t really like chic bars where the young and the restless gathered to prance and preen. He preferred quiet corners in coffee shops where actual conversation could take place. The bar would likely be neutral territory for Kim, though. There’d be no battle lines here, away from official turf. Nor would there be any one-on-one private time that might get him into trouble.

He ordered a draft beer from an auburn-haired server in a tight black dress, who had a small tattoo on one sleek upper arm. He kept his attention on the doorway Kim would soon walk through, wanting to witness her entrance and observe her for a minute before she saw him.

He had spent the last hour trying not to imagine what she would be like in action, and he now wondered which of the guys surrounding him might have dated her and known her intimately. The thought made him uncomfortable, as did the image of some other guy tasting the heat of her hot pink mouth.

He did know one thing for sure. He had put way too much emphasis on their brief meeting, and had given McKinley far too much credit as a femme fatale. Not long now, and he’d find out how ridiculous his fantasies had been, because nobody liked a diva who ruled from within the confines of a short, tight skirt, and a lot of people in this building liked Kim.

His beer arrived, along with a phone number scribbled on a napkin. Chaz looked around. A pretty brunette at another table raised her glass and smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Pocketing the napkin, he took a swig from his long-necked bottle and refocused on the door.

Business first.

Several people entered in a group, but Kim wasn’t among them. The noise decibel was rising quickly as the crowd swelled and empty glasses piled up. Chaz could barely hear himself think—which might have been a good thing in this instance, since thoughts turned to her again.

Would she work this crowd or ignore it?

Had someone else been waiting for her before this meeting? That appointment?

His stomach tightened when he thought about it. He was beginning to feel damp around the collar in spite of the cold shower.

With the bottle hoisted halfway to his mouth, Chaz suddenly paused, feeling Kim’s presence before he actually saw her.

Then there she was, at last, the sight of her like a dropkick to his underutilized libido.

Again.

For the third time that day, he absolutely could not take his eyes off her. Tonight, the reason was downright blatant. Kim McKinley was a carnal vision in an eye-popping red dress. Tight, short and silky, that dress pulsed with the word sex. Cut low enough at the neckline for a far too revealing peek at bare, glistening, ivory flesh, it caressed her body, hugging each curve.

Diva with a red dress on...

He stifled a chuckle as she moved through the crowd by the door like a tawny-haired hurricane. He wasn’t the only person who stared.

She had let down her hair. Golden strands gleamed in the darkened room, floating an inch or two below her chin and giving the impression that she possessed a halo. But it was a fact that no angel would dare to dress like that.

Chaz’s stomach twisted at the sight. But Kim wasn’t alone. Another woman accompanied her, as dark as Kim was fair. Points went to him for inviting Brenda Chang, who hopefully might already have knocked some sense into Kim about her future job description.

Another good gulp of his draft seemed to settle him as Chaz waited to see if McKinley would come over, or if she would expect him to bend in her direction. Her beautiful features were set. She didn’t smile.

When Kim finally sighted him with a gaze like a searchlight, Chaz did a quick head-shake and slapped his bottle down on the table. He stood up.

As she approached, his gaze traveled down her length, stopping at her ankles. She looked taller tonight because she was perched on dangerously high heels, the kind he’d imagined her wearing the first time he’d seen her. Shiny crimson stilettos.

Chaz whistled to himself. He couldn’t help it.

Had she read his mind that afternoon?

So you really do know how to make an entrance. Well, okay. You have my full attention.

He raised his bottle in acknowledgment of her presence, and ditched the urge to clap his hands at the show she was providing, sure the sexy clothes were meant for some lucky bastard’s sensory pleasure in taking them off. It was possible she had lied about not having a date.

“Mr. Monroe,” she said in greeting.

“Ms. McKinley.” Chaz gave her a nod.

The electrical current whizzing through the air between them from the distance of two feet felt strong enough to have burned the bar to the ground. He didn’t imagine that. Their chemistry was undeniable, at least on his end.

Fine hairs at the nape of his neck were stirring. Fire roared through his muscles, causing a twitch. These reactions were a further indication of their instantaneous attraction, and also a hint about being so close to a sin-coated challenge.

“I’ve brought someone you should meet,” she said in that seductive drawl. “This is Brenda Chang.”

Chaz held out a hand to Brenda, who took it, though her eyes avoided his.

“I’m happy to meet you in person, Brenda,” he said.

“Thanks for the invitation to join you,” Brenda returned.

“I heard that you two work closely together, and that you’re a good team,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true,” Brenda agreed.

She was an attractive young woman with porcelain skin, dark eyes and a slender body encased in a tasteful blue suit.

Gesturing to the table, Chaz said, “Care to sit down?”

Would Wonder Woman act on any suggestion he made? Quite surprisingly, she did. She slid sideways onto a stool and crossed her legs, placing the heel of one dagger-sharp stiletto just inches from his right calf and making Chaz ponder the idea of what those heels would feel like if they were in bed together. It was a thought he had vowed not to have tonight.

“So,” he began, once they all were in place around the little table. He avoided staring at the spot where Kim’s shapely knee disappeared beneath the colorful silk. “Thanks for coming.”

“Shall we get right to it?” she asked.

This, too, was unexpected. Chaz rallied with another nod.

“I believe you wanted to speak about the Christmas campaigns?” she said.

Brenda passed her pal a silent glance of interest.

“Yes,” Chaz replied. “I’ve read the contract from front to back. But first, would you like something to drink?”

“I could use some Chardonnay,” Brenda announced in a breathy outburst, smiling at him.

“Martini,” Kim said.

“Oh, boy,” Brenda muttered after hearing her friend’s drink order. She flashed Chaz another pretty smile.

Of course Kim wanted a martini, the drink of choice for the young, pretty people these days. Still, Chaz, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, had expected her order to be bottled water with a lemon wedge. He was a little disappointed to have been wrong about that as he flagged down the server.

“What kind of martini would you like?” he asked.

Oddly enough, the simple query seemed to stump her. She glanced to Brenda.

“You always like the appletinis here,” Brenda prompted.

“Yes. That’s what I’ll have,” Kim said. Turning to Chaz, she added, “Now, where were we?”

Was he wrong in his impression that she didn’t know what an appletini was, and that there was something going on between Kim and Brenda that caused Brenda to show concern? He was pretty sure that Brenda had just fed Kim a line about the drink order.

“I’m aware of your rather unusual contract,” he said. “What I’d like to do is ask politely that you ink it out. I’m hoping you can see this as a special favor to the agency and to our clients.”

“Do you mean the clients who would like to continue working with me?” she asked, stressing her point of being well liked by those accounts.

Chaz shrugged. Kim’s scarlet dress and her chilly vibe were at odds with each other, a dichotomy that did nothing to lessen the warmth searing through him each time she moved.

“A vice president has to oversee all accounts,” he said.

“Yes, you do,” she tossed back, emphasis on you.

“Being new, I’d like your help,” he said. “Maybe we can start small on the help, and see how it goes?”

“I’m all ears, Mr. Monroe, as to what you might require.” She did not glance at her watch, but added, “For the next ten minutes.”

“It’s Chaz. Please call me Chaz.”

He was peripherally aware of how Kim’s chest rose and fell laboriously with each new breath she took. Was that a sign of anger or anxiety? Outwardly, she looked calm enough. Cool, calm and collected. Yet she was electrically charged. He felt that charge pass through him. His heart beat a little faster.

“We’ve been asked to attend a special party for a potential new client, and I have volunteered to help make this an event. It’s a very last-minute request, so with Ms. Chang already inundated, I’d need your help,” he said.

He looked to Brenda, who passed the look on to Kim.

“Sorry.” Kim carefully folded her hands around the stem of her glass when it arrived. “If you mean helping with something right now, that’s impossible. I have the next two weeks off, starting tomorrow at noon.”

“I’d be willing to double your holiday bonus for the extra time and effort,” he said, applying a bit of preplanned pressure to see if money floated her boat. “We can talk about the clause afterward if you like.”

Brenda took a sip of her wine and continued to gaze at Kim over the rim of her glass. Brenda appeared to be nervous about being in the middle of this conversation, and had started inching her glass sideways on the table as if she and the glass might make a quick getaway the first chance she got.

Good for her, for noticing where she wasn’t needed. And to hell with the crowd. Chaz now wanted Kim all to himself. He wanted nothing more. They could hash this out, once and for all. If she remained stubborn, maybe they could arm wrestle a deal.

“I’m really sorry I can’t help,” Kim said, lush strands of gold brushing her face when she shook her head. “I’ve already made plans for my time off.”

Chaz was actually starting to enjoy this game. He had always been good at chess. He did wonder, though, how far she’d go...and how far he’d go to stop her.

“Any way you might break those plans?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t at this late date.”

“If I say please?”

She sat motionless for a minute, and then began to turn her glass in circles on the table without taking a drink. Chaz didn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t so much as placed her lips on the glass since it had arrived.

“As a favor to a potential client, then,” Chaz said. “Not to me personally.”

Another beat of time passed while he awaited her response.

“Didn’t you just say that you read my contract?” she finally said with a subtle tone of disappointment underscoring her reply.

Chaz found himself fascinated with thoughts about how this would play out. He had said please, right? Surely she had to realize that this one decision could make or break the upward mobility of her career, at least with this agency.

He downed some beer and waited to see if she would explain herself.

“I truly am sorry,” she said seconds later. “I’d be happy to help out any other time, with any other holiday. Really, I would help now if my situation were different.”

“Different?” Chaz couldn’t wait to hear this. If she was seriously involved in a relationship with some guy, and had that kind of plans for the next week, he’d have heard it from the people feeding him office gossip that afternoon. According to Alice, his agency bloodhound, Kim was pretty much a free agent in the serious relationship department.

“I’m...” she began.

“It’s against her religion,” Brenda said for her, and immediately flushed pink for having spoken out of turn.

Kim squirmed. He saw it. In the process, her left arm brushed his. Chaz’s body responded with a jerk. The aftereffects of the surprise ignited a new and relatively irritating blaze of heat in his chest that robbed him of his next decent breath.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s what prevents you from working on all this holiday stuff?”

She recrossed her legs and blinked slowly. “Well...”

She didn’t finish her excuse. A lovely flush crept up her neck, presenting a very seductive picture, for sure. The best he’d seen in a long time. But right then he wanted badly to throw her over his knee and give her a good spanking. Bad little princess, he’d say. Why the white lies and the avoidance? Let’s get right to the truth. You could do this if you wanted to.

Or maybe he should just kiss her pouty mouth for all it was worth and see if that got a rise out of her. Maybe if they got that kiss out of the way, Kim might confess the real reasoning behind her ridiculous holiday reluctance.

On the other hand, she might slap his face and call it a night, and he’d be back to square one. Taking it further, she might take that walk, and take her clients with her.

Well, okay, there was a fine line between pushing her away and getting what he wanted, but he did owe her a shot at the title she coveted.

His inner musings on how this might go ceased abruptly when she leaned forward over the edge of the table. His eyes dipped to the sight of the dewy top of her rounded breasts and the fact that she wore nothing beneath the red dress. Nothing visible, anyway.

Although the sight doubled his heart rate, a thought occurred about this sudden closeness potentially being a purposeful move on her part to distract him, an enactment of the power of her all-too-obvious feminine wiles. Of which she had plenty.

Hell, maybe he just got turned on by the promise of a good fight. In his family, close as they were, fighting had become a sport.

The truth, though, was that he had grown tired of women who assumed they were owed something because of their looks. That aside, he had a short span of time to get this agency working better, and a Wonder Woman could help him do that.

Working this out would be the decent thing to do. The best outcome for everyone.

“Anyway, as I was saying, it’s a special event,” he continued. “If you’ll hear me out, I’ll explain.”

She had no immediate reply to that, and continued to absently fondle the fragile stem of her glass in a way that he found extremely appealing.

At the same time, he was nearing his limit on patience. He noticed Brenda looking at him intently, and that look served to clear his mind.

“I’ll find someone to help you,” Kim finally offered. “I can find someone who will do a good job and is an ace at spur-of-the-moment stuff.”

“Who would that person be?”

“Will you excuse me a minute?” Brenda broke in. “I have to, well, you know.” Her exit was abrupt.

Kim didn’t seem to notice her friend’s departure. She didn’t lean back or try to make her own escape.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll hear you out since I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter, and then suggest somebody to help you. What is this special project?”

Chaz tried really hard not to grin. Kim had just given in, and an inch was better than nothing.

“It’s a party. A Christmas party, and as much of an extravaganza as we can pull together this late. Nothing huge, really, and more indicative of a big family celebration. We’ll need decorated trees, live music and a couple elves.”

“Elves?” she repeated with a touch of sarcasm in her tone.

Chaz nodded. “Can’t have Christmas without elves. Then we’ll need packages. Large boxes, small boxes, all with big red bows. And snow.”

“Snow?” Kim offered up an expression of surprise that overrode her former skepticism about elves.

“Sure. We can bring some snow inside a building, can’t we? Aren’t there snow machines? We can bring in some of the real stuff on trays and carts for the buffet table, as well as ice sculptures.”

She winced, probably unwilling to tell him what an idiot he was for suggesting real snow inside a building. It likely cost her plenty to hold that chastisement in.

“We’re not party planners,” she said calmly. “You do know that we’re a respected advertising agency?”

Chaz couldn’t address that. He didn’t dare. This was a test. A silly one, true, but he had to make it sound as if he needed her help. He couldn’t say that it was his family’s party he’d invade with all those Christmasy things if Kim actually agreed. In the meantime, he’d try to find out what irked her about the holiday stuff. He’d use all the holiday terms to push her buttons.

“Candy canes,” he continued. “Mounds of them. Also anything and everything else that could make an indoor fantasy come true for the company and its top tier of stockholders.”

McKinley’s lush lashes closed over her eyes. Her hand stopped caressing the glass. She seemed to have stopped breathing.

“This must be a big deal,” she said at length.

“Indeed, it’s very big. For you.”

McKinley’s expression changed lightning fast. She sat upright on her stool, taking most of her deliciously woodsy scent with her.

Chaz’s grin dissolved. Had he accidentally put the wrong spin on that last remark, making it sound sexual? Hell, he hadn’t even thought about it, and sure as heck hadn’t meant it that way.

“It’s a potentially huge contract,” he rushed to say, thinking that if she would merely agree, this would be over. One little “yes” and she’d be on her way to the metaphorical Oval Office. She just had to be willing to circumvent that stubborn mind-set and get down to business.

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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