by Leslie North
Christmas decorations covered nearly every visible surface in the interior and she realized that the people milling around weren’t working, they were having a holiday party. Bing Crosby’s dulcet tones drifted over the speaker system, reminiscing about a long ago snowy Christmas. The smell of hot hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air, and there must’ve been a karaoke machine set up somewhere because a decidedly off-key female voice was crooning along with Bing. Either that or someone was skinning a cat.
“Maybe we should go,” Aileen whispered. “Looks like this is a private affair.”
“It is, but we’re invited.” Heath gave her a smile and a wink. “Hungry?”
Aileen frowned. “What do you mean we’re invited?”
Her mind whirred through the information she knew about Heath and his wealthy family through her research for the paper. The Goldwins had made their initial fortune in oil and railroads, only to lose most of their money during the Great Depression. Heath’s father had remade a good portion of their wealth through smart investments, but Heath wanted to blaze his own trail. Aileen’s paper had featured him in their special Thirty under Thirty a few years back because of entrepreneurial spirit in starting his own tech company…
She stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. “You own this company, don’t you?”
Heath glanced back at her over his shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Goldwin!” several people said to Heath as they passed by.
“And a Happy New Year to you as well,” Heath responded before focusing on Aileen again. “I just have a few last-minute things to finish up here before we go on holiday break.”
“Holiday break?” She worked for the media. They never shut down for any reason.
“Yeah. BrightStart closes starting at three p.m. today and won’t reopen until after New Year’s. Just another way I show my appreciation to my faithful employees. They work hard for it the rest of the year and deserve to spend time with their families.”
“Oh.” Aileen adjust the flouncy red beret on her head. She’d been so busy with hunting down Senator Lawrence and digging up dirt on him, it hadn’t occurred to her that today was Christmas Eve. They reached the buffet table set up with all sorts of delicious smelling snacks—barbeque pot stickers, deep fried won tons, dim sum, egg rolls, crab Rangoon—and at Heath’s invitation, Aileen helped herself. Being the owner had its benefits, apparently. Heath served them up each a portion of cherry-red punch in a paper cup then they made their way back toward his office in the far corner. The walls were clear glass, so they could still see out into the main work area and observe the festivities. Once she was settled, Aileen couldn’t help asking more questions. She was a reporter after all. It was her curiosity that made her good at her job. “What sorts of things do you still have to do?” She glanced out at the revelers again and grinned. “Doesn’t look like you’ll get a lot out them now.”
“Good. I want them to enjoy themselves,” he said around a bite of food. “Besides, I don’t need them for this. I just need to finalize the bonuses I’m sending out this year with the bank before they close at five. They’ll handle making direct deposits into all my employees’ accounts.”
“Wow. Aren’t you the generous boss?” Aileen tore a hunk of sweet, savory meat from one of her pot sticker skewers with her teeth. “At the newspaper we’re lucky not to get a pink slip around the holidays, let alone a bonus.”
“Things not going well?” Heath took a drink of his punch, watching her over the rim. “I know sales of printed publications are down across the board, but I figured an old stalwart like The Globe would still have sufficient subscribers.”
She shrugged. “They’re really pushing us to go all digital these days to save costs and be able to compete with all the online sites. That’s why this Senator Lawrence story is so important to me. If I can break it, then that will help ensure my job security for a while.” She finished her pot sticker and set the wooden skewer aside. “And it will help the MacLeans too. I can’t let them be hurt by this. They don’t deserve that after everything they’ve done for me.”
Heath opened his mouth to say more, then stopped, his gaze shifting to the office door behind her. Aileen figured it was one of the party guests, only to turn and find Murphy’s other friend, Daveed, standing there instead. Well, crap. There went her undercover operation.
“What the hell, dude?” Daveed said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Want to tell me why you’re sitting here eating Chinese food with the woman we’ve been busting our asses for the last month to find?”
Aileen looked between the two men. “I can explain.”
“I damned well hope so.” Daveed crossed his arms and glared down at her, his dark eyes unreadable. At that moment, he looked every inch the Arabic prince Murphy had once mentioned he was. All bristling alpha anger and staunch power. “Start talking.”
“Don’t tell her what to do,” Heath growled, pushing to his feet behind his desk. Aileen managed to suppress her eye roll at the copious testosterone zinging through the air, and sighed.
“Hello,” she called to get their attention. “I’m here and perfectly capable of speaking for myself. Thanks. Heath is helping me with my investigation.”
“Really?” Daveed didn’t sound convinced. “Investigation into what?”
“Senator Lawrence and his fraudulent deal with EnKor.”
“And this precludes you from telling Murphy you’re alive and well why?” Daveed didn’t budge an inch, his posture the equivalent of a middle finger in her direction. “He’s your brother and worried sick about you. Don’t you care about him at all?”
“Of course I do,” she said, her voice rising with her temper. “I love my brother more than anything in this world. He’s the only family I have left. But I’m undercover and things have gotten more complicated.”
“And dangerous,” Heath added, not so helpfully. “That’s why I’m here. I’m making sure she stays alive and in one piece until she gets her story.”
“Right.” Daveed’s glare went flat. “And what’s your excuse for lying to Murph and me? How long have you known she’s okay?”
Heath’s tanned face drained of color and his gaze lowered, remorse written in every line of his body.
“How long, dude?”
“A few days.”
“Days?”
“A week, okay?” Heath looked up again, dots of crimson now coloring his high, sculpted cheekbones. “What does it matter anyway? You’re busy wooing Mel and Murphy’s got his hands full with Shayma. Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping a close watch on Aileen and won’t let anything happen to her.”
“How close?” Daveed asked, raising one dark brow sarcastically.
“How dare you—” Heath came around the desk, teeth bared, and Aileen barely had time to toss her empty plate on the desk before stepping between the two seething males. Jeez. It was Christmas Eve, not opening night at the WWE. “I’m protecting Aileen. Nothing more,” Heath growled.
Considering what they’d done in bed last night, it was a hell of a lot more than protecting, but Daveed didn’t need to know that. She kept herself wedged between the guys and crossed her arms. “What Heath and I are or aren’t doing is no one’s business but ours. The fact is I’m undercover on a case and I cut ties with Murphy to keep him safe until I’m done. That’s it.”
Several tense seconds passed, with both men clenching and unclenching their fists and snarling, before the tension finally abated and Aileen released her pent-up breath.
Daveed stepped back first, his shoulders slumping. “I came to check in on our mission.”
Heath exhaled slowly and removed his hat to run a hand through his hair, leaving it adorably spiked. Aileen felt an unaccountable urge to run her fingers through it and smooth the locks back into place, remembering their silky feel against her skin when she’d clutched his curls tight as he’d driven inside her so hard and fast and d
eep and…
“Right?” Heath asked her and damn if she had any idea of what he’d said.
Aileen shook off her erotic daydreams and took her seat again. “I’m sorry?”
Heath shook his head and collapsed back into his chair behind the desk. “I said, it’s imperative that Daveed keeps his mouth shut about seeing you here today. Right?”
“Yes, please.” She gestured to the empty seat beside her and was surprised when Daveed reluctantly took it. “At least until I finish gathering the information I need for my story. Please. I know it’s hard on Murphy. Believe me, it’s hard on me too. But I have to do this. People’s lives are at stake and if I don’t pursue this story, no one else will. Please?”
Daveed stared at her, silent, for several minutes. So long, in fact, she began to think he wasn’t going to go along with her wishes. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. “Fine. But I want to go on record saying I don’t like it. Murphy’s miserable, not knowing where you are, if you’re safe. His holidays will be ruined.”
“I doubt that.” Heath snorted. “With Shayma playing doting Santa over him, I’m sure he’ll find his ho-ho-ho just fine this Christmas season, even if he is missing his sister something terrible.”
“Hmm.” Daveed pushed to his feet and headed for the door. “I came to tell you that we hadn’t really found anything new. But now I can see why.” He opened the office door and started out. “Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you,” Heath said, his tone genuine. “Season’s blessings, buddy.”
“Season’s blessings.” Daveed gave a curt nod in Aileen’s direction, then disappeared out into the party crowds again.
“Well, that could’ve gone better,” she said, facing Heath again.
He’d picked up his desk phone and hit a speed dial button, watching her. “Could’ve gone a lot worse too.” Heath sat forward and frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. “Yes, this is Heath Goldwin. I’m calling about the holiday bonuses for BrightStart Media. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s do five thousand. Yes. Per person. Thanks. Happy Holidays.” He hung up and narrowed his gaze on a still gaping Aileen. “What?”
“Are you seriously giving each of your employees a five-grand bonus?” She blinked hard.
“Yep. They deserve it. The company wouldn’t be what it was, where it was, without them. I like to reward hard work appropriately. Is that a problem?”
Speechless, Aileen sat back. She’d gotten a generic card and fifty-dollar gift card from The Globe. And that was even more than most of the other employees got. The fact Heath didn’t seem to see anything unusual in what he’d done only emphasized the major differences between their worlds. She had to save and scrap for every cent. Heath dispersed nearly a million dollars in bonuses without a second thought. Her heart sank. They’d shared a steamy night together and she’d started to entertain ideas about a repeat performance, maybe several repeats, maybe even continuing their tryst after this whole investigation was over, but that seemed farther out of reach than ever now.
They were just too different.
The sooner Aileen realized that, the better.
* * *
“Are you ready?” Heath called down the hallway toward Aileen’s room. He finished up sending Daveed the links to Aileen’s cloud storage files for her research as he spoke. The more time he spent with her, the worse this situation sat with him, but it was for the greater good. Heath and his team needed to know what information she had so they could best design a plan to catch the senator. It wasn’t personal. It was business. “We’re going to be late as it is.”
Each Christmas Eve since Heath had been a kid, his family had attended the annual Winter Treasures Ball and Antiquities Auction at the glorious 583 Park Avenue—a magnificent 1920s-era venue in the heart of midtown Manhattan. It was a place for the über- rich to mix and mingle and dispense with some of their hard-earned cash for a good cause. All the funds raised went to local at-risk-youth programs and after-school education programs. Heath wasn’t about to miss it this year, even if his date was a bit reluctant. Not only would his father—whom Heath needed to speak with about garnering more information about Senator Lawrence and EnKor— be there, but he also expected several of EnKor’s primary investors to be there as well. He wanted to speak with them, find out what made them give money to the cause in the first place and allow them a safe way out of their investment without too much time or any lost revenue.
“Fine. I’m here,” Aileen said from behind him. “Not too sure about this outfit though.”
Heath closed the laptop and turned slowly, his eyes widening as he took in every luscious inch of her.
His Aileen looked decidedly not business at all. More like his personal fantasy come to life and, well… exquisitely stunning.
My Aileen?
The crazy notion jolted Heath from his thoughts, though he couldn’t stop himself from walking toward her and drinking in the vision she presented. No wig for her tonight. Nope. Her sleek dark hair hung in a straight, shimmering curtain to her jawline, where the severe angle of the cut only accentuated the delicate bone structure of her face. The gown she’d chosen from the clothes he’d had sent over days earlier was breathtaking. A curve hugging sheath of nude-colored satin, strapless on one side to expose a single creamy shoulder, and with a large scarlet satin bow on the other shoulder to match the fall of hand-embroidered and hand-beaded flowers spilling down the front of the dress to just below the waist. The red color perfectly matched the color of Aileen’s lips and only highlighted the pale velvet beauty of her skin.
Heath just blinked at her for several seconds, completely intoxicated and utterly speechless.
“You hate it, don’t you?” Aileen said, her shoulders slumping, and turned to leave. “Let me change one last time and I’ll—”
“No.” Heath took her wrist to stop her, unable to keep himself from stroking his thumb over her thudding pulse point there. “No. Please. Aileen, you look… amazing. Gorgeous.”
She peeked back at him, her voice tentative. “I do?”
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.” Truth. Some of his conviction must have resonated in his tone because Aileen finally faced him, her lush, full lips curving upward into a dazzling smile that left him both in awe and more turned on than he could ever remember.
“Thank you.” She smoothed her hand down the lapel of his designer tux, then straightened his bow tie. “You look pretty spectacular yourself, though I miss the scruff.”
He’d shaved for the party, knowing his father would only give him shit about the beard. Feeling a bit unsure of himself, he rubbed his hand over his smooth jaw. “Yeah? I feel kind of naked without it.”
“Hmm.” Her palm rested over his heart. “We’ll have to see if we can do something about that later, eh? Maybe being naked for real will help.”
All the moisture in his mouth dried as images of their last steamy tryst flooded his mind—them entwined on the mat in the gym downstairs, all grinding and stroking and breathless sighs. It was enough to make his twitching cock half hard and press uncomfortably against the fly of his expensive trousers.
Sporting a boner at the ball wasn’t acceptable, so he took her hand and tugged Aileen toward the front door, hoping the cold outside would help to dampen his libido. On the way, he grabbed the long faux sable coat he’d ordered for her from the closet and helped her into it. Heath didn’t bother with a jacket himself. Hell, his body temperature was high enough at that moment to fuel a nuclear power plant.
“What were you doing on my computer?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.
“Oh.” Pressure built inside his chest, along with a lingering sense of guilt. He’d tell her what was going on. Eventually. Just not tonight. Tonight was all about magic and Christmas splendor and he wanted to stay inside their little bubble of joy just a few hours longer. “I wanted to check a few emails. Sorry.
Yours was there and I was in a hurry, and I should’ve asked, but…”
She placed a finger over his lips and smiled. “It’s fine. I wondered, is all.”
They hailed a cab at the curb and rode in silence to the venue. Heath paid the driver, then helped Aileen out. She gasped, staring up at the violet and fuchsia light pouring from the front of the building, lighting the small plaza in the front like a fairy tale.
“Wow! I’ve read about this place, but seeing it in person is impressive.” She continued to gape as Heath led her between the massive two-story pillars flanking the front entrance and up three stone steps into a small, flagstone-floored lobby area. Through another set of doors was the main ballroom—lit with more pastel spotlights and round, white linen-covered tables with huge poinsettia centerpieces surrounded by flickering candles. At the far end of the room was a stage, where a myriad of fine antiques had been set up for browsing and bidding and against the right-hand side was a buffet and cash bar. Against the other side of the room, a small string quartet played tasteful holiday songs and couples swayed on a custom-laid dance floor.
Even Heath had to admit the place reeked with holiday cheer and old money.
“C’mon. My father’s table is near the front.” Heath kept his hand on Aileen’s lower back to steer her and also because it felt so good to touch her. They maneuvered through the tables and the other guests milling about, Heath occasionally stopping to say hello or introduce his date—calling her simply Aileen and his “friend.” She’d given him a look at that, but what else could he say? She’s my best friend’s younger sister whom I’m currently hiding and also fucking and quite possibly falling in love with?