Boss's Christmas Seduction

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Hastily she quelled her rampant thoughts and concentrated on applying the strips of white fluff. She’d be on the fast track to unemployment if she gave in to her desires, and no way could she afford that. Not with Andrea’s medical fees to consider. The reminder was as chilling as an Antarctic winter.

  Finally, the job done, she stepped away to safety—to where she couldn’t give in to impulse. “You look great,” she said softly.

  “Well then, that’s all that matters. Let’s go.”

  They travelled in silence to the eighth-floor cafeteria where Holly put a steadying hand on his red sleeve. She tried to ignore the waves of heat that emanated through the fabric to her fingers.

  “Wait here,” she ordered, although her voice came out like a strangled croak and earned her a strange look from the dark eyes that burned under bushy white brows. “I need to let your warm-up act announce you first.”

  Was it her imagination or had he suddenly become paler? Surely he wasn’t scared? Not Connor Knight. Under the fluffy beard, she discerned small lines of tension bracketing his lips, and the urge to comfort him stilled her in her tracks.

  “You’ll be fine,” she murmured softly, as reassuringly as she could. “The kids will love you.”

  “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

  His question caught her by surprise. She hadn’t planned on sticking around for this part of the proceedings. Seeing a line of children waiting to sit with Santa still had the power to fill her with dread.

  “No, I have some other things to attend to. I’ll be back just before the party finishes.”

  “Stay.”

  Holly looked away. He had no idea. But then, of course, why should he? Everyone loved Christmas. Everyone but the little girl who’d grown up saddled with a surname chosen by Social Services that linked her irrevocably to the most traumatic experience of her life. It was one of the reasons she never disclosed her background or years in foster care. No one wanted to admit they’d been abandoned. As far as Holly was concerned, her life had begun the day she’d turned eighteen and been released from the state’s control.

  “Holly?”

  Her teeth were clenched so hard she was amazed they didn’t shatter in her jaw, and her throat ached with years of suppressed tension. She couldn’t explain, not even to him. Some things you kept buried. She gave him a tight nod. “Let’s get it over with.”

  The children didn’t give him the slightest opportunity to be nervous. Their vigorous excitement and squeals of pleasure energised the room to such an extent Holly felt as though her nerves would shred into ribbons and scatter all around her. Why on earth had she agreed to stay? It was madness.

  Seated on his special throne, Connor lifted a little girl with a gleaming cap of dark hair onto his lap. The child, no more than three or four, scanned the room, her bottom lip starting to tremble.

  Despite the constant temperature of air conditioning, tiny beads of perspiration prickled along Holly’s spine. A wave of dizziness made her press her body against the hard wall behind her—trying to connect with something solid, something real. Anything other than the dread that built within her and threatened to swamp her mind. She dragged a deep breath into deflated lungs, struggling to push the fear back down—down to where she could control it—but it was too late.

  An image flashed, sharp and clear in her mind, and in a heartbeat she was lost. She was that little girl. Sitting on Santa’s knee, her eyes nervously—futilely—raking the crowd of shoppers for her mother. Nervousness becoming fear. Fear becoming absolute terror when she couldn’t find her mother’s face anywhere in the swirling mass.

  The authorities had been summoned as soon as someone could make any sense out of her hysterical sobbing. But not quickly enough to find her mother in the crowd of stunned onlookers. Even now the overwhelming sense of desertion and loss left Holly shocked and vulnerable.

  Resentment lanced through her, swift and searing, before she determinedly crushed it. She’d given up trying to work out what kind of mother walked away from her child the night before Christmas—abandoning a three-year-old to strangers and an uncertain future.

  She forced herself to find an anchor, something she could focus on and that would help her bring her rapid breathing back under control and calm the tremors that shook her frame. That anchor was Connor Knight as, with infinite patience, he pointed out the little girl’s parents in the crowd and cajoled a smile from her worried wee face.

  Holly uncurled her fisted hands, feeling the sharp sting of sensation as blood eked its way back to her fingertips. Across the room the little girl was smiling and waving to her mother. And Connor, instead of paying attention to the child on his lap, was staring straight back at her. She watched as his lips, outlined by the absurdly fluffy beard, framed the words, “Are you all right?” Had he noticed her panic? She gave a weak smile and lifted her chin with a small nod. He held her gaze a moment longer, then turned his attention back to the child in his care and handed her a cheerfully wrapped gift.

  This was how it was meant to be for kids. Each one with their own special gift and a chance to impart their deepest desires for Christmas morning to Santa, and the steady assurance of a loving parent waiting in the wings. Hadn’t she wished that for herself so many times?

  When the last parcel was distributed, it was time to call the children’s party to an end. Santa had other obligations, and Holly’s half-hour window between the children’s party and the staff party was closing.

  With a small announcement she brought the celebrations to a close and judging by the overwhelming round of applause, from both parents and children, Connor was a hit. As everyone filtered out, Holly finally allowed herself to relax, the knot of tension that kept her operating at maximum performance efficiency all day, all year for that matter, slowly untangling. Only one more party to get through, then it was all over for another year, she consoled herself.

  “What was that all about?” Connor Knight’s voice slid through her like a hot knife through butter.

  She drew in a long breath before answering. “I think it went well, don’t you? The children certainly loved you.”

  “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

  Holly sighed. Evasion wouldn’t work. Tenacity was one of the many talents that had driven him to being one of the most-respected men in his field—worldwide. He wouldn’t give up until completely satisfied with her answer.

  “Just catching my breath. That’s all. It’s taken a bit of work, getting this all organised.” She tried to assure him, and for a moment thought she’d succeeded.

  A tiny flash lit the onyx depths of his eyes and grew into the hot glow of challenge. “Looked like more than that to me. I thought you were going to keel over.”

  “Oh, good heavens, no.” Holly forced a smile on her face.

  “Are you okay now?” he persisted.

  “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Janet will take over for this evening.”

  “No, I’m okay. Truly.”

  Connor gave her a hard look. “We’ll see about that. Come on, we’d better get ready for the next onslaught.”

  “You go on ahead. I’ll meet you back down here.”

  She watched as he left. What had made him notice her during that dreadful moment of weakness? Had anyone else seen it? She should never have agreed to stay on. Never.

  Holly quickly glanced around. The cleaning staff were busy completing the transformation of the children’s party to a more sophisticated reenactment of a Christmas fantasy. It had been a brainwave to carry through the same delightful childlike theme to the staff party, and such a simple solution, given the time constraints. She wasn’t needed here any longer.

  Back upstairs in her office, Holly opened the coat cupboard and lifted a long dry cleaner’s carrier from the rail. It was a simple matter to slip into the ladies’ room to change and touch up her makeup. She took a brief minute to loosen her hair, combing through its
thick dark length so hard her scalp tingled. She studied her reflection a moment. How long had it been since she’d let her hair down, literally or figuratively? Too long. But time was not a commodity she could afford to waste. Not when so much depended on her.

  She twisted her hair back up again, softening the tight twist that she usually wore by securing the silky black length in a fuller, softer knot at the nape of her neck. Finally satisfied when not a hair dared stray out of place she slicked on a ruby-coloured lipstick. The sales assistant had been right, Holly acceded with a small grimace, the rich colour did bring life to her faintly olive-tinted skin. She preferred softer, more understated colours that wouldn’t draw attention to the fullness of her lips, yet knew that she needed something striking for this evening. Besides, she’d reminded herself, today was her birthday. A girl had a right to look good.

  A swift glance at her watch reminded her she had little time left. Holly slipped out of her sombre businesslike suit and carefully unzipped the carrier to remove the ankle-length crimson sheath cocooned within.

  The high, straight, boat neckline of the sleeveless gown belied the deep vee cut away at its back. Holly unhooked her bra and stuffed it in the bottom of the carrier bag before stepping into the gown and shimmying the silky lined fabric up over her body. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if she hadn’t gone too far this year; normally she hired a black dress, but there was something about this gown that had beckoned to her like a promise of hidden treasure. She’d hesitated at the cost, mindful of her financial commitments, but it wasn’t as if she’d be deluged with gifts from family or a lover. She had neither.

  So for once she’d splurged. This was her gift to herself, and she would bask in the pleasure of wearing the gown all evening.

  The minute Holly stepped from the ladies’ room she heard a raised female voice through the open door to Connor’s office. She would have recognised his ex-wife’s shrill tone anywhere. Before the divorce the secretarial pool had been at her beck and call to assist with her charity work—Carla Knight was nothing if not demanding. The girls would draw straws before anyone would set foot on this floor to take her instructions. Holly sent a silent wish skywards that whatever the situation was, and it sounded intense, it would be resolved quickly.

  As silently as she could, she stowed her things back in her cupboard and turned to leave when suddenly Connor’s voice vibrated through the air, disgust lacing his words with a sharpness Holly had rarely heard from him.

  “You don’t deny it then?”

  “How dare you have me investigated? Those records were private!”

  “Everything has its price, Carla. Unfortunately I never realised yours until it was too late. You can tell your fancy overpriced divorce lawyer you won’t be getting another cent beyond the settlement you’ve already received. Ever. Now, get out of my sight.”

  “Gladly!”

  It was too late to retreat now. Holly straightened her shoulders. There was nothing else for it but to meet the former Mrs. Knight face on.

  “Slumming it with the staff tonight, Connor?” Carla spat, vitriol poisoning her exquisite features as she pushed her petite frame past Holly. She slanted a spiteful glare at Holly. “I might have known you’d be hovering around. But of course, I forgot, you don’t have anyone to go home to, do you?”

  Speechless, Holly stood back and let the other woman through, leaving behind her a cloud of expensive French fragrance and the air crackling with ill humour.

  “I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of that, Holly.”

  She drew in a calming breath and turned to face him. Connor stood at the door to his office, the usual resonance in his voice flat, his eyes glittering and fired with anger.

  “It’s all right, sir.” She reached across her desk and extracted her evening bag from the top drawer, determined not to acknowledge the barb Carla had flung. She refused to submit to the other woman’s cruel taunt; she’d grown up with worse. While such sneers had the power to inflict pain, Holly had learned the hard way to never let it show. She straightened from her desk. “Are you ready to go back downstairs?”

  He let out a breath, slowly and carefully, as if he’d been holding on to his control by a thread.

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” He took a step towards her and let out a low whistle. “And so, it appears, are you.” A feral flash of hunger blazed and died in his eyes so quickly Holly wondered if she’d identified it correctly. “Holly, you look…amazing.”

  She forced herself to remember to breathe as he raked her body with his eyes. It was one thing being the target of a few harshly spoken words, but quite another to be the target of a gaze that stroked her body like a silk scarf over bare skin. It was as if he saw her through new eyes. She instantly pushed the idea away for the foolishness it was.

  “Thank you, sir. You look pretty amazing yourself.” Formal dress should make a man look more distant, she decided distractedly, not make him look so wickedly sensual. With his dark hair and eyes, and dressed in a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and black bow tie at his tanned throat, Connor Knight looked like he’d stepped out of a dream fantasy. Her dream fantasy. The one where they stood at an altar and he promised to love and cherish her, forever. Enough! Holly snapped her thoughts back into the present. To reality.

  She turned her back on him and began to walk towards the door before she did or said anything foolish. Her emotions had already taken a battering tonight, and the way he looked, not to mention the way he looked at her, scrambled her senses so badly she could barely think let alone walk straight.

  “Hold on a minute, Holly.” His voice came from close behind. “Shall we?” He offered his arm and, with only a tiny hesitation, she threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow and laid her fingers on his sleeve. He was a solid wall of strength next to her, his hip brushing against hers with each step as he matched his pace to hers. Holly’s nerves wound tighter and tighter, like a spring about to snap.

  In the elevator she found respite by removing her hand from his arm and stepping slightly away to press the button to take them back downstairs. She let her hand drop back down to her side, where it rested momentarily before Connor’s strong fingers grasped hers and replaced them on his sleeve.

  “Mr Knight?” Her voice caught on a tiny gasp.

  His eyes burned with an emotion she couldn’t quite tag. One corner of his mouth tilted, almost as if he mocked himself. “Humour me, Holly. Maybe I need a beautiful woman on my arm tonight.”

  Two

  Lost for words, Holly tried to school her features into their usual calm. Yet when her eyes met his, she couldn’t hold his gaze, and they flicked nervously instead to her fingers lying, starkly docile, against the black cloth of his tuxedo. He needed her? That was an entirely new and unexpected development. One she wasn’t sure how to handle.

  Beneath her hand she sensed the play of muscles in his forearm. Suppressed tension shimmered off him in waves. Okay, so he was stinging after his meeting with Carla, and maybe he was using her for whatever reason tonight—she could accept that—but try as she might, it was difficult to subdue the answering call of her body to the leashed power of his. Heat flickered deep inside her, tiny flames taking hold and sending burning liquid through her veins.

  Need? She knew all about need.

  As short as the elevator ride was, to Holly it felt like forever. If they didn’t make the distance soon she was certain she’d melt, lose her inhibitions and press herself against his tensely held form.

  The cooling air of the cafeteria was a breath of sanity as the doors opened. Staff and their partners had already begun to arrive and were drifting around the room in a hum of conversation.

  Connor wondered how long it would be before he could shuck his duties and slink back to his flat. A couple of hours, tops. Holly needed to take it easy, too. She’d scared him tonight when he’d looked across the room and seen her face, as stark and white as the wall behind her, during the children’s
party. Despite her denial, it was obvious something was wrong.

  It didn’t stop you using her to make yourself feel better, a cynical voice from inside remarked with scathing honesty. The admission brought him down a notch. No, he hadn’t hesitated. Holly was the antithesis of the vicious blazing fury of Carla’s indignation—the constant epitome of calm in his storm. An influence, he freely admitted, he’d always taken for granted.

  Until he’d seen her tonight, and been hurriedly and disturbingly reminded she was most definitely a woman. A sensuously beautiful woman.

  He looked at the slender bow of her neck as she fussed with something in her evening bag and wondered how her skin would feel, would taste. Connor clamped a lid on the thought before it had time to flourish and grow into something more than a tingle of awareness. She was his PA. And she’d be horrified if she knew the rampant slant of his thoughts. No doubt she’d be a darn sight paler than she’d been earlier tonight.

  There was a flush on her cheeks now, he noted with some relief, and her eyes, as they darted about the room checking everything, had a sparkle in their blue depths that had been missing before. He was glad he’d made the decision earlier to put Janet in charge of tonight. Holly deserved the break, and her assistant had been thrilled at the chance to show off her training. It was a win-win all round, and it would keep Holly at his side—all night.

  Connor bent his head close to her ear. “Relax, Holly, you’re officially off duty as of now.” Her faint scent teased his nostrils with its hint of warm summer nights and fresh linen, and enticed him to linger before his own hands-off rule, lit in neon signs across the back of his eyes.

  “But someone has to oversee—”

  “I’ve instructed Janet to take over for you tonight, she’ll manage fine. You’ve organised the party to within a nanosecond of perfection, anyway. Let her take care of whatever crops up.”