Boss's Christmas Seduction

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “I don’t recall agreeing to come and stay with you. We’re supposed to be talking.” She paused, giving emphasis to her next words. “Just talking.”

  “We’ll be talking all right. Don’t worry on that score.”

  “But I still have to stay with you?”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t prepared to negotiate on that one.

  He watched as Holly nibbled at her lower lip.

  “One night, then. So we can sort things out.”

  Connor let go of the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, relieved that he didn’t have to answer his own question about what he might have done if she’d refused. But one night wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his concerns. He’d do his best to ensure that he was there to protect his child at all times.

  Their silent journey to the helipad on the rooftop was uninterrupted. At this late hour of the afternoon most of the staff had already gone home. Holly tried to settle the cascading fear that threatened to tip her over the edge as the elevator sped to the top of the building.

  Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? The plea rose within her, sharp and powerful, but never made it past the obstruction lodged in her throat. She knew darn well the reason why. Her hand fluttered to her lower abdomen, settling there briefly before dropping back to her side. The baby.

  Her baby.

  Life couldn’t get any worse.

  The corporate chopper, a sleek shining black Agusta, custom detailed for Knight Enterprises, crouched with ominous intent on the helipad. The pilot was already at the controls, the rotors swinging in an inexorable circle and boiling up a wind that buffeted stinging dust into Holly’s eyes.

  Connor drew her close to his side, sheltering her from the worst of the wind with his body, and guided her to the open chopper door. Inside, she clipped her belt, then sat still in her seat, hardly daring to move as her heart began to race and her stomach lurched a fierce warning that it’d had about enough excitement for one day. Although she’d travelled in the Agusta before, she’d never made the short hop to Connor’s private sanctum.

  “To the island now, sir?”

  “Thanks, Dave. Thompson will be waiting for us.”

  In the darkened cabin Connor levelled a shadowed stare in her direction and a tentative frisson of anticipation licked at Holly’s body. He adjusted his headset and gestured to Holly to do the same. She shook her head in denial. She had no desire to hold a conversation with him in this shining display of wealth and prestige, not now while her nerves were so raw. It would take every last ounce of composure to gather her thoughts together for the coming discussion.

  To her knowledge Connor had never brought a female guest, who wasn’t family, to the island he’d bought after his divorce. A short flight from the central business district, she knew the island was his oasis of peace and tranquillity—a haven he guarded fiercely.

  By the time they circled the island and landed Holly felt about as brittle and tightly strung as overstretched fencing wire. One touch, one word, and she’d splinter into a million shattered pieces. She eschewed Connor’s assistance to exit the chopper, preferring to make it on her own, albeit unsteady, legs. She ducked and walked as quickly as she could towards the looming two-storied silver-grey stone house several yards in front of them.

  Holly counted no less than three chimneys reaching into the twilight sky above the steeply peaked slate-shingled roof.

  “This is your home?” she asked, annoyed that she couldn’t keep the awe from her breathless voice.

  “It’s my house. It takes a family to make a home.” Connor’s jaw tightened as he ejected the words from tensely drawn lips.

  Family. How cruelly ironic they both seemed to want what they didn’t have. Although, given her current disposition, he’d have his family within the next year, but where would she feature in all that? And did she want to feature anywhere?

  Holly clenched her fingers into tight fists, welcoming the physical pain of her nails as they embedded in her palms. The sharp contrast of the tangible discomfort balanced the mental torment that battered at her senses. She didn’t want to go down that road. Too much remained unanswered in her life—far, far too much. Right now she had to get a grip on controlling her own destiny—whatever that might be.

  Eight

  A tall gentleman with silver hair waited at the edge of the patio to greet them.

  “Thompson, this is Miss Christmas, who will be staying with me.”

  “Certainly, sir. I’ll take Miss Christmas’s things up to the master suite—”

  “I don’t have a bag.” Holly interrupted, adding silently, I don’t have anything. No possessions. No choice. Nothing.

  “I’m sure we can accommodate your needs for one night,” Connor gave Thompson a look that demanded an affirmative answer.

  “Certainly we can,” the other man carried on smoothly, not even a wrinkle of curiosity or concern marring his expressionless features. “I’ve prepared drinks on the patio for you. Dinner will be brought through in about fifteen minutes if that’s all right with you, sir.”

  “Sounds fine, Thompson. Thank you.” Connor pulled out a comfortably cushioned patio chair, “Sit down.”

  It was more of a command than an invitation. She accepted the chair he offered and gazed around her apprehensively. This really was some place. A subtly lit pool glimmered deep turquoise green over to her left, while cleverly positioned up-lights cast a glow over rough-hewn stone blocks, making the house seem more like a living thing than a building. Subtropical native palms and ferns clustered in the garden while hints of colour could be picked out in the soft night light from lush red begonias and bromeliads strategically planted for effect.

  “The garden is beautiful,” she blurted, as she accepted a flute filled with sparkling golden liquid. She lifted the glass to her lips, then hesitated. Should she even be drinking alcohol? Lord, she had no idea what she should be doing. While she denied wanting the child, and would do anything to undo the fact that she’d fallen pregnant in the first place, some instinct halted her hand.

  “It’s sparkling grape juice, no alcohol.” Connor sipped his own glass as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you like gardening?” Connor tilted his head to one side. Shadowed as he was, she couldn’t make out his expression.

  “Well, if I had time I’m sure I would.”

  Connor forced himself to hold his tongue at her stilted response. Time? She’d have plenty of time in the coming months, he’d make certain of that.

  He suddenly realised that even though, as his PA, she’d basically run his days, and many of his weekends, for the past three years, he still knew little about her. Nothing bar what made her eyes deepen and darken in exquisite pleasure and how the cool satin of her skin heated to his touch and flushed a delicate rose in the height of passion. His groin tightened in flaming response—a response he ruthlessly quashed with sudden loathing at his own unbridled reaction.

  “Well, Thompson won’t mind a bit of company in the garden if you want to test your green fingers.” A sardonic smile played at his lips as she shot daggers of fury from her eyes.

  “I hardly think that one night will make any difference to your Mr. Thompson.”

  The subtle sound of rubber-soled shoes on the slate-tiled patio announced Thompson’s return. “Here’s our meal. I’m sure you’re ready to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Her voice distant, stilted, Holly leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on her lap.

  “You will have something.”

  “I can look after myself. Thank you.”

  “I don’t know where you got the misguided idea that you can look after yourself. Look at you. You’re nothing but skin and bone. Keep this up and you’ll hurt the baby.” Ah, now that generated a response. He watched as blue fire flickered in her eyes and she leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the table in front of her, challenge glowing fiercely on her face.

  “Well, maybe that’s up to me.”

  Connor b
it back the retort that sprang to his lips and forced himself back in his chair. Damn difficult when all he wanted to do was tie her down and force feed her. So, she wanted to jeopardise his baby? If she did, it would be over his dead body.

  He needed to try a different tack. He hadn’t made his reputation by being bullheaded and intractable. Silently he dished up a small portion of the steaming fluffy white rice onto a plate, then ladled the sweetly scented Thai chicken sauce onto it and set it in front of her, before serving a larger portion for himself.

  “Do you remember when you last had something to eat?” He lifted her fork and scooped up a small bite, holding it in front of her lips. “Go on, try it. It’s very good.”

  He watched as Holly’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, inhaling the aroma of the perfectly prepared meal. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and swallowed. Tracking the small movement of the muscles in her neck shot a bolt of electricity through him—an unnerving reminder of another time when he’d felt the play of those muscles beneath his lips, his tongue.

  Disgust swamped him, swift and fierce. He didn’t need this, or the constant reminders of what they’d shared. She didn’t want to eat. So be it. He’d have her hospitalised if necessary. He didn’t need to wait on her hand and foot. And then, miracle of miracles, she parted her lips and accepted the food he held poised in front of her. He lowered the fork back to the plate and watched as she methodically chewed, then swallowed.

  She dipped her head, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re right. The food is lovely. I can manage for myself.”

  They ate without speaking, accompanied only by the lap of gentle waves in the distance, stroking back and forth on the silver strand of sandy beach visible only a few hundred yards away, and the chirrup of crickets’ unobtrusive accompaniment in the background. Enchanting scents swirled around them, borne on the gentle summer night air: Queen of the Night, rich and heady, and the salt tang of the sea a short distance away.

  The irony of the beauty of the setting and the romanticism of the night wasn’t lost on Holly, who’d surprised herself by finishing the serving Connor had dished for her.

  Thompson came to clear away their dishes and replaced them with a slice each of a light and tangy passion-fruit cheesecake, topped with fresh whipped cream and drizzled with mango sauce. Holly had devoured her portion, her taste buds savouring the delicate flavours. Now replete, she sat back and barely managed to stifle a yawn. She looked around with a heavy heart and tired eyes. This would be paradise under any other circumstances.

  “You’re tired. I’ll show you our room.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up to find his eyes still burning into her. Had he taken his gaze off her once this evening? Holly couldn’t be certain, but she doubted it.

  “We haven’t discussed what we’re going to do about the…the…” She couldn’t bring herself to even say the word baby out loud.

  “Do, Holly?” Connor spun his coffee cup in his strong capable hands, hands that had driven her to heights of pleasure she had never dreamed imaginable. Hands in which her future now lay.

  Holly stifled a shudder. “Yes, we need to talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re pregnant with my baby. I’ll ensure you’re accorded the best care possible, and I’ll be there when he or she is born.”

  “What if something goes wrong?” She had to ask. She had heard, somewhere, one in four pregnancies miscarried. Maybe she’d be that one in four. After all, it was early days yet. She had no idea whether there was some abnormality, some genetic predisposition, that would prevent a normal healthy pregnancy. A chill prickled over her skin. She had no idea at all.

  “I will do everything I can to make certain nothing goes wrong.” Connor pushed his chair away from the patio table and rose to his feet, looming over her in a manner that brooked no argument. “So will you.”

  “And after the baby is born, what then? What if it’s sick, or has some defect or abnormality that you didn’t know about. Will you want it then?” Her voice rose uncontrollably as fear of the unknown tore through her like the jaws of a voracious shark.

  “Family is everything to me.” Connor looked at her as if she’d crawled out from under a particularly slimy rock. “In my opinion only the lowest kind of parent wouldn’t want and love their child no matter how perfect or imperfect they are.”

  “There are some that don’t.” Holly replied, a tremor belying the emotion that ripped her apart. Parents like her mother, who’d abandoned a perfectly healthy child without reason.

  “Some like yourself? Is that what you’re saying?” Connor reached up and loosened the knot of his tie. “Well, don’t worry, Holly. I will happily bring up my child on my own. I have more than enough love for both of us.”

  “And what then? What about me?”

  “Good question.” His face hardened like granite, his eyes bottomless in their hooded darkness. He continued in a voice colder than the Arctic Circle, “You’ll be free to go, won’t you? That is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Free to go. A shard of ice lodged deep in her chest. She hadn’t had a chance to stop to think about what would happen once the child was born. What did she know about motherhood? She’d hardly had a sterling example in her own mother. And what about extended family? As far as she knew, she had none.

  The prospect of trying to raise a child terrified her. In the deepest recesses of her memory she had shadowed pictures of a smiling face, an impression of the warmth of another’s arms, snatches of a tune hummed in the dark to chase the night terrors away. But the memories were so few and so ephemeral, they may have merely been wishful thinking. And moneywise, even after Andrea died it still wouldn’t be easy. Babies cost money, there were no two ways about it. To keep the child, she’d have to work anyway to support day care, leave her baby to a stranger to be raised. To abandon her baby daily to what she’d spent the last eight years trying to forget. Connor could offer this child everything she’d never had, everything except its own mother. With sudden clarity Holly understood what she had to do.

  “I take it I still have a job at Knights?”

  “Well, we’ll have to see about that.” Connor sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin with one long-fingered hand. “Why don’t you get your strength back first, then we’ll discuss it further.”

  “Oh, really? And tell me, how am I supposed to support myself in the meantime? I’ve used up all my leave and sick days.”

  “I’ll see to it that you continue to receive your pay. Until the baby’s born you won’t want for anything. Obviously, I’d prefer you stay here instead of that excuse for a house you’ve been living in. You’ll have everything you need.”

  A short sharp bark of laughter ejected from her throat. Need? What did he know about need? He had it all in spades. A family, a home. A job. And now this baby. All she had left was her pride and a whole lot of expenses, and her pride was about to take a long walk off a short pier. She had to tell him about Andrea, risk more of his pity. If he didn’t understand why the money was so important, she didn’t know what to do next.

  “This is about more than my comfort. Have you ever heard of juvenile Huntington’s disease?”

  “Vaguely.” His face blanched in the evening light. “Are you saying you’re a carrier?”

  “No. I don’t even have a medical background to check. But my sister—my foster sister—Andrea, has the disease. She’s in the last stages and requires full-time care. Very expensive care. That’s where my money goes. I can’t afford to lose my job. She’d have to be moved into the public system. I promised her when she was still well enough to understand I would never let that happen. She’s all I have. I won’t let her down. Not now.”

  “And you never told me this before. Why exactly?”

  “It’s my problem. I handle my problems myself. My way.” She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scents that lingered enticingly on the night air, knowing
that with her next words she’d no doubt be damning herself in his opinion of her. Somehow she had to keep her promise to look after Andrea, no matter what. “Her disease is incurable, but there are things she could have to make her more comfortable. Things I can’t afford. I’ll agree to have this baby for you, on condition that you continue to pay me so I can cover Andrea’s fees.”

  Her words fell like lead pellets on a tin plate, and across the table Connor flinched. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her as if she’d escaped from a lunatic asylum.

  “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to pay you, like some surrogate?” His tone implied he expected her to withdraw her words, but Holly wouldn’t take them back even if she’d wanted.

  She settled more comfortably in her chair, forcing her fingers to relax, to project an aura of calm. “I think I made myself clear.”

  A muscle worked on the side of his jaw. Clench, release. Clench, release. Holly knew she’d crossed some invisible line to a point of no return. If he’d had an ounce of respect left for her, she’d splintered it beyond redemption.

  “I can see why you’d want to help Andrea. But, Holly, you only had to ask me. I’m not a monster.”

  No, he wasn’t a monster, and that was the problem. She was the monster with her hazy past and unnatural feelings about motherhood. Holly felt trapped, vulnerable, exposed. “Well, like I said. I deal with my problems my way.” She fought to remain still in her seat. If she backed down on this, she was terrified she’d lose everything. “And while I’m on the subject of Andrea, if I agree to stay here, I’ll still need to see her regularly.”

  “Fine. I’ll see to it that Thompson takes you over to the city in the launch each day, weather permitting. I’ll even continue to pay your salary for as long as you’re here, with a lump-sum payout after the baby’s birth. Give me the details of Andrea’s hospital, too. I’ll make the necessary arrangements to take over her bills.”