The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  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 inc
hed 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.