The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  A professional visit, then.

  Not personal at all.

  Nothing remotely resembling love.

  All right. She’d have to make that work, and for now occupy her time elsewhere. Keep busy, and on the right path. Back to shopping. She’d indulge every other whim to its maximum potential. This would make her feel better and blur the emptiness deep inside that Chaz Monroe had temporarily filled.

  Pondering how many times in the last seventy-two hours she’d arrived at the same conclusion, Kim headed for her closet to dump the pajamas. There was some serious forget-him therapy to do, and no time to waste.

  “Who am I kidding?” she whispered, dropping to her bed with her head in her hands. “What we had felt like love to me.”

  * * *

  It was insane. Possibly the worst idea she’d ever come up with. Nevertheless, it was what a mature grown-up would do.

  Her dress was black, short, sleeveless, with a moderately cut neckline and a perfectly fitted waist. She covered it with a fur-trimmed sweater and added a string of crystal beads at her throat. Her shoes were black Louboutin knockoffs with tall, gold heels that significantly increased her height and lent her an air of confidence that came with overspending.

  She sat in the cab, eyeing the big house with determination, and took a few deep breaths before emerging on a cobbled driveway bordered by a knee-high hedge. The mansion was aglow with bright golden light. Windows and doors glittered handsomely, welcomingly. Garlands of evergreen and holly swooped in perfect loops, tied with red velvet bows and dripping with colored glass balls. Rows of cars lined the driveway, as well as part of the street.

  What would growing up in a house like this have been like? She hadn’t thought to ask Monroe where he lived now, and it no longer mattered, anyway. Ten days had passed since he last stood in her hallway, declaring his decision to give up on helping her further. Ten miserable days. She hadn’t been back to the office yet, since her projects had been completed before she’d taken a break. Time and distance away from Monroe had been necessary in order to contemplate her future.

  So, here she was, at Monroe’s parents’ home, about to attend a Christmas party she was supposed to have helped design. It was Christmas Eve, and she was here as she’d promised Monroe she would be, before the rift with him widened. Coming here was a big step, but doable, now that she was getting used to the idea of going it alone.

  She would smile at Monroe, and maybe shake hands. They’d share a laugh over how silly they both had been. She’d wish him well with the sale of the agency.

  The front door of the house stood wide open, manned by a greeter in a black suit holding a silver tray of sparkling champagne flutes. Kim took a glass as she entered the expansive foyer with its warmly aged wood floors, mirrors and framed oil paintings of lush landscapes.

  People of all ages were everywhere. Children raced through the foyer, and back and forth into adjoining rooms, laughing, teasing, having a good time. She envied them. Christmas was magical for children, and this party exemplified that magic to perfection.

  If the exterior radiated glow and welcome, the interior of the Monroe house magnified that. Kim knew what the living room would look like before entering, and found it exactly like the rendering she’d seen. Ice sculptures towered over plates of food on center tables. Foam snow whitened windowsills. There was gilt tableware and crystal. Best of all, the largest tree she’d ever seen took up one full corner, at least ten feet of greenery loaded with decorations, twinkling lights and dangling candy canes.

  Though she expected this kind of sensory wonderland, the sight stopped her. Her eyes filled, and she choked back a sob. The room was unbearably beautiful. For a holiday-starved woman only now overcoming the past, the magic seemed overwhelming.

  Her hands began to tremble. Champagne sloshed from her glass. Would Monroe find her? Welcome her? Save her from all this beauty by snapping her back to reality?

  A subtle movement, singled out from the comings and goings of the people around her, caught her eye. A man stood in the opposite doorway, leaning casually against the jamb. He was dressed in a tasteful black sweater and pants and wore a look of casual unconcern. Kim’s heart skidded inside her rib cage. She almost spilled more of her drink.

  But it wasn’t Monroe who raised his glass at her. It wasn’t Monroe who smiled, or Monroe’s eyes that took her in. Similar in height and weight, and nearly as handsome, with the same dark hair and fair face, whoever this was pushed off the wall and headed in her direction when their gazes connected.

  The lights suddenly seemed too bright, too real, too magical. In the middle of the wonderful holiday glitter she’d only began to wrap her mind around, dealing with another man who looked like Monroe, but wasn’t, became too much for Kim to handle.

  She should not have come. She wasn’t ready.

  Setting her glass on the table, she turned. Before the man could reach her, she’d reached the foyer, and with just one more look over her shoulder at the luxurious wonderland that was Monroe’s life, she exited quickly, and as silently as she had arrived.

  * * *

  “Rory?” Chaz said, finding his brother in the foyer looking perplexed.

  “You missed it, bro,” Rory said, staring at the door.

  “What did I miss?”

  “Only the most gorgeous creature on the planet.”

  Chaz grinned. “There are a lot of beautiful women here tonight.”

  “Not like this one.”

  “By the way, how much champagne have you chugged? Have we run out yet?”

  “I’m serious,” Rory said. “She was a vision.”

  Chaz looked past his brother. “So, where is this goddess?”

  “She left.”

  “The party just started,” Chaz pointed out.

  “That’s what makes her exit so dramatic.”

  “Sorry you lost her so soon, bro.”

  “I didn’t imagine her, Chaz.”

  “Sorry,” Chaz repeated, ready to get another drink in order to catch up with Rory, and intending to drown his sorrows.

  Rory’s laugh was self-deprecating. “Well, I suppose there is another blonde here somewhere with an alluring hazel-eyed gaze and a body like sin. If so, I plan to find her.”

  Chaz experienced a slight bump in his drinking plan, but couldn’t have explained why. “Hazel eyes?” he echoed.

  “Yeah. Aren’t we all suckers for eyes like that?”

  Chaz had to ask, knowing the question to be ridiculous, but unable to beat off the strange feeling in his gut. “Did she wear a red dress?”

  Rory shook his head. “A little black number that fit like a glove. But hey, this isn’t all about women. Tonight’s for celebrating. You’ve found potential buyers for the agency, I hear, and they’ll wait six months to decide to move forward on a sale if you get the place running smoothly.”

  “Yes. I suppose that’s good news.”

  “Suppose? Chaz, it’s your first big deal. Shall we have a toast?”

  That bit of odd intuition returned and clung. Chaz couldn’t seem to shake it off.

  “Did she have hair about to here?” He touched his shoulder. “And long legs?”

  “You did see her, then?” Rory replied teasingly. “I didn’t imagine her in some Christmas-related state of hopefulness?”

  “Was she alone?” Chaz pressed.

  “I wouldn’t be pining if she’d had a guy by her side.”

  Chaz barely heard Rory. He was already out the front door and thinking that if it could have been McKinley...

  If there was any way it might have been Kim, and she had made the effort to show up here after all...

  Did that mean she was interested? Had she hoped to find him?

  He didn’t see her on the portico or in the yard.
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  Hell... Wasn’t there an old fairy tale about finding a shoe on the steps that would fit only one person on the planet? Which would help to narrow things down a bit for a poor, lovesick guy tired of pretending he didn’t give a fig about the woman who owned that shoe, when he cared a whole frigging lot?

  When he, Chaz Monroe, cared about Kim McKinley so much, he felt empty without her?

  His keys were in his pocket. His car was parked in front of the garage. Waving people out of the way, uttering quick words of greeting and something vague about an emergency, he got in, started the engine and stepped on the gas.

  Seventeen

  Chaz couldn’t get past Sam, no matter how hard he tried.

  “No, sir. Not tonight. Strict orders to let no one in, on the threat of ending my life as I know it.”

  Kim wouldn’t answer her phone. At first Chaz thought that she might not have come home, but at last, Sam, sensing a desperate man’s weakness and caught up in the holiday spirit, confirmed she was indeed up there.

  “Hate to see her alone on a fine night like this,” Sam said.

  All Chaz thought about was seeing her. She had come to the party, showed up on his parents’ doorstep, and he’d somehow missed her. Rotten luck. But she hadn’t stayed long enough for him to find her. According to Rory, she’d dashed out the door. So here he was, with his heart thundering way above the norm, determined to see Kim tonight. And as he paced in front of her building, looking up, there seemed only one way to accomplish that...if he didn’t get arrested first.

  The fire escape.

  * * *

  Floor six. Several windows down ought to be hers, but it was possible he’d gotten turned around. That window virtually beamed with flashes of red and green light emulating the wattage of an alien spaceship trapped in a tunnel.

  Could that be her window?

  The only thing left now was to scoot over, ledge by ledge, until he reached that one. Briefly, he wondered if Santa had a fear of heights.

  He slipped twice, caught himself and began to sweat, despite the chill factor. Glancing down, he swore beneath his breath and continued, placing one foot on the ledge outside where he thought he needed to go.

  The light in that window was blinding, so it couldn’t be hers. If it was, she’d had a major turnaround, and he was going to need sunglasses.

  He got his second foot on the ledge and reached the window unscathed. Maintaining a fairly tight hold on the brick, he craned his neck and peeked around the corner.

  The light came from a tree, lit up and glowing. There had to be twenty strings of lights on that tree. Tinsel dangled like silver icicles. Gold and silver baubles gleamed.

  But that wasn’t all.

  Candles lit other surfaces, one of them on the sill not twelve inches away from where he clung. The wonderful scent of cinnamon wafted to him through the closed window.

  This can’t be hers.

  All this?

  Yet somehow he knew it was, and that if she had progressed to this degree on the serious issues, where did that leave him?

  The truth hit him like a blow to the gut as he looked inside that window. He loved Kim McKinley for this.

  He loved her for showing up at the party, and for that room full of lights. He loved her beautiful face, the graceful slope of her shoulders, her bare feet, berry-colored toenails, and her slightly haughty attitude when she got angry. He loved the big eyes that held the power to make a grown man, a confirmed bachelor, climb a fire escape in the middle of winter.

  Come to think of it, he didn’t need a tally of all the things he loved about her. There were just too many things to list.

  His heart ached to be inside of that apartment with her, and to know everything else about her, down to the smallest detail—all the stuff, bad and good, sickness and health.

  He put a hand to his head to make sure it was still screwed on tight, sure he’d never felt like this, or considered the M word before. Yet he was seeing a future with Kim McKinley that included a ring.

  He grinned. Rory was going to have a heart attack.

  The only thing now was to convince Kim to take him back, and to remain by his side. Forever seemed like a good place to start.

  Though elated over this decision, Chaz did not raise a victory fist to the moon, which would have been a dangerous move for a man stuck to a ledge six floors above pavement, wearing entirely unacceptable clothes for the weather. And it was time to go before someone called the cops. He’d bribe Sam to plead on his behalf for Kim to let him in. He would take Sam with him to her front door if necessary. Just one more look in this window, then, he swore to God, he’d go.

  He pressed his face close to the pane...

  And nearly fell backward when Kim peered back.

  * * *

  Kim stepped away, stifling the urge to scream. There was a man outside her window, and she had to call the cops.

  But the face looking in was familiar.

  “Monroe?” she said in disbelief.

  He grinned. “Just trying this fire escape out to see if it will hold Santa, and wondering why cops never go after him.”

  The sight of Monroe on the other side of her window made her blink slowly. “What do you want?”

  “You left the party without saying hello.”

  “I made a mistake thinking I could handle the party.”

  “The mistake was to flee before I could stop you.”

  Kim shook her head. “Why are you out there?”

  “Why did you give Sam orders to shoot me on sight?”

  “I wanted to suffer alone.”

  He took a beat to reply to that. “Suffer?”

  “Go away, Chaz.”

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me in?”

  “For one thing, I haven’t been able to open this window since I moved in.”

  He stared at her thoughtfully. “How about if I knock on your door?”

  “You haven’t answered my first question about what you want,” Kim said. Her heart was leaping frantically. Monroe was on the fire escape. He had left the party and come here to see her. This had to mean he wanted to see her pretty badly.

  When he didn’t answer, she repeated the question. “What do you want, Chaz?”

  He shrugged without losing his balance and said, “You. I want you. And you just called me Chaz.”

  And then he was gone, and Kim didn’t think she could move from the spot. He hadn’t given up. If this was some particularly nasty joke, and the business needed her for something...

  Would he do that?

  She couldn’t have read his expression incorrectly—that look of longing in his eyes that probably looked exactly like her own.

  She’d been halfway out of her dress, and yanked it back over her shoulders. She pressed the hair back from her face and looked at the tree and the trimmings that had set her bank account back more than the dress and shoes combined.

  What would Chaz do now that he had seen how she embraced Christmas? That the tree he brought her had made her happy, despite the thought of losing him.

  The call came. Her hand shook when she told Sam to let Chaz come up. She waited by the door, planning what to say first. Maybe she’d start by asking him to repeat what he said about wanting her, just to be sure he meant it.

  She opened the door before he knocked, unable to wait or keep calm. Chaz stood there with his hand raised. He reached for her instead.

  He held her tightly for several seconds before pushing her back through the door. The momentum carried them to her kitchen, where he paused long enough to look at her and smile.

  “This isn’t what you think it is,” he said.

  “Damn.” Heat flooded Kim’s face as she smiled back.

  “You want i
t to be what you think it is?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered breathlessly.

  He closed his eyes briefly. Then he kissed her, long, deep and thoroughly, with his body tight to hers. After that, he kissed her again and again, as if he had saved up longing and had to get it out.

  When he drew back to allow her a breath, he said, “You have a tree.”

  “Yes.”

  “You came to the party.”

  “I did.”

  “You were looking for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you wanted to be with me? Had to be with me? Could no longer picture a life without me in it?”

  “Yes. Yes. And yes.”

  When Chaz smiled again, his eyes lit up with emotion. She saw relief, joy and the finality of having found something he was sure he’d lost. Genuine feelings. Very personal stuff.

  “What do you think of the word love?” he asked quietly.

  “Highly overrated,” she said with a voice that quavered.

  “Unless it covers us?” he suggested.

  “Does it cover us?”

  “I believe so.”

  “When will you know for sure?”

  “As soon as you take me to that bedroom. The one all lit up like the North Pole.”

  “That’s sex, not love.”

  “To my way of thinking, the two are mutually beneficial. Am I wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Isn’t there some kind of law against naked bodies under a Christmas tree?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Definitely not. So let’s make love, Kim, beside that tree and under the lights. Let’s slow down and create a path to the future that will suit us both.”

  It was the defining moment, and Kim knew it. The future Chaz spoke of had to be built on trust and understanding. She must believe he would make good on those things. In return, she’d have to do the same. She’d have to believe him, and believe in a future with him.

  He pressed a kiss on her forehead and another on her cheek. His hands wrapped around her, warm through her dress, as he pulled her to him possessively.