Let It Snow

by Jeanette Grey

  Clapping his hands together, Rylan rose from her couch. “Well, then. I’ll let you two get to work. Status meeting at eleven?”

  “We’ll be there.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe you’ll even have time to read your reports before then.”

  “Nice, comfortable bed,” he teased, taking his leave.

  And she almost missed it, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught the way Dane’s nostrils flared at just the mention of a bed. Heat shimmered beneath her skin at his reaction. At the way his gaze went immediately, unerringly to her.

  For half a second, their eyes locked.

  She’d just moved into this enormous office, but in that moment, she regretted not demanding an even bigger one. Whenever Dane looked at her like that, the room felt too small, the air suffocating and sultry, the neglected need between her legs suddenly sharp and desperate.

  She forced herself to look away.

  A few months ago, she’d plucked Dane from the temp pool more or less at random, unsuspecting of the big, rough-looking man who would arrive at her office dressed to kill. Unprepared for the way he would step into her life and her work, handling every task she threw at him with a quiet grace. Ruthlessly competent and ruggedly handsome, he pressed her buttons and tested her control at every turn, and there was a part of her that was tempted to throw him right back into the pool. Someone else would snap him up in an instant, and it would save her so much grief.

  But then he took two steps forward, the warm amber scent of him washing over her and blanking her mind. Anticipating exactly what she needed, he plucked the files from the corner of her desk and held them up. “Checked, sorted, and filed?”

  She nodded, throat tight.

  He tucked the folders beneath his arm. “Skinny caramel latte.”

  Again, she nodded.

  “And then?”

  What the hell had she been thinking, even imagining sending him away?

  Recrossing her legs, she leaned back in her chair. His gaze blazed its way down the center of her body. It was shameless, and it was a thrill; it was playing with fire, but she had yet to get burned.

  Fighting to appear unaffected, she sat up straighter, but she couldn’t keep the huskiness from her voice. “And then we’ll see.” She turned to face her desk, refusing to watch his ass as he left.

  The instant he was gone, cool air flooded in all around her until she could breathe again. She sighed, her whole body deflating, and for a minute she had to close her eyes.

  This simmering attraction between her and her assistant, this uncomfortable emptiness behind her ribs…they were nothing. She could handle them.

  Or more likely, she could work through them.

  Opening her eyes again, she reached for her computer, where the report from earlier was still spread out across her screen portending doom. A short bark of a laugh escaped her. Who’d have ever guessed she’d be so excited to see their European division in flames? Happy for the distraction, she dove into the numbers, scouring them for a pattern—or better yet, a way out.

  She didn’t look up from them except to reach absently for the latte that had magically appeared beside her elbow while she hadn’t been paying attention. Not until almost an hour later when that single rap sounded out against her door. She whipped around to find Dane standing there, his gaze wary as he took her in.

  No wonder. Her normally neat desk was a shambles, covered in printouts and financial statements, earning reports and stories from the news.

  She lifted the single document that mattered from the pile. Feverish, she said, “I know what we have to do.”

  What the hell had gotten into Lexie?

  Dane hastened his pace. He’d been running behind all day, oversleeping his alarm after getting home late from his weekend camping trip upstate, and then he’d returned from running Lexie’s morning errands to find her in the middle of some kind of capitalistic haze. She’d kept him jumping since. Clutching her second—ill-advised, if you asked him—latte in as many hours in one hand and the paperwork she’d had him rush past legal in the other, he got the handle of the conference room door with his elbow. Lexie’s coffee sloshed dangerously, a couple of scattered droplets flying from the opening on the lid, and he bit back a curse. His mom gave him enough shit about his dry-cleaning bill without his being careless.

  Just his luck, the status meeting was already under way. He gave terse nods all around as he slipped in, with an extra-deep one to Rylan. He didn’t really care, and this one wasn’t even his fault, but it grated at him to be caught running late twice in one day. Taking the chair at Lexie’s side, he handed over her caffeine fix and her documents, accepting the folio and tablet she passed him in exchange.

  “Thanks,” he said under his breath. He hadn’t had time to grab his things on account of her errands, but it wasn’t her job to cover him like that.

  Maybe that was why he liked it so much when she did.

  Dane was enlightened enough of a male not to go all caveman about having a woman for his boss—and a woman he was itching to take to bed with him at that. He could separate his preference to be in charge and his desire for control from his work. But the part of him that ached to put her on her knees sure stood at attention when she did anything like taking care of him. When she took the initiative to see to his needs.

  In a moment of weakness, he gave himself a second to indulge the thought. To let his gaze really linger, sweeping from the cool blue of her eyes to her tits to the long lines of her legs beneath the hem of her skirt. Fuck, she looked good today. She always did, of course, manicured to within an inch of her life, and sometimes he ached to mess that perfection up a little. To see that silky black hair of hers curled loose around her shoulders or all mussed and ragged from a good, rough fuck. To watch porcelain skin gone pink from a stroke of his hand. To hear the sounds she made when he took her apart.

  Shit. This was not the place to be getting a hard-on. He was at work, and her big brother was in the room, for fuck’s sake.

  Forcing his gaze away, he snuck a hand beneath the surface of the table to adjust himself in his pants, struggling to focus on the meeting going on around him.

  Fortunately, it didn’t seem like he’d missed much. Rylan finished giving his update on one of his new initiatives before turning to his sister. “So. Lex.” He twirled his pen between his fingers. “What the fuck is going on in Europe?”

  She raised a brow. “I gather you had a chance to look at the new numbers?”

  “I did, but take us through them anyway.”

  One corner of Lexie’s wicked, red mouth twitched upward, a there-and-you-miss-it show of annoyance. Damn, Dane loved it when she showed her claws—and she had more than enough reason to, if you asked him. She worked harder than just about anybody here, and she always got short shrift. Rylan was good, but Dane still didn’t know why Lexie let him wear the crown when she could’ve run the place just fine on her own.

  Lexie rose from her seat, her short black skirt riding up for a second before she smoothed it down. The red soles of her stilettos winked at him with every step she took, and Dane swallowed hard.

  “So.” With a press of a button, Lexie displayed the main graphic from the report she’d been obsessing over all morning on the big screen. Walking a slow circle around the table, she pointed out the important bits. In the few moments he managed to drag his gaze away from the shapes of her calves, he took notes—not about what she was saying but about the reactions of the people around her. She always wanted to know that kind of thing. The girl was good at playing a room.

  She’d been talking for a few minutes before her brother tapped the end of his pen against the table. “Basically, what you’re saying is we’re fucked.”

  There went the edge of her smile again. “At present, yes.”

  “And in the future?”

  “I believe there are steps we can take to mitigate the loss.”

  That was Dane’s cue. Unfurling to his full height, he passed
out the prospectives she’d had him get printed between coffee runs. She flicked over to the next slide.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to El Escudo.”

  Rylan cocked a brow. “Spain? Really?”

  “The country as a whole has been hit hard by the current financial crisis, it’s true. But that’s why it’s so ripe for investment. This particular asset has a solid foundation, and its core business is bulwarked against the instability that’s plagued the sector as a whole.”

  Rylan scanned the documents in front of him for a long minute. Nervous rustling of papers was the only sound in the room. Dane spent a moment scrutinizing each face in turn.

  Scared. They were all scared. Passive, too. No one else was speaking up. Which meant that whatever Rylan decided was going to fly. And Rylan was pretty much always on their side.

  Rylan set the papers aside. “You think you can make it turn a profit?”

  “And bring the whole division with it.”

  “Music to my ears. I want you handling this personally.”

  The glow to Lexie’s face was subtle, but it took Dane’s breath away. She kept her cards so close to her chest most of the time, and she was doing a damn good job of it now, even. But he’d spent enough time with her. He knew her tells.

  And inside she was dancing.

  “I’ve already got a meeting booked. My flight leaves tomorrow evening.”

  Okay, that part was news to Dane. His head whipped around. It shouldn’t bother him that she’d gone to someone else to get her travel arrangements sorted out, but somehow it did.

  Their gazes met, and she all but rolled her eyes, glancing pointedly at the things he’d brought. Fine, sure, she’d had him running from the moment he’d walked in the door, but still.

  She was…his. Sort of. Not in all the ways he wanted her to be, but in a lot of the ones that counted.

  Before he could get too bent out of shape about it, Rylan leaned forward in his chair, sliding the report away. “Take a team. You and Dane, a couple of analysts. Smart ones, too. And someone from legal and accounts.”

  “Excuse me?” Lexie’s calm exterior rippled.

  She was still doing a hundred times better at hiding her surprise than Dane was. The bottom of his stomach fell out.

  Rylan waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, like this was nothing. “If we mean business, make it clear that we mean business. We’re there to acquire. You don’t have to phone home to make decisions. You’ve got the full authority to act in the company’s best interests and the people you need to advise you. Tell them the minute you walk through the door—you’re not leaving until the deal is done.”

  Oh Jesus. This was even worse than Dane could have imagined.

  “Sir,” he said. Where the hell was he supposed to even go with this?

  He’d just been volunteered by the CEO of a Fortune 500 company to go on an international business trip. An open-ended one. Fuck even knew how long that could go on. Weeks. Maybe months.

  Months of being on call. He’d never been on a business trip with Lexie before, but he knew how she commandeered his time here in New York. Early mornings and late nights and calls at all hours, and he was fine with it. Being in close proximity to such a beautiful woman while not being allowed to touch was torture, and having to care about finances and jam himself into a fucking suit was almost worse. But he could do it. He’d been doing it for years now. Ever since Jake had died and his mom had whisked him clear across the country in her grief. Since she’d sat him down and told him all his plans, all his dreams—they had to go.

  The only way he’d made it through his life in office worker hell was a strict policy of being out the door by five p.m. on Fridays and never walking in before nine on a Monday. That was his time, and he spent it however he wanted to, getting the rush he needed to be able to suck it up for other five days of the week. He found the control he’d lost over his life in the stripes he laid up and down a woman’s spine and in the shape of her mouth when she came. He let it go by jumping off mountains.

  He clenched his hand into a fist against the instinct to be sick.

  Months. He’d never make it.

  “Sir,” he said again. Fuck, there had to be something. Some reason he couldn’t go.

  But before he could get a word out, the pout of Lexie’s mouth hardened into a line.

  Oh shit. He knew that look.

  She threw her shoulders back, tension in every inch of her. But those cool blue eyes were all resolve.

  Nodding, she said, “You know you can count on us.”

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  Look for more great stories from Jeanette Grey!

  Available from Forever and Forever Yours

  Also by Jeanette Grey

  Eight Ways to Ecstasy

  Seven Nights to Surrender

  Confessions in the Dark

  When the Stars Align

  Praise for Jeanette Grey’s Novels

  EIGHT WAYS TO ECSTASY

  “4½ stars! Top Pick! This sensual sequel to Seven Nights to Surrender doesn’t waste time…Grey’s lyrical writing beautifully reflects the couple’s desires and devotion, making this an emotionally compelling read with plenty of sizzle.”

  ―RT Book Reviews

  “Their romance was deliciously sexy and seeing them come together again, stronger than ever made me happy sigh when I finished. This was a great follow up and I’m so excited for Lexie and Dane’s story to start. Squee!”

  —BookBinge.com

  SEVEN NIGHTS TO SURRENDER

  “Jeanette Grey has become a must-read voice in romance. Seven Nights to Surrender is lyrical, stunningly sexy, and brings swoons for days.”

  —Christina Lauren, New York Times bestselling author

  “A must read! I couldn’t put it down. Jeanette Grey’s writing is so refreshingly honest. Seven Nights to Surrender is intensely emotional and sexy as hell. I need the next book ASAP!”

  —Tara Sue Me, New York Times bestselling author

  “With its sexy setting and sensual story, Jeanette Grey’s Seven Nights to Surrender sparkles!”

  —J. Kenner, New York Times and international bestselling author

  “Sensual, sultry, and exquisite, Seven Nights to Surrender will sweep you away and seduce you on every page! Crackling with tension and steamy with sensuality, it’s a feast for the senses you don’t want to miss!”

  —Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author

  “With her unique flair, Jeanette Grey delivers a deliciously sexy and irresistible romance that keeps you turning the pages for more. You’ll savor every word so you don’t miss a single sizzling moment.”

  —K. Bromberg, New York Times bestselling author

  WHEN THE STARS ALIGN

  “I couldn’t put it down! I loved every sentence! The writing is outstanding, the setting entrancing, and the characters stole my heart. Fresh, flawed, and instantly lovable, you’ll root for Jo and Adam at every turn.”

  —S. C. Stephens, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “The heat of the island has nothing on the off the charts attraction that sizzles between its feisty and fiercely unique heroine and idyllic hero. The journey to being the best you is often equal parts beautiful and tragic, and Grey sets the scene perfectly. A sassy and sexy read full of heart and adventure. This romance is like a breath of fresh air.”

  —Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Jeanette Gr
ey

  Excerpt from Nine Kinds of Naughty copyright © 2016 by Jeanette Grey

  Cover design by Elizabeth Turner

  Cover photograph © svetikd/GettyImages

  Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  ISBN 978-1-4555-6796-6 (ebook)

  E3-20161010_NFDA