Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the MistletoeSnowed in With Her BossA Diamond for Christmas

by Carole Mortimer

  And she should flee to the safety of the divider. Flee and put her clothes back on and lace her boots up tight so that she was too much trouble to undress.

  That thought made her heart hiccup in her chest. Undressing? Was that where this was going? Was that what the look on his face meant? That undressing was imminent? That kissing was imminent?

  He stood up and moved to the table, putting his palms flat on the table, on either side of her thighs, his dark eyes intent on hers.

  “Just...kissing right?” she asked.

  “Just kissing,” he said, lifting one hand and cupping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Just lips.”

  “I think...I think I can handle that.” Except she wasn’t sure at all. Because he was Luc, her boss, her almost-friend. And she hadn’t been kissed by anyone other than Clint in...ever. And it had been years since it had made her stomach knot up and her breath shorten. Years since it had mattered at all.

  Clint had gotten comfortable like socks. And now that she knew his secret, she understood why. And she felt...unattractive. She felt unwanted. She felt as if he was keeping her around for comfort. And she wasn’t wrong. He wanted an ideal, a certain lifestyle. And she suited that.

  It didn’t stop him from finding passion with someone else.

  No, it hadn’t stopped him from finding passion with someone else. And catching him with a slightly damp, freshly showered man in a towel in his living room early this morning—was that really only this morning?—had explained a lot. But it was his response that shocked her, that kept the ring on her finger and made her feel as if...as if somehow she was the one doing the betraying if she suddenly had a problem with the status quo.

  If she wanted something more than what they had.

  Well, she did, dammit. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to be kissed. If nothing else, she wanted to be kissed.

  So she was the one who closed the distance between her and Luc. She was the one who angled her head and touched her lips to his.

  His mouth was warm and firm, skilled. He opened to her, his tongue touching the tip of hers, sending a bolt of lightning straight down to her stomach, and parts lower.

  He tightened his hold on her chin, holding her still as he deepened the kiss. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. To pull him against her, to press her breasts to his chest and do something to alleviate the ache that was building between her thighs.

  But she was afraid to do that. Afraid to deviate from his plan. Because obviously he had one. He was so clearly in control of it all, his lips so practiced and perfect on hers.

  He was, without a doubt, about a thousand times the kisser Clint was.

  And it didn’t even make her feel guilty to think that.

  He released his hold on her chin and put both of his hands on her hips, tugging her forward, stepping between her legs as he did, his mouth hungry on hers.

  She was starving for this. Not just for the physical contact, but to be wanted. To have a man touch her as though it were essential to his well-being. To have him taste her as though she was dessert and not the salad he had to have to stay healthy.

  That was what she was to her fiancé. And she realized it with blinding clarity, as Luc tugged her tight against his body, bringing the part that was aching for him into contact with his hardened arousal.

  Oh...wow. Yes, this had been lacking entirely in her life for...ever.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing herself into the kiss completely. Because she deserved it. Because she was so tired of being socks and salad.

  Because she was tired of waiting for a man who just didn’t want her.

  Luc slid his hands around her, cupping her butt and urging her forward. She went, wrapped her legs around his hips, everything lining up even more perfectly now. She gasped as a bolt of pleasure went through her, as her entire body shook with need. Need that she hadn’t even known had been in her.

  She’d never considered herself an overly sensual person but she was doubting that assessment now. She slid her hands down over his chest, beneath his robe. Felt the hardness of the muscles there, the heat of his skin, and his raging heart, hammering against her palm.

  He wanted this, too. He was shaking. He was losing control. He was hard for her.

  The realization sent a surge of power through her. For the first time, she felt as if she had power as a woman. For the first time, she realized what she could do to a man. There was nothing wrong with her. The relief she felt...there were no words.

  She moved her hands lower, and Luc pulled away, wrapping his hand around her wrist, tugging her arm upward, his focus on her engagement ring, his eyes fierce.

  “No,” he said, his voice ragged. He moved away from her, running his hands over his face. “That should not have happened,” he said, bending down to collect his folded clothes from the chair. “It should never have happened.”

  “Wait...” she said, reeling from the change in activity. He’d just been kissing her, drinking her in as if she were water in the desert, and now suddenly he was...across the room, and now behind the divider. Dressing. “What?”

  “You are engaged,” he bit out, his tone uncompromising.

  She stood up and eyed the screen. “Yeah, I am. And it’s my engagement, so I think it’s my...problem,” she said.

  “But I am your boss, and that means I need to exercise a little bit more restraint than that.”

  “Oh, boo. Why is it that everything I do is so... Why does everyone else get to just dictate the terms?” She wrenched her robe off and tugged her clothes on. “Why is it my function to make everyone else comfortable while...while I just atrophy?”

  She jerked open the door to the massage room and walked toward the elevator. She got in and leaned back against the wall while the doors closed, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes.

  She was going crazy. Her neat and orderly existence had started to crumble this morning and she had no idea what she was supposed to do about that.

  Except just...watch it fall.

  Which was not what she wanted to do. She wanted to scream. And punch someone. And punch herself. Because she was an idiot.

  She growled when the elevator doors opened, and stalked down the hall to their room. And realized that she had no key.

  “Argh!”

  She kicked the door and turned, leaning back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her woolen tights would have to be enough to protect her modesty.

  As if it mattered since she’d just crawled on her boss like a sex-starved maniac. Because she was a sex-starved maniac. There was no modesty left. No shame. She was embarrassment.

  He’d kissed her. And he’d made her feel special, and sexy for a moment. And then he’d pulled back and been regretful. As if her status with Clint was more important than what she wanted, no matter what she said. Which...under normal circumstances she might have appreciated. But not now. Not in the throes of feeling as if she’d wasted nearly a decade of her life in the service of what benefitted Clint.

  The elevator doors slid open and Luc walked out into the hallway.

  “You don’t have a key?” he asked, looking down at her.

  “No, Mr. Chevalier, I don’t have a key.”

  “I do.”

  “Oh, well, nice for some.” She slid back up the wall, vaguely aware that the wall texture was going to make her hair look ratty.

  He put the card in the slot and the light turned green. “You’re angry with me,” he said, pushing the door open.

  “Ding ding ding! Someone get the man a prize!” She walked into the hotel room ahead of him and sat on the couch, huffing loudly.

  “Amelia, I’m not going to do this. This is what Blaise did to me. And I have too much respect for—”

 
“For a man you don’t even know? More respect than you have for me?”

  “What’s the point, Amelia? We work together. Every day. And there is no good way for this to end. Either you start your marriage out with a lie or...”

  “But that’s my problem! It’s not your problem.”

  “No, it is, because I don’t want to be that man. I refuse to be that man.”

  “What I want is just...so small to everyone, isn’t it? If I’m not making people comfortable and helping them live their convenient little lie then who am I?”

  “What?”

  She closed her eyes, fighting against the misery that was threatening to swamp her. “Clint cheated on me. I found out this morning.”

  “What?”

  “It gets better. Or worse. The thing is...the thing is that he wants me to stay with him. Because he’s sorry. And he was weak and he apologized. He said he still loves me.”

  “Amelia...”

  “But...the thing is, he told me that he’s gay.”

  She might have laughed at the look on Luc’s face if she wasn’t so miserable. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, well, it...definitely cleared some things up for me. But the thing is, I don’t know what to do with that. We’ve been together for nine years. And my parents love him. And his parents love me. And there’s this expectation that we’re going to be... I mean, I’ve known Clint since I was a kid. And they’ve always expected us to end up together. I expected us to end up together. But...”

  “I’m unclear as to why he wants to marry you,” Luc said.

  Amelia sucked her cheeks in, then released them with a smack. “Uh...I’m going to go ahead and give that some additional context and say this has more to do with his sexual orientation than the fact that you’re actually stymied as to why a man would want to marry me.”

  “That is what I meant.”

  “Ah, well, yay me. Knocking ’em out of the park today.” She let out a long breath. “He told me, after a lot of apologizing, after his friend left, that...that it’s not what he wants for his life. That he wants the life we’ve been building toward for years because he thinks that would be better.” She bit her lip. “And what do I do?” she asked. “What do I do? He’s... I love him, Luc. And I don’t think I’m in love with him, if I’m terribly honest, but he is my best friend. He really is. And I’m angry because he didn’t tell me. And I’m angry because if I turn away from him now...because he’s made me feel like doing anything other than what we planned is a betrayal on my part. And the only thing I really do know is that kissing you felt really good. I just wanted to feel good for a while because otherwise, frankly, today has kind of sucked.”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you,” he said.

  “Then don’t tell me anything. Thankfully, we’re going home tomorrow. I’ll deal with Clint. And we can pretend this never happened. I’m under duress, so just...ignore it all.” She looked at the champagne that was still sitting in the ice bucket. “I am gonna take this.” She snagged the bottle. “And I’m going to go to my room.”

  “Dinner?” he asked.

  “I think I’ll skip it. Suddenly I’m not very hungry.”

  Amelia turned and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Tomorrow, they would fly back to New York. Then it would be Christmas. And she would just...go home to her family and pretend that nothing bad was happening. They would all spend Christmas together, even Clint and his parents, and then after the holidays she would figure out what to do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LUC DIDN’T SLEEP at all. He spent the entire time tossing and turning and trying to ignore the fact that he was hard as hell for a woman who was off-limits.

  Engaged. Personal assistant.

  Though, he had to admit that her revelations about her fiancé had put a new and morally interesting spin on the engagement.

  Clint hadn’t been faithful to her. And really, in his opinion, she shouldn’t marry him. And he had a feeling she would arrive at the same conclusion. But for now, she was still wearing the ring and that felt... Well, considering his past it was a complication he couldn’t ignore.

  Which meant he would continue to ignore the hard-on. Particularly difficult in the morning. He gritted his teeth and went to his suitcase, tugging out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, putting them on as quickly as possible. He wasn’t going to shower. He would only end up thinking of her. And he would end up doing something he would probably regret. Their employer/employee relationship might be able to survive an ill-advised kiss, but if he let himself get off at the thought of her, if he made fantasizing about her acceptable that would be a can of worms that was hard to close.

  He snagged his phone off his nightstand and saw a warning banner on the lock screen. He entered his passcode and opened it.

  “Dammit,” he said, walking out into the living area. “Amelia,” he said, belatedly realizing that he probably should have gotten his arousal under control before he tried to be in the same room as her.

  “What?” She emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered, her cheeks pink, damp hair curling around her face. She was wearing a sweater that looked as if it might have started life as a blanket, and a pair of tan pants with leather patches on the knees. In short, she should look sort of ridiculous, and she didn’t. She was still sexy, even dressed as some insane version of a jockey.

  “There is a weather-related issue. I’m going to call the airport.”

  “A weather-related issue?” She scurried to the window and swore. “I should say so!”

  He followed her line of vision, looked outside at the swirling white flurries that were falling down. “It doesn’t look promising.”

  A few moments later, he’d confirmed that it wasn’t good. “Planes are grounded today,” he said. “Even if we could take off from here, we can’t land in New York.”

  “What! But...tomorrow is Christmas Eve and...and I am going to kill you! I’m being hyperbolic but...but seriously, Luc, all I wanted was Christmas and now I am stuck in freaking Colorado with you! And you won’t even kiss me!”

  “Because I can’t control the weather, and because kissing would be a bad idea.”

  “Sure,” she said. “If I don’t get home for Christmas I am going to be unhappy. And,” she said, looking at him defiantly, “I’m going to sing.”

  “What?”

  “If I am here on Christmas Eve I am going to sing all night. I’m going to sing about wise men, and mangers and I’m going to sing about Santa coming to town and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  “I did not intend to get you stuck here.”

  “Well,” she said, her eyes widening, “I am stuck here. I just am. With you. In one room that now seems very small. So I would just...just like to make you as uncomfortable as I am.”

  “You don’t think I’m uncomfortable?” he asked.

  “You’re the one driving this train. You dragged me here. You didn’t correct Don when he assumed we were engaged. You made us get massaged in the same room when I had said that I didn’t want to get naked and oiled up with you. You kissed me, then you acted like you wished you could unkiss me. And now we’re stuck here. So you don’t have the right to be more uncomfortable than me. Not when you’re the one making decisions for everyone.”

  “I am trying to make the right decisions,” he said, his voice low, “you’re my employee, and even if nothing else stood between us, that would be enough. It’s wrong for me to touch you, wrong for me to take advantage of you.”

  “Take advantage of me? As if I’m a child rather than just your assistant?”

  “I sign your checks. There is every chance that an advance from me could feel forced on you.”

  “But it doesn’t!” she exploded, striding across the room toward him. “The thing is, I don’t want it to feel forced
on you. One thing I am really sick of is having my advances just be a turnoff. That’s how he acts. He used to kiss me and now...barely. If ever. I thought we were just in a rut, but it turns out he doesn’t want me. Well, I’m not going to force myself on men who don’t want me.”

  “Amelia...”

  “But answer one question for me, Luc, please.”

  “What is that?”

  “Is it me? Is something wrong with me? Am I fundamentally unsexy in some way?”

  He closed the distance between them, wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her close. She blinked, her jaw dropped, her eyes especially wide. And she felt good. She felt so good. Her soft curves, her breasts...he didn’t want to say no.

  He didn’t want to toe the line or do the right thing or any other cliché. He wanted her. And the rest didn’t seem to matter. For once in his life, he wanted to be the one who didn’t care about the rules.

  Where had they gotten him? Under his father’s heel. He’d lost his intended bride to his brother. He’d been in a job he’d hated for more than a decade. What was the point of doing the right thing when it never got you what you wanted?

  He didn’t want right. He wanted Amelia.

  “Does it feel like there’s anything unsexy about you?” he growled, putting his hand on her butt and pulling her in tight, letting her feel the hardened ridge of his arousal.

  “I...I thought this was wrong.”

  “It is,” he said. “In so many different ways I can’t name them all. But I think it’s going to happen. One night, I might have been able to handle. Even two nights, maybe. I bet I could resist you for two nights.”

  “You aren’t resisting,” she said, her voice breathless.

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Neither do I,” she said.

  “You have to understand,” he said, “this isn’t going to be anything else. I don’t want marriage, and I don’t want a wife and children. I don’t want forever. All I want from you is sex.”

  She let out a sharp breath. “Thank God, because the other guy wants me to be his wife, bear his children and he doesn’t seem to want sex at all. Frankly, a man who only wants sex seems like a much simpler undertaking.”