The rich, spicy scent of his cologne caused a flush across my skin as he settled down onto one end of the sofa and relaxed back into it. I handed him a tumbler of whisky and he muttered his thanks before taking a sip. I tried to ignore the movement of his strong throat as he swallowed. And the way his fingers clasped the glass. He had gorgeous hands. Masculine but graceful; big knuckles. And his forearms. Gosh, he had lovely forearms with thick veins and sun-kissed skin and only a dusting of hair across the top. I’d never noticed so much about a man before, but Reid’s hands and forearms totally turned me on. Okay, everything about him turned me on.He had cut cheekbones, a square jaw and a wicked grin. Reid would almost be too perfect, but thankfully he wasn’t. He’d broken his nose playing rugby when he was fourteen years old and it was slightly crooked. Somehow this just made him rugged and sexier.Damn him.Taking hold of my glass, I sat down at the other end of the sofa. It was a small two-seater, so we weren’t exactly miles apart. Studying him as I took a sip of the drink, I enjoyed the smooth warmth of the alcohol as it slid down my throat. There was a strained weariness to his features that made me want to touch him. Comfort him.
Reid’s eyes slid toward me and I held my breath at his study. “I didn’t know you drink whisky.”
I nodded. “Got a taste for the stuff when I was at uni.”
Reid smirked. “Most students have less expensive tastes.”
“I’m not most people.”
He didn’t respond to that, just leaned forward, elbows to his knees, glass cradled between his palms. His expression turned contemplative as he stared into the golden amber liquid.
Though it was unpleasant to think about him brooding over another woman, as his wannabe friend, I had to ask, “Did you have strong feelings for her?”
Reid raised his eyebrows as he looked at me. “Emmy?”
I nodded.
He shook his head. “Less than I should have.”
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering, he threw back the entire glass and reached for the bottle to refill it.
“You can talk to me, you know. If you need to.”
“You’re my employee,” he reminded me. “I shouldn’t even be having a casual whisky with you.”
I scoffed, “Reid, you’ve known me forever.”
“Another reason not to talk about this with you. Your brother is my best friend. And he’s a fucking gossip.” He threw me a quick grin.
Chuckling, I nodded. “Too true. But unlike Patrick, I am a vault.”
Settling back against the sofa, Reid took another sip and murmured, “There’s nothing to say.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” I’d grown to know Reid very well over the last six months, and he always seemed to have this never-ending source of energy. But lately, he’d seemed … frustrated or restless or something.
And today he just seemed exhausted.
“Do you miss Anushka?” I prodded.
Reid shook his head, his dark eyes troubled. “Not as much as I should. It never seems to be as much as I should. That’s the problem.” He smirked unhappily. “You promise our conversation does not leave this office?”
“Of course.”
“I always …” he sighed as if frustrated with himself as he scrubbed a hand over the dark hair he styled short. “It was just Mum and me growing up, you know. I always thought that once the success came, everything else would fall into place. Wife, kids.”
Surprise and longing burned through me.
Reid always came across as the perennial bachelor. I’d never have guessed he had plans to be a family man.
Apparently, I didn’t know him as well as I’d thought.
“I wanted what me and Mum never had. I wanted to give her a family. A daughter-in-law. Grandchildren. But I keep fucking up.”
“How do you keep fucking up?”
“I never make time to do it right with a woman. The store always comes first. What kind of family man would I make? A pretty shitty one. I’d end up turning my wife into my mum; essentially leaving her to raise whatever children we have alone.”
I considered this a moment, sorry for the bitter self-recrimination I heard in Reid’s tone. I understood then that he felt he’d failed. In all of his success, in this one aspect of life, he felt he was failing. “Reid, have you ever considered that you just haven’t met the right woman?”
“Emmy doesn’t count, but I’ve been with a lot of good women over the years.”
“Good woman doesn’t equal the right woman.”
“You mean like a soul mate?” he scoffed. “I don’t believe in that, Evan.”
I made a noise of irritation. “I’m not talking about soul mates. I’m talking about the person who feels like they … fit. The person who drives you wild.” Considering how controlled Reid was in everything he did, I asked (and hoped for a negatory answer), “Haven’t you ever been infatuated with a woman?”
“I’ve dated plenty of attractive women.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I chugged back my whisky and leaned over to refill it, trying not to roll my eyes at his cluelessness. “Haven’t you ever met a woman who made you lose your common sense? Who made your skin hot and your blood pump and everything else but kissing her, touching her, ceased to matter?” I blushed a little, imagining being said woman.
Reid tensed, gazing at me speculatively. “Have you ever met a guy who did that for you?”
I thought about Luca and lowered my gaze, feeling the old hurt still after all this time. “Once.”
“Who?” he demanded.
Wondering at his sudden glower and the reason behind it, I took a slow sip at my whisky, knowing my lack of a rush to respond would irritate him. Reid liked everyone to give him the answers to his questions with speed and efficiency.
“Evan?” he leaned toward me. “Who? Does Pat know about this guy?”
“I asked first.”
“What?”
“I asked you first if you’d ever met a woman who made you feel that way.”
“No,” he bit out. “Your turn.”
I shouldn’t have felt pleased by his response, but I really did. In fact, it elated me. So much so, I had to hide my smile in another sip of drink.
“Are you deliberately being irritating?” Reid asked.
I smirked sadly at him. “No. I just … haven’t spoken about it. To anyone.” Not even to my best friend, Cass. She’d asked. But I’d been too raw about the whole thing for a long time. My infatuation with Reid, however, had eased the hurt Luca left behind.
Concern flashed across Reid’s expression. “Did someone hurt you?”
“Emotionally, yes. His name was Luca. He was an Italian studying at Edinburgh. I met him in second year. I’d never met anyone like him. Italians are so affectionate and open and charming and passionate. At least he was. We dated for just over a year. I’m pretty sure you knew that.”
Reid frowned. “I knew you had a boyfriend at uni but no one said anything about him hurting you.”
“Because I told everyone that we broke up because he was going to back to Rome.”
“What really happened?”
“I let myself get wrapped up in him. He’s one of those guys who makes you feel beautiful because he genuinely finds women in all their forms gorgeous. Too much. But the sex was amazing,” I admitted, unable to look at Reid when I said it. “I think I let my hormones ignore all the warning signs. One day I was in the library and this girl came over, sat down beside me and told me that Luca had been cheating on me with her and gotten her pregnant. She thought I should know. And when I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. Told me people weren’t meant to be monogamists.” I finally met Reid’s angry gaze. “I argued that if that was how he felt then he shouldn’t have misled me into believing he loved me and that we were each other’s only one.”
“I’m sorry. He sounds like a fuckwad.”
“Oh, it got worse. I shared a flat with four other girls. My best friends.
One of them confessed to me after the fact that she and Luca fucked a couple of times behind my back.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah.” I took a long swallow of whisky, remembering the betrayal. I coughed a little and wiped at my lips, placing the glass on the table. “There was a part of me terrified I’d never be able to trust people again.”
“And can you?”
“Yes,” I answered firmly. “Two people who don’t understand what loyalty entails will not make me bitter or distrustful. Luca wasn’t the right guy for me. I confused lust for love. I never felt truly comfortable around him. Looking back on it, we never talked about anything serious. Anything real. I think the right person is someone who makes you vibrate with awareness.” I grinned, thinking of how much Reid did that to me. “And distracted as hell. But also be the one person you can trust to talk to about anything. To be comfortable enough with to be who you really are. To say how you really feel. You haven’t met her yet, Reid. It doesn’t mean she’s not out there.”
“Says the twenty-two-year-old who has all the time in the world. I’m not getting any younger, Evan.”
I snorted. “You’re talking as if you’re ancient. You’re only thirty-five, Reid.”
“Men have ticking biological clocks, too, you know,” he teased, surprising me.
“No, they don’t,” I disagreed, laughing. “You have nothing to worry about in that regard. But maybe if you had fewer rules, you’d meet the right woman.”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “What rules?”
“Patrick said you have rules,” I explained. “No dating women who’ll nag about your schedule, no dating women who don’t understand the store comes first, and no dating women younger than twenty-eight.” I tried not to emphasize the last.
“Your brother needs to keep his mouth shut,” Reid muttered.
“Are they true?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Aye. And, clearly, the reason I’m still alone. I need to let them go. Except for the last.” He refused to meet my gaze. “The last is a firm rule.”
Disappointment burned in my gut along with the whisky. “Why?”
Still not meeting my gaze, he shrugged again. “I’ve dated younger women. They’re too immature.” He cut me a look. “I was born older than my years, Evan. I don’t want to be with a woman who is disappointed I’m not interested in clubbing or going to music festivals or taking selfies together for social media.”
Feeling irritated by his assumptions, I griped, “Not all twenty-somethings are into clubbing and music festivals and social media.”
He raised a querulous eyebrow.
“They’re not. Some of us are more mature than that.”
“Maybe you are,” he conceded. “But I haven’t met many others who are. Plus, I’m not screwing around. Contrary to what people think, I’m looking for someone to start a family with. Women my age are ready for that.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that I can seem to slow down enough for it to matter.”
“You’ll find her,” I promised him. It’s me, you fool! “One day you’ll find her, Reid.”
He opened his eyes, looking at me through a low-lidded gaze. “You think so?”
His secret longing for a wife and family just made my infatuation increase to ovary exploding levels. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the blush stain my cheeks.
All I had to do was slowly but surely prove to my brother’s best friend that I was Mrs. Right. That I was a mature twenty-two-year-old who wanted the same things as him.
“I know so.” The words came out hoarse with emotion.
Something in my voice caused Reid to stiffen and as our eyes held I felt this thick tension fall between us. I wanted to dive on him. Crush my mouth against his and show him that there was a woman out there who wanted him for his loyalty, his determination, his secret sweetness, and his understanding of what was truly important in life. I wanted to show him that for the right woman, he would loosen the reins on the store to be with her.
To be with me.
Something flared in his eyes before his expression shut down. Then he leaned forward and patted my knee. “You’re a sweet kid, Evan. Thanks.” He stood up abruptly and strolled across the office to the coat stand in the corner where his suit jacket hung. Shrugging into it, he said, “You get home okay?”
Deflated, and a little embarrassed, I stood up too at the subtle rejection and hint for me to leave. “Oh, of course. I’ll see you next week.”
“Have a good weekend.” He held the door open but wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“Yeah, you too,” I muttered, hurrying to collect my things so I could get the hell out of there.
“You’re a sweet kid, Evan.”
Ugh.
Shot to the damn heart.
However, hours later, after the mortification left me, determination returned.
I didn’t imagine that little moment on the couch between us.
And Reid’s response of, “You’re a sweet kid, Evan,” felt a little contrived. Like he was trying to put distance between us.
Maybe I was a nutter and completely wrong.
But I had hope that I wasn’t.
And I had time to prove to Reid that I was a woman. A mature woman.
The right woman.
Reid
Mid-November
I was distracted.
Evan was distracting me.
And the level of distraction was irritating.
We crowded around the small conference room table. Kerry, my events co-ordinator, my sales and marketing team, and George, my general manager.
At my side, of course, was Evan, my personal assistant.
That alone made Evan off limits.
The fact that she was my best friend’s wee sister and thirteen years my junior made her forbidden.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
It was the forbidden thing, I told myself.
That’s what was making me hot.
Not the way her skirt molded to an arse that was surprisingly round and luscious. Or the way her curvy hips accentuated how tiny her waist was. I could probably span it with my hands. I’d watched her sashay ahead of me into the conference room, mesmerized by the exaggerated feminine shape of her. I’d heard Evan complain to her mum about her hips and thighs as if they were a bad thing.
“If God was going to give me curves, why couldn’t he give me boobs?” I’d overheard her moan to Jen, Pat and Evan’s mother.
The memory had me flicking a quick look at my PA’s chest before glancing quickly away. Small but surely perfectly formed breasts strained against the tight fit of her black shirt.
Why had I never noticed how fucking gorgeously made Evan Munro was until last month?
Okay, not gonna lie, I’m a man—I noticed her arse around the year she turned eighteen.
But only in passing, as a man is wont to notice an exceptional arse.
Now her arse was an obsession.
Ever since we’d had that drink in my office, something had changed between us. This tension that needed to evaporate because it was playing havoc with me.
“Haven’t you ever met a woman who made you lose your common sense? Who made your skin hot and your blood pump and everything else but kissing her, touching her, ceased to matter?”
Not until now.
It was like her question had created a monster between us.
Evan took a sip of coffee from the mug she’d brought in from home. It had arrows pointing upward and beneath it the words, ‘This is what an Awesome Employee Looks Like.’
Fuck, she was adorable.
My eyes drifted to her mouth as she licked the coffee off her lips.
Everything about Evan, other than her hips and spectacular arse, was delicate and stunning. She had Jen’s doll-like features, large, beautiful, thickly lashed dark eyes, a button nose and a small but very kissable mouth. Evan’s chin was a little pointed, giving her a mischievous quali
ty that only made me think very bad thoughts.
“… Mr. Shaw?”
Realizing my name had been said, I looked blankly over at Kerry. “Sorry?”
She flicked Evan a strange look before turning back to me.
I tried not to squirm over my event co-ordinator’s suspicious gaze.
“I asked if you were happy for us to post a competition on Instagram for locals to enter to win a chance to watch the Christmas tree being piped in?”
The Christmas tree at Shaw’s was an event in itself. We had to remove the side door to the building, and a crew of men carried the forty-foot tree into the atrium of the store. It was then erected by the use of pulleys, while people rappelled from the ceiling to decorate it in fairy lights. We had a bagpiper pipe in the tree and I invited staff to watch.
“Aye, that’s fine,” I replied. “Only two winners and their plus ones.”
Kerry opened her mouth to protest. I cut her off. “Part of the magic is customers asking how we get the tree into the store. They prefer the staff’s tall tales to reality.”
“Reality is pretty impressive too, Mr. Shaw,” she argued.
“I said no.”
“Okay. Two winners and their plus ones.”
“Now the sale,” I said, determined to focus on anything but the petite woman at my side who smelled bloody amazing. Three weeks ago, I’d caught Evan in the perfume department mooning over a perfume called Black Opium by YSL. It was one of the more expensive ones and she was bemoaning its price. It irritated me that Evan wouldn’t buy herself the perfume, even with her staff discount. I’d picked up a box and told Greta, one of the staff in the perfume department, to add it to my tab.
Evan had looked dumbfounded by the gift.
Not wanting her to read too much into it, I casually called it a bonus and walked away before she could question me.
Now she wore the perfume every day. It had a heady, musky scent to it that made a man want to chase it with his tongue.
Fuck.
Patrick would kill me if he ever guessed what ran through my mind when I thought about his wee sister.
All I Want For Christmas Is You Page 6
