Twins for Christmas

by Layla Valentine

“How’re you feeling?” asked Adam as we stepped into the lobby.

  “Good,” I said. “Actually, really good. This has been a really, really nice night. Thanks.”

  “Same here,” he said, smiling. “As relaxing as it might’ve been to spend Christmas Eve at home with some spiked eggnog and cheesy movies, this could very well have it beat.”

  I’d told myself to be measured about it all, but I couldn’t help but let my heart warm at these words.

  We stepped into the elevator, the doors closing and opening moments later on our floor.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said.

  I smiled gratefully. My room was only down the hall from his, but I appreciated the thought nonetheless.

  “Well, Ms. Marten,” he said once we’d arrived. “Thanks for the great evening. I really enjoyed myself.”

  “You’re thanking me?” I asked. “But you’re the one who treated.”

  “Sure,” he said. “But you’re what made it special.”

  I worried that I might melt right then and there. Standing in front of Adam, looking up into his big green eyes, there was only one thing I could think about.

  His kiss.

  I wondered what it would be like to feel those lips on mine, to have him hold me in those thick, strong arms. Sure, he looked a little silly in his torn shirt, and I looked the same in my bare feet, but I didn’t care about that in the slightest. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and close my eyes and have him know without me saying a word what I wanted.

  But I didn’t, of course. I knew better. He was my boss, and I was his subordinate. It’d be messy and complicated and unprofessional, and that was assuming he actually would’ve kissed me. There was still the distinct possibility that I’d pucker up and he’d answer with a crisp “Uh, Ms. Marten—what are you doing?”

  So I kept my feelings to myself.

  Even though I wasn’t going to try to get him to kiss me. There was still something on my mind. It was something bold, something I wanted but was worried to ask about.

  “You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” he said.

  The man was good. He already knew how to read me.

  “There is,” I said. “Something I want to ask you. But it’s totally okay if you say no.”

  He cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “Well…I was just thinking about how much fun we had today, and how neither of us has any plans for tomorrow, and how it’s Christmas, and how we’re both in a place that we don’t know, and neither of us speaks the language, and…”

  I was babbling, maybe some silly effort to hold off on actually asking the question on my mind. But Adam stopped me with one of those killer smiles of his, one that let me know he was right there with me.

  “You want to spend the day together?” he asked.

  There it was, the million-dollar question. Only he had to be the one to actually ask it.

  I took a deep breath and gave an affirmative nod.

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m asking.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather spend the holiday with.”

  I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. Me, of all people?

  “You…mean that?”

  The words coming out of my mouth sounded more like a kid had spoken them.

  “I do,” he said. “No one other than you, Ms. Marten.”

  He used my name formally, but there was still something…intimate about it. Adam continued to regard me with that same smile, my heart thudding in my chest as he looked down at me.

  Was he going to do it? Was he going to kiss me? At that moment it sure felt like it. It was one of those moments where it seemed as though the rest of the world had melted away and only the two of us remained.

  “Good night, Isla,” he said.

  One more smile and then he turned and was on his way. I watched him step slowly down the hall, and I turned at the moment he reached his door so he wouldn’t catch me staring. Then I opened my door and was soon inside my suite, feeling at once like I was walking on air and about to explode.

  “All right!” I said out loud to my empty room, as if speaking to the city in the distance. “I did it!”

  Sure, he’d had to help me with the last few steps of asking, but it’d been done. I’d asked him out on…a date?

  I made my way to the bathroom as I thought.

  “No,” I considered. “It’s not a date. Just like tonight wasn’t a date, tomorrow isn’t either. It’s only two people alone in a different country spending Christmas together.”

  I turned on the shower, stripped down, and stepped in, the water feeling heavenly against my skin as I washed off the sweat and dirt from my little mule adventure.

  “No expectations,” I thought. “We’ll get some food, maybe check out the town, and that’ll be that. Before you know it, you’ll be back on the plane to San Francisco, all of this in the process of becoming a fond memory.”

  Once I was done I dried off, put on my pajamas, and climbed into bed. And as I turned off the lights and prepared to sleep, I couldn’t help but smile at what Christmas Day might hold.

  Chapter 14

  Adam

  I couldn’t believe myself.

  Had I seriously almost done it?

  Part of me was ready with the self-forgiveness, ready to accept that there was simply no other way to act around a woman like her.

  The other part was ready with the scolding, ready to tell me that I’d very, very nearly screwed up in an extremely serious way, one that could’ve jeopardized my career at Corliss.

  Either way, I had to come to terms with the reality of what had happened—or almost happened.

  I’d nearly kissed Isla.

  As much as I’d like to convince myself that it wasn’t true, it was. Her standing in front of me, her brown eyes wide as she tripped over her words in the process of asking me if I wanted to spend the holiday together… I’d almost been unable to resist. I’d almost lost control, leaned in, wrapped my arm around her slender waist and planted one right on that gorgeous mouth of hers.

  And the scary part was that even though I knew it would’ve been a terrible, awful idea, all I could think about was how much I still wanted to do it.

  Sure, I couldn’t guarantee that she’d accept my kiss, but there was nothing stopping me from heading over to her room, knocking on her door, and laying it on her as soon as she opened.

  I paced slowly in my room, my hands clasped behind my back. Talking myself out of it would’ve been the right idea—not simply out of kissing her that night, but out of the whole thing. If I were smart, I’d have been coming up with reason after reason why the two of us doing anything beyond the bounds of friendship was a bad call.

  But God, I couldn’t help it. Why was it that I couldn’t stop thinking about her? How was it that I’d only known Isla for a couple of days and she’d already burned herself into my mind in a way that no woman had before?

  As I paced I considered a summer years back, one that I’d spent with an Italian model in Sicily. She and I had spent nearly every day together, but when the time had come for me to come back to America, I simply…left. Sure, I’d had a fondness for her, and she was a lovely girl, but there was nothing resonant and emotional and real.

  Nothing like what I’d somehow been able to feel for Isla after a fraction of the time.

  “She’s off-limits,” I muttered, trying to talk some sense into myself. “You’re under strict orders to not get involved with any subordinates, and that’s making you want her—a forbidden fruit kind of thing.”

  Sounded right…but I knew that wasn’t it. I had thousands of women below me, and if it was simply a matter of wanting to rebel against Corliss’s fraternization rule, every single one of them should’ve been inspiring the same feelings.

  But they didn’t—only Isla did.

  My reasoning was flimsy and I knew
it. There was something special about her, something undeniable. Hell, she’d gotten me to open up about my childhood. How? She hadn’t pressed or pried or otherwise forced it out of me, and it wasn’t exactly a subject I liked to discuss. But she’d simply asked, and I’d spoken.

  My gaze flicked over to the minibar. For a moment I considered grabbing something, maybe a small drink of whiskey, and tossing it back so I could at least calm my mind down. But I recognized right away that it would be a very bad idea. I was still feeling loose from the wine, and one more drink might be just the thing to remove what few inhibitions I had left and head over to Isla’s room.

  No. I needed rest. I needed to get some sleep so I could wake up with a clear head. In the morning I’d feel better, more rational.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I paced, realizing that I was still wearing the torn shirt from that night. A smile formed on my lips as I thought back to the incident with the mule, how I’d rushed in like an idiot while Isla had effortlessly handled the situation. If there had been any doubt in my mind that there was something special about her, that certainly dispelled it.

  I slipped out of my shirt, giving the flat plane of my abs a look-over to make sure that I hadn’t been hurt in a way that the adrenaline and the booze and the rush from being around Isla were causing me to ignore. But I was unscathed.

  A shower and a change later, I was in my pajama pants and under the covers. Right at the moment I turned the lights off, I remembered the other situation of the day—that of the factory and how the board would react.

  But that could wait. And try as I might, I couldn’t hold the subject in my mind for more than a moment or two before thoughts of Isla returned, the sound of her laughter lulling me off into a deep, restful sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Isla

  A quick knock sounded at the door to my suite, startling me out of my work.

  “What the…”

  The words shot out of my mouth, and as soon as they did, I teased myself for saying them.

  Someone’s at the door, I thought as I got up. Not like they’re breaking in. Get a grip, girl.

  But there was still the matter of who it might’ve been. It was a little after nine in the morning, and I hadn’t ordered room service or anything like that.

  Then it occurred to me, the most obvious answer in the world—Adam. Was he really this eager to get a start on our Christmas together? I’d almost been worried that he was only spending the day with me out of a sense of obligation, or because he felt bad for me. As I made my way to the door, I smiled at the thought that he was just as excited about the day as I was.

  A quick glance through the peephole revealed that, sure enough, it was him. And he had something under his arm that I sure didn’t expect—a freaking Christmas tree!

  I quickly opened up the door, and he greeted me with a broad smile.

  “Merry Christmas!” he said.

  “Merry Christmas!” I replied, now noticing that he not only had a tree in one arm, but a few bags dangling off the other.

  I stepped away from the door and gestured for him to come in, noticing that he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead, a few stray strands of his otherwise-perfect hair hanging down in a way that was actually pretty damn sexy in a disheveled sort of way.

  Stop thinking about him like that, Isla, I thought as he stepped into the room. You’ve got a whole day to spend with him. Keep yourself in check starting now.

  Adam slid the bags off his arm and onto the counter of the kitchenette. Once that was done, he set the tree near the window, framing it perfectly in the view.

  Then a serious expression flashed on his face and he pointed to my computer.

  “That’s…my laptop,” I said, confused. “Why?”

  “What’s on it?”

  I realized what he was getting at.

  “Just…a little work.”

  He shook his head, the smile returning.

  “Sorry,” he said. “None of that today.”

  I was more than fine with this order from the boss. I saved my work and closed the computer, then my eyes turned to the bags that he’d brought in.

  “Okay,” I said. “What’s going on with all of this stuff?”

  “Well,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s Christmas. And what’s Christmas without a tree?”

  The man had a point. And it was a really nice tree at that—small but full, with a classic “Christmassy” shape to it.

  “And what about all that?” I asked, gesturing to the bags.

  The smile on his face suggested he’d been waiting for me to ask.

  “Okay,” he said as he stepped over to them. “I was thinking about our plane ride over, and how nice it was.”

  “Sure,” I said, agreeing.

  “But something had been missing. So, I went and found it.”

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a glass jug of something white that appeared to be milk but wasn’t—closer to beige in color, with black flecks. The label on the bottle was in Portuguese, so that was no help.

  Then it hit me.

  “Is that…”

  “Eggnog,” he said. “Not easy to find on Christmas morning in Rio, but I can be resourceful when I want to be.”

  “You certainly can,” I said. “You found stores that were open?”

  “Believe it or not, I did. Had to go a little into the city to find them, though.”

  I had to admit it—I was impressed.

  He reached in the bag and pulled out another bottle, this one more ornate and full of a brown liquid.

  “And if you’re feeling it later, we can always add a secret ingredient.”

  “Brandy?” I asked.

  “You got it.”

  I could already almost taste it—the rich creaminess of the eggnog and the sharp spice of the brandy.

  “A little right now?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said, grinning.

  He poured us each a glass and handed one to me, raising his own for a toast.

  “To a wonderful Christmas,” he said with a smile.

  “To a…Feliz Natal,” I replied, remembering the words from our adventure last night.

  We tapped our glassed and sipped. Damn, it was good. Maybe even as good as homemade.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  “Nope. Just been sipping on coffee since I woke up.”

  “Perfect. Because—”

  Another knock at the door cut him off.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  He stepped over to the door and opened it up. On the other side was a hotel employee, a white-cloth-topped food cart at his side. The man wheeled in the cart and Adam thanked and paid him. I could tell by the man’s reaction that whatever Adam tipped was very generous.

  Once he was gone Adam continued.

  “Now,” he said. “I told you last night that my dad was something of a workaholic.”

  “Right.”

  “But he was always very, very big on breakfast—especially Sunday breakfasts and holiday breakfasts. And he actually cooked them.”

  The lids were still on the trays so I couldn’t see what they were, but I could smell delicious meat and…something else.

  “And my favorite was what he called the ‘working man’s breakfast’—something that was supposed to give you energy for the day. Since we’ve got a whole day ahead of us, I figured it’d be both in keeping with the holidays and a practical idea.”

  “I can’t argue with that stellar reasoning.”

  At my words, Adam lifted the lids of the food, revealing two delicious-looking plates of eggs, bacon, sliced fruit, and pancakes. The smell was incredible, and the hunger that I’d been ignoring all morning arrived with a vengeance. It took all the restraint I had to not drool.

  “Part of me was thinking that we ought to do something a little more ‘Brazilian’ for Christmas breakfast, b
ut you can’t go wrong with all-American, huh?”

  The food looked so good that I could barely set aside the brainpower to speak.

  “You’re right,” I finally got out, my eyes still on the food.

  “Okay,” he said. “Then let’s get to it because there’s still more.”

  “More?”

  He nodded.

  “Christmas surprise.”

  I was undeniably curious, but I was also really, really hungry. Adam set the plates on the table and I dug right in.

  God, it was as good as it looked. The eggs were fluffy and cheesy, the bacon was the perfect amount of crispiness, and the pancakes drenched in syrup were a total dream.

  “This is amazing,” I said, taking in the eggnog and the breakfast and the tree. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t need to say anything. Just enjoy.”

  I turned and gave his arm a soft squeeze.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  My hand lingered on his arm long enough for me to note how solid his muscles were. The discovery sent a blush to my cheeks and caused me to pull my arm back quickly—which was embarrassing in and of itself. But if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  “You’re my Secret Santa,” I said.

  “Nothing secret about it,” he replied. “And besides, for me to really be a Santa, I’d have to have brought you a present.”

  I took one more bite of my pancakes before setting my fork down and waving my hand through the air.

  “This is more than enough,” I said. “You’ve already outdone yourself.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, setting his fork down. “So, hypothetically, if I were to have bought you a little something, you’d tell me to take it back?”

  “Adam,” I said. “I mean Mr. Forde. I hope you’re not saying what I think you are.”

  “Isla. You should know by now that ‘Adam’ is fine.”

  He took one more sip of coffee before getting up and stepping over to the bags. After a little rustling around, he reached in and pulled something out—a shoebox.

  “I couldn’t help but think about your impressive display last night,” he said. “And how I’ve never met a woman who could successfully tame a wild beast like that.”