Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  Turning slightly, I look up.

  And freeze.

  The person standing in front of our table is the last woman that I expected to see.

  17

  Clark

  Mave stiffens in shock. Thick black eyebrows slash above widening eyes. His lips quiver into a frown of dismay and then eventually flatten.

  My gaze darts from Mave to the woman standing at our table. She’s about my height, but she’s far more elegant and proper.

  Slender, veiny fingers clutch a Louis Vuitton purse. A tweed blazer and pencil skirt with red trim hugs her pudgy figure. Grey hair, swooped up into an elaborate bun, is fastened by a silver clip.

  Blue eyes grip Mave in a chokehold.

  I blink rapidly, leaning forward to scan her face again.

  She looks familiar.

  Pink smears her thin lips and soft, coral makeup brings out the hue of her eyes. When she turns to me, I catch a full glimpse of her face and a lightbulb goes off.

  Leanne Antaya.

  Her face was plastered over every brochure at my bakery training. She’s a billionaire wrapped in Louis Vuitton and I can barely believe that she’s standing in front of us.

  “Excuse me,” Leanne slides her glasses off with a sophisticated sweep of her hand, “may I have a seat?”

  “Gr—” Mave stops himself and gives me a funny look before returning his focus to Leanne. “Ma’am.” He speaks in a tight voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for our meeting, of course.”

  My eyes bug. “You had a meeting with Leanne Antaya today?”

  “I didn’t,” Mave mutters back.

  “He did,” Leanne supplies smartly.

  Mave purses his lips.

  “I asked my secretary to get in touch with you.”

  Mave sends Leanne the evil eye. “And I told him that I wouldn’t be available today.”

  I smack the back of his hand.

  He jumps in surprise.

  “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? This woman owns our bakery. She owns the entire franchise.” My words tumble from clenched teeth. “You need to watch your tone.”

  Leanne Antaya grins.

  At me.

  Is this really happening?

  My heart sings.

  Mave pulls his hand away and hides it under the table. “I’m just pointing out the truth. It’s my day off.”

  “I’m a busy woman.” Leanne shrugs breezily. “This was the only day I was free to meet you. I explained all that through my secretary.”

  Mave crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Sorry. I don’t work on weekends.”

  Is he serious? “If Leanne Antaya wants to have a meeting on Sunday, she’ll have one,” I scold him. “Why are you acting like this?”

  Mave levels me a stubborn glare I don’t want to.

  I deliver a scathing look of my own what is wrong with you?

  He juts his chin down in aggravation I could ask you the same thing.

  I swish my head at Leanne have some respect.

  Mave narrows his eyes in response.

  When I glance up, I notice Leanne watching us both intently. Like we’re some puzzle she can’t figure out.

  “Have a seat, ma’am.” Pushing up, I start to scoot out of the booth. “I wasn’t aware of your business meeting. I’ll leave you both to it.”

  “Where are you going?” Mave’s eyes follow me.

  “Home.” I hold out a hand when he begins to protest. “It’s fine. I’ll catch a taxi.”

  “Stay.” He snatches my wrist, keeping me in place.

  I shake my hand. Try to dislodge him. “Mave.”

  “This won’t take long.” He gives Leanne a pointed look. Shifting his gaze back to me, he lowers his voice. “Will you wait for me?”

  Leanne rests her chin on top of folded hands. Her stare becomes more assessing as she gives me a once-over.

  My options charge through my mind in a blink. Something tells me that if I insist on going home, Mave is going to do something colossally stupid.

  Like ditch the Leanne Antaya and drive me back to my place.

  To save his hide, I decide to play along. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Don’t run away.”

  “I won’t.”

  His stare hardens with suspicion.

  “I mean it. I’ll be right here.”

  Mave breaks out into a brilliant smile that’s too gorgeous to be legal. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Take your time.” I scoot away from them.

  Just outside their booth, a tall, broad-shouldered older man stands with his hands clasped together. I figure he’s Leanne Antaya’s bodyguard. He’s close enough to be nearby if Leanne calls but far enough away that he’s giving them privacy.

  He’s the opposite of unassuming with those giant muscles not-so-hidden beneath a fancy black suit. His dark eyes follow me as I draw near.

  To my surprise, he gestures to the bar. “If you order anything, tell them to put it on the Antaya tab. It’ll be paid for.”

  “Really?” I blurt.

  He just stares straight ahead.

  I glance back at Leanne Antaya. She’s speaking to Mave in hushed tones. He, in turn, sits casually in front of her, one arm on the back of the chair and a leg up on his knee.

  Irritation bursts to life in my chest.

  This man.

  He really has no understanding of authority.

  Maybe they had a free-for-all in his Caribbean office, but he’s in front of Leanne freaking Antaya. Any regular person would be sweating bullets to have a one-on-one with her.

  Forcing my gaze to the bodyguard, I shake my head. “No thanks. I’ll pay for my own drink.”

  He nods and steps back as if he’s said his piece and now I no longer exist to him. Feeling dismissed, I stride to the bar with my head held high and my heart sinking low.

  Something about all this seems odd.

  The way that bodyguard spoke to me rubs me the wrong way. It’s almost as if he’s said that a hundred times to a hundred different girls.

  Leanne Antaya was strange too. I know that Mave is the manager of our branch and that Leanne Antaya prides herself on knowing her franchisees personally, but the way she looked at him was far too familiar and even… affectionate.

  I think about Leanne’s bemused expression when Mave held my hand.

  Does she think we’re dating?

  Gosh, I hope not.

  The last thing I need is Leanne thinking I’m playing around with my manager.

  Even if I definitely, one hundred percent want to play around with my manager.

  When I called Mave earlier, I was so pissed off at Levonte that I couldn’t breathe. For a while in the car, all I could think about was the fact that my sister was falling into a trap again.

  But slowly, as I began to calm down, I grew more and more aware of Mave.

  The way the sun turned his eyes to a lighter brown.

  The way his hair looked full and glossy enough for a shampoo commercial.

  The patient, attentive way he took care of me.

  We’re just friends.

  If only my foolish body could remember that.

  Mave and I shared one mind-blowingly amazing kiss.

  But that’s it.

  I’m being a good girl and keeping my hands to myself, even if it’s been tough. Even if I desperately want to drape myself all over him and drag my fingers down every inch of his deliciously chiseled skin.

  I’d hate to go through all this trouble to resist Mave only to be misunderstood by Leanne.

  Some sacrifices must be acknowledged.

  Like my appearance, for example. After frantically agonizing over what to wear, I chose a simple T-shirt and jeans. My makeup isn’t anything too fancy either.

  Everything about me says hey, I’m not thinking about my boss naked. You’re thinking about him naked.

  There’s no way Leanne and her bodyguard would have seen through me, right?


  I peer over my shoulder and sneak another look at Mave.

  Leanne’s gesturing with her hands. The rings on her fingers glint in the sunlight. Whatever she’s talking about, she seems quite passionate.

  Mave smiles. Runs a hand through his hair. Leans back.

  I’m across the room and about to turn the bend, but I’m still shaken by his grin.

  That man should come with some kind of warning.

  Guaranteed to make hearts and panties combust.

  It’s strange, but I feel closer to him now.

  He’s easy to talk to.

  And he’s even confiding in me.

  Mave finally shared his reasons for hating Christmas and it is heartbreaking. I want to bundle him close to my chest and keep him safe.

  The only problem is… Mave is over six feet of pure sex appeal and if I bring him anywhere near my chest, it’ll be to do more than comfort him.

  My cheeks burn with heat.

  Get your mind out of the gutter, Clark.

  I pause behind a plant and peer at Mave and Leanne again.

  Now, Leanne’s holding his hand and squeezing. Is she that friendly with all her managers? Why do I still feel like something’s off?

  As I spy on them, the bodyguard slides into my line of sight, blocking Mave and Leanne from view. I have no idea how he caught me staring and I don’t stick around to find out.

  Hightailing it toward the bar, I fall into a seat and check behind me to make sure the mobster-lookalike hasn’t given chase.

  The coast is clear.

  I let out a breath of relief.

  “This seat taken?” a deep voice rumbles from my left.

  I whip around to find a tall man staring at me.

  The first thing I notice are his brilliant silver eyes. I’m half-convinced they’re contacts, but the no-nonsense business suit and sturdy watch on his hand hints that he’s not the colored-contacts-on-the-job type.

  In his lean fingers, he grips a briefcase that he clutches to his side like it’s got the blueprints to a bank vault. He licks his lips a few times and the nervous habit is, oddly, endearing. Like there’s a sweet, humble man beneath all that hotness.

  He smooths his tie—a plain red, no patterns—and gestures to the chair next to me. “Ma’am?”

  I jump, realizing I’ve been rudely staring. “Oh yeah. Have a seat.” I swing my legs the other way and arch an eyebrow. “Wait, did you just call me ‘ma’am’?”

  “Uh…” His mouth falls open.

  “I do not look that old.”

  “You don’t.” He flashes a grin that belongs on some giant billboard out in the middle of the city. “I’d say we’re around the same age.”

  “You’d say?”

  “You can correct me.”

  “If that’s your way of fishing for the number, a lady never tells.”

  He grins. Holds out a hand. “Austin.”

  “Clark.” I shake it.

  “Well, Clark, as a token of my sincerest apologies, can I buy you a drink?”

  “How about I buy you one?”

  “Me?” He smirks.

  “As a token of my forgiveness.”

  He laughs loudly and it makes me smile.

  “I suppose if we buy each other a drink, it cancels out.”

  “If your math is correct.” I nod at the bartender.

  Austin gets comfortable in the chair beside me. “Well, I would hope my math is correct or all my student loan payments are for nothing.”

  “You studied math.”

  “Something like that.”

  “You don’t look like a math teacher.” I give him a head-to-toe scan. To be honest, if my math teacher had looked anything like Austin, I would have paid way more attention in the subject.

  “Accountant, actually.”

  I tilt my head. “Lost your job?”

  “I look unemployed?”

  “Since we’re dealing in assumptions, I’m going to say yes. You’re sitting at a bar on a Sunday morning with your briefcase. Every so often, your eyes jump around.” I gesture to the dining room. “Like you’re waiting on someone.”

  “I’m supposed to meet my new boss here in about an hour.”

  “An hour.” My eyes widen. “So I was wrong.”

  He smirks. “Sort of. I’m not unemployed. What I am is really early.”

  “Desperately so,” I tease.

  “This is a huge opportunity. I’m guilty of being overeager.” He chuckles.

  I thank the bartender when he brings my drink and turn fully to Austin. “Do businesspeople often have meetings on Sundays?” I think about Mave and Leanne. “That seems to be happening a lot. Or maybe I’m just observing it now.”

  “It’s the beauty of the rat race.”

  “Don’t you guys take a day off?”

  “Day offs are for people with a steady income. When you’re trying to get your business off the ground…” He shrugs.

  “A freelancing accountant. I’ve never met one of you before.”

  “We can often be found in our natural habitat, next to the calculator and the asthma inhaler.” His dry smile punctuates the statement.

  I snicker. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “I know what you meant.” His answering smile is warm. “We’re not all squares, you know.”

  “Blame the media. They’ve painted you math nerds in such broad strokes, all I have to go on are stereotypes.”

  “You just called me a nerd to my face?” He scrunches his nose in mock hurt.

  “If it helps, you’re the cutest nerd I’ve ever met.”

  “Why thank you, Clark.” His smile deepens to reveal a dimple in his cheek.

  I glance away, surprised to find myself getting flustered. “So a potential client told you to meet them on a Sunday and you didn’t try to reschedule? Shouldn’t you put your foot down at the start. Make your standards known?”

  “Hey, I don’t question orders. I just show up when I’m told and hope I can pay the lease on my office.” He lifts his drink to me.

  I lift mine in response.

  He takes a sip and sighs deeply, his gaze running over me. “Is it my turn to make assumptions?”

  “Fire away.” I throw my hand out.

  “You’re here on a Sunday morning, sitting alone at the bar after being dumped by your truck-driving boyfriend last night on your anniversary.”

  “That’s oddly specific. What do you have against truck drivers?”

  “Nothing.” He arches an eyebrow. “Am I right?”

  “Wrong. I’m not here alone and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  He leans forward. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “That I’m alone or that I’m single?”

  “Both.”

  “Don’t tell me you concocted that ridiculous scenario just to find out if I was taken.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” His eyes sparkle.

  I laugh under my breath, certain that he’s messing with me. A guy who looks like Austin is definitely dating or at least in a ‘situation-ship’.

  His eyes study me intently and I glance away, still smiling. I’ve got my hands full tackling my growing feelings for Mave and, as flattering as Austin’s attention is, I can only handle one gorgeous hunk at a time.

  Austin leans closer to me, his lips parting.

  I smile curiously, waiting for him to crack another joke.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting,” a dark, angry voice growls behind me.

  I whirl in my chair, my eyes landing on Mave.

  He’s standing beside Leanne, feet shoulder-length apart and thick fingers curling into fists. He glares a hole into Austin’s head, a furious flush stealing across his high cheekbones.

  “Mave,” I whisper in shock.

  And maybe just a little guilt.

  Austin shoots to his feet, his jaw slacking. “Mrs. Antaya.”

  “Mr. Covington.” Leanne blinks rapidly.

  Mave snarls at Leanne, pointing
a finger in Austin’s direction. “You know this guy?”

  “Austin, this is the manager I was telling you about.” Leanne lifts her chin at the man fuming beside her. “And Mave, this is your new accountant.”

  18

  Mave

  Six minutes and fifty seconds ago, I was sitting around the table with Gran, watching Clark walk away from our booth.

  Her heels clicked against the tiles with every step. Honey-blonde hair bounced against slim shoulders as she moved. Slender fingers gripped the strap of her purse tightly and I wondered if she was upset.

  “Mave, we need to talk,” Gran said.

  “Yeah,” I murmured, but my gaze was still on Clark.

  Her head hit her chest in despondency.

  The curve of her cheek revealed a hint of her downturned lips.

  She was frowning.

  Is she okay?

  I debated if I should ditch this meeting and take off with her. Run away with her to a place where the world wouldn’t barge in and steal her from me.

  I missed her already.

  A pang hit my chest.

  Empty.

  That’s how I felt.

  Having Clark’s hand in mine was like sitting next to sunlight. Now that she was gone, the cold crept through my jacket and under my skin.

  I had no idea when I’d started craving her presence, but one moment without her felt like a moment too long.

  Clark kept walking and I kept debating.

  Should I go? Should I stay?

  I started to rise. Who knew what kind of trouble she’d get into?

  Or what kind of trouble would follow her.

  Clark could win a man’s heart just by breathing in his direction.

  Heads swiveled to take her in as she moved. Beady eyes devoured her body in a thirsty sweep.

  She didn’t even notice, but she didn’t have to do anything to be noticed.

  Her body did the talking for her.

  Her hips swayed like a damn model on a catwalk. Those lips could bring a man to his knees, could make him offer his life, his bank account and his last name.

  She was too damn irresistible.

  My fingers balled into a fist.

  I wanted to throw punches at all the guys who eyed her, but I’d first have to aim one at myself.

  The desperation with which I wanted Clark could not be described in words. The more time I spent with her, the closer I wanted to be.