Boss's Christmas Seduction

by Yvonne Lindsay

  The day passed in a blur. A blur peppered by Janet’s excitedly related story about how she had met some wonderful holiday squeeze at New Year. Holly tried to summon the energy to be happy for her, but failed miserably. Instead, she struggled to focus on the work at hand—a particularly sensitive contract that Connor had dictated specific alterations to.

  She worked long into the evening on the document, heedful that Knight Enterprises expected to close this deal with a major public fanfare and had courted both print and television media for some time about releasing the details. Her head and neck ached with the strain of sitting at her computer station without a break. While Janet had brought her several cups of tea during the day, more often than not they’d cooled in the mug unnoticed as her fingers continued to fly over the keyboard.

  “Here you are, Miss Christmas. I know you’ve hardly taken a break today so I thought you might need something to eat.”

  Holly lifted her attention from the bundle of papers on her desk to smile her thanks to Janet. Her words hovered precariously at the edge of her lips as the smoked mussel salad, a specialty from the restaurant in the complex at the base of the tower and enticingly presented on the boardroom’s best china, sent her stomach on a sudden looping roller-coaster ride.

  “How thoughtful. Thank you, Janet.” She managed, swallowing against the nauseating metallic taste that flooded her mouth. She hastily averted her eyes. “Will you excuse me? I think I need to freshen up a bit first.”

  “Are you okay? You’ve gone awfully pale.”

  “Yes—yes. I’m fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” Her ears roared, and the back of her neck felt as though it was encased in a cold, clammy grip as she forced the words past her lips and swept around the side of her desk.

  Stay down, stay down, stay down. She said the words over and over in her mind, praying the silent mantra would help her maintain her equilibrium until she made it to the ladies’room.

  Thankfully the stalls were all empty, and Holly slammed and locked the door behind her and dropped to her knees, her hands clutching the cold porcelain as if her life depended on it while she dry-retched over the bowl.

  With watering eyes and shaky hands, she tore off a few squares of toilet paper and wiped at her face. When would this end? She’d have to see a doctor soon. If she didn’t get on top of things, she couldn’t visit Andrea, and as much as she’d wanted to deny the specialist’s report and ignore the sorrow in his eyes as he’d delivered the latest news, she knew she wouldn’t have her precious friend much longer.

  Holly’s chest tightened painfully at the admission before she resolutely pushed the thought aside. She couldn’t deal with that now. Some things were just too much to bear. She hauled herself upright and leaned back against the door while she waited for the dizziness to subside, which finally, thankfully, it did.

  Janet had returned to her own desk by the time Holly reemerged on the scene. Without looking too closely at the contents of the plate, she lifted it from her desk and took it to the kitchenette off their office suite, hastily dumping the contents in the plastic-lined bin and throwing a few paper towels over the top for good measure.

  She settled herself back at her desk, trying to make sense of the scattered words on her screen.

  Connor came out of his office and leaned against her desk. “Are you okay? Janet said you weren’t looking too well a minute ago.”

  “She’s exaggerating, really. I’ll be fine.”

  “Whatever, it’s time you called it a day. You look shattered.”

  “The contract’s almost complete. If you’re sure you don’t need me…?” The words she’d left unspoken trailed away into nothing at the fire that blazed dark and hungry in eyes that all day had been as cold and glittering hard as obsidian.

  “Need you, Holly?” Cynicism curled his lips, and she futilely wished her words unsaid.

  “Right, I’ll be off then.” She severed eye contact, hastily gathered up her things and switched her monitor off.

  “Before you go, come into my office.” He didn’t wait for a response.

  All the remaining energy she had left within her sagged from her body in a whoosh. Holly steadied herself against her desk struggling to summon the reserves she needed to face him again.

  “Yes?” she enquired as she hovered in the doorway.

  “Come in and close the door.”

  Her nerves jangled as she did as instructed and came further into his office. She averted her eyes from his desk and the view beyond it. Holly didn’t think she’d ever be able to walk in here again and not see the two of them, their reflections as starkly painted in her mind’s eye as they’d been in the glass reflection that night only a few weeks ago.

  “Take a seat,” Connor instructed firmly.

  “I’d prefer to stand. This will only take a minute, won’t it?”

  “That all depends,” he answered.

  “Depends? On what?” Holly clenched the straps of her handbag so tight her fingers hurt.

  Connor came closer and took her by the elbow, leading her firmly to the long sofa at the end of his office. “Sit.”

  She sat, perched at the edge, and pulled her legs away slightly as Connor loomed over her.

  Holly looked about as frightened as a deer caught in a hunter’s sights, Connor realised. What was she hiding? He’d tried several times during her holiday to contact her, but she didn’t answer her phone at home and when he’d driven by she hadn’t come to the door.

  There was nothing for it but to cut straight to the chase, he decided. “Why are you sick?”

  “What?”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “No!” Holly shot to her feet and swayed slightly, her face bleached white at the sudden movement.

  Connor pushed her back down in the chair and lowered himself next to her. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck, like a trapped bird, against the alabaster of her skin.

  Most people came back from their summer holiday tanned and rested. Holly’s skin, usually filled with a warm glow that had nothing to do with sunshine was now wan and sallow, and unhealthy shadows underscored her eyes.

  “Are you sure? You’ve seen a doctor?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I would never make a mistake about something like that. Never!”

  Her vehement response took him aback. He rose from the couch and went to pour a glass of water from the cut-crystal carafe on the antique sideboard against the wall. Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, sending a surge blazing up his arm. The weeks apart hadn’t dulled the edge of his hunger for her. If anything, the aching need to be with her again was even stronger.

  “What’s wrong then?” he pressed. “You haven’t been sick once in the three years you’ve worked for me.”

  “Something I ate this week hasn’t agreed with me. That’s all.”

  “You’ve been sick for a week?”

  “I’ve only been feeling a bit off colour for a day or two. I’m sure it’ll pass soon.”

  “Take tomorrow off.”

  “That’s quite unnecessary, it’s just a mild tummy bug. Now, if that’s all you wanted me for…?” Holly stood, more slowly than before, and walked towards the door. There was no legitimate reason he could keep her here any longer.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  She stopped and turned. “I beg your pardon?”

  The words had sprung from his mouth before he’d had time to consider them fully, but now he’d had a second or two to turn the idea over in his mind it sounded like a good one.

  He rose and walked over to her. “Have dinner with me. I know you’ve barely eaten all day and you must be starving. Just something simple, okay?”

  Holly’s stomach growled in response. She grimaced and placed a hand over her abdomen, a movement that caught Connor’s eye. Quickly she let her arm drop. It wouldn’t do to give him any further ridiculous ideas.

  “I should get going, I’ll miss my bus.”

  “Damn it, Hol
ly. I’ll take you home. What kind of man do you think I am? I’m not asking you to leap into bed with me!” Although the prospect of doing just that painted a vivid image of the two of them—naked, together—with such sharp clarity his entire body tensed. He held his breath waiting for her to reply. Her determinedly obvious inaccessibility had made him begin to question why it was so important to him that she say yes. All he knew was since that night, here in his office and upstairs in his bed, he’d wanted more of her in every way. It wasn’t enough to have her working at her desk outside his office. He wanted her by his side. In his bed.

  “Yes, all right.”

  Just like that? He had to put his libido on hold and double take on what she had agreed to. With unaccustomed sluggishness his brain finally caught up and overcame the raw desire that surged with a seething hunger.

  “Great. Let’s go, then.”

  Traffic was light along the Auckland waterfront at this time of the evening. Hundreds of walkers, joggers and families on their bikes were still out enjoying the warm summer evening despite the encroaching night. Connor pulled his car into a car park that fronted onto the beach at Mission Bay.

  “Let’s take a walk along the beach before we have dinner,” he suggested, and took Holly’s hand, guiding her towards the promenade.

  It was a gorgeous evening. The last of the sun’s rays spread in a flash of darkest red through to the palest orange. The light reflected across the gentle sea in the harbour. Seagulls wheeled and dived through the air, shrieking their strident cry as they scouted out for the nearest scrap of food. Mission Bay was easy pickings for any bird, including the fat pigeons that cooed and strutted along the path by the sea wall.

  Bit by bit Holly began to relax and started to feel a lot better. The fresh air and gentle exercise seemed to be doing her good, and her appetite had quadrupled by the time they’d meandered past the massive fountain at the centre of the domain and crossed the main road towards the plethora of restaurants on the other side.

  “How do you feel about Italian? If you’d prefer, we can take a table on the pavement.”

  “That’d be great, thank you.” Without realizing it, he’d given her the perfect opportunity to avoid the aromas that permeated the interior of the restaurant. Outside, the light breeze would ensure her sensitive stomach didn’t overreact.

  Either they were extremely lucky, or Connor Knight had a way with the maître d’ because miraculously, and despite being very busy, a table for two was available.

  “White wine or red?” Connor asked as he perused the wine list.

  Her taste buds soured at the thought of drinking wine. “I’ll stick with water tonight.”

  “Good idea. Me too. We’ll have two of these.” He pointed to the New Zealand branded bottled spring water on the list and handed it back to the waiter.

  “So, do you come here often?” Holly broke the silence that had settled between them.

  Connor laughed, the spontaneous sound lighting a warm ember deep inside her chest. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

  Holly smiled weakly in response. Okay, as conversation starters went it had been a bit weak, but there was no rule book to cover polite conversation with your boss over a late dinner—especially when one heated look from him was enough to set up a chain reaction inside her that had nothing to do with pain. Except, perhaps, the pain of denial.

  Connor continued, “It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but the food’s always been very good. What do you feel like?” He flicked a glance at her over the top of his menu.

  You. Holly suddenly put her fingers over her mouth. Oh, God, she hadn’t said that aloud had she?

  “The fish looks good. If your stomach’s still a bit weak you might find that light enough.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, that sounds great. I’ll have the poached terakihi and a salad.”

  The waiter rematerialised to take their orders, Connor placed her order and chose scaloppini for himself.

  “You used to work in the typing pool, right?” His question, out of the blue, startled her.

  “Yes,” she replied cautiously.

  “You were such an earnest young thing.”

  Surprised he’d even noticed her back then, Holly just nodded. Connor stroked the condensation from the side of his glass with one long finger. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the movement, nor bring herself to take a sip of her water to relieve her suddenly very dry throat.

  “What made you decide to become a PA? I would’ve thought you’d have gone for a degree at the university. Law, maybe.”

  As idly curious as his comment was, all Holly’s shutters came racing down. She’d held her cards so close to her chest for so long now it had become second nature. If you shared nothing, you couldn’t lay yourself open to ridicule or worse, pity. While part of her ached to tell Connor more about her past, the lines, as she knew them, had been clearly delineated many years ago. In life there were the “haves” and the “have nots.” Those lines weren’t made to be crossed.

  “I thought about it,” she admitted, pushing a piece of fish around her plate with her fork, “but I decided I’d rather get my teeth into a job where I could start earning straightaway.”

  She would have given anything to complete a degree at Auckland University, but in her world there had been no well-heeled parents to supplement a student loan. If she was to get anywhere in life it would be on her own, just like she’d been since the day her mother had left her.

  “Money’s that important to you you’d give up doing something you really wanted?”

  Holly’s throat closed. Something she really wanted? All her plans—what she’d wanted—to save enough money to start an investigation into who she really was and where she’d come from—had come unstuck with the onset of the latter stages of Andrea’s illness when Holly had assumed responsibility for the financial maintenance of Andrea’s care. She owed it to her foster sister, and more. Andrea had been the one person who’d stuck up for her and who’d forced her to take a long hard look at what had become self-destructive behaviour. She owed her foster sister her very existence. Looking after Andrea, for however much longer she lived, was something Holly was bound by both love and honour to do.

  “You can’t deny that money is important. Look at your own family.” She attempted to deflect his attention from herself. “I’ve heard the stories about how hard your dad worked when you were just a boy. You don’t build a corporation like Knights without a lot of hard work. He never had any degree.”

  “True. But it came at a far bigger cost than just money. He was a stranger to us while we were growing up. When our mother died, it was like he’d died, too, for all we saw him. Believe me, Holly, money isn’t everything.”

  “And so says the man who has everything.” Holly couldn’t stop the bitter words from escaping her mouth and desperately wished them unsaid when she saw his face. His eyes glittered darkly and his lips settled in a straight line.

  “Not everything, Holly. Some things you can’t buy.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Come on, it’s getting late and you look like you’ve done about ten rounds in the boxing ring. I’ll take you home.”

  Six

  Connor stared out the window of his penthouse apartment, watching as the world hurtled by regardless of the late hour. Try as he might, he couldn’t get Holly out of his mind. What was it with him and women that it always came down to money? She’d made no bones about how important money was to her, yet, if that was the case, why did she live where and how she did? She was a conundrum. One he had every intention of figuring out even though logic told him he should just forget their night together, as she had so conveniently managed to do.

  Logic could take a hike.

  He turned from the window and flipped open his cell. One press of a quick-dial would take him a step closer to the answers he needed.

  The summarised report, when it came throu
gh to his private fax line in the morning, did little to calm his disquiet. It was clear Holly had major financial issues, not least of which were large sums of money being paid out on a very regular basis—most of her wages in fact. No wonder she lived in such squalid conditions. Something, or someone, drained every dollar she earned. The only savings account she’d had was well in the past, and it had been cleared out completely several months ago. But all the financial information aside, the report did nothing to shed any light on exactly who she was.

  The memory of the conversation he’d overhead between Holly and another person yesterday tickled at the back of his mind. She had financial pressure from somewhere, but where? Was it gambling, or worse?

  He called his private investigator again.

  “I need you to go deeper. Find out who she is, where she’s from. Everything. I don’t care how long it takes.”

  Holly let herself into the house and locked the door behind her before making her way to the bathroom. The past week had been interminable. Wearying queasiness still plagued her and kept her from visiting Andrea. While the staff at the hospital understood, it didn’t help assuage the guilt she felt at not being able to be there herself.

  To make matters worse, not only had she been sick at work again but this time Janet had seen her and had been full of overwhelming fuss. To gain some respite, Holly had agreed to Janet’s suggestion that she should go home for the day. Connor was tied up in a video conference call when she’d gathered her things and headed for the door. The last thing she’d needed had been his concern, as well.

  As she’d searched for change for the bus in the bottom of her bag she’d come across the emergency sanitary items she kept in a small cosmetic purse. Connor’s question from last week rung hollowly in her ears. She’d been adamant at the time that she couldn’t be pregnant, but could she? Really? She couldn’t hide from the possibility any longer.

  Holly put the pharmacy packet she’d brought home onto the vanity of her tiny bathroom and removed its contents. The instructions were simple. Too simple really, when it was something so terrifyingly important. She followed the steps to the letter, then paced the tiny confines of room like a caged animal, an analogy that rang a little too close to the truth for her comfort.