by Lori Foster
Maggie scrambled off the bed and stood before him, the sheet held in front of her. “I won’t let anyone insult you, Eric, I swear!”
A grin flickered over Eric’s firm mouth. “Ready to defend me, huh?” He touched her chin. “I can handle gossip, sweetheart. I just don’t want it to hurt you.”
Heart pounding, she said, “I can handle it—as long as you can.”
“Then we’re agreed.” He cupped her face and kissed the end of her nose. “Now, about the company…”
“You don’t have to worry that I’ll make you responsible. I’m going to sell my shares. I don’t want to be tied to the business so much. I have … other interests right now. And Daddy was only trying to make me happy—”
“You’re not selling the shares.”
Her brows lifted. “I’m not?”
“No. I’ll run things for you.” His expression was so intent, she squirmed. “If…” he said, emphasizing that one word beyond what was necessary, “if you’ll marry me.”
Maggie caught her breath. Slowly, to make certain she understood, she asked, “You’re willing to take the extra shares off my hands—”
“No. The company will remain yours.”
“But…”
“I won’t have people saying you were part of a bargain, Maggie, that I married you for the company. I want it clear that I want you for you, not for the added benefits.”
“Do you … see the company as a benefit?”
He shrugged. “I always assumed I would one day be in charge.”
“But you don’t want that.” Maggie felt swamped in sudden confusion.
“Not true. It’s just that I wanted you more.” His voice dropped, became seductive. “Much, much more than any damn company.”
“Oh.”
Eric sat on the bed and pulled her into his lap—after he tossed the concealing sheet aside. Cupping her breast and watching intently as he thumbed her nipple into readiness, he said, “Just as you say you used to daydream about me, I sure as hell dreamed about you. I planned to make my intentions known after you graduated, except so many things happened then. You lost Drake and inherited a company. Everything got confused. You were missing your father, and I assumed, judging by your competence, that you enjoyed running the company. I thought if I came after you then, you’d never be certain what it was I wanted.”
Maggie searched his face, almost afraid to believe. “But you wanted … me?”
“God, Maggie.” Eric squeezed her tight, and his voice sounded raw with emotion. “I wanted you to the point I about went crazy.” He kissed her, then kissed her again.
Big tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked hard to fight them off. “I was so afraid you’d never ever notice me. I tried everything. I thought if I was more sophisticated, if I showed you I wasn’t a kid anymore, you’d stop ignoring me.”
Eric riffled a hand through her hair. “I love you, Maggie. Exactly as you are, any way you want to be.”
Maggie wanted things clarified about the company, but Eric returned to her mouth, and his hand on her breast was lightly teasing, and she felt him hardening against her bottom. She decided further discussion could wait.
* * *
Eric rolled over and reached for her, but she wasn’t there. A heady contentment had him smiling even before he was completely awake. Maggie was now his. Once his eyes were fully open, he saw that it was still night. Where had Maggie gone?
He left the bed, shivering as the cool night air washed over his naked body. Before leaving her bedroom, he pulled on his slacks, but didn’t bother buttoning or zipping them.
Creeping silently down the steps and into the living room, he found Maggie at her desk, writing by the lights of the Christmas tree and her laptop. Her beautiful silky hair tumbled around her face, and she’d donned the same soft robe, though sloppily, so that one shoulder was mostly exposed. The twinkling lights of the tree reflected in her big dark eyes while the eerie glow of moon-washed snow outside the French doors framed her in an opalescent halo.
She was absorbed in her writing, oblivious to her surroundings, and didn’t notice him. Eric lounged against the wall watching her. So precious. A grin tugged at his mouth as he wondered exactly what scene she was working on now.
The sprig of mistletoe that he’d brought from the office lay on the desk beside her.
“Getting the facts down while they’re still fresh in your mind?”
With a yelp, she jerked her head up to stare at him. “Eric! What are you doing down here?”
He strolled toward her, still smiling, filled with contentment and masculine satisfaction. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
She pushed her chair back and stood, then glanced at her laptop. Nervously she began to tidy her desk. She picked up the mistletoe. “I was just … too excited to sleep. I figured I might as well get some stuff done.”
“Mm-hmm.” Eric closed in on her and she turned her back to the desk, her hands clasped at her waist. The mistletoe crushed against her belly. “Ah, now, there’s an idea,” he said.
Maggie blinked. “What?”
He traced her stomach with one finger, edging underneath her robe. “I read part of your book at the office.”
Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut and she scowled.
“You’re incredibly talented.”
The scowl disappeared. “I am?”
He nodded. “I can’t wait to read the rest of it.” Eric met her eyes and asked, “Have you been using me for research?”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” she blustered, “I don’t—”
“Because I wouldn’t mind. At all.” He kissed her lips, her throat. Pressing his palm against her beneath the mistletoe, he said, “I kind of like the idea.”
A tad breathless, she said, “If you read the book, then you know we haven’t done all the things that the characters did.”
“But I’d sure like to.” His fingers searched her through the chenille. “And the guy in your book reminded me a lot of me.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve sold three books, Eric. This one will be my fourth. I’ve written about a doctor, a Navy SEAL, a car salesman, and now a businessman.”
Eric froze. “So who were the other guys?”
He watched her lips twitch into a smile. “They’re all you, at least in part.” Her beautiful brown eyes opened and she stared up at him. “They may not all look like you, but the qualities they have that make them interesting, that make them heroes women want to read about—those I get from you. Those are the things that are most important.”
Her words touched his heart. “I do love you, Maggie.”
With a crooked smile, she said, “And you like the way I write?”
“I think you’re incredible.” Slowly, deliberately teasing her, he dropped to his knees. “Will you let me read the rest?”
It took her a breathless moment to say, “When … when I’m finished with it.”
Eric parted the robe and pressed a kiss to her naked belly, just beneath the mistletoe now crushed in her hands. “And you’ll let me run the company for you?”
She dropped the mistletoe. It landed beside Eric’s knee. Bracing her hands on the edge of her desk at either side of her hips, she said, “Yes, thank you.”
Eric grinned. He used his thumbs to gently part her so he could kiss her where she’d feel it most. “And will you,” he asked against her hot flesh, “marry me, sweetheart?”
Her groan was long and loud and unselfconscious. “Yes.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Maggie,” he said, feeling her legs tense. “This is the best Christmas bonus I’ve ever gotten.”
EPILOGUE
Eric stood beside Maggie at the Christmas party as she called for everyone’s attention. He had no idea what she might do, but he intended to be beside her regardless.
She positively glowed, he thought, watching her dark eyes as she laughed and held up a hand—a hand that sported an engagement
ring she’d picked out yesterday. Her hair was pulled back by a red and green headband and she had tiny Christmas bows as earrings. Over her left breast, a miniature Santa head with a blinking red nose drew his attention. He loved it that she’d quickly given up her frumpy suits, and that she was every bit as energetic and enthusiastic as he remembered.
She was especially enthusiastic in bed. Eric had to chase those thoughts away, or be damned with a hard-on for the entire staff to see. He cleared his throat and concentrated on what Maggie was saying.
“This year,” she called out, “besides getting the Christmas bonus bucks and a ham, I’m giving everyone a share of company stock.”
Eyebrows lifted in surprise and a buzz of hushed conversation filled the hall. Eric stared at Maggie, floored by her declaration.
“It’s not much,” she explained, “but I didn’t want controlling shares, and Eric refused to take them off my hands. So now, he and I are equal partners in the company, and all of you have a stake in it as well. I know my father would have approved.”
Heads turned; everyone now staring at Eric. He chuckled, amused at Maggie’s way of settling any thoughts of gossip.
“And just for fun, I wanted you all to know”—she flashed the ring, her smile wide—“we’re getting married!”
A roar of applause took Eric by surprise. No one seemed the least surprised by her declaration, or suspicious of his motives. Maggie snuggled up against his side and he automatically slipped his arm around her.
Someone, he thought it might have been his secretary Janine, called out, “It’s about time,” and everyone laughed as if they all agreed.
Maggie put her hands on her hips and pretended to scowl. “How come none of you are surprised?” she asked, laughing.
Janine, accepting the role of leader, stepped forward at the encouragement of her fellow employees. “We’ve been taking bets,” she explained with a smile, “on when the engagement would take place. Everyone could see you were both in love.”
“You asked me out,” Eric accused her.
“We all did.” Janine shrugged, unrepentant. “We thought it might get Maggie moving. And that’s why the guys asked Maggie out—”
Eric narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who did that?” He scanned the crowd, but the men all started whistling and shuffling their feet, trying in vain to hide their humor. Maggie lightly punched Eric in the arm while laughing out loud.
The sound of her laughter never failed to turn him on. He wanted to get the party over with so he could take her home. “We’re officially engaged,” Eric stated, holding Maggie close, “so you can all keep your distance from her now. Understood?”
The men bobbed their heads, still grinning, while the women smiled indulgently.
Janine made a fist and waved it in the air. “A Christmas engagement. I win!”
Eric shook his head, then tipped up Maggie’s chin. “No, I win.” He didn’t need mistletoe to prompt him. Right there, in front of everyone, he kissed Maggie until her knees went weak—and no one had a single doubt that love had brought them together.
NAUGHTY UNDER THE MISTLETOE
Carly Phillips
To Mom and Dad
who made me believe I could do anything.
To Phil
who loves and supports me through everything. And
to Jackie and Jennifer
who make it all worthwhile.
CHAPTER ONE
Antonia Larson fastened the white fur anklet adorned by three silver bells and a green velvet bow, closing the accessory around her leg with a single snap. From the radio on the edge of her desk, a traditional Christmas carol ended and the Bruce Springsteen version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” now reverberated through her small office. Pulling her hat over her head and securing it with bobby pins, she hummed her own off-key rendition of her favorite Christmas tune. She twirled once, pleased with the jingling accompaniment to the gruff voice of The Boss.
If Santa was coming to town, he wasn’t going to find Toni being a good girl. Not this year. Not this night. Tonight she was a woman on a mission. A mission to seduce the man she’d been attracted to for too long. She planned to act on what was a physical attraction and indulge in a safe interlude she could easily walk away from when their time together was through. Something Stephan, the firm’s confirmed self-proclaimed bachelor, would appreciate and understand.
Because they’d been working closely as colleagues, acting on her desire had been impossible until now—but today had been her last day of work before the long holiday vacation. When she returned after the New Year, she’d be in the new suburban offices of Corbin and Sons. Work and office protocol no longer stood between them. Nothing did except her courage and the nice-girl role she’d played all her life. A role she could afford to let go of, at least this once.
After yet another night of tossing and turning for hours in her lonely double bed, she’d pulled out the December issue of the women’s magazine she’d subscribed to on a whim. What other reason could there be since she had no time in her busy lawyer’s life to read tips on how to attract men and what turned them on?
But as she’d read the steamy article on naughty versus nice, Toni realized she’d spent the better part of her life as a nice girl, following the rules to get ahead and working overtime to make a good impression. Her two thousand–plus billables over the last few years had put her in a prime position for a promotion. The ailing Mr. Corbin had been thrilled when he’d named her the senior associate to work with the as-of-yet unnamed partner who’d run the new office. She’d never have come this far without performing to perfection. Being naughty had had no place on the ladder to success. Neither had coming on to a man she worked alongside.
But having earned her position, she felt free to act on other, impulsive desires. Then with the onset of the new year, Toni would put Stephan behind her and step back into the stable, secure, independent life she’d created for herself.
If the article were to be trusted, the clichéd adage was true and nice girls finished last. So Toni would just have to be bad. She smoothed her skirt and straightened her hat, giving one last jingle of her bells for good luck. In matters of the hormones and the heart Toni intended to come in first.
No matter how naughty she had to be to accomplish her goal, Toni intended to get her man.
They called this a party? Maxwell Corbin glanced at the dark suits milling about the large conference room. Muffled laughs, discreet corner discussions, and a handshake every now and then to clinch a deal. Not an ounce of fun in sight, he thought and immediately remembered why he’d traded in his SoHo apartment and his family’s downtown New York City law firm for a place in the suburbs and his PI office on the Hudson River. An office he’d return to. No matter how happy it would make his father if Max decided to return to the fold, he had to live his own life, his own way. Three years at the family firm had taught him practicing law wasn’t it.
As he made for the eggnog across the room, his sneakered foot crushed a stray pretzel, marring the otherwise pristine carpet. Beside him, someone made a toast to an upcoming merger, increased income, and the guaranteed all-nighters to come. Max shook his head in disgust. The only thing worth staying up all night for was sex—something he hadn’t had in too damn long, mostly because no woman had interested him enough. But lately he’d begun to wonder what being discriminating and picky had gotten him besides a cold bed at night.
He lifted the ladle to pour himself a drink when the faint ringing of bells caught his attention. He turned toward the sound and the expensively decorated Christmas tree, a pine, lavishly trimmed with white and gold, with dozens of boxes beneath the branches to increase holiday spirit. He stepped to the left so he could see around the tree and caught sight of a dainty elf kneeling over a bulging bag of toys. As she reached inside the large bag, the hem on her miniskirt hiked up higher, revealing black lace beneath white fur trim.
Max swallowed hard. So much for disinterest, he thought wryly. A l
onger glance as she dug through her huge bag and he discovered the lace ended at mid-thigh. He wondered what she wore beneath that green suit, if the hands-on exploration would be as satisfying as his imagination.
He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. If he had to spend time in the hallowed halls of Corbin and Sons—make that Corbin and Compliant Son, he thought, thinking of his twin—then maybe the pixie in the corner would make his time here worthwhile. He dodged his way around the business suits and headed for the tinsel-laden elf.
On his way, he realized that not only was she the sole focus of his attention, but he was the center of hers. She’d straightened from her chore and looked at him dead-on, heat and something more in her smoky gaze. Drink forgotten, he walked the rest of the way to where she stood. Despite the drone of preoccupied, chattering attorneys, Max felt as if he were approaching her in silken silence.
As he closed in, he raised his gaze from the white fur anklet to her belted, trim waist to her green-eyed stare. Sea-green scrutiny made more vibrant by the interested flush in her cheeks. After promising his father he’d show up at this gig, he’d mentally called the day a bust, but when she pulled him behind the tree, rose onto her booted tiptoes, and touched her mouth to his, he reassessed his opinion.
He’d been kissed before—but he’d never been kissed. Not with such intensity and single-minded purpose. She tasted sweet and smelled sensual and fragrant, making both his mind and his body come alive. Her hands gripped his shoulders in a death-lock as her champagne-flavored tongue darted past his willing lips.
She had a potent effect, yet despite it all her touch was endearingly hesitant, turning him on while arousing a fierce protectiveness within him at the same time. He gripped her waist to anchor himself, something she obviously took as a sign of acceptance because a soft but satisfied sigh escaped and he caught the erotic sound with his mouth, deep in his throat. Though he hadn’t a clue what he’d done to become the lucky recipient of her attention, he wasn’t about to question good fortune. He’d rather make more of his own.
