A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss

by Susan Meier

  Kristen’s ears had perked up at that, but Dean had blown off the idea. By the time they got back into the limo for the drive home, her head spun. First, she knew Winslow’s idea was a good one. Why not send the Suminski Stuff team to Grennady to finish the project? Then she and Princess Eva would have tons of time to persuade him to move there permanently. Except Dean didn’t like Prince Alex. Or, as Dean had said, Prince Alex didn’t like him. Second, she hadn’t forgotten the way he knew things about her and dropped facts at the oddest times. And while part of her itched to ask him about that, her mission for her country was more important.

  “You should move your people to Grennady for the next six weeks. Let them celebrate Christmas on our snow-covered ski slopes and get refreshed enough that they can finish your project.”

  “It will take more than ski slopes to get my people moving. Winslow was being optimistic when he suggested that.”

  “Or maybe he’s right.”

  “You just want me in your country for six weeks so you can give me a hard sell.”

  She should have realized he would see right through that and winced. “Would it be so bad?”

  “I already told you Alex hates me.”

  “Why?”

  He caught her gaze and smiled. “Must be my sparkling personality.”

  He’d made another joke? She struggled not to gape at him.

  “You’re a nice guy.” Even as the words came out of her mouth she knew she meant them. He was a nice guy. A good guy. A very, very smart guy. But a guy who was deep down, very nice. “Something happened between you and Alex.”

  When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “You have a best friend that you’ve kept the whole way since middle school. You must have looked me up on the internet because you know things about me, and you remember them enough to get them into the right places in the conversation. That’s not just smart, it’s considerate. I’m thinking your reputation for being mean is highly exaggerated.”

  He peeked over at her again. “Or maybe you bring out the best in me.”

  In the silence of the limo, their gazes locked. Her heart stumbled in her chest. The warmth of connection flowed through her. Even as it filled her with wonder, it scared her to death. They were using each other. He was buying her things she didn’t want. They were making friends under false pretenses. So why did they keep having these odd, intimate moments that felt honest?

  Dean quietly said, “You did really well at that lunch. I sometimes see your confidence dip, but it shouldn’t.”

  “And how would you know?”

  “For starters, you have a natural poise. But I also talked to a few people. Everyone says you’re full of energy and dedication.” He frowned. “Though I have to admit I am curious about the cause you chose.”

  She said nothing, a little tired of the way he knew so much more about her than she knew about him.

  “You’re not going to share?”

  “I’ll tell you that story, if you tell me a story about you.”

  “Okay. Go ahead.”

  “Oh, no. I know this scam. I’ll tell you how I chose my charity and suddenly the limo will be at the hotel and you’ll stay Mr. Mysterious.”

  He laughed. “Mr. Mysterious?”

  She shrugged. “That’s how you look to me. If it isn’t in your bio, I don’t know it.”

  “All right. I’ll go first. What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know what happened between you and Alex.”

  He winced. “Right for the jugular. You couldn’t settle for hearing the story of how I was a poor kid, raised by a grandmother who was too tired for another child, who got underwear for Christmas?”

  She knew he’d meant to be funny, but once again she could hear the sadness in his voice and picture him as a little boy, alone, quiet. She was suddenly very grateful Jason had come into his life, and wished with all her heart that he had other people in his life, so many that he’d never be alone again.

  “I can guess what you went through as a child.” Her gaze crawled over to meet his. “But it’s hard for me to understand how Prince Alex dislikes you when he loves everybody.”

  “I tried to steal his girlfriend.”

  Kristen couldn’t help it. She laughed. “That’s not enough to make him hate you.”

  “It’s a much longer story.” He took an exaggerated breath. “He had a girlfriend, Nina, who was the daughter of a Saudi prince I was schmoozing for funding when I first started out. Nina came into her dad’s office one day when I was there. She smiled at me, and the prince thought this was a good opportunity to get his daughter away from Alex, who, at the time, was a gambler.”

  “Her dad wanted you to put a wedge between them?”

  “Actually, her dad thought she and I were better suited for each other. And though he didn’t say the words, he more or less tied his investing into my company to me hanging around Nina, trying to steer her away from Alex.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “It isn’t, when you remember that Alex wasn’t a nice guy. He was the spoiled prince of a filthy rich country. He had access to more money than God and did what he wanted, including take Nina for granted and ignore her most days.”

  Though it was difficult to picture Alex that way, Kristen had to admit she’d heard those rumors.

  “At first, I just started showing up at the places Nina frequented. Bars. The marina. A club or two. Then she accepted a date.” He cleared his throat. “I fell head over heels in love with her, but she was only using me to make Alex jealous. And it worked. He stopped gambling, started paying attention to her and proposed.”

  Kristen’s heart sank, as little pieces of things began to fall together in her head. Not just about Dean being an inexperienced kid hanging around jet-setters, who now had a rule about not mixing business with pleasure, but also about Prince Alex. She remembered the princess telling her that Alex had had his heart broken when he was younger, when his fiancée had died.

  The magnitude of the loss almost overwhelmed her and she whispered, “Nina died, didn’t she?”

  Dean quietly said, “In a boating accident after an argument with me. For a while Xaviera’s royal guard investigated me, but I was nowhere near the dock or her boat. But I’d been with her that morning. She called me to have breakfast with her, to let me down easy, and she’d told me about the engagement, showed me the ring. I was flabbergasted and confused, and she admitted to using me. Young and stupid, I argued that she loved me, but she disabused me of that notion really quickly. She loved Alex. I had been a pawn. I felt like an idiot.” He met her gaze. “I was an idiot. Then I heard she’d been killed driving her boat recklessly, and I fell into a depression so deep I thought I’d never come out. Not just because she was dead but because I was so crazy about her that I didn’t see she was using me. It was humbling and humiliating because the story got around really quickly. I left Xaviera. Hell, I left Europe. I came back to New York, licking my wounds and vowed it would never happen again. None of it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sniffed a laugh. “You had your wake-up call with the boyfriend who wanted an in with your princess, but mine was a lot costlier. A lot harder to handle. In some respects, I don’t think you ever recover when someone so young dies.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m starting the school project because of a friend who died. The schools were her dream.”

  He frowned. “Your schools are someone else’s idea?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” The limo pulled up to the curb outside her hotel. Kristen continued anyway.

  “Aasera lived in Iraq. Her brothers were educated but she wasn’t. She begged them to teach her to read and write and they did. She said it opened up a whole new world for her and she decided that she wanted to create schools for girls.”

  “A
nd you picked up her crusade?”

  “After she was killed by a suicide bomber.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Dean reached across and took her hand. “There aren’t a lot of people who can say they understand and really mean it.” He held her gaze. “But I do.”

  She could see in the depths of his dark eyes that he did understand, and she felt another one of those clicks of connection. This one more important than attraction or likes and dislikes. They’d both suffered a tragedy that had changed them. It was no wonder she kept feeling they meshed.

  “I do this to honor her, but also because knowing her, hearing about her dream, I learned how important it was.” She shrugged. “Her cause is now my cause.”

  The shrill sound of Dean’s phone invaded the quiet. He winced. “It’s the one I have to answer.”

  She nodded, glad for a few seconds to pull herself together before they said goodbye. Because this was it. They no longer had a reason to stay together. She’d gone to his party and lunch and both were over. Winslow Osmond wanted him to take his team to Grennady, but he didn’t see the value in doing that. This time tomorrow he’d go back to being the ruthless businessman he always was and she’d be home, getting ready to step onto the world’s stage as a founder of an organization that built schools.

  After she got out of this limo, she’d never see him again.

  Dean clicked the button to answer his phone. “Dean Suminski.” He paused for a few seconds, then said, “Mrs. Flannigan. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”

  He paused as the older woman talked. Suddenly feeling awful, missing Aasera, confused by all these feelings she had around Dean, Kristen buttoned her coat and slid across the seat to the limo door. Why prolong the inevitable? She barely knew him, and what she’d discovered only proved he was married to his business. And, really, she should be okay with their parting. She’d need all her mental and emotional energy to start her charity. Neither one of them had time for the other. Why belabor the issue with a goodbye in a busy hotel lobby?

  Just when she would have opened the limo door, Dean caught her hand again.

  “We’d love to. Seven tomorrow. We’re looking forward to it.”

  She faced him as he clicked off the call. Though she hated the way her breath stuttered when he held her hand, happiness filled her at the possibility that this wasn’t goodbye.

  “You have another event?”

  “Yes and no. We’ve been invited to a private dinner with the Flannigans.” He smiled. His dark eyes lit with pleasure. “She wants to talk to you about your schools. Tomorrow night at seven.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “OH, MY GOSH! She wants to talk to me?”

  Kristen looked at him, her stunning green eyes wide with excitement and he laughed. “You’ll do fine.” She drew in a long breath. “I had a few hiccups in my confidence today.” She caught his gaze. “But you helped a lot.”

  A wave a pleasure flowed through him, but he didn’t let himself wallow in it. He might be with Kristen for another party, but he wouldn’t indulge the emotions he experienced around her. Especially the relief he’d felt sharing his story about Nina. Not because he didn’t like the feelings she inspired in him, he did. He liked them too much. Keeping his distance was for her protection.

  “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll have Stella take you shopping tomorrow morning to get you an appropriate dress.”

  She gasped. “She’s going to have to take me some place inexpensive! I can’t afford the clothes in Jennifer’s boutique.”

  He shook his head. “Whether you understand it or not, this dinner tomorrow night also works for me. While you talk with Mrs. Flannigan, I get a chance to chitchat with Arthur. She might own the business, but he’s got influence over her.” He smiled. “Actually, I owe you for the fact that your charity is getting me extra time with them.”

  “You just won’t let this go, will you?”

  “Not if you’re about to pay for things that are helping me out.” Deciding the time for teasing was over, he sucked in a breath. “Seriously. Thank you. I need this extra time with them, and you and your charity are providing it.”

  “Well, the dinner is supposed to be for me so I’m getting benefit too. That means there’ll be no more agreements drawn up.”

  He drew a cross on his chest. “I promise.”

  Still in the limo, they placed a call to Jennifer at the boutique. Dean told her they needed a cocktail dress for the following night, and that Kristen would be in the next morning to look for one with Stella.

  “Anything special I should pull for her to try on?”

  “Just something pretty. We trust your judgment.” He caught Kristen’s gaze and smiled. “And make it red.”

  Kristen laughed as he clicked off the call. “Very funny.”

  “I’m getting much better at being funny.”

  She said, “You are,” as Dean pressed the button for the chauffeur, who came around and opened the door.

  Kristen got out and he followed behind her. He walked her into the hotel lobby and almost escorted her to her room, but the feelings he’d been having around her all day kept growing. Now they were committed to another evening out. He needed the time with the Flannigans as much as Kristen did—so he couldn’t pass up this chance.

  But as he spoke with Mrs. Minerva Flannigan about dinner Sunday night, he’d had the oddest sense they really were becoming a couple, and though he knew it wasn’t true, there was a part of him that wished it was.

  That was the real reason he couldn’t walk her upstairs. He knew as surely as he knew his own name that if she gave him any sort of encouragement at all he’d kiss her. And then what?

  Date?

  Marry her?

  The vision he’d had of him and Kristen in his master bedroom at his house in Albany filled his brain, and his chest tightened. How could he picture himself with a child when he had no clue how to be a father? How could he picture himself with someone as wonderful as Kristen when he was a stodgy workaholic who would get so involved in his projects and his business that he sometimes slept in his office?

  How could he get involved with Kristen when he knew it would end...and knew, quite painfully, how paralyzing it was when a relationship ended. Nina might have died, but when she broke it off with him she’d outlined a hundred reasons they were wrong for each other, crushing his soul, reinforcing his beliefs that he shouldn’t get involved in a real relationship.

  His feelings for Kristen were wrong. He would stop them.

  The elevator came. She stepped in and waved goodbye as the door closed, and he got back into the limo and headed for the sanctuary of his penthouse.

  The limo stopped at his building, and he slid out and walked toward the glass revolving door, noticing an odd number of paparazzi hanging around. They came to attention when they saw him. One or two even snapped a picture. But neither of those things was unusual. First, the flirtatious daughter of a hedge fund manager lived in his building and she was a tabloid darling. Paparazzi were always around. Second, those who snapped pictures probably wanted a new file photo of him. God knew, there was nothing interesting about him walking into his building alone.

  He breezed through the lobby, pausing only to say hello to the doorman. He used his code to get the private elevator to start and in a few seconds the door opened on his penthouse.

  The whole place had been done in black and white, with berry-toned throw pillows and accent pieces. He wouldn’t know a berry tone from a hole in the ground, but his decorator had told him that berry colors were all the rage, so that’s what he’d gotten.

  He ambled into his bedroom and the walk-in closet, and chose black boots, blue jeans and an oatmeal-colored sweater, the color of which he also wouldn’t have known if Stella hadn’t told him when she showed him the array of s
weaters she’d chosen for him that winter.

  He didn’t know fashionable colors. He didn’t put his own touches on his houses and condos because he didn’t really have homes. He had places he stayed. He was cold. Emotionless. And that was reason number seven hundred and forty-one why a nice woman like Kristen should stay away from him.

  It was also reason number one that Nina had said she could never fall in love with him. Never really want to be with him.

  He was cold. Not heartless. Just distanced from the world because of his genius and the way he was raised. He really didn’t know how to connect.

  Not wanting to think about Nina or Kristen anymore, and the yearning for something he knew he couldn’t have, he grabbed the four newspapers he had delivered every morning.

  Sitting on his sofa, he rifled through until he got to the New York City Guardian. He flipped it open but one section popped out and slid to the floor. The society pages. Without thought, he bent to pick it up, but there on the front page, bigger than was comfortable, was a picture of him and Kristen.

  And he was laughing.

  The photo itself confused him, reminding him of how differently he behaved with her. He slowly brought the paper up from the floor, staring at the picture first, then reading the caption.

  Is the Iceman of Suminski Stuff falling in love?

  His gut clenched. His gaze jumped to the article that detailed the troubles with his company and the article in Tech Junkie.

  Crap.

  But the worst were the closing lines.

  Could the confirmed bachelor billionaire be dating someone? We doubt it. He has enough money that he doesn’t have to meet women the old-fashioned way.

  If innuendos could kill, he’d be dead right now. They’d all but suggested he’d hired Kristen.