A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss

by Susan Meier

  After he finished the article, he glanced up at his friend. “Believe it or not, I hired a sleigh.”

  Jason laughed. “Sleigh?”

  “I figured I owed Kristen an apology for barking at her yesterday when she was trying to be helpful.” He shook his head in wonder. “I never knew darkness could be so appealing.”

  “You’ve lived too long in the city,” Jason said, lifting the lid off his plate of eggs and pancakes. “When we get back home, we’ll start scheduling more time for you in your Albany house.”

  Just the thought of the Albany house made him smile. He knew it was because of the vision he’d had of Kristen in that house, on his bed, with his child. Though the vision didn’t scare him to death or confuse him as it had the first time he thought it, it did fill him with questions.

  Was that what he was doing with her? Falling in love so he could have something he wasn’t even sure existed? The sleigh ride hadn’t been as romantic as it had been warm, nice. Then she’d kissed him and, of course, everything that had been warm and friendly suddenly became hot and steamy.

  He’d thought of her the whole way back to town, thought of her when he woke up and now he was thinking of her again.

  He just liked her. Everything about her.

  Even her freezing cold country.

  And it scared him to death.

  He’d liked everything about Nina too. Even her sweltering hot country. When it came to falling in love, he had no guidelines, no common sense. He’d been gobsmacked when Nina told him she’d been using him to make Alex Sancho jealous.

  So what would he find out about Kristen? That she had used him to get to know Mrs. Flannigan? That being connected to him gave her a stature that would help her establish herself in his world and easily get the money she needed for her charity?

  Because there was something.

  There was always something.

  A few minutes later, the suite phone rang. Not knowing who would have the number, he didn’t answer. Embroiled in a discussion of marketing techniques in Asia, Jason didn’t even acknowledge that the phone had rung.

  But after Jason left to go do some sightseeing, Dean checked with the front desk. They had indeed taken a message from the call he’d ignored.

  “Kristen Anderson called. She’d like you to join her family this evening for dinner. Seven o’clock. She left a number.”

  Dean said, “Thank you. I won’t need the number.” Because he did not intend to go to that family dinner.

  But all day long he thought of the white farmhouse he’d glimpsed when his sleigh had swished up to her sidewalk. He thought about the fact that it was so far out in the country and wondered about the people who lived there...

  And the people who had raised Kristen. What kind of parents were so strong that they raised a daughter who took up the cause of a pen pal who’d been killed? What kind of parents raised a child to be so open and honest? Did she have brothers and sisters?

  In the end, he waited until the very last second, until it was too late to call and say he was coming. So late, he barely got a cab.

  He arrived at her house, bottle of wine in hand—the suggestion of the cabbie—and knocked on the door, wondering what in the hell he was doing.

  The door opened. A tall, blonde woman smiled broadly at him. “You must be Dean Suminski.” She opened the door a little wider. “I’m Joan, Kristen’s mom.” She motioned for him to enter, then turned and called up the stairs, “Kristen! Your friend is here.”

  As Dean stepped inside the old-fashioned foyer, Joan faced him with a smile. “I hope you like roast beef. We’re not fancy here.”

  Feeling odd and awkward, he said, “That’s great,” just as Kristen came running down the stairs. She stopped when she saw him and their gazes met.

  She wore jeans and a white sweatshirt. Her hair fell around her in loose curls. But her smile was huge, luscious. As if seeing him made her the happiest woman in the world.

  Now, how the hell was he supposed to resist that?

  “I’m so glad you came.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

  “There was no reason to call,” Kristen’s mom said, taking his arm and guiding him through the short hall that led to an unexpectedly modern kitchen. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

  He walked up to the center island that was cluttered with pots and pans, utensils and dishes used to make the dinner. The hardwood floors sparkled. The other counters were neat and tidy. A table in the adjoining dining area had been set.

  Kristen said, “I’ll set another place.”

  As she scrambled to gather plates, Kristen’s mom nodded at a stool by the center island and he sat.

  “Kristen’s dad should be in any minute,” Joan said, rifling through a drawer. She pulled out a corkscrew and handed it to him with the wine he’d brought. “You do the honors.” She turned to the dining area. “Kristen, would you also get wineglasses?”

  He opened the wine as Kristen retrieved wineglasses from a cabinet with a glass front. She set the four glasses on the counter, then smiled at him.

  Warmth invaded his heart. Warmth and ease and a kind of comfort he’d never felt before.

  The back door opened and an older man entered, a teenage boy on his heels.

  “This is Kristen’s dad, James, and her youngest brother, Lars. Lars, Jimmy, this is Kristen’s friend Dean. He’s the man who brought his company here for a bit of a rest while they work.”

  He didn’t question that they knew about him. He would expect Kristen to tell her family about her work. Given the relaxed atmosphere of the kitchen, he would expect that she talked about everything in her life with her parents, and that they talked freely with her.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  The big man walked over and clasped his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Kristen’s been all about trying to get a company here to Grennady, especially since her other brother, Brian, is studying computer science at university.”

  Dean peeked over at Kristen who blushed. “She never mentioned that.”

  Her gaze met his. “I didn’t want to unduly influence you.”

  That made him laugh. Really laugh. The kind of laugh he experienced with her in New York. “Are you kidding? You stalked me to Paris, wouldn’t get off my plane in New York until I listened to your pitch. And now you’re trying to say you didn’t want to influence me?”

  She winced. “All right. Maybe a little.”

  Kristen’s father and brother went upstairs to wash up for dinner. Dean poured the wine. He sat at the center island while Kristen cleared the counter and her mom put the finishing touches on dinner. By the time the men returned, dinner was ready to serve.

  They spent the meal discussing Dean’s company, Kristen’s charity and the possibility that Lars would be going into computer science too. They sat around the table, eating chocolate cake for dessert, finishing the wine, talking like old friends, not worrying about clearing dishes. Until at nine o’clock when Kristen volunteered to drive him home.

  He realized that her parents probably had to get up early the next morning and took his jacket when Joan brought it from the newel post on the stairway in the foyer.

  “I can get a cab.”

  Shrugging into her coat, Kristen said, “Nonsense. It’s not that far.”

  Then she smiled that smile again, the one that made him feel warm all over, the one that made him feel very much a part of her life, and the one he couldn’t resist.

  They got into her little car and he let her have her concentration to maneuver out of the farm’s lane and onto the snow-covered main road.

  “Your family is really nice.”

  “Yes. They are. We’re just average, normal people, living life.” She peeked at him.
“I appreciate you being so nice to them. My mom really wanted to meet you. She was thrilled you accepted her dinner invitation.”

  “She’s a great cook.”

  “Hey, I made those potatoes.”

  “Then you’re probably a good cook too.” He took a breath, considered for only a few seconds, then said, “My Gram had been a really great cook in her time, but the older she got the less she wanted to cook.” He shrugged. “We ate a lot of pizza.”

  “As a little kid you probably liked that.”

  He laughed. “I did.”

  “Other stuff, not so much.”

  “I just always felt left out. She wouldn’t let me sign up for Little League, or even after school activities. Said we couldn’t afford the fees and insisted there always were fees. If there were parent-teacher conferences, I knew she wouldn’t go. It’s why it took so long for anyone to recognize that I was gifted.”

  “It sounds like she was just overwhelmed.”

  “She was.”

  “It also sounds like you forgive her.”

  “In a weird kind of way, there was nothing to forgive her for. Even as a kid I recognized that I was a burden.”

  “That’s not a very nice way for a kid to feel.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “But you’re over it.”

  “Most of it.” He shrugged. “Lots of it. But there are some things you can’t get over. All you can do is adjust.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  No. He supposed there wasn’t. He also couldn’t believe how free he felt talking about this with her.

  When she pulled the car into a parking space in front of the hotel, he glanced around, confused. He’d thought she’d drop him off at the door. Instead, they were in the back.

  He turned to ask her why they were parked, just as she stretched across the seat and kissed him. Quick and light, her lips brushed his, and then she pulled back again.

  “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  He laughed. “You’re welcome. That’s the first time anybody’s ever kissed me as a thank-you.”

  Her head tilted. “Really?” She leaned forward and kissed him again. “Now you’ve been kissed twice as a thank-you.”

  This time he didn’t let her pull back, he caught her shoulders and kept her right where she was so he could deepen the kiss. He had absolutely no idea what was happening, but if this was love, he really liked it.

  After a few minutes, he realized he was necking in a car—in a hotel parking lot, with a woman he really liked who was nothing like any other woman he’d ever gotten involved with—like a horny teenager.

  He took her shoulders and set her away from him, back on the driver’s side of the car.

  “That was different.”

  She laughed. “Really?”

  “All this is so normal for you. So easy—”

  “You think? You think I just go around kissing random guys?” She laughed gaily. “It’s every bit as unusual for me as it is for you. And maybe even really poor timing for me since I’m at the beginning of the project I hope will be my life’s work.”

  He sobered. “I’m sorry.”

  She laughed again, then shook her head. “Seriously, you need to work on thinking before you talk. I’m not saying this is a bad thing. It’s a good thing. What I’m saying is that what we feel comes with complications.” She stretched around again so that she could look into his eyes. “My family’s putting up our Christmas tree on Saturday afternoon. I’d love for you to come.”

  Sitting so close, staring into her eyes, all he could think to say was, “Yes.”

  She pulled back. “Take the next few days to think things through.” She put the car into gear again and drove up to the hotel door. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  Dazed, confused, he said, “Okay,” as he got out of the car. But he understood what she was saying. The timing was wrong for them. Plus, he had issues. He might not be tumbling headfirst into love as much as he could be tumbling headfirst into disaster.

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Kristen was surprised when the doorbell rang and Dean stood on the front porch of her home, holding two bottles of wine.

  Her heart spun crazily. She absolutely hadn’t expected him to come to her house again. She believed he’d talk himself out of it. First, though he’d been comfortable with her family, she could see him returning to his hotel, picking the evening apart and finding a million things wrong with him getting to know her parents and brother. Second, she was positive he’d decide his work was more important than an afternoon off. Third, they were going to decorate a tree and Christmas was not his favorite holiday. Fourth, she was very sure what he felt for her confused him.

  But confused or not, he was on her porch.

  “Come in.”

  He stepped into the foyer, handed her the wine and shrugged out of his jacket, which he casually hung across the newel post again.

  “You brought extra wine to help you get through this, didn’t you?”

  He laughed and brushed a quick kiss across her mouth. “Sort of.”

  Though his answer didn’t surprise her, the quick kiss did. She couldn’t imagine what he felt for her, that the man who didn’t even like talking to people was willing to take himself this far out of his comfort zone for her.

  She led him into the kitchen, where they grabbed four wineglasses, then into the living room where a huge blue spruce sat in the corner.

  Dean said hello to her family, then uncorked the wine and poured, not really looking at the tree or the decorations that were strewn all over the chairs, sofa and coffee table.

  She picked up an ancient ornament and presented it to him. “I made this in kindergarten.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that a—?”

  “Toilet paper roll? Yes. Covered in glitter and tinsel, but it’s still a toilet paper roll.”

  He laughed.

  Lars picked up his corresponding roll. “Mine.”

  Dean laughed again. “It’s nice that you saved them.”

  Kristen’s mom said, “We like to remember Christmases past.”

  Kristen’s gaze flew to Dean. But he hardly responded. If she hadn’t known to look for the quiet indrawn breath, she wouldn’t even have known the comment had affected him.

  Still, she’d seen the breath. But though she knew walking through a family’s Christmas memories might be difficult for him, she also knew he needed to do this. He needed to stop avoiding the holiday that gave most people pure joy and get involved, so that someday he’d feel a part of that joy.

  “Grandma Anderson lived with us till her passing when I was in high school. She loved to make nut rolls.”

  As her father reached to loop a string of lights over the tree, he said, “There was nothing like warm nut roll on Christmas morning.”

  “With a glass of milk,” Lars agreed.

  Dean set down his wine and walked over to the tree. Standing on the opposite side of her father, he caught the strings of lights when her dad tossed them, placed them on a branch—as her father had been doing—and guided them back to her dad.

  Knowing there was no time like the present, Kristen said, “So do you have any special memories, Dean?”

  Kristen’s mother’s eyes widened and her dad’s head jerked toward Kristen, but she knew this was what had to be done. Face the elephant in the room head-on.

  Dean quietly said, “No.” Working with the lights, he kept his gaze averted. Still, Kristen knew this was the best thing for him, so she persisted.

  “I told my parents about your parents.”

  Apparently finally figuring out what Kristen was doing, her mom jumped in saying, “That was tragic and difficult for you.”

  “Yes. It was,” De
an said.

  “Worse that your grandmother was too old to care for you,” Joan said sympathetically.

  With all that out in the open, Kristen knew it was time to shift gears. “But that’s over now. And you have an entire holiday of traditions to investigate and experiment with. Lars, why don’t you get a tray of those fruit horns Mom made this morning?”

  Not needing to be asked twice, Lars raced out of the room.

  Dean looked up at her mother, his head tilting as he studied her. “These cookies are good?”

  “These cookies are excellent,” Kristen’s mom answered without a hint of humility. “Christmas baking is my specialty. If you like banana nut bread, you’ll be thrilled when you eat mine.”

  Dean laughed. “Okay. Bring on the cookies.”

  Kristen breathed a sigh of relief. With Dean’s past now acknowledged, Dean didn’t have to pretend anymore. Kristen would have been thrilled that her idea had worked out, except in New York, she’d seen Dean noticing Christmas decorations, being part of Christmas celebrations.

  He had been ready to not just acknowledge there was a Christmas, but also to ease himself into it.

  But she was falling in love with him—and he’d been hurt, used in the worst possible way. A few Christmas cookies and an afternoon decorating a tree wouldn’t be enough to get him past Nina.

  He might never get past Nina.

  And then what would she do? Be in love with a man who couldn’t trust enough to return her feelings?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ON MONDAY MORNING, the royals had been back for three days and were settled in. Rumor around the palace was that Dean had been invited to dinner Sunday night, and that he and Alex had been cordial. No one expected them to become best friends, but for Grennady’s sake, Kristen was glad they’d made a peace of a sort.

  Around noon, Kristen’s intercom buzzed. She pressed the button. “Yes?”

  Eva said, “Kristen, could I see you in my office, please.”

  “Of course.”

  When she walked into Eva’s office, Prince Alex rose from his chair beside Eva’s. He smiled. “Sit.”