The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Her gaze lingered on the door. “She had stopped eating, and wouldn’t get out of bed. She didn’t die here, at home. My mother isn’t the ghost I came here to confront. Her ideas are what I need to address, ideas that were pounded into me since the time of the event that kicked her decline into gear.”

  Chaz swallowed. Should he stop her from digging deep into her secrets, when he had been pushing her for this explanation? Though it wasn’t entirely what he had expected, it was also much more than he could have imagined.

  “My father left us on Christmas Eve when I was very young,” she went on. “He left presents under the tree, as if that would make up for the loss to follow. He walked out without explanation and never looked back, leaving his uneaten dinner on the table. We heard sometime later that he had chosen another family to spend that Christmas morning with, and the rest of his life with after that, which meant that he had cheated on us for some time.”

  Uncomfortable with her disclosure, Chaz carefully watched Kim readjust her position in the chair and take another long, slow breath.

  “I don’t do Christmas because my mother hated it, and hated the memory of the night my father left. She never got over the betrayal, and didn’t speak to my father again. Neither of us did.”

  “I see,” he said to fill the following pause.

  “I’ve honored my mother’s wishes about avoiding this holiday for a long time. So long, I can’t remember what life was like before that promise. My mother died six months ago, and since then I’ve kept up the routine by refusing to celebrate Christmas either in my work or my personal life.”

  Chaz ran a hand through his hair, feeling like an idiot for pressuring her into admitting a thing like that, and for having almost convinced himself on the way over here that her issues might have derived from something as simple as never getting the gift she asked Santa Claus for. In retrospect, he had failed to give her full credit for having real and serious causes that required the special clause in her contract.

  He felt like a heel, and deserved every name she might have called him. The cookies he sent were in a pile of boxes on the floor by his feet. He had brought a tree, planned a party and insisted she go—which made him no better than a goddamn bully.

  It was too late for his lame excuses, though as her boss, this was something he had needed to understand. The question now was how much damage he had done to a potential relationship by applying all that pressure?

  He kicked a box with his foot and sent it skidding in McKinley’s direction. Her gaze moved from the box to him, where her focus stayed.

  Chaz was certain the hunger he felt for her was mirrored in her eyes.

  * * *

  “Will you excuse me a minute?”

  Kim got to her feet, fending off two urges at once. The first was to throw herself at Monroe again, no matter the consequences. He stared at her seriously, as if seeing her inner workings for the first time. Kissing him would break the tension in the room and release some of her pent-up emotions after a confession like that.

  The second urge was to sprint for the kitchen, close the door and lock herself in.

  The latter seemed the best option now that he knew her secrets. If he equated her frank announcement with her recent mental state, it might someday undermine their business relationship. He’d keep an eye out for signs of the same tendency for depression exhibited by her mother, or her threats to pack up and leave. But if that were the case, and he held this against her, Chaz Monroe wasn’t worth the shirt on his back.

  Laugh maniacally or cry? Run or break down?

  She wavered among all of those options, having disclosed what haunted her. Her life had been laid bare, the darkness had taken wing, but elation didn’t come right away. Some ghosts were clingy.

  The way Monroe studied her was sensuously sober, and produced another flicker of heat deep inside her. She had all but begged for him to leave her alone, though she desired the exact opposite. She craved closeness and sharing and mind-bending sex. With Chaz Monroe.

  She had bought into her mother’s beliefs about men long after they had stopped making sense.

  “Suffering isn’t supposed to be prolonged, especially this time of year,” she said. “Christmas is about joy and light, ideas that might have made a difference to my family if my mother had gritted her teeth and moved on.”

  Did things have to be so complex? Light...company...happy times...cookies and a tree. A man beside her to love, and who would love her back unconditionally, loyally and forever. These were what she wanted so badly.

  Sex with Monroe wasn’t going to get her those things, and yet it somehow seemed a fitting end to the evening. He would hold her. He would be here and make her happy, if only temporarily and for tonight. The main result would be that with his ultramasculine presence in this house, her mother’s dark spell over her daughter would be lost, once and for all. She felt that spell already beginning to crack.

  To hell with work, her job and how she’d feel tomorrow.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said, getting to his feet, moving to stand beside her.

  He didn’t touch her and didn’t need to. His voice and his tone created a vibration that worked its way down her spine and keep on sliding, finding its way beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and along the curve of her hips to end in a place a vibration had no right to be.

  Monroe was no longer the enemy, and she didn’t want him to go away. Arguments aside, she felt good around him. She felt completely awake and alive, every nerve tingling, each neuron she possessed calling for her to get closer to him.

  “I’m not sure what you’ll do with all that,” she said, feeling unsteady, unnaturally warm and slightly queasy with him beside her.

  The touch came. Only a light one. He tilted her head back with a finger so that she had to look into his eyes. “I’d like to move on to another confidence, one of mine, putting yours aside for now, if you don’t mind.”

  Kim tried to turn her head. He brought her back.

  “You do like me, in spite of all this, and all that we’ve been through so far,” he said. “I can feel this. Am I right?”

  He went on when she didn’t answer. “I want to be near you. As a matter of fact, I can’t seem to stay away. I believe we can make this work. You and me. We can try.”

  “How? It’s already going to be bad when rumor of the scene in the bar spreads. I love my job, and it looks like I’ll have to leave it.”

  “No. Trust me, Kim. Ride this out, and you’ll see what can happen. Stick out your tongue at those rumors. I’ll take the heat. While I’m in that building, I’ll spread my own story about everything being my fault, and we’ll make the other employees believe nothing bad happened.”

  “Nothing did happen.”

  “It’s about to now, I think. Don’t you?”

  His mouth came close. Kim worked desperately to keep from closing her eyes, needing to see him before feeling the truth of his statement.

  “There are more things to disclose in the future about the business that might positively impact your position in the agency. We will get to that, I promise. For now, for tonight, let’s enjoy what this is.”

  His arms encircled her possessively, his warmth persuading her to give in to the rush of need coursing through her body.

  She had spoken the magic words to free herself from her mother’s tyranny, and she had let a man in. The difference here, between this situation and what happened to her mother, was that she didn’t expect any future with Chaz Monroe. If he left that minute, she’d be no worse off because she wasn’t fully invested in this liaison producing any kind of relationship and neither was he.

  That’s what she told herself, anyway, knowing it to be a lie and afraid to admit otherwise. Each minute in Monroe’s presence was like one of those holiday gifts she
had never received. Being with him brought her some long-awaited anticipation and joy.

  “Bedroom,” he whispered to her, a world of meaning in that one word.

  “No. Not there.” Her heart continued to pound. Adrenaline rushed through her to whip up the flames.

  They were going to do this.

  “Then it will have to be here,” he said, swinging her into his arms, kneeling on the floor and placing her there, beside the pile of boxes and bows.

  Kim looked up at him, realizing she’d really done it this time. She would soon see all of Chaz Monroe, test her theory on one-night stands being okay for the truly needy, besides being one hell of a spellbreaker...and trust him to take her mind off the rest of the world.

  Just for tonight.

  No one could stop what was about to take place. She craved heat and closeness and for the pain of her family’s story to end here, now, completely.

  “There’s only one problem,” she said, pulling him closer.

  “What’s that?” The mouth hovering over hers held promise in the way it curved up at the corners.

  “We have too many clothes in the way,” Kim replied with her hands on his chest.

  Fourteen

  The kiss was new and intense. Open mouths, damp, darting tongues, breathlessness. There was nothing patient about their need. This wasn’t going to be a night of foreplay and tender exploration. They were too excited.

  Kim savored the burn of Monroe’s closeness, drank him in with each kiss, bite and scratch of her fingernails across the fabric of his shirt. The lid was off the pressure cooker, and she was savage, desirous, anxious for everything he had to give, anxious to find out if it would be enough to permanently keep the ghosts of Christmas past at bay.

  In between deep kisses, he gave her time to breathe and searched her face. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, his stretched out on top of hers. His hands were in her hair, on her cheeks, feathering over her neck. Trails of kisses followed each touch of his fingers.

  Kim thought she might go mad with her need for him. Her body molded to his, their hips meeting in all the right places as if their bodies were a perfect match. His lips inflicted a torture of the highest caliber, offering promises of what was to come.

  When he pulled back, it was only to head south with his incendiary mouth—over her collarbones and over the blue silk covering her breasts. He kissed her there, and she moaned.

  She tore at his buttons with impatience. The next sound was of fabric tearing. He had ripped apart the thin ribbon straps of her camisole, exposing her shoulders. Hungrily, he pulled her forward, kissed her again then eased the sweater off and away.

  He paused to look at her, his gaze incredibly intimate. Upright, and without the straps, the silk slid downward over her breasts in a sensuous rustle.

  He pressed the palm of one hand against her right breast then cupped her. Kim shut her eyes and began to rock, first backward, then forward. He quickly replaced his hands with his mouth and drew on the pink exposed tip of her breast so deftly, she fought back a cry.

  It was too much, and too little. She had never felt anything remotely like this, or wanted so much.

  Finding the strength to withstand the pleasure Monroe’s mouth gave her, she shoved him back, and with her hands on his buttons, looked at him pleadingly. No more time. No distractions.

  He understood.

  His shirt came off with a twitch and a shrug, baring a muscular chest with a slight dusting of brown hair. As if his magnificent nakedness were a magnet, Kim couldn’t keep herself from touching him, running her fingers over him, getting to know every inch from his shoulders to his stomach. He was taut, in perfect shape, the epitome of masculine perfection. But then, she had guessed that from the start.

  Aware of her silent approval, Monroe eased her back to the floor and removed her sweatpants in a graceful move that left her shuddering in anticipation. He didn’t have time to get to his own pants. She had his belt off and was at his zipper with shaky fingers.

  That sexy sound of a zipper opening filled the room. Kim saw only Monroe’s face—his expression of lust, his own version of need. Mixed in with those things lay something else: something that she didn’t dare put a name to, but knew was reflected in her own expression, and somewhere deep in her body. Deep in her soul.

  Chaz Monroe hadn’t been kidding. He liked her. He wanted her. His expression said he cared, and that he needed her, at least tonight, as much as she needed him. Knowing this changed things for her, and upped the ante.

  He scooped her hips up in both hands and settled himself against her, still looking at her with his eyes wide open. She felt how his muscles tensed. He dipped into her gently at first, easing inside, eyeing her all the while for her reaction.

  She had to close her eyes again. Had to. The pleasure of having him inside her was extreme. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if she could handle this, handle him. Already, she felt the rise of a distant rumbling deep inside her body.

  He must have felt that rumbling. He used more force after that, entering her with a slick plunge that rocked her to her core. The cry she had withheld escaped.

  “I know,” he whispered in her ear. “I know.”

  With strong thighs, he urged her legs to open wider. This time when he entered her moist depths, it was with real purpose. The plunge went deep, forcing another cry to emerge from her swollen mouth.

  The internal rumbling gained momentum quickly, hurtling toward where he lay buried inside her, threatening to end what she refused to have finished.

  “Can’t...” she gasped.

  “Yes,” he told her. “You can.”

  His hips began to move, building a rhythm that drove him into her again and again. Her hips matched his, thrust for thrust. Her hands grasped at his bare back, tearing at his flexing muscles with no intent to control his talented ministrations, but to encourage him to proceed, lock him to her, ensure that he wouldn’t get away until this was finalized. Until it was over.

  The claiming was mutual, necessary and too hot for either of them to prolong. Finally, as time became suspended and the world seemed about to crash down, he drove himself into her one last time...and their startled cries mingled loudly, shockingly, in the room’s musty air.

  They lay on the floor, quiet and trembling while they caught their breath. Moments later, they started the whole process over again.

  Fifteen

  Chaz spiraled in and out of dreams. He wasn’t cold, exactly, yet he felt a distant discomfort that forced his eyes open.

  He was on his back, on a hard surface. His shoulders ached. So did his knees. Something soft covered him. A blanket?

  It took a minute to remember where he was. The room was dark, which meant that not much time had passed since he and Kim had gone at each other.

  She wasn’t beside him. He sat up, noticing right away that he was buck naked. Their clothes had been discarded completely after round two, in preparation for round three. The edge of a shaggy rug scratched at his thighs.

  Kim was gone, but had covered him with a blanket, which was a nice touch. Maybe she preferred a soft mattress to cushion her spent body after a couple hours of sexual gymnastics, and had trotted off to find one. He couldn’t really blame her. Then again, she hadn’t offered to take him to bed with her, and this threatened to bring on a bout of concern.

  Using the coffee table for leverage, Chaz got to his feet. He felt for a lamp on a table next to the sofa and clicked it on. Their clothes were there, strewn across the floor and the chair. Seeing those clothes, Chaz felt slightly better. Kim hadn’t tidied up, gotten dressed or removed the outward evidence of their union.

  He blew out a breath, unable to recall having spent a night like this in...well, ever. And, he reminded himself, this didn’t have to mean love was involved. Grea
t sex amounted to great sex, that’s all. Problem was, he wanted her again right that minute. Stranger yet, he desired to hold her, nestle against her, sleep beside her, with Kim curled up in his arms.

  This realization came as a shock. Usually the one to grab his clothes and hit the road to terminate a one-night stand, he had stayed, drifting off into a blissful slumber.

  And Kim had left him on the floor.

  Her absence didn’t have to mean she had left him altogether, though. After all, this was her house. So, what did this incredible impulse to nuzzle her imply?

  More trouble ahead.

  The intensity of the sex they’d shared was rare, sure, but did the rest of his urges have to have anything to do with love?

  Surely not. He was merely feeling satisfied and empathetic.

  He looked around. The floor was a mess. Piles of cookies had been scattered. Crumbs were everywhere. They had left the tree on the porch. Nothing in this room reflected comfort, really. Kim needed to get out of here. She no longer belonged in this place, and how she felt mattered to him.

  She mattered.

  His gut tightened. “Kim?” he called out, daring to wake her, needing to disturb her to confirm the new sensations rippling through him.

  Finding the stairs, he took them two at a time. Although the hallway at the top lay in darkness, light from below made it possible to see four closed doors and one open doorway. Chaz made for the latter with his heart in his throat.

  The blinds in the room were partway open, and the curtains drawn back. By the light from a streetlight, he made out the outline of a bed, a dresser and a light switch, which he flipped on.

  Though the bed looked rumpled, Kim wasn’t in it.

  “Kim?”

  No reply came.

  He found the bathroom in the hall filled with Kim’s scent, but she wasn’t there. Back in the hallway, he stopped to listen. The house lay in complete silence.

  Bedroom number two was empty, as were the rest of the rooms on that floor. Kim McKinley simply wasn’t there.