Loving St Nix

by Brynn Paulin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Loving St. Nix

  Copyright

  Thank You!

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  About the Author

  Loving St. Nix

  Forever Safe Holiday

  By Brynn Paulin

  Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  www.supernovaindie.com

  Powered by Your Imagination

  Loving St. Nix

  by

  Brynn Paulin

  December:

  I’m in love with my boss. But I swear the man they call St. Nix would never look at anyone sideways, let alone consider a tryst with his plain, curvy secretary. But when my roommate convinces me to go to the masked Christmas Eve party, things get out-of-hand. Before I know it, I’m waking in Nixon’s bed, and saint or not, there may be hell to pay.

  Nix:

  The second I saw her at the party, I knew who she was. But my December has always been shy, so I played along. The thing is, she turned more heads than she knew, and there was no question. I would do anything—ANYTHING—to make sure she was at my side and mine forever. They call me St. Nix, but to tell the truth, I’m anything but saintly. When I get December in my arms… Well, let’s just say: We’ll definitely be making the naughty list.

  Copyright

  © 2019, Brynn Paulin

  Loving St Nix

  Cover Art by Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Edited by Liza Green

  Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-62344-340-5

  Published by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Thank You!

  Thank you for your purchase of Loving St Nix by Brynn Paulin. We hope you’ve enjoyed the story and will consider leaving a review and telling a friend.

  Brynn loves hearing from readers! Please visit her website at www.Brynnpaulin.com.

  Dedication

  To my big, wonderful family. The holidays without, wouldn’t be a holiday at all.

  Chapter One

  ~ December ~

  “This is the dumbest thing ever,” I grumbled into my drink. “I mean who does a masked Christmas party? Isn’t that for Halloween?”

  “It’s masks, not costumes. And you look freaking hot,” my roommate and co-worker, Diana, told me. She sipped her own Holly Jolly concoction and scanned the room. “Now to get the gorgeous boss of yours to notice.”

  “Di, no.”

  “Geez, December. Why not? Nixon Jones is the whole package: good-looking, straight, rich, and kind—well, philanthropic, anyway. I hear he’s a tyrant in the office.”

  “Not to me,” I defended for some reason. Yeah, Nixon could be a real dick, but he never was to me.

  “Phht, that’s because he likes you.”

  “More like because I’m the only one who can keep him in order.” I’d been Nixon’s secretary/administrative assistant for ten months, and that was longer than anyone had stuck to the job. I wasn’t going to screw that up by screwing around with my boss. Even if I did kinda like him. Yeah, he could be an asshole, though he never had been to me.

  Not a lot or people knew about the St. Nix part of him that I knew. I knew about the Nixon who volunteered at a homeless shelter and soup kitchen. Who made generous donations to various places—anonymously and not for tax write-offs. Who made sure that all the company’s moms-to-be or anyone hospitalized got flowers and a care package.

  No, most people knew the cut-throat, no-mercy Nix. He didn’t do friends and as far as I could tell, he didn’t do women either. Not that I thought he was gay. He just kept his private life Fort-Knox-locked private. Or Fort Nix, full of secrets.

  I giggled behind my drink as I thought of him being Fort Nix. This Holly Jolly drink might be a lot stronger than I’d thought. I wasn’t a drinker but I was already feeling it in my center, my down there feel pretty warm and happy. Weird, but whatever.

  “No, seriously, he likes you. The other day at staff meeting he wasn’t paying attention at all. He was staring at you.”

  “That’s not why. We were having a disagreement. I had mentioned going home for Christmas and he’d asked me why I was so glum about it. I told him I’d be seeing my ex, Nolan, who married my sister. He said I shouldn’t even give Nolan the time of day.”

  He’d actually gotten a look I’d never seen before and growled out that statement as if it were and epitaph. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was jealous and possessive. Not that I’d ever had a man act that way with me, and not that my boss ever would. It had still sent a shiver of arousal through me and made my thighs clench.

  “He’s right. You shouldn’t,” she agreed, knowing the whole sordid story of the love triangle. She’d been my alibi for skipping the wedding. Could anyone blame me? I might not love the guys—at all! But how humiliating.

  “And I told Nixon it wasn’t any of his business.”

  Her eyes got wide. “I can’t believe you said that to him.”

  I shrugged. “He didn’t need to be in my business, and you know I’m sensitive about the Nolan/Winnie situation.” It wasn’t that I was in love with him. I hadn’t even been close to in love with him back then. I certainly wasn’t pining. It was just embarrassing to have your minister-to-be boyfriend cheat on you. I mean, what? I was so boring I’d made a future man of God look for more interesting pastures? With your sister?

  Of course, he’d changed vocations after getting with Winnie. Maybe, he couldn’t reconcile what he’d done with his calling, either. My mom said he was selling used cars or something. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t care.

  I’d left home soon after the incident, and hadn’t been back since. I wouldn’t be going now, but my mother had caught me by surprise, asking me about my Christmas plans way back in October before I could come up with a viable excuse not to travel back to Cherish Cove. And by viable, I meant something I could back up with evidence, because my mom was the type who would want to see the proof.

  “What did he do when you told him to butt out?” Di asked.

  “Went back in his office. Didn’t talk to me the rest of the day. He was on conference calls though. It wasn’t like he was sulking.” Nixon didn’t sulk. He stormed the castle by another route. The man liked to win—personally and in business—and as far as I knew, he always did. His shipping company dominated the industry, and you didn’t have to look long to see a JoNix truck on the road. Apparently, that had been his nickname in high school, picked up from some tracking record at the prep academy he’d attended.

  He’d told me about that several months ago, over a business lunch that was more social than business. We had a lot of those. Nix claimed it was to cement our working rapport.

  Truly all it did was make me want him more.

  “Is he even coming to the party?” Di asked.

  “He’s supposed to. I know he was still on a west coast call when I headed over here.” Nix had rented a hall for the party and supplied cash for everything we needed to get festive from décor to food to the open bar. We’d had a party committee who handled everything, and it had been their idea to go with the masked theme.
Maybe they thought it would loosen inhibitions, like an ice breaker.

  Worked for me. I was fairly sure Nixon wouldn’t recognize me, and my plan was to have a good time tonight, maybe flirt a little then head home. Besides my mask, my dark wavy hair was down. It fell to the waist of my black body con dress. The dress had a wide trim of white, flower-designed lace that ran along the hem and up to hip. It was so unlike anything I’d ever worn to work, and definitely not what I’d worn to the office today.

  Conversely, I was fairly certain, I’d recognize Nix anywhere. I’d only spent ten months covertly learning every contour of his fine form. At a little over six feet, he had a lean, powerful shape with wide shoulders and slim hips. I bet he hid a six pack beneath the shirts that hid his otherwise flat stomach. Some men looked terrible in suits and some men looked as if they were born to them. Nix was definitely the latter. The man was definite eye candy. Distracting when you’re supposed to crunching numbers for one of his many reports.

  Speaking of, I perused the room. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Groups of people were scattered around, chatting, eating and drinking. A few were dancing and I hoped no drunken videos turned up on YouTube or Facebook. I wasn’t up for that damage control. I was already managing the train wreck of going home. Of course, a PR disaster would take first priority. I’d have to attend to that, right…?

  Hmm…

  Then I saw him across the room. Not to be cliché, but he really was across the room. My eyes caught on the mouthwatering frame. He wore dark pants, and a red vest. Beneath it, he wore an open-neck white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his ink-covered, muscular forearms. His dark hair was mussed, and a white Phantom mask. But I knew the perfect bone structure and whiskey colored eyes beneath it. Holy mother of mercy…

  My core fluttered and I felt everything go warm and mushy.

  This was my Nixon.

  Oh, fudge. What was I thinking? He wasn’t my Nixon.

  But I could check him out while I sipped my drink and chatted with Di. “So what are you doing for the holiday?” I asked her, splitting my attention between the man who’d just take a Holly Jolly from the circulating tray and my friend. The company didn’t give us a lot of time off, but we had off from tomorrow, Christmas Eve, until next Monday. I’d be one of the few who was working tomorrow, to finish up the hourlies payroll, but only for a half day.

  “Burt and I are heading to his parents down in Indy. I actually have to head out soon, because we’re leaving tonight. How early do you think I can skedaddle without being called out?”

  “Well, we’ve been here an hour, so now would be okay, but I guarantee you want to stay just a little bit longer. The Christmas committee will be handing out Nix’s gifts to you guys.”

  “And you know what it is?”

  “Of course.” I was the one who’d processed all the checks. I wouldn’t be the only one calling him St. Nix after tonight. It had been a very good year for the company.

  “Well, if you say so…”

  Almost on cue, Suzy the head of the committee called everyone to attention. Everyone moved closer to the stage where she stood. I hung back, watching. I already had my gift, hand-delivered by the boss himself.

  “Not going to join the crowd,” a voice asked from beside me.

  Nix, how the heck had I lost track of him long enough that he could sneak up beside me.

  “I like to watch them all,” I replied in a low voice.

  “Shy?” he asked. Through my peripheral vision, I watched him sipped his drink while seeing intent on the office staff across the room.

  “No, not really. I just like to observe, and I knew they’re going to like it.”

  “Hmm,” he turned toward me and his fingers caught a long strand of the hair that had fallen over my shoulder. He twisted it lightly around the tip. “Your hair is glorious.”

  I swallowed hard. “Th-thank you.”

  The noise of excitement started across the room as people opened their envelopes. Rats, I hadn’t been watching, but was completely absorbed in Nix and the whiskey-brown eyes that seemed to be devouring me.

  “Want to get out of here, go somewhere quieter to talk.”

  “Um…”

  “I promise I don’t bite. Not the first time.”

  “That’s not very reassuring.”

  He let go of the lock he’d been twisting then laced his fingers through mine. He set his drink on a nearby table, then took mine and left it as well. “C’mon, I know a place.”

  He was already pulling me from the room. If I hadn’t known it was Nix, I may have put up a fight. But I did know him. I was safe and anonymous—at least, I was pretty sure I was. He hadn’t said my name. And the way he spoke to me…well, it was different than he ever did in the office. That being the case, I wanted whatever this “talking” was. Then I’d go home, alone, leaving him non-the-wiser.

  This is a really bad idea, my inner voice whispered. Yeah, probably, because then I’d know what he tasted like, what he felt like pressed against me, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

  He pulled me into a small space down the hallway from the party room. He didn’t turn on the light, but as we entered, I could see it was a storage space for chairs. As soon as the door closed, shrouding us in darkness, his hands came up to cup my face. Then his lips were on mine, I moaned, leaning into him. God, he felt good, and he smelled so good. Whatever it was, it was spicy and masculine. He had me ready to swoon line an old-school romance heroine. Instead, I clutched onto his vest, went on my toes in my heels that brought me still inches shy of his height and kissed him right back.

  His palm slid down my back, stopping just above the swell of my back. “This fucking dress. You look like sin and irresistible temptation, all wrapped up and waiting for me,” he muttered against my skin before taking my mouth again.

  “About how you look in your clothes, with all those tattoos showing. You’re a bad boy hiding in executive clothing, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he growled before his tongue speared into my mouth, and I did swoon a little. His arm was like iron behind me though, holding me up when I’d been in real danger of falling.

  “I thought we were going to talk,” I gasped when he let me up for breath. My chest rose and fell fast as I tried to gather myself.

  “We are.” One hand fisted in my hair, pulling back to kiss my neck. “We’re just using my second language, body language.”

  No question he was fluent. I’d never again think of body language the same way.

  “Oh my God…” I whispered, shuddering as his lips found a sensitive spot behind my ear. Just as he’d trailed a fiery path down to my exposed collarbone, his phone went off. He ignored it. A few seconds later, it started again.

  “Fuck,” he swore, dropping his forehead to my shoulder.

  “Better answer it,” I advised, my voice breathless. “Better not be a wife.”

  “You know it’s not.” He lifted the cell to his ear. “Jones.” I heard indistinct speaking then Nixon said, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnected the line. “I have to go take care of something up front. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  With that, he storm out of the room. It took two point one seconds for my senses to clear. What the hell was I doing?

  Chapter Two

  ~ Nixon ~

  I knew I was staring, and I didn’t even try to stop. December had yet to see me leaning against the doorjamb of my office. She had her hair up in that tight, braided bun again, but after seeing it last night, I knew how fucking gorgeous it was. I seriously needed to make a new rule that she couldn’t wear her hair like that, but then I didn’t want any of the swinging dicks in our office to see my woman’s crowning glory. My fingers flexed, remembering the feel of it against my palms and wanting to bury my hands in it again. Or wrap it around the erection that had barely let up for the past ten months.

  Fucking no frat policy.

  I’d made the rule; I had to figure out how to ch
ange it without blow back. It frustrated me. Everything December Rose related frustrated me lately. That I wanted her, that I suspected she carried a torch for her old boyfriend and she’d see him at Christmas, that she was going home for Christmas and I’d be alone, wanting her.

  But mostly, right now, I was frustrated because she’d run off last night while I was taking care of an issue with the bar. I’d wanted her for ten eternal months, and I’d known it was her the second I spotted her at the party. A shot of pure adrenaline had through my system when I’d seen her in that dress. Holy fuck, it was sexy. Classy, but sexy, nonetheless.

  I wanted her. Not just for one night, but in my life and in my life permanently. She’d think I was going from zero to a hundred in a flash, but this was a long time coming. We just a couple small hurdles to navigate.

  Like company policy.

  Like that she might be pining after Reverend Asshole.

  Like that she needed to get on the same page with me.

  I had no intention of letting any of that stand in my way.

  “December,” I called. She startled, and her head shot up, color filling her cheeks. “Can I see you in my office?”

  December looked around, obviously taking in the deserted office, as if wondering why we couldn’t talk right here. I wanted complete privacy and there were still a few people in the building. I couldn’t chance any of them passing by, particularly if this conversation went south.

  I waited for her to enter, then shut the door. Before she took more than a few steps, I hugged her from behind, my mouth going to her ear. “You left,” I accused.

  She gasped, stiffening in my embrace. I had no doubt she felt my rock-hard dick pressing into her back. “I… What?”

  “You. Left,” I repeated. “I told you I’d be right back. Are you going to deny it was you, pretend like you didn’t know it was me? We’ve been dancing around this for a long time—too long.”

  “I… But… We can’t,” she choked out.