Heating Up the Holidays 3-Story Bundle(3)

Straightening my spine, I attempt to reclaim the power I’ve given him and persuade us both that my gaping was in our imaginations. “I’m Ms. Miller, Mr. Ward,” I confirm. “I know you have a flight to catch. What can I do to help?”

The amusement in his unique pale-green eyes says he’s fully aware of the gift I gave him and he’s keeping it. “I need you in my office. We have to cover a few things before I leave.”

“Yes, of course,” I agree quickly, and, expecting him to turn and lead the way, I take a step closer. He doesn’t move. We end up almost toe-to-toe, with me staring at his chest. It’s safer than his eyes, which will see too much. It’s a nice chest. Broad and hard enough to flex beneath his shirt and suit jacket as he reaches for the ringing cell phone in his pocket.

I take a step backward. He turns and faces the other direction and answers the call: “Right. Yes. I’ll be on my way.” Short and sweet, and he ends the connection before facing me again. “Change of plans. You’re riding with me to the airport.” He doesn’t wait for my agreement, but, then, he didn’t really ask a question. He gives me his back and disappears into his office.

I blink after him, trying to process what has happened. Ride with him to the airport? I swallow the cotton forming in my throat. This is going to be him and me in a small space, playing with who gets what power, before I’ve even sat down at my desk.

“Ready?” he asks, reappearing with a briefcase on his shoulder and stopping only a few steps from me.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly, and suddenly we are standing here as if he doesn’t have a flight to catch, staring at each other, and I am drowning in the depths of his light-green eyes. He’s sizing me up in some way, and it’s unnerving. He’s unnerving. Seconds tick by, until his lips hint at a curve of a smile, as if he has seen something in me I did not intentionally mean to show him, and he says, “I guess we’ll find out just how ready you are, now, won’t we?”

I see the challenge in his eyes, read the undertone of his words, and this pleases me. There is a reason he didn’t pull Dana from the front desk despite her reservations. He doesn’t want the timidity of insecurity. And while I might have lost myself for a while, I am back, and Bambi I am not.

“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “We will.”





Part Two


I’ve got your number…


Approval flashes in those gorgeous eyes of my new boss, and he says, “I’m looking forward to it, Ms. Miller,” then motions me ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Pleased with his reaction, and feeling better about this job by the moment, I shift my briefcase on my shoulder and head toward the main lobby. Tall and broad, he falls into step beside me, and I am still far too aware of him. It’s a problem I will need to fix, and quickly. Which is exactly why, when we enter the lobby, I do not look at Dana. I don’t need her, or anyone else, reading my attraction to Mr. Ward before I can get a grip on it. Both he and the staff need to trust that I’m competent and professional if I am going to be his right-hand person.

I punch the elevator button. While Mr. Ward lingers behind to instruct Dana to leave his messages on his voice mail, the scent of him seems to chase me. It’s spicy and wintery, stirring the oddest memory of a candle my mom used to burn during the holidays.

A second nervous jab of the elevator button and, with Mr. Ward on my heels, we step into the car, that cursed cologne of his suffocating me with its deliciousness. I face forward. He does not, and I’m quite aware of him leaning on the wall, inspecting me with more nerve-racking intensity. I think he’s doing this intentionally, playing a game, continuing to test me.

Steeling myself for the impact that is this man, I slowly turn to face him, and find that only a few steps separate us. Against my natural instinct, which tells me that we are too close, and my feminine instinct, which says we are not close enough, I settle on standing my ground. Besides, moving away would come with the risk of showing weakness.

He doesn’t speak, and I can’t fight the need to fill the empty space. “I have a good memory, so if you want to start running through important information, I’m all ears.”

His eyes light with more of that challenge I’d seen in his office. “Why do you want this job?”

My not-so-far-gone post-college interview speech flows automatically from my lips. “To be a valuable asset to your company and build a career.”

“I value honesty, not politically correct answers you think I want to hear. Why do you want this job?”