Authors: Fiona Shin
His For Christmas (21 page)
Disturbed?
Instead
of
opening
his
mouth
and
saying
something
he
was
bound
to
regret,
he
clamped
his
mouth
shut
and
glared
at
her.
of
opening
his
mouth
and
saying
something
he
was
bound
to
regret,
he
clamped
his
mouth
shut
and
glared
at
her.
At
his
rate,
she
was
probably
going
to
think
he
was
mentally
ill.
his
rate,
she
was
probably
going
to
think
he
was
mentally
ill.
She
put
down
her
knitting,
clasping
her
hands
on
her
lap.
All
that
would
’
ve
been
fine
if
she
wasn
’
t
still
staring
at
him.
put
down
her
knitting,
clasping
her
hands
on
her
lap.
All
that
would
’
ve
been
fine
if
she
wasn
’
t
still
staring
at
him.
Which
she
was.
she
was.
“
Mr.
Whitley,
”
she
began
and
Elliot
stopped
her.
Mr.
Whitley,
”
she
began
and
Elliot
stopped
her.
“
Never
mind,
”
he
said.
“
I
’
ll
be
in
my
office.
”
Never
mind,
”
he
said.
“
I
’
ll
be
in
my
office.
”
“
Of
course,
Mr.
Whitley,
”
she
repeated
in
that
maddeningly
infuriating
tone.
“
If
there
is
something
I
require,
I
will
let
you
know.
”
Of
course,
Mr.
Whitley,
”
she
repeated
in
that
maddeningly
infuriating
tone.
“
If
there
is
something
I
require,
I
will
let
you
know.
”
By
the
time
Elliot
made
it
to
his
office,
he
wanted
to
bash
his
head
against
the
walls.
Christ,
what
the
hell
was
wrong
with
him?
the
time
Elliot
made
it
to
his
office,
he
wanted
to
bash
his
head
against
the
walls.
Christ,
what
the
hell
was
wrong
with
him?
She
was
beautiful.
Too
beautiful.
Every
time
she
left
the
house,
he
was
afraid
she
’
d
never
come
back,
having
been
offered
several
marriage
proposals
on
her
way
to
the
general
store.
was
beautiful.
Too
beautiful.
Every
time
she
left
the
house,
he
was
afraid
she
’
d
never
come
back,
having
been
offered
several
marriage
proposals
on
her
way
to
the
general
store.
Why
should
it
have
bothered
him
so
much?
should
it
have
bothered
him
so
much?
Was
he
jealous?
he
jealous?
He
made
do
with
dropping
his
head
heavily
on
his
desk.
“
Get
a
hold
of
yourself,
man.
”
made
do
with
dropping
his
head
heavily
on
his
desk.
“
Get
a
hold
of
yourself,
man.
”
Just
the
thought
of
her
sitting
in
front
of
the
fire,
the
flames
highlighting
the
burgundy
of
her
long
hair,
cheeks
pink
from
the
warmth,
was
enough
to
bring
a
tightness
to
his
chest,
his
groin
and
he
closed
his
eyes,
trying
to
think
of
anything
but
that.
the
thought
of
her
sitting
in
front
of
the
fire,
the
flames
highlighting
the
burgundy
of
her
long
hair,
cheeks
pink
from
the
warmth,
was
enough
to
bring
a
tightness
to
his
chest,
his
groin
and
he
closed
his
eyes,
trying
to
think
of
anything
but
that.
Ivy
underneath
him.
underneath
him.
Ivy,
head
thrown
back,
body
flush
from
passion.
head
thrown
back,
body
flush
from
passion.
He
groaned
and
banged
his
head
on
the
desk again.
groaned
and
banged
his
head
on
the
desk again.
It
didn
’
t
help.
didn
’
t
help.
A knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Whitley.”
He breathed in deep and half fancied he could smell that incredibly intoxication scent that seemed to surround her like an invisible mantle. “Yes, Miss Stevens?”
There was a faint pause and he held his breath, hoping against hope the woman had decided to leave.
“Might I come in?”
Blast it all, no such luck. He should've known.
Straightening back up, he pulled his chair closer to the desk and arranged the papers in front of him, just in case she was impatient. “I would rather you didn't, Miss Stevens. As I said before, I am quite a busy man.”
He almost choked on his own lie. “Perhaps it can wait?”
Another pause. This time longer.
“I see,” she said, voice muffled from behind the thick study door.
Mr. Kent's property deed for his fourteen acre farm never looked so appealing. “Yes. Perhaps another time?”
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