The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers (3 page)

Her mom wouldn’t listen to advice about getting help in order to emerge from under the dark clouds surrounding her traumatic marital disappointment. Instead, she had spread those dark clouds over Kim.

The guilt about wanting to be rid of the deep-seated feelings of abandonment was sharp-edged, and nearly as painful now as the old heartaches. The warnings her mother had given her had calloused several times over.

Kim had thought long and hard about this since her mother’s death. What she had needed was a little more leeway to get used to the fact that with her mother gone, she could embrace change without angering or hurting anyone else. Still, did that entail capitulating on the Christmas issue so soon? Was she ready for that, when this particular holiday had played such a negative role in her life?

Brenda hurried on. “If you don’t want to tell Monroe the truth, you have about an hour to formulate a reason he’ll accept in lieu of the truth. Fabricating illusions is what we do on a daily basis, right? We make people want to buy things.”

After letting a beat of time go by for that to sink in, Brenda spoke again. “Call me selfish, Kim, but I’d like to keep you here and happy, and so would a whole host of other people. I doubt if the new guy would actually fire you, anyway. He’d have no real reason to. You can work this out. Also, you could try the truth. Talking about it might be cathartic.”

Kim shook her head. Brenda hadn’t witnessed Monroe’s show of personalized aggression in his office doorway. Monroe had used the physical card to get her to back down, intending to intimidate her with his stockpile of charisma. And it had worked. There was no way she’d talk to a complete stranger about complicated and painful personal details and have him laugh them off as childish. Or worse, have him wave them away as being inconsequential.

“If the truth is still too painful, maybe you can spin the issue another way.” Brenda snorted delicately. “You could tell Monroe that you have a Santa fetish.”

Kim gave her a look.

“You can tell him a therapist explained that your Santa fetish means that you’re looking for a father figure to replace yours, and you’ve attached yourself to a fantasy ideal. So much so, that it’s embarrassing to discuss or work with.”

Kim knew a ploy to lighten the mood when she heard one.

“Bren, you are usually so much better than that.”

“The source of the idea wouldn’t matter, Kim. Mention the word
therapist,
and Monroe would be afraid of a lawsuit if he were to ever fire you for mental health reasons.”

Brenda had the audacity to giggle, despite the seriousness of the subject matter, because she was on a ludicrous roll. “You secretly long for the person who is supposed to possess magical powers that he uses for good, and this longing makes you crazy at this time of year.”

“Bren, listen to yourself. You’re suggesting that I tell my boss I have a secret hard-on for the guy whose belly shakes like a bowlful of jelly, and reindeer with dorky names.”

“Humor aside, isn’t that what you’re actually waiting for? Haven’t you been searching for a man with the ability to override your background issues by making dull things seem shiny and bright? You’d like to find an honest man who could disprove your mother’s ideas about relationships.”

Kim rubbed her forehead harder. Brenda was right. She did want a man with those quasi-magical qualities. Someone caring, understanding, strong and above all, loyal. She got breathless just thinking about it, and about separating herself from the dark spell her mother had woven.

The problem was, she seemed to only date men who had none of those things to offer. Every one of her companions so far had come up short of ideal. Maybe she’d made her poor choices to subconsciously confirm her mother’s philosophy of relationship instability and injustice. She could see this. It made sense. Honestly though, she did not want to end up alone, and like her mother.

She sagged against the wall. “There’s a fatal flaw in your reasoning, Bren. If I had a desire for Santa Claus and his magic, why would I be opposed to working on Christmas? I’d love Christmas. But you are partly right.”

Kim pressed the hair back from her face and continued. “Secretly, I’ve always wanted to dump the darkness and embrace the holiday celebrations. I’ve wanted that for as long as I can remember. It’s been my secret heartache.”

More to the point, she couldn’t stand anger and blame and insidious hatred, and had missed a good portion of her childhood fantasies because of her mother’s take on those things. The idea of a real Santa Claus had been her one ongoing illicit passion from early on. A dream. A ray of light in the dark world she’d grown up in.

She had never disclosed this secret longing to anyone. What good would it do? What child didn’t want to lighten the load and share celebrations with her friends, in spite of the fact that some things were forbidden?

Guilt was a desperate emotion. Its tentacles ran deep and clung hard. Nevertheless, contrary to her mother’s feelings, she had never wanted to commit her father to the fires of Hades for making her mother’s life miserable. For Kim, there had only been sadness, emptiness. Little girls needed their fathers.

She had grown up desiring the ability to absorb pain, table it and move on. She wished to fill the emptiness inside her with something better than loss. Creativity had done that for her. This job had done it. She made other peoples’ fantasies come true on a regular basis. Just not hers.

Not that one specific fantasy, anyway.

“I want to participate in the holiday festivities and be really truly happy,” she confessed. “I just don’t know how to go about it, or where to start. I’m afraid my mother might roll over in her grave if I did.”

As for the theory of cheating men, wrong men...that image seemed to fit the new boss, Chaz Monroe. Although she’d had tingly feelings in his presence, and her heart rate had skyrocketed, all that proved was that her pattern of choosing inappropriate males hadn’t ended. She was attracted to flighty men caught up in their own needs. If she went down that particular path, led by Chaz Monroe, she’d regret it.

“I’m considering shock treatment,” she said. “I don’t rule it out.”

“To my way of thinking, a little therapy now might save you a load of trouble in the long run,” Brenda agreed. “Please don’t be mad that I’m telling you this. Friends have obligations.”

Way too much time had been spent on this. Kim could hear her watch ticking.

Brenda sighed. “There is always plan B. If you don’t want to discuss this tonight, you could distract him. Throw Monroe a curveball. A sexy new outfit and some killer shoes worn as a talisman against unwanted negativity might work. At least it might give you another day or two to decide what to do.”

“I didn’t know shoes could repel negativity.”

“They can if they’re the red stilettos in the window of the shop next door.”

“Those shoes cost more than my rent.”

“Won’t they be worth it if they work?” Brenda pointed out.

“If they don’t, will you pay my bills?”

“I have a little cash saved up,” Brenda admitted.

Kim tried not to choke on the Tree In A Can spray coming from Brenda’s cubicle. She didn’t want to bring Brenda down with her. The fact was that this new boss was likely going to create some havoc, and she’d have to wiggle her way out of the situation in order to prolong her employment. Chaz Monroe hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy who was used to compromises.

Was Monroe a jerk? Maybe. He’d wanted to make her uncomfortable with all that forbidden closeness, and his method had scored. Worse yet, he had seen her squirm. If he got close to her again, though, she’d cry foul, in public, where she’d have witnesses to his behavior.

Oh yes, Chaz Monroe, playboy, would be trouble, all right.

“He has big blue eyes,” she said wistfully, then looked to Brenda, hoping she hadn’t just announced that out loud.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Brenda concluded. “Because real demons have red eyes. And tails.”

A chill trickled down Kim’s spine, messing with the heat left over from her meeting with Monroe. Misplaced heat waves aside, the real question was whether she wanted to keep this job, and the answer was yes. No one wanted to find out how long the unemployment lines would be in December. Plus, she truly liked most of the people she worked with.

So...could she afford to allow Christmas to be a deal breaker, or was she willing to fight for what she wanted?

“A sexy dress and some shoes, huh?” she said.

Brenda nodded. “It’s a bit aggressive, but it’s been done for ages. Think Mata Hari.”

Kim tilted her head in thought.

“Uh-oh,” Brenda said, disappearing from behind the partition and appearing in the entrance to Kim’s cubicle. “I don’t think I like what I see in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You wouldn’t do anything stupid, right, like trying to seduce Monroe out of his title?” Brenda advanced. “You wouldn’t play the harassment card, if it came to that? Seduce him and then blow the whistle to get him out of the way? That would be a terrible plan, Kim. It would be desperate, and unlike you.”

Kim nodded. “In any case, I’m thinking I might have to get plastered before that meeting in the bar.”

“You don’t drink. You never drink.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” Brenda said doubtfully. “But if it goes all haywire, please leave me the red shoes in your will for when this is all over, and the comfy chair by the window in your apartment.”

Kim grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Brenda was right. Revenge wasn’t like her. Not even remotely. However, if Chaz Monroe continued to play the intimidation card, and if he proved himself to be another unreliable male adversary, she’d have to find the strength to enact Plan C. Char his ass.

“Cover for me, Bren,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m going shopping.”

“May the force of Mata Hari be with you,” Brenda called out conspiratorially as Kim headed for the door.

Three

C
haz had pegged the bar scene perfectly. Young people were expensively turned out. Women in chic attire carried neon martinis and threw air kisses. At thirty-two and in a sports coat, he felt like their slightly out-of-it older brother, though women eyed him up and down with avid interest and unspoken invitations in their eyes.

Half of these people probably worked for him in some capacity or another and didn’t yet recognize him by sight. By the end of the month, he would know each and every name on his payroll, and all ten of the building’s janitors. Just now, however, he needed to remain incognito and observe the scene while he waited. For her.

He chose a table in a dark corner and sat on a stool with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door.

“Big Brother is watching you,” he said beneath his breath.

He didn’t really like chic bars where the young and the restless gathered to prance and preen. He preferred quiet corners in coffee shops where actual conversation could take place. The bar would likely be neutral territory for Kim, though. There’d be no battle lines here, away from official turf. Nor would there be any one-on-one private time that might get him into trouble.

He ordered a draft beer from an auburn-haired server in a tight black dress, who had a small tattoo on one sleek upper arm. He kept his attention on the doorway Kim would soon walk through, wanting to witness her entrance and observe her for a minute before she saw him.

He had spent the last hour trying not to imagine what she would be like in action, and he now wondered which of the guys surrounding him might have dated her and known her intimately. The thought made him uncomfortable, as did the image of some other guy tasting the heat of her hot pink mouth.

He did know one thing for sure. He had put way too much emphasis on their brief meeting, and had given McKinley far too much credit as a femme fatale. Not long now, and he’d find out how ridiculous his fantasies had been, because nobody liked a diva who ruled from within the confines of a short, tight skirt, and a lot of people in this building liked Kim.

His beer arrived, along with a phone number scribbled on a napkin. Chaz looked around. A pretty brunette at another table raised her glass and smiled at him.

He smiled back.

Pocketing the napkin, he took a swig from his long-necked bottle and refocused on the door.

Business first.

Several people entered in a group, but Kim wasn’t among them. The noise decibel was rising quickly as the crowd swelled and empty glasses piled up. Chaz could barely hear himself think—which might have been a good thing in this instance, since thoughts turned to
her
again.

Would she work this crowd or ignore it?

Had someone else been waiting for her before this meeting? That
appointment?

His stomach tightened when he thought about it. He was beginning to feel damp around the collar in spite of the cold shower.

With the bottle hoisted halfway to his mouth, Chaz suddenly paused, feeling Kim’s presence before he actually saw her.

Then there she was, at last, the sight of her like a dropkick to his underutilized libido.

Again.

For the third time that day, he absolutely could not take his eyes off her. Tonight, the reason was downright blatant. Kim McKinley was a carnal vision in an eye-popping red dress. Tight, short and silky, that dress pulsed with the word
sex.
Cut low enough at the neckline for a far too revealing peek at bare, glistening, ivory flesh, it caressed her body, hugging each curve.

Diva with a red dress on...

He stifled a chuckle as she moved through the crowd by the door like a tawny-haired hurricane. He wasn’t the only person who stared.

She had let down her hair. Golden strands gleamed in the darkened room, floating an inch or two below her chin and giving the impression that she possessed a halo. But it was a fact that no angel would dare to dress like that.

Chaz’s stomach twisted at the sight. But Kim wasn’t alone. Another woman accompanied her, as dark as Kim was fair. Points went to him for inviting Brenda Chang, who hopefully might already have knocked some sense into Kim about her future job description.

Another good gulp of his draft seemed to settle him as Chaz waited to see if McKinley would come over, or if she would expect him to bend in her direction. Her beautiful features were set. She didn’t smile.

When Kim finally sighted him with a gaze like a searchlight, Chaz did a quick head-shake and slapped his bottle down on the table. He stood up.

As she approached, his gaze traveled down her length, stopping at her ankles. She looked taller tonight because she was perched on dangerously high heels, the kind he’d imagined her wearing the first time he’d seen her. Shiny crimson stilettos.

Chaz whistled to himself. He couldn’t help it.

Had she read his mind that afternoon?

So you really do know how to make an entrance. Well, okay. You have my full attention.

He raised his bottle in acknowledgment of her presence, and ditched the urge to clap his hands at the show she was providing, sure the sexy clothes were meant for some lucky bastard’s sensory pleasure in taking them off. It was possible she had lied about not having a date.

“Mr. Monroe,” she said in greeting.

“Ms. McKinley.” Chaz gave her a nod.

The electrical current whizzing through the air between them from the distance of two feet felt strong enough to have burned the bar to the ground. He didn’t imagine that. Their chemistry was undeniable, at least on his end.

Fine hairs at the nape of his neck were stirring. Fire roared through his muscles, causing a twitch. These reactions were a further indication of their instantaneous attraction, and also a hint about being so close to a sin-coated challenge.

“I’ve brought someone you should meet,” she said in that seductive drawl. “This is Brenda Chang.”

Chaz held out a hand to Brenda, who took it, though her eyes avoided his.

“I’m happy to meet you in person, Brenda,” he said.

“Thanks for the invitation to join you,” Brenda returned.

“I heard that you two work closely together, and that you’re a good team,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true,” Brenda agreed.

She was an attractive young woman with porcelain skin, dark eyes and a slender body encased in a tasteful blue suit.

Gesturing to the table, Chaz said, “Care to sit down?”

Would Wonder Woman act on any suggestion he made? Quite surprisingly, she did. She slid sideways onto a stool and crossed her legs, placing the heel of one dagger-sharp stiletto just inches from his right calf and making Chaz ponder the idea of what those heels would feel like if they were in bed together. It was a thought he had vowed not to have tonight.

“So,” he began, once they all were in place around the little table. He avoided staring at the spot where Kim’s shapely knee disappeared beneath the colorful silk. “Thanks for coming.”

“Shall we get right to it?” she asked.

This, too, was unexpected. Chaz rallied with another nod.

“I believe you wanted to speak about the Christmas campaigns?” she said.

Brenda passed her pal a silent glance of interest.

“Yes,” Chaz replied. “I’ve read the contract from front to back. But first, would you like something to drink?”

“I could use some Chardonnay,” Brenda announced in a breathy outburst, smiling at him.

“Martini,” Kim said.

“Oh, boy,” Brenda muttered after hearing her friend’s drink order. She flashed Chaz another pretty smile.

Of course Kim wanted a martini, the drink of choice for the young, pretty people these days. Still, Chaz, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, had expected her order to be bottled water with a lemon wedge. He was a little disappointed to have been wrong about that as he flagged down the server.

“What kind of martini would you like?” he asked.

Oddly enough, the simple query seemed to stump her. She glanced to Brenda.

“You always like the appletinis here,” Brenda prompted.

“Yes. That’s what I’ll have,” Kim said. Turning to Chaz, she added, “Now, where were we?”

Was he wrong in his impression that she didn’t know what an appletini was, and that there was something going on between Kim and Brenda that caused Brenda to show concern? He was pretty sure that Brenda had just fed Kim a line about the drink order.

“I’m aware of your rather unusual contract,” he said. “What I’d like to do is ask politely that you ink it out. I’m hoping you can see this as a special favor to the agency and to our clients.”

“Do you mean the clients who would like to continue working with me?” she asked, stressing her point of being well liked by those accounts.

Chaz shrugged. Kim’s scarlet dress and her chilly vibe were at odds with each other, a dichotomy that did nothing to lessen the warmth searing through him each time she moved.

“A vice president has to oversee all accounts,” he said.

“Yes, you do,” she tossed back, emphasis on
you
.

“Being new, I’d like your help,” he said. “Maybe we can start small on the help, and see how it goes?”

“I’m all ears, Mr. Monroe, as to what you might require.” She did not glance at her watch, but added, “For the next ten minutes.”

“It’s Chaz. Please call me Chaz.”

He was peripherally aware of how Kim’s chest rose and fell laboriously with each new breath she took. Was that a sign of anger or anxiety? Outwardly, she looked calm enough. Cool, calm and collected. Yet she was electrically charged. He felt that charge pass through him. His heart beat a little faster.

“We’ve been asked to attend a special party for a potential new client, and I have volunteered to help make this an event. It’s a very last-minute request, so with Ms. Chang already inundated, I’d need your help,” he said.

He looked to Brenda, who passed the look on to Kim.

“Sorry.” Kim carefully folded her hands around the stem of her glass when it arrived. “If you mean helping with something right now, that’s impossible. I have the next two weeks off, starting tomorrow at noon.”

“I’d be willing to double your holiday bonus for the extra time and effort,” he said, applying a bit of preplanned pressure to see if money floated her boat. “We can talk about the clause afterward if you like.”

Brenda took a sip of her wine and continued to gaze at Kim over the rim of her glass. Brenda appeared to be nervous about being in the middle of this conversation, and had started inching her glass sideways on the table as if she and the glass might make a quick getaway the first chance she got.

Good for her, for noticing where she wasn’t needed. And to hell with the crowd. Chaz now wanted Kim all to himself. He wanted nothing more. They could hash this out, once and for all. If she remained stubborn, maybe they could arm wrestle a deal.

“I’m really sorry I can’t help,” Kim said, lush strands of gold brushing her face when she shook her head. “I’ve already made plans for my time off.”

Chaz was actually starting to enjoy this game. He had always been good at chess. He did wonder, though, how far she’d go...and how far he’d go to stop her.

“Any way you might break those plans?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t at this late date.”

“If I say please?”

She sat motionless for a minute, and then began to turn her glass in circles on the table without taking a drink. Chaz didn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t so much as placed her lips on the glass since it had arrived.

“As a favor to a potential client, then,” Chaz said. “Not to me personally.”

Another beat of time passed while he awaited her response.

“Didn’t you just say that you read my contract?” she finally said with a subtle tone of disappointment underscoring her reply.

Chaz found himself fascinated with thoughts about how this would play out. He had said
please,
right? Surely she had to realize that this one decision could make or break the upward mobility of her career, at least with this agency.

He downed some beer and waited to see if she would explain herself.

“I truly am sorry,” she said seconds later. “I’d be happy to help out any other time, with any other holiday. Really, I would help now if my situation were different.”

“Different?” Chaz couldn’t wait to hear this. If she was seriously involved in a relationship with some guy, and had
that
kind of plans for the next week, he’d have heard it from the people feeding him office gossip that afternoon. According to Alice, his agency bloodhound, Kim was pretty much a free agent in the serious relationship department.

“I’m...” she began.

“It’s against her religion,” Brenda said for her, and immediately flushed pink for having spoken out of turn.

Kim squirmed. He saw it. In the process, her left arm brushed his. Chaz’s body responded with a jerk. The aftereffects of the surprise ignited a new and relatively irritating blaze of heat in his chest that robbed him of his next decent breath.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s what prevents you from working on all this holiday stuff?”

She recrossed her legs and blinked slowly. “Well...”

She didn’t finish her excuse. A lovely flush crept up her neck, presenting a very seductive picture, for sure. The best he’d seen in a long time. But right then he wanted badly to throw her over his knee and give her a good spanking.
Bad little princess,
he’d say.
Why the white lies and the avoidance? Let’s get right to the truth. You could do this if you wanted to.

Or maybe he should just kiss her pouty mouth for all it was worth and see if that got a rise out of her. Maybe if they got that kiss out of the way, Kim might confess the real reasoning behind her ridiculous holiday reluctance.

On the other hand, she might slap his face and call it a night, and he’d be back to square one. Taking it further, she might take that walk, and take her clients with her.

Well, okay, there was a fine line between pushing her away and getting what he wanted, but he did owe her a shot at the title she coveted.