The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers (6 page)

“You just don’t get the picture,” she accused. “I don’t know you at all.”

“You know me well enough to want to prosecute me for minor indiscretions. Also, I did say I’m willing to take on an added year in the slammer if you think I need it after we hash this out.”

“Can I have that in writing? About the slammer?”

“I’m fresh out of pens.”

“How convenient.”

“You do have a tape recorder, though,” he reminded her. “It’s possible you’re using it now.”

Silence.

“You don’t know how persistent I can be, Kim. Lawsuit or not, blackmail or whatever, I still have to take care of business while the fate of that business rests in my hands. Don’t you have a sympathetic bone in your body? Can’t you put yourself in my place?”

“I was supposed to be in your place.”

“Water under the bridge, Kim. How long can you hold that against me?”

Another silence ensued. Chaz held his breath.

“Let me speak to Sam,” she said.

“Sam?”

“The doorman. He’ll come if you call.”

Chaz called out to the man, and he ambled over and took the phone.

“Yep,” Sam said to the receiver, nodding. “Yep. I certainly will, Miss McKinley.” Then Sam hung up the phone.

“What did she say?” Chaz asked.

“I’m to take something as collateral, then send you up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Miss McKinley wants me to hold something as ransom, in order for you to visit her apartment. You can pick that item up again when you come back downstairs. I have instructions to call the police if you don’t pick it up within the hour.”

“Like what?” Chaz said. “My wallet?”

“The value of that as collateral depends on what’s in it,” Sam said without missing a beat.

“Who do I call if I come back and you’re not here with my wallet?” Chaz asked.

Sam looked dramatically aghast at the suggestion. “I have a drawer right here, and I’ll lock it up, minus whatever you see fit to give me for keeping it safe. If you prefer, I can give the wallet to a neutral third party.”

“What kind of doorman are you?”

Sam held out his hand, palm up. “The kind that cares about his wards.”

Chaz fished for his wallet, took out a wad of cash and his credit cards, then handed a twenty-dollar bill and the wallet to McKinley’s private watchdog.

He held up the rest of the cash. “Just in case I have to buy off anyone else between here and her apartment.”

Sam grinned and pressed the elevator button for him. “Apartment 612. Have a nice night.”

The elevator was slow and bumpy, but Chaz stepped out on the sixth floor. He found number 612 a few doors down, its oiled wood glowing in the light from the wall sconce beside it.

As he waited to knock, he pondered further what Kim’s home would be like, half dreading finding out. Personalities were reflected in a person’s surroundings. If she preferred chintz chairs, mounds of pillows and draperies with fringe, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Run away, maybe. After all, he didn’t want to marry McKinley. He just wanted to...

Well, he wanted to...

God, would she have a cat?

He’d be a dog guy, himself, if he had any time or space for pets.

And it was perfectly clear that what he was doing with all this ridiculous speculation was trying to talk himself out of this next meeting with her after getting this far.

Fingering the tape recorder in his pocket, he knocked softly.

“Yes?” she called out.

“Monroe. Not completely broke, I might add, because Sam showed a little mercy. I think he recognized your real intention, which was to put me in my place.”

“Say what you wanted to say and then go away.”

“From here, with the door between us? What would the neighbors think?”

The door opened a crack. Kim’s face appeared behind a stretched brass chain. “Go away, Monroe. We have nothing further to say to each other tonight.”

“Then why did you let me come up?”

“To tell you that to your face.”

He noticed right away that she looked smaller. She had ditched the red shoes, but still wore the red dress that glowed like liquefied lava in the light from the sconce.

“If I let you in,” she added, “it might ruin my lawsuit. So why are you here?”

“You’re a challenge I have to take up.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment, or are you merely the type of person that needs to win at all cost?”

“Winning isn’t everything,” he countered. “The need to understand you is why I’m here.”

“What part of
none of your business
don’t you get?”

“You kissed me,” he said, wondering why he’d brought that up again. He’d kissed other women, for heaven’s sake.

“So?” she said.

“Was it me or the game you might be playing that made you do it?”

She closed the door. He heard it seal tight.

“Would you prefer I spoke about holiday clauses here? How about if I mention Santa, and how you made that sound in the bar?”

The door opened again, not quite as widely, showing off Kim’s exquisitely creased expression. “That’s not funny.”

Chaz shrugged. “What more have I got to lose?”

“How about your job?”

“Okay, Kim. But remember, you forced me to do this.”

From his pocket, Chaz pulled out the tape recorder Brenda had handed him. He had listened to it on the way over, and bookmarked a starting point in case of just such an instance as this, figuring Brenda wouldn’t have handed the tape over if it wasn’t something useful to his cause.

He hit Play. Brenda’s voice came from the tiny speaker.

Tell me about it
.
But first you have to dish about whether Monroe really does have a nice ass. You didn’t think he was hot? That’s the word going around. H-o-t, as in fan yourself.

Yeah? Did you hear anything about the man being an arrogant idiot?

No. My sources might have left that part out.

I don’t actually care about the nice ass part, Bren, preferring not to notice an area that I won’t be kissing.

Don’t be absurd, Kim. No one expects you to kiss anyone’s backside. It isn’t professional. What happened?

I’ll have to start over somewhere else, that’s what. Monroe won’t let me off the hook. He expects me to explain everything. He’ll expect me to cave.

As Chaz fast-forwarded slightly, he said, “I don’t think Brenda knew she was recording that. She had been making notes for herself on a project.”

He held the recorder up and pressed Play again.

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.

Chaz pocketed the recorder. “Then there was something about shoes and therapy and a Santa fetish.”

Kim stared at him through the crack.

“Also, I believe that seducing me was mentioned, which might tend to negate that harassment suit and the blackmail you might have planned on using to get me to back down.”

Kim looked very pale, in stark contrast to her red dress.

“So, there is no Santa fetish?” he asked. “You made that up?”

Now she looked sick, and he felt bad. But he wanted her to let him in. He needed to get that far for reasons he did not want to contemplate.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want?”

“You and I tending to that Christmas party by working together.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“That’s the point. I want to understand. Until you can help me do that, we’re back to square one.”

“No. We’re back to you filling my place at the agency, because I’m out of there as of right now.”

Chaz shook his head. “Now you’re being stubborn. No one wants you to go, myself included. I’ve come here personally to tell you so, at much risk to my ego, I might add. Can’t that constitute a win on your part if you’re keeping score?”

She paled further. Possibly she wasn’t used to direct confrontations.

He held up the recorder. “How about if you get yours and we toss them both out the window?”

“We’re six floors up.”

“There’s little chance of them surviving the fall, right?”

“They might hit somebody. Maybe Sam.”

Chaz nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. You’re right. It would probably be simpler if we exchanged tapes. Then no one would have the goods on anyone else.”

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Talk and a holiday party,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated, surprised by her reply.

“When is this damn party?” she asked.

“In a week or so.”

“That’s only a few days before...”

“Christmas,” Chaz supplied.

She looked hesitant. “I can make some calls.”

“You will do this personally, Kim?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Chaz wasn’t sure about feeling relieved, because winning this round wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. Kim was going to pass the test after being shoved into it, but he might have pushed her too far. Her sudden acceptance reflected that. He had, he supposed, lost by winning, and he experienced an immediate pang of regret.

“It’s the last thing I’ll do for you,” she said, confirming his diagnosis of the situation.

Chaz wanted to let it go at that. At the same time, he desired to tell her she really didn’t have to work on the ridiculous and imaginary project, and that he was sorry for putting her through this. Breaking her would have hurt both of them, and that realization came as a further surprise, because he found that he liked Kim exactly the way she was.

“I know it might be true that you’ll decide to leave, but I’m counting on convincing you otherwise. I am sorry we had to meet like this,” he said.

How serious he had grown in saying what he truly meant. Chaz fought a strange impulse to break the little chain keeping them apart and wrap his arms around the pale version of McKinley facing him. Again, his instinct was to protect her, comfort her, though he had no idea why. She was Wonder Woman, after all.

Okay.
Backtracking, maybe he did know why he wanted to hold her. He had started to like her more than was appropriate, in spite of her stunt in the bar.

“Where is the party?” Her voice sounded dry. Her accent was pronounced, and no less sultry than the first time he’d heard it.

“I’ll give you the details tomorrow. Unless you’ll let me in right now,” he said.

“Good night, Monroe. I think we’ve said all there is to say for one night, don’t you?”

He supposed they had. Besides, Brenda would tell Kim about him any minute now, and that would be that. Cat out of the bag.

“Tomorrow, then.”

She closed the door.

Wishing he had another beer to chase away the thrill of being so close to the woman he didn’t want to feel anything for, Chaz instead considered calling his brother for a stern reprimand about pleading with any woman for any reason, and for putting himself in such an awkward position.

Big bro Rory, his elder by four years, wouldn’t beat around the bush. He’d just reach out and take what he wanted, perfectly willing to suffer the consequences. Then again, Rory at times seemed a little insane.

McKinley had agreed to help out. Soon she’d know that he wasn’t only her boss, but the new owner of the agency. His actual title shouldn’t make any difference, in theory. Still, she might take the undercover boss business badly.

He could knock again and tell her the truth about this being a test of her willingness to work with him, before Brenda called to tell her the truth of the situation.

What about when he sold the agency, flipping it for a profit, as he’d planned to do? What would happen to her then, if she didn’t back down first?

By helping Kim now, he’d be doing a good deed. So how the hell did he turn this situation around? Seriously, was that impossible?

As Chaz headed for the elevator, he had to concede that he’d at least given this a shot. But he didn’t make it to the elevator before hearing a door open. He turned to see Kim standing with her hands on her hips in the hallway, her pallor ghostly white, her lips parted for a speech she didn’t make.

In that moment, he thought how magnificent she looked, even in anger.

Six

F
ighting off a round of pure, livid anger, Kim faced Chaz Monroe with a distance of thirty feet separating them. Her pulse thudded annoyingly in her neck and wrists.

“You’re a bastard,” she said. “Is this a game for you? Tell me that much.”

“It wasn’t a game until you kissed me back and then pulled out that recorder,” he replied.

The door to the apartment next to Kim’s opened, and her neighbor looked out. Kim smiled wanly at the man. “Having a difference of opinion,” she said, explaining the noise.

“A lover’s spat,” Monroe clarified.

“Please do it elsewhere,” the old guy said, retreating back inside. “You’re spoiling my dinner.”

She pointed a finger at Monroe. “How did you get that tape recording? Did you plant bugs all over the building to keep an eye on things?”

“I did nothing of the sort,” he said. “It just happened to fall into my possession.”

“Like hell it did.”

“Maybe I should come in,” he suggested. “We’re beyond lawsuits, don’t you think? Unless...”

“Unless what?” she snapped.

“Unless you’re afraid you’ll do what you said on that recording.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Seducing me.”

“Get over yourself, Monroe. That wasn’t a plan, it was girl talk.”

“Yet you accomplished it,” he pointed out, shaking his way-too-handsome head and dislodging a strand of shaggy hair that fell becomingly across his forehead. It didn’t help her cause that he in no way looked like a monster.

Nor did Monroe look as smug as she had expected him to. Frankly, he didn’t appear to be pleased with his behavior any more than she was. He didn’t grin or let on what he might be thinking, though she did see something in his expression that left her short of breath.

“You didn’t think—” Her voice faltered. She started over. “You didn’t come here to—”

“As a matter of fact, I think I must have,” he replied.

“Dream on.” Kim placed a hand over her heart in disbelief as her body produced a quake of longing so intense for that very thing they were both thinking, she nearly gasped aloud.

Was it possible to despise a guy and want to bed him at the same time? Monroe had this ultrasexy thing going on that affected her as if it were magical. But he was clouding her judgment and preying on her attraction to him. Obviously, he knew about that weakness. He had heard her conversation with Brenda, where she had wistfully mentioned his looks.

And then again, there had been the kiss.

Kim widened her stance with a crisp show of authority she didn’t actually feel. The red dress strained at the seams.

“Letting me in would be a fitting end to this stalemate,” Monroe suggested.

Kim glanced down the hallway. Anytime now her nosy neighbor would be back in his doorway. She had to move this conversation out of the open, yet was afraid to get closer to the gorgeous guy who had mesmerized her into facing him again. This meeting went against every principle she had erected to protect herself.

“Letting you in would also be business blasphemy,” she said.

“Fortunately, I’m no longer talking about the business, Kim. Neither are you, I’m thinking.”

Monroe closed the distance between them with long strides. He was terribly seductive, even when he pleaded his case so crassly. His features and his body were damn near perfect. She hadn’t found a single physical flaw in the entire package, except for the shirt, visible beneath his open jacket, which still bore the creases from when she’d grabbed him earlier.

He possessed a damnable, pit-bullish persistence. She wasn’t at all sure about the state of his mind.

Or hers.

“Look, Kim,” Monroe said, “I can hardly explain how much I want to put business aside for just this one night, call a truce and get to know you better. That’s the truth.”

Kim’s mind sluggishly tripped through rules of negotiation. Should she toss caution to the wind and maul Monroe in the hallway? In the midst of thanking her lucky stars that he hadn’t yet reached her, her traitorous body had started to sag. She leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and considered the ramifications of taking Monroe up on his offer. What could it hurt to speak to him further if she was going to leave the agency, anyway?

It wasn’t as if she
cared
for Monroe, beyond her acute physical craving for him. Allowing him inside might be a fitting end to all this infuriating heat and drama.

He stood before her wearing a questioning expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Monroe,” she began. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

Her neighbor’s door opened. Kim tossed him a friendly wave. Sighing heavily in resignation, she wrapped her hands in Monroe’s coat and hauled him inside her apartment, hoping she hadn’t gone completely insane.

* * *

The first thing Chaz noticed was the sweet smell of her apartment. The second was how his body had ended up pressed tightly to Kim’s against the wall beside the front door that slammed shut behind them.

They were body to body, without an inch of space between, and below his waist, pertinent body parts were already thankful. Tight against her like that, he couldn’t think about business, what her home looked like or about mistrusting her. In fact, he’d just discovered that he was no longer able to trust himself. His body had the lead on this one, and his mind seemed curiously foggy about the future.

Kim’s long-lashed hazel eyes, mostly green, remained fixed on him. Her expression was hard to read. Her soft lips finally parted, and sensing another excuse coming that might end the highly sensual, highly addictive position he found himself in, Chaz didn’t let her voice a protest. He pressed his index finger to her mouth and shook his head. “Now’s not the time,” he whispered. “Backward is never the right direction.”

She offered him an expression that fell precariously close to being a grimace, and at the same time eyed him warily. But Kim’s mind, it seemed to him, had to be in the gutter, next to his.

Wonder Woman was in his grasp, and had welcomed it. Her lips weren’t pouty, exactly, but close to it, and relatively ruby-tinted, though he had kissed some of the color away in the bar. Her chest, against his, strained at the confines of the red dress. She breathed shallowly, in shudders.

“What do you propose we do about this?” she asked, biting down on her lower lip hard enough to leave an imprint of teeth marks.

“Are any tape recorders running?” he said.

She glared at him in a way that did nothing to ruin the glorious beauty of her pert oval face. Her ivory neck pulsed with a racing heartbeat. Feeling the firmness of her breasts pressed to his chest, Chaz knew the time for talk was over.

In a smooth motion, he slid one arm around her waist. The other arm followed. He stroked her slender back with his open palm in a gradual downward glide over the red silk that had been such an inspiration, and now seemed like an unnecessary barrier between them and their crazy, wayward desires.

He found the silk warm and fragrant, the texture exotic. Around them, the room felt cool, dim and distant. Between them, the fires of lustful attraction beat at the air.

Kim shivered as his fingers trailed down her spine. This time when her lips parted, a sigh of resignation emerged. Chaz watched her intently, holding on to his control with every ounce of willpower he possessed.

Just a little longer...

All he needed was one more little sign that she actually agreed to what was going to happen next.

He felt downright greedy now that he’d gotten this far. He wanted more of Kim McKinley, and getting closer than this wasn’t possible unless it became acceptable for two objects to actually occupy the same space at the same time. He yearned to be inside her, and to enjoy all of her. He hoped they’d settle for nothing less.

She closed her eyes in a flutter of long lashes. Her body swayed as if, parallel to his reactions, she had moved beyond the point of no return. She placed her hands on his hips, but didn’t push him away. She gave a slight tug, as though she shared his desire to relish the physicality of the moment.

This was the sign he had been waiting for.

He kissed her.

Not a soft, tender kiss, but a hungry devouring one. There was no hesitancy in McKinley’s response. She allowed this mouth-to-mouth exploration and joined in, meeting him in a white-hot dance of lips and tongues and fire, giving as much as receiving.

The McKinley he had wished for in his wildest dreams kissed him with a fury backed by her own level of greed. As his hands moved over her fine, sleek body, she rubbed up against him, fanning the flames of his raging desires.

Chaz could not recall ever feeling this way. Never this greedy, this needy, or this consumed.

The woman was driving him crazy....

And the damn dress was in the way.

Wanting to feel the smoothness of her skin beneath the slinky fabric, Chaz slowly began to raise the hem upward, over her thighs, toward her hips, listening to the rustle of the expensive silk. He couldn’t see the lace he hoped would be underneath, though he located its delicate pattern with his fingers.

Lace...

Narrow strips of elastic crossed her hips, holding the dainty lingerie in place. His fingers slipped under, sliding down the cleft that led to her feminine heat from the back.

She groaned. Their mingling breath was volcanic. He breathed hard and fast, ready to explode, and hadn’t even seen her naked. Kim was like catnip, with her mouth, her flawless skin and her inferno-like heat.

He desperately wanted all of her, and knew he couldn’t take the time. His pulsating body wouldn’t allow for the slowness of a proper bedding. Plus, no bedroom was in sight.

He shifted his hands to find the zipper at her back. The zipper made no sound as he eased it downward.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he took seconds to study her face, wondering if Kim was truly going to allow this, not quite believing his luck. He felt compelled to speak. “It will be worth it,” he said. “All the best things are.”

Her wide-eyed gaze unflinchingly met his. “Then why are you dallying?” Her voice was low-pitched and sensuously breathy.

“Is that what I’m doing?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind. Should I give you that option?”

“Why, when you’re so barbaric about everything else?”

Chaz’s physical urges escalated with the flirty tone of their repartee. It was to be a fight to the very end between them if their minds got in the way.

One of his hands remained on the zipper. He tilted her head back with his other one, with his fingers under her chin. “Maybe we can pretend we’re just two people enjoying each other.”

“Maybe I should have chugged that martini.”

“Was that your first?”

“Kiss?”

“Martini.”

“It couldn’t actually be the first if I didn’t drink it.”

Chaz tilted her head back farther, wanting to see deep into Kim’s soul through the pools of green in her eyes.

“And the kiss?” he said.

“Are you now asking for an accounting of other things in my personal life?”

“I’m jealous just thinking about your personal life.”

He eased the zipper the rest of the way down. Kim’s hands, on his hips, hadn’t moved again. Each turn of her head sent her lush scent scattering. Chaz inhaled her woodsy fragrance and felt it mix with the rising heat waves inside his chest. Talk couldn’t really spoil this for him. Nothing could. The deepness of her voice was a vibration that made him want her more than ever.

He feathered his lips over her forehead and placed a series of kisses on her cheek in a trail that led back to her mouth—not entirely sure why she allowed this kind of liberty.

She had a small waist and delicate bones. Touching her gave him a thrill equal to being caught in a lightning storm. This wasn’t love, it was lust, he reminded himself. Love didn’t leave a man breathless and overheated. He’d always figured love as a lukewarm emotional state that developed slowly over time between long-standing acquaintances. He and Kim didn’t know each other. They had barely spoken a few hundred words, total, and were acting on instinct.

“This is a truce,” he said, brushing her mouth with his. “A white flag.”

In a replay of the kiss in the bar, he rested his lips on hers lightly before drawing back far enough to note her response. Her eyes were half-closed now. Her lashes were blackened by eye makeup she didn’t need to enhance her appearance. Her skin gleamed as though their steamy encounter had moistened it. Up close, she really did look younger. She looked...delicious.

The red dress, he decided in a whirlwind of thought, probably wouldn’t hold a candle to Kim in a baggy T-shirt and nothing else. Kim with her hair mussed, getting out of bed on a weekend morning, or emerging from a shower, wet and soapy.

Those thoughts turned him on.

He wedged his thigh between her legs and pressed her roughly to the wall. Her mouth molded to his, and her mouth was a marvel. She nipped at his lips, breathing sultry streams of air into him.

Her hands found their way underneath his coat, and tugged at his shirt. Finding bare skin, her fingers splayed, hot as pokers, and sent streaks of pleasure soaring through him.

Who needed control when faced with
this?

What man wouldn’t consider giving up a future for a night like this one?

Liking how light she felt in his arms, he lifted her up. Her legs encircled his thighs. The spot he achingly wanted to reach settled over his erection as he held her close, though there were still too many clothes in the way.

Backing up a step made things worse. Part of him wanted to hold her like this forever, culmination be damned. But he was also aware of how close they had come to losing the chance of working anything out after this ferocious sexual escapade.

His mind’s chatter stopped abruptly when her mouth separated from his and moved to his ear. Her lips flitted over his lobe teasingly before she came back for more, her mouth hungrier this time, their kiss resembling the furor of anger in its intensity.

She was giving in, meeting him halfway as an aggressor. He had never desired anything so badly as to be inside her. Surely there was a place to finish this—a sofa or a rug?