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“I’ve never been more serious.” She selected a strawberry from the fruit tower marking the start of the buffet, and glanced around the room. Great turnout. Groups of employees stood and sat together, talking and laughing. There couldn’t be a more perfect moment for Santa to make his entrance.
Maybe her thought cued him, because the man of the hour swung through the door, waving and carrying a large red sack. Employees clapped and cheered at the unexpected guest.
Chelsea smiled at her friend. “I’ll be right back. I want to go up front where he’ll see—”
“Holy shit,” Laurie whispered and grabbed her arm.
“What?”
Her friend’s wide eyes were glued to the banquet room entrance, and something in their depths sent Chelsea’s heart on a free-fall to her stomach. She turned and watched mutely as Santa moved into the room, followed by…Paul.
Chelsea’s heart hammered against her ribs while waves of hot and cold swept over her. Champagne soured in her stomach and threatened to make an encore appearance. She ducked behind Laurie, swallowed hard, and watched Paul follow the mystery Santa onto the stage and step to the microphone. The chandelier lights danced over the red-suited stranger while Paul waited for the applause to die down.
Laurie leaned close. “Any clue?”
Chelsea stared, trying to see past the costume, but it was no use. “No,” she whispered. Now that the two men stood side-by-side, she could see Santa had a few inches on Paul, and his shoulders appeared slightly broader, but it was difficult to tell under the bulk of the red jacket.
“Okay, don’t freak. He’s probably just some guy Paul hired to do his dirty work. Uh…not with
you in the closet, but…you know what I mean.”
“He knew me,” she said through stiff lips.
“How can you be sure?”
“He called me by name at a very pivotal moment. Oh, God, what if he’s one of the owners?” The thought sent a shudder straight to her soul. Aside from killing her career at Las Ventanas, the notion appalled because those men had wives. Some had kids her age. Please, she prayed silently, let it be someone single, with no power over my career. Eyes closed, she rested her forehead against Laurie’s shoulder. “I think I’m going to pass out.”
Laurie reached back and grabbed her hand. “Take some deep breaths.”
“Hello,” Paul started, bringing the chatter in the room to a low hum. “I hope you’re enjoying a well-earned holiday celebration. It’s been a terrific year for Las Ventanas and we couldn’t have done it without you. In addition to the party, we’re saying thank you with holiday bonuses for everyone.”
Santa patted his red bag.
Applause rose in the room. Chelsea hunched behind Laurie. As much as she wanted to blame the unknown Santa for taking advantage of her, she couldn’t. Not entirely. She hadn’t called him Paul—thus giving him definitive proof she’d mistaken him for someone else—until just before she’d walked out of the closet. For all he knew, she was some sex-starved woman with a Santa kink who’d dragged him into a closet, and done her best to earn top spot on his naughty list. Well done.
Paul continued talking over the din. “While I’m pleased to announce the bonuses, I’m even more pleased to make this next announcement. As of this morning, Las Ventanas officially joined the world-renowned family of St. Sebastian Luxury Resorts.”
A hush settled over the room. Understanding backhanded Chelsea. The detailed audit she’d assisted with over the last several weeks? Not an audit at all. St. Sebastian had been evaluating their suitability as an acquisition. It all made sense now.
“Join me in welcoming Santa to our party, and for those who insist there’s no such thing as Santa Claus let me introduce his alter-ego…”
In a single, fluid motion that forced Chelsea to recall the efficiency with which he’d dealt with her skirt, Santa swept the beard and wig away to reveal…
“…Rafe St. Sebastian,” Paul continued, “CEO of St. Sebastian Luxury Resorts.”
Chapter Three
“Holy shit,” Laurie uttered again.
Holy career suicide. I accidentally had sex with one of the most powerful players in the industry. She shut her eyes and concentrated on drawing air into her lungs.
St. Sebastian was the name in the luxury resort market. The wealthy, the famous, the privileged—or those who merely wanted to feel that way for a few precious days—swarmed to St. Sebastian properties to enjoy exclusive getaways.
“I’m so completely screwed.”
“Not necessarily,” Laurie whispered. “You made an honest mistake. Just take him aside and explain. Frankly, things could be worse. When you shove the wrong Santa into a closet and let him stuff your stocking, you should thank your lucky stars he turns out to be single, successful, and unbelievably sexy.”
“No wonder he didn’t think anything of a strange woman throwing herself at him—just another day in the life of Rafe St. Sebastian.”
