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Chapter One
Wendy Stanton picked up a length of multi-colored garland and sighed. Red, blue and green garland wasn’t classy enough for Martin & Warner Real Estate’s annual Jingle Ball. The event was the biggest schmoozer they held all year and lots of rich, important guests would attend. They’d already decided the color scheme would be silver and blue, so the decoration she’d picked up on a whim would just have to go.
She wrapped the garland around her neck and turned toward the full wall of glass behind her boss Des’s desk. She thrust out a hip and grabbed a long, narrow notepad, using it as a microphone. Then she rocked out, dirty Christmas style. She didn’t remember the lyrics to the song on the radio so she fudged them, making them up as she went along. Her husky voice wouldn’t win any awards, but she vamped it up, pushing a hand behind her head and wiggling her butt.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Wendy spun around and dropped the notebook, her eyes going wide at her boss lounging in the doorway. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his snug, faded jeans, and he wore a gray silk shirt and striped tie that offset his golden skin.
And he was smirking.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert, Ms. Stanton.” His voice was as warm and rich as the java he walked over to dispense from his personal coffeemaker. He preferred an expensive Costa Rican blend, the best of the best. Just as he preferred top of the line in everything in his life, from clothes, to office space, to girlfriends. She still wondered how she’d slunk into his office almost a year ago when his secretary had quit on short notice.
Des desperate was a mouth-watering sight to behold.
Fine, he was mouth-watering regardless. He had the kind of spiky dark hair that always stuck up in all directions and his eyes were a bright blue-green she’d only ever seen in the waters of the Caribbean. And his body?
Not. Going. There.
“Song’s over,” she said with a shrug, picking up the notebook she’d dropped. Feigning calm around him wasn’t anything new, considering she’d had a crush on him pretty much since the first moment she’d stepped into his swanky office. He’d asked her what she considered her strongest skill and she’d been tempted to say sucking cock, just to see if she’d get a chance at his.
Instead she’d gone with the safe answer of her one hundred words per minute typing speed.
That she’d inquired about the job advertised in the window wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, with her hair held back by an assortment of bobby pins and paper clips—hey, she’d been out grocery shopping before she’d wandered past the office—hadn’t ruined her chances as she’d feared. He’d called to hire her the next day.
They’d had a cordial, utterly frustrating relationship since.
“So it is. But as it’s a radio station,” Des gestured with his coffee cup at the sleek wall unit currently playing another Christmas classic, “they keep playing them. Keep singing.”
If she was anyone else, she’d probably hurry to obey the command in his tone. Though they were both barely thirty, Des and his best friend Cole Warner had one of the most successful real estate businesses in Eugene, New York, a decent-sized city just outside the one that never slept. They’d climbed far and fast, and that meant they weren’t strangers to making demands and ensuring they were met.
She suspected that was true in the bedroom too. Not that she knew firsthand. Both men were nothing but professional to their secretaries. Unfortunately.
It wasn’t as if she could tell Des she wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. Nor was she trying to climb the corporate ladder, unless it led straight up to the eye-popping bulge in his pants. But that was just her fantasies talking. She wasn’t that girl.
Those jewel-like blue-green eyes stared her down, and like a fool, she began to sing into the notebook. She had to look ridiculous with her garland and her steno microphone, but he leaned back against the wall and watched her, seemingly riveted.
Yet again she didn’t know the words to the song, so she improvised. A smile began at the corners of his mouth, creeping inward until it turned into a full-blown grin. He set aside the coffee and clapped, the width of his hands catching her attention for the umpteenth time before her gaze skipped to his face.
His smirk returned. Did he know what she was thinking?
Forget that, did she know what she was thinking? He was her boss. He signed her paycheck and ponied up for the fancy health benefits that even allowed her to cover her ailing mom too. The extra expense was significant, but Des hadn’t blinked when she’d explained her mom’s heart condition and her search for affordable health care since her mom wasn’t old enough for Medicare. He shelled out a ton of extra dough each month, and she couldn’t afford to fuck that up just to…
Fuck.
“You’re a very creative lyricist, Wendy.” His smirk disappeared behind his coffee cup as he drank.
And yes, she watched his throat move. And yes, she did get wet. Could’ve been due to her new thong. The satin panel tended to rub her just the right way.
As right as her vibrator would need to rub her after work if she had any hopes of getting through the holidays without making a very big mistake. Otherwise she just might end up using her garland to bind Des to his desk chair so she could have her jolly way with him.
“It’s more fun to make up the words.” She tugged off her rainbow garland and snatched a couple of strands of blue-and-silver. “Especially when I get drunk. You’d die if you heard some of what I come up with then.”
“I’d like to.”
She glanced at him, frowning, but he’d turned away to pour more coffee. The guy was a hardcore caffeine junkie, drinking the stuff like some men swigged beer. Though he might do that too. She didn’t know him outside of work.
“I don’t drink that often.” Wincing at the unexpected loudness of her voice, she bit the inside of her cheek and wound the garland strands together to create a thick, glittery rope. She’d finished her dictation early and hoped to decorate a good portion of Des’s office before she had to get back on the phones when the other receptionist, Vanessa, went to lunch.
The big party was tonight and they had a lot to do to make the place festive. The sprawling Victorian that served as the base for Martin & Warner had been remodeled to look like standard office space, but by this evening, the huge conference room would be set up for dancing, and the reception area would contain enough food for a small army. Van had worked there for three years and she’d set up her share of Chri
stmas parties. Apparently Des and Cole spared no expense for the gathering.
Noticing Des hadn’t replied, Wendy looked up to find him studying her silently while he mainlined his coffee. It was disconcerting to say the least, and she was tempted to start singing and dancing again to try to alleviate the odd tension in the room.
“I imagine you don’t go out partying too often. You’re too responsible to leave your mom on her own all night long, aren’t you?”
Rather than reply, she examined the garland she’d continued to twist until shards of blue and silver littered his pristine navy carpet.
She’d probably told him too much about her personal life. But she’d only arrived in town last fall and hadn’t known a soul outside of her aunt. After Wendy’s dad had died unexpectedly last year, her mom hadn’t been the same so they’d moved from Chattanooga to be closer to Aunt Gert. Wendy had wanted her surviving parent to be near family, especially considering Noreen’s own heart problems.
So they’d uprooted themselves and moved north—and Wendy had found herself confiding in her surprisingly compassionate boss. He’d listened without offering advice she didn’t want, and he’d helped as much as he could. Just offering them health insurance had alleviated the bulk of her stress.
Her loneliness…well, that was a different story.
“You’re the most responsible twenty-four year old I’ve ever met,” he continued, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you sure there’s not an eighty-year-old woman hiding in there?”
