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"What did you need?" That came out snappy too, but I wasn't in the mood to apologize.
She flipped open her laptop and closed the distance between the door and my desk in a few short strides. I've never seen the need for a giant office; I rarely hosted meetings in person as I couldn't generally abide people. Juniper and her soup kitchen had been the exception to that hard and fast rule.
"I've organized several parties for New Year's. You don't have to attend any,” she held up a hand, and the small, secret smile turned to full bloom twice over. Her stunning, deep gaze sparkled with the same sort of mischief I’d come to expect from her. "Youdoprobably need to record some sort of video message for your staff and businesses."
"Don't I have CEOs for that sort of motivational bullshit?"
"Probably. But it would be nice to hear from the man himself. For some of these businesses, you're both the founder and the main stakeholder, and it's good for the employees to know who they're working for. It would help increase productivity and I don't believe you'll get more out of your people in a tiring month after Christmas. The silly season is fun, but it wears people thin. Financially, energy wise, and some come out of it with losses and heartbreak. This will lift your people. And...compassion was one of the aims on the list you gave me."
I held her gaze, tracing over rounded cheeks along her jawline with an invisible touch and wished I could use my hands instead. Delve into her blonde curls and bury them in her silken strands.
I shook my head, banishing the image. Clearly I’d been working too damn hard and needed to jerk a few randy hormones out of my system. Juniper looked like she was about to object. I stopped shaking my head and held up a hand instead to give myself a moment.
She was right. I'd given her a list of my personal goals for the short period, taking her on into temporary capacity, but I could see that she was already useful to my businesses, and to me.
"That's fine. How long do you need the recording to be?"
"Two, three minutes. No more. Anything longer and you’ll lose their attention."
I nodded. "Smart. I appreciate the effort you're putting in." I hesitated for a moment, sucked in a long, silent breath. Hell, why not go for it? "Are you interested in staying on past the new year?"
She raised an eyebrow as she tapped away at her keyboard where it sat on the corner of my desk. “And continue working for Mr. Grinch?" She batted what I thought were natural, long eyelashes. "I must be doing a good job in the personnel department."
I laughed. “Don't be a brat. You can still end up on the naughty list." Where the hell did that come from? Juniper Blackthorne did weird things to my head. It's like I developed a split persona around her. "Yes, Miss Blackthorne. It's a fucking job offer. Are you accepting it?"
"Maybe?" She smirked, and I knew she was baiting me just to get a rise. I stayed absolutely silent and kept my expression schooled to neutral. The asshole came out to play. If she could be a brat, then I was more than happy to play Devil’s advocate. After a moment, her sure smile filtered. "Yes. Yes, of course, I'd love to stay, if you're offering."
The uncertainty in her voice and the hesitation dimmed her natural propensity for mischief and hit me right in the balls, or maybe it was my heart. Either one hurt like hell.
"Offer’s on the table. I'll drop the contract in your email."
She nodded, not speaking, and closed her laptop. Her fingers twitched, seeking a distraction, and she flicked at the edge of the photo frame I laid flat on my desk. My heart beat hard once and then the damn thing froze, sending black ice ripping through my veins. "Don't touch that!" I barked.
Juniper went still as a statue, a deer in the headlights, and I was the monster bearing down on her.
"I'll send the contract through." I shoved the words through gritted teeth. "You can get me that coffee, and don’t touch anything in my fucking office. You're not a housemaid, even if you do dress like one occasionally."
Nope, my asshole factor and my heart were definitely not connected to each other.
Her eyes widened, and I swore she had a sheen of tears in them before she grabbed her laptop instead, knocking the frame to the ground.
White noise roared in my ears, blocking out the sound of my door slamming as she slipped through it.
Breathing slowly, I knelt to the floor, collected the frame and placed it back on the desk face down without looking at it.
Barely breathing, I returned to my work, and didn't look up for the rest of the day, not even when my pretty little elf returned, bringing her apologies along for the ride as she tripped into my office and placed a steaming gingerbread latte on my desk.
Not even when she closed the door softly behind her, throwing a concerned look over her shoulder, or when she ducked her head in brief—post knocking—again to say good night.
After she left, I worked through the night without sleeping thanks to the lack of interruptions, and by the time she arrived back in my office, the new working day had started on Christmas Eve and I sat in a rumpled suit I’d worn for the past twenty-four hours.
