A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss Page 4

  “I know that at one time he was sort of a playboy, gambler. I’m guessing the same is true with you. That you weren’t always this dry and stuffy. I’m guessing that whatever happened between you and Alex, it happened when you were young—” she sneaked a peek at him “—and foolish.”

  He grimaced. “I was foolish, all right.”

  She groaned. “Tell me, so I know how to apologize to the princess and her husband for overstepping.”

  “Just say you’re sorry.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE NOTE OF finality in Dean’s voice told Kristen the conversation was over. To seal the deal, his phone rang.

  Miffed that he always got his way, she turned her gaze to the window. New York City was a sort of blur as the limo sped down the street, then they stopped at a traffic light. Not only could she see the lights and tinsel, ornaments and pine branches that decorated streetlamps and buildings, but the city itself was huge and modern.

  She’d noticed that on her shopping trip that afternoon, but New York City was such a far cry from Grennady that it once again stole her breath. The crazy feeling that she was in over her head tried to sneak in and ruin her confidence, but she wouldn’t let it. She might not be experienced, but she was educated.

  And she had a goal to make Aasera’s wish a reality. She would have to be tough enough that one city or one guy’s opinion wouldn’t shake her. She also had to be able to face the princess and her husband on her own, to apologize to Alex for doing something he hadn’t wanted done.

  She straightened her shoulders, sat taller in the limo seat. She could not—would not—fail because she let her confidence waver. She could do this.

  When Dean finally hung up the phone, she didn’t care what had happened between him and Prince Alex. Taking responsibility for this trip and responsibility for contacting the one person Alex hadn’t wanted to be contacted was another step in her growth as a businessperson. Dean would probably call that lesson three, clean up your own messes.

  Rather than endure the oppressive silence or let him think she was brooding because he wouldn’t tell her why Alex hated him, she said, “The city’s already decorated for Christmas.”

  “Yes. We seem to start earlier every year.” He paused then said, “Have you never been to New York before?”

  She turned from the window to face him. His serious dark eyes caught hers. The now familiar tingle skipped along her skin as they studied each other.

  He was so gorgeous that it was hard to believe no woman had snapped him up. Of course his personality did leave a lot to be desired. He might be so handsome that she sometimes lost her breath when their eyes met. But he was a grouch. Her job tonight was to make him seem normal—maybe even likable. She had to remember that task and do it, not lose her breath or wish he was different.

  “I haven’t been very many places. Except for university, I’ve been a homebody.”

  “Yet you want to start a charity that would technically be global.”

  His tone wasn’t demeaning, more like curious, so she answered honestly. “This thing that I did with you,” she said, pointing from herself to him and then back again. “It was like the first step in getting myself out of my shell and into the real world.”

  “Ambitious.”

  She laughed, glad he was no longer grouchy, just his usual stiff and formal. “Most people wouldn’t think a flight to Paris would turn into a trip to New York. You’re giving me a crash course in how rich people operate.”

  “Glad I can be of service. I want to do as much for you as you’re doing for me. The more professional we keep this and the more equitable our deal, the easier it will be to manage.”

  “Lesson number four?”

  “No, that relates back to lesson two. Don’t mix business and pleasure.”

  “Right.”

  He frowned. “What was lesson three?”

  “Clean up your own messes. I figured it out myself. Your disagreement with Alex has no bearing on the fact that I went behind the backs of the royal family to meet with you. So I have to own up to it and apologize.”

  “Good point.” He peered over at her. “So we’re officially counting them now?”

  “The lessons?”

  He nodded.

  She laughed. “Sure. Why not?”

  “You do recognize that this evening is four or five hours of me introducing you to important people. Potential contacts. You’d do well to make a good first impression and remember names.”

  “I never have a problem making a good first impression.”

  He smiled a real smile. “I have no doubt about that.”

  Fissions of pleasure skipped up her spine. If he continued being nice like this, the physical thing she felt for him might morph into a total attraction. Especially since the way he kept gazing into her eyes told her he was attracted to her too.

  The limo stopped. The driver opened the door for them. Dean got out, and reached in to assist Kristen. The warmth of his fingers closing around hers caused her chest to freeze. Tingles rained down on her like snowflakes.

  He gave a soft tug that brought her out of the limo and almost into his arms. Their eyes met and held. They might not want to mix business with pleasure, but the electricity humming through her made her wonder what it would be like to be on a date with him for real.

  Crazy. Weird. Odd.

  Those things popped into her head first. He might be good-looking, but he was also a genius who spoke his mind, always thought he was right and always wanted his own way. Those traits didn’t make a good boyfriend—or date.

  She pulled back, as he pulled back. Almost as if they’d both taken those two seconds to ask the question, What if they acted on their attraction? and both decided against it.

  * * *

  Dean put his hand on her elbow and turned her toward the hotel. They walked into the stately lobby and were directed to the elevator that would take them to the ballroom several floors up. When the doors closed, he immediately took his hand off her elbow and stuffed it in his pocket.

  Those few seconds after he’d helped her out of the limo, when they’d stood face-to-face, a mere fraction of an inch apart, his whole body had tensed with wanting her, and he’d suddenly seen that his gut wasn’t telling him she was somehow important. It was telling him he was a lot more attracted to her than he’d thought. Not because her eyes were pretty or because she had a long sloping back that led to the most perfect butt he’d ever seen. He liked her. Her.

  She’d had hutzpah enough to question him about the situation with Alex. She’d easily confessed her fear about how she would explain approaching him to her boss. Then she’d admitted it was her own mess, and she’d clean it up.

  He couldn’t remember the last time anybody was so honest with him. So open. And the fact that he liked it confused him. He was a need-to-know person, who lived in a need-to-know world. Yet hearing about her, her background, her situation, pleased him.

  Even so, starting something with her was wrong. He did not do relationships. Especially not with innocent women. So he stopped the pleasant hum buzzing through him.

  The elevator door opened and her gasp of joy took his gaze to her face. Her green eyes sparkled. Her lush lips lifted into a glorious smile.

  “It’s so pretty.”

  To him the decorations were fairly standard. Evergreen branches outlined the arch doorway that led to the ballroom where white poinsettias in short fat fishbowls sat as centerpieces on round tables covered with red linen tablecloths. Crystal glasses sparkled in candlelight. White lights twinkled overhead like stars.

  Putting his hand at the small of her back, Dean nudged her out of the elevator. “It’s about normal.” He frowned. “Your princess must take you nowhere.”<
br />
  “I’m a background person. But I’m changing that. And I appreciate this opportunity to step out of my comfort zone.”

  There was that honesty again. So pure and so simple, it almost made him relax. But that was absurd. Not only was getting involved with this woman out of his life plan, but also his company was in trouble. Instead of constantly being drawn into wondering about unwanted feelings, he needed to use this time to assure people that he wasn’t out of touch. He was in control.

  “Dean!”

  Dean and Kristen turned toward the sound of the booming voice owned by George Perkins, the party’s host. A tall, striking man, with snow-white hair and probing blue eyes, he held out his hand to Dean. “So glad you could come.”

  Dean said, “The pleasure is mine, George. Thank you for inviting me.” He smiled at George’s wife, who stood beside him. Petite and pretty, Lorraine glowed with happiness.

  “Good evening, Lorraine.” Then he turned to Kristen. “Kristen, these are George and Lorraine Perkins, our hosts for the evening.” He faced their hosts and said, “This is my guest, Kristen Anderson.”

  Kristen shook hands with George and Lorraine. “The decorations are wonderful.”

  Lorraine brightened even more. Toying with the extravagant diamond necklace at her throat, she said, “Thank you. It’s always a debate. Simple and elegant or over-the-top. This year I went with simple and elegant.”

  Kristen said, “Everything looks perfect.”

  A middle-aged couple walked up behind them and Dean took Kristen’s elbow. “We’ll see you inside,” he said to George and Lorraine, as he guided Kristen into the ballroom.

  “You should have told Lorraine you liked her necklace.”

  Dean stopped. “What?”

  “Lorraine kept playing with her necklace. She clearly loves it. Noticing it would have pleased her.”

  Dean laughed. “Really? You want a guy to notice a necklace?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. Women love compliments. Plus, George probably bought it for her. Noticing would have made him happy too.”

  “Are you trying to tell me how to behave?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, stop. I know what works for me in social situations and what doesn’t.”

  “I think Jason disagrees with you.”

  He grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. “Jason worries like an old woman.”

  “Maybe. But you must have agreed on some level or another or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “You’re here for appearances.”

  “Right. You want me to look normal, so you’ll look normal.” She tapped her index finger on her chin. “Hmm. That actually makes my case, doesn’t it?”

  He sighed. Though her logic was a bit twisted, she was correct. Jason wanted him to appear happy and she was happy. “Just don’t say or do anything I’ll regret.”

  “Fine. But if I’m supposed to be myself, I’m being myself.”

  She accepted the champagne from him and gazed around. Dean took the time she was preoccupied to study her dress, her fancy upswept hair. He almost told her she looked really pretty, but swallowed back the words. He already knew his attraction to her was stronger than he’d thought. Not complimenting her was part of his “don’t tempt fate” policy.

  He wondered what she’d think if he taught her that rule—don’t tempt fate—and burst out laughing.

  She pivoted to face him. “What?”

  “I just thought of something when I looked at you.”

  Her face fell in dismay. “I look funny?”

  He sobered. “No.” The words you’re beautiful almost popped out of his mouth, but he caught them again. “I told you, you’re perfect. Stella did a perfect job.” He quickly scanned the tables and said, “This way. My invitation says we’re at table thirty-one.”

  As they searched for their table, they said hello to various couples and exchanged pleasantries. Dean introduced Kristen to everyone, but he didn’t really pause long enough to talk with anyone, finally understanding Jason’s strategy. He’d already called all the brokerage houses. He didn’t need to say any more. What he needed to do was look calm and confident, happy to be out with a pretty girl.

  When they paused to say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Norman Jenkins, Kristen said, “Mrs. Jenkins, your necklace is beautiful. Is it an heirloom?”

  The tall, thin woman beamed. “Why, yes. It belonged to my grandmother.”

  “It’s stunning.” Kristen turned to Dean. “Isn’t it?”

  He stole a peek at her. It might be weird for him to compliment a necklace, but Kristen pulled it off easily and had also put him in a position where he could simply agree and probably look like a nice guy.

  “Yes. It’s beautiful.”

  Mrs. Jenkins caught Kristen’s hand. “It’s so kind of you to notice. These days everyone seems to be captivated by new and shiny.” She pressed her hand over the brooch-like necklace, which—surrounded by untold carats of diamonds—sparkled like a bonfire. “I prefer old and familiar.”

  Norman Jenkins chuckled. “Which is why she’s still married to me.”

  Kristen laughed. Dean smiled. Having Kristen with him really did ease him more naturally into conversations, especially since he’d realized he shouldn’t talk about business.

  The Jenkinses walked away happy, and Dean let Kristen take the lead in all their chats, and allowed her to compliment to her heart’s delight. He drank his champagne and took another glass for himself and Kristen. He even found himself laughing once or twice.

  Right before dinner, the Kauffmans sidled up to them. A bubbly young couple who owned a PR firm that Suminski Stuff had used a time or two, and who had just had their first child, Pete and Belinda were more his age than most of the attendees.

  After Dean introduced Kristen, she said, “We’d love to see a picture of your son. Wouldn’t we, Dean?”

  Trusting her, he said, “Sure.”

  The Kauffmans whipped out their phones. Belinda was the first to get her pictures up for viewing, and she handed her phone to Dean. On the screen was the oddest face he had ever seen. Bald head, bugging eyes, spit bubbles in the corners of the little boy’s lips.

  He honestly wanted to say something nice but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  Kristen smoothly said, “Oh, he’s adorable! Such big eyes!”

  Following her lead, Dean said, “Yes, big eyes.” But ten minutes later, when the new parents were finally out of earshot, he turned to Kristen. “You deserve some kind of an award for keeping a straight face while looking at that kid.”

  She laughed. “He was adorable.”

  “No. He wasn’t.”

  “Sure he was. All babies are cute in their own way.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Oh, Dean, life isn’t about symmetry or perfection. It’s about what makes a person unique, and that little boy’s eyes were spectacular.”

  He said, “I guess,” but what she’d said made real sense. Not just because the baby with the big eyes and bald head did look happy, but because he’d met all kinds in his world. Superstitious programmers who had lucky T-shirts. Marketing people who wore the latest fashions, and accountants who were never out of their suits. It took all of them to make Suminski Stuff successful. In spite of her naïvety, Kristen Anderson was pretty smart.

  Relaxing another notch, he motioned her in the direction of their table, but she didn’t make a move to walk toward it. She peered at him. “You haven’t spent a lot of time around kids, have you?”

  “No. And I plan to keep it that way.”

  “Really? You don’t want to have kids of your own someday?”

  “I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a father.”

  “I’ve heard it comes natural
ly.”

  He gestured again for her to walk. “Not when you didn’t have one to be an example.”

  Her face filled with sympathy. Apology filled her green eyes. “I’m so sorry. I forgot your parents were killed.”

  “It’s fine.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not fine. I should have thought that through before I made such a careless comment.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s hard to remember every little detail of somebody’s bio.”

  “But that’s an important one.”

  “Not really. I’m over it.”

  She held his gaze, her sympathetic eyes sending an odd feeling through him, a knowing that if he’d talk about this with her she’d understand.

  “You’re not over it or you wouldn’t be so sure you don’t want to have kids.”

  He laughed to ease the pressure of the knot in his chest, the one that nudged him to say something honest when he couldn’t be honest. He’d never told anyone anything but the bare-bones facts of his childhood. And one woman with pretty eyes—no matter how much she seemed to be able to get him to relax—wouldn’t change that.

  He stuck with the rhetoric that had served him well for the ten years he’d guided Suminski Stuff. “Being over it has little to do with the decision not to have kids. I don’t just lack parenting skills, I also have an unusual job. In the past twenty-four hours I’ve been in two countries, crossed an ocean. There’s no place in my life for a wife, let alone kids.”

  She caught his gaze and gave him the most puzzling look for about ten seconds, and then she finally said, “You know, that just makes you all the more a challenge.”

  “A challenge?”

  “Sure.” Her smile broadened, a bubble of laughter escaped. “Every woman wants to be the one who tames the confirmed bachelor and turns him into a family man.”

  She said it in jest. Her laugh clearly indicated she was teasing. But he could picture them in the master bedroom of his Albany estate, white curtains billowing in the breeze from open French doors. White comforter on a king-size bed. Her leaning on pillows plumped against a tufted headboard. Holding a baby.