A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss Read online

  “I’ll bet that attitude worked out really well on the playground.”

  He shook his head. “It didn’t. That’s how I met Jason. When things would turn ugly, he would race over and run interference before somebody decked me or before I hit someone. He was also smart enough to direct me to a few YouTube videos that taught me how to fight.” He smiled again. “I got pretty good.”

  And how was she supposed to not laugh at that? “How long were you in public school?”

  He chewed a bite of toast, obviously pondering that. “Every year until somebody finally figured out I might be a genius. At thirteen, I took a test that proved it and instantly got offers for scholarships for university. I spent one year at MIT and in the end decided that wasn’t for me.”

  He’d discarded the Massachusetts Institute of Technology? “Seriously?”

  “The thing was, I already knew everything I needed to know about computers. As a kid, I’d bought a few books, torn apart a few motherboards and I was up to speed. But I didn’t know anything about business.” He shrugged. “So that’s what I studied. I knew I wanted to work in this field, but not as a grunt. I wanted to own the company. So I needed to study how to run one.”

  And he’d figured all this out at fourteen. “Smart.”

  He laughed. “Exactly.”

  She let that settle in for a second, her mind wrapping around the double meaning and not able to let it go. “Did you just make a joke?”

  “I guess I did.”

  And he seemed genuinely surprised. Which was equal parts of cute and breath-stealing. She’d seen him relaxing with her the night before. She’d noticed him staring at her as if he couldn’t look away. He was every bit as attracted to her as she was to him. And he wasn’t after money, or an introduction to the princess. If anything, he didn’t want to meet her royal family. He needed her to pretend to be his girlfriend and if anything he was more than honest about it.

  It was getting harder and harder to see him as someone like Brad. And harder and harder not to see how he relaxed around her, how he talked to her, how they clicked.

  They finished their breakfast and walked outside into the sunny December morning, where his limo awaited. In a few minutes, they were back at the boutique, where Jennifer, the store manager from the day before, happily greeted them. Kristen hadn’t seen the price of her gown yesterday afternoon, but she guessed that if Jennifer got a commission, it had been a hefty one.

  “Good morning!”

  Dean said, “Good morning. We’re going to an important lunch in a few hours, but our trip was so unexpected that Kristen didn’t have time to pack. So we’d like to see everything she’ll require for an upscale lunch.”

  Jennifer all but bowed. “Of course.”

  Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. “I was thinking in terms of something like a suit.”

  Kristen balked. “A suit? What am I? Seventy?”

  “A suit is appropriate,” Dean said, glancing around at the various styles of clothes they offered.

  “A sweater dress can be just as appropriate.”

  “It’s a business lunch,” Dean argued.

  “Not really. It’s a Christmas lunch with friends or a bunch of guys you hope to make your friends,” Kristen countered, deciding this was one argument he was not winning. “And besides, I’m not a part of your business.” She almost said, “I’m supposed to be your girlfriend,” but she caught the way Jennifer was looking at them, her wide eyes speaking of her curiosity. So, she smiled and said, “I’m your girlfriend.”

  Dean’s expression shifted from determined to confused.

  But Jennifer seemed to love that tidbit. “This explains so much about yesterday,” she said enthusiastically. She faced Dean. “From the things she chose while she was with Stella, I know that you can trust her taste.” She turned to Kristen. “And I agree with you. The right sweater dress will be more than appropriate.”

  She motioned to the dressing room. “Give me two seconds to pull my three favorites.”

  Dean scowled.

  But as Jennifer walked away, Kristen laughed. “Who would you rather do business with? Someone who cowers or someone who knows what she’s doing?”

  He sighed and brushed his hand in the direction of the curtained-off changing area. “Just go get ready to try on the dresses.”

  She slipped into the mirrored room and removed her pants and shirt. Jennifer stepped in holding three sweater dresses.

  “The red,” she said, hanging it on the first hook, “Because I think you’ll look beautiful in it. Blue because it’s a little more sedate for Grumpy Pants out there. And black because I know his type. He’ll pick the black because he doesn’t want anyone looking at you.”

  Kristen’s face flushed with color. “He’s really not possessive.”

  “Oh, honey, they’re all possessive. But if you don’t believe me. Start with the red, give him the heart attack he wants to have, move on to the blue and go to the black. He’ll pick the black.”

  Doing as she had been told, Kristen slipped into the red dress. The soft knit clung to her curves, but not obnoxiously. It just looked like a pretty dress.

  When she stepped out of the dressing room, Dean’s back was to her. She said, “Here’s dress one,” and he turned around.

  * * *

  Seeing Kristen in the red dress, Dean swore his heart exploded. It nicely cruised her curves but not indecently. It was a pretty dress that complimented a gorgeous figure. And it came to her knees. There was nothing to be upset about.

  But blonde, green-eyed Kristen was certainly heart-stopping in the striking red dress. Then he realized it wasn’t the dress. It was Kristen. In anything other than black pants and a white shirt, she was going to be a knockout.

  He tried to say something, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  Jennifer laughed. “Let’s try the blue one.”

  She shooed Kristen into the curtained off room and in a few minutes Kristen returned in the blue knit dress.

  “Wow.” Okay. He’d tried to stop that but couldn’t. The blue dress somehow highlighted the pale green color of her eyes and made her look spectacular. “That’s...” He cleared his throat. “Very pretty.”

  Jennifer smiled. “Okay. On to dress three.”

  This time, Kristen emerged in a black dress. It looked simple and elegant. Yes, it still accented the same perfect figure, but not quite so enthusiastically.

  “I like this one.”

  Jennifer laughed, but Kristen said, “I like the red!” Her eyes narrowed. “And you liked the red too.”

  He sucked in a breath. He’d been struck speechless by the red. She’d have had to be blind not to see that. “I did.”

  “Then why are we picking the black one?”

  “Because I don’t want Winslow or his friends to have a stroke.”

  She sighed. “Okay. You know what? I’m going to buy the red one for myself.” She picked up the tag from the sleeve, glanced at the price and her mouth fell open. “Or not. I don’t think my parents paid this much for our last cow.”

  A laugh burst from Dean. “If you really want the red one, I’ll buy the red one too. But I’m asking nicely for you to wear the black one to the lunch.”

  “I can’t let you buy the red one,” she mumbled, turning to walk into the dressing room again.

  “Well, you’re going to need something to fly home in. You can’t wear those black pants and white shirt again.”

  The curtain flew closed in a resounding swish. She was mad.

  She was mad?

  Why?

  He approached the closed curtains and called out, “I’m happy to buy the red dress.”

  “Just stop.” The order came from behind the curtain. “I hav
e plenty of clothes at home. I don’t need the red dress and before you get to harping about what I’m wearing home, I am not going to let you pay God knows what for a pair of blue jeans.”

  Ignoring her, Dean motioned to Jennifer to get a pair of jeans, knowing she’d have Kristen’s size from choosing the dresses that day and the gown the day before. Then he pointed at the sweaters.

  When she returned, he whispered, “Add shoes or boots and socks...whatever else she’s going to need to stay this extra day.”

  Jennifer disappeared into the racks as Kristen walked out. Her chin high, she headed toward the cash register. “I do not want the red dress.”

  He said, “Fine.”

  She stopped, faced him. “You’re losing an argument?”

  “No. I’m simply not arguing over something stupid. I was happy to buy you the dress as a thank-you.”

  “Wouldn’t we have to draw up another agreement for that?”

  He sighed. “I’m not that bad.”

  “No. But for a guy who talks about balance you certainly don’t see my side of the story.”

  “And what side is that?”

  “That I don’t want to take gifts. I have some pride. And I have a job. I can afford to buy my own clothes. I just can’t afford to buy them in this shop.”

  “Okay.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You’re losing another argument?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m doing what you told me to do. I’m seeing your side of things.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He directed her to walk to the checkout, where Jen stood beaming. He guessed she worked on commission.

  She scanned the tag on the black knit dress and a black wool coat. “I noticed that your coat is hip length and to wear a dress you’ll need a longer one.” She smiled hopefully. “I picked the most useful, inexpensive coat we have.”

  Kristen nodded.

  Jennifer scanned the tag of a pair of black stilettoes. She looked up at Kristen. “I remembered your shoe size from yesterday. The shoes you wore under the gown had such a small heel. I think you’ll need these.”

  This time Kristen sighed.

  Dean quietly said, “I don’t know a lot about women’s shoes but we’ve trusted Jennifer so far. If she says you need the shoes, you probably need the shoes.”

  Kristen rolled her eyes.

  Jennifer shoved the shoes into a shopping bag, then picked up a pair of jeans and a bright red sweater.

  “I hope those are for Stella.”

  He cleared his throat. “You know you need something to fly home in.”

  She eyed the red sweater.

  Dean saw the flicker of longing that sparked in her eyes before she could bank it, and he said a word he didn’t often say. “Please.” What was the point of having money if he couldn’t spend it to make someone happy?

  She faced him. “It’s not a gift? It’s not you saying thank you to me? It’s a necessity?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. Unless you want to wash out your blouse in the sink of your hotel room.”

  “I’d considered it.”

  “And it would dry wrinkled.”

  She drew in a breath. “Okay. I do feel a little slimy in these clothes.”

  “Good. I mean, not good that you’re slimy. Because you don’t look slimy. Good that you can get a shower and fly home refreshed.”

  Kristen rolled her eyes and looked away.

  A strange relief poured through him, followed by something he almost didn’t recognize. Pride. She’d really wanted that sweater and he’d bought it for her. It gave him the most amazingly wonderful feeling.

  As Jennifer lifted the sweater and jeans off the counter and slid them into the bag, a black lace bra and panties revealed themselves.

  The store clerk winced. “You did say to get everything she needed.”

  His heart kicked against his ribs. He could see tall, slender, nicely endowed Kristen in the black bra and panties...and the black stilettos. He tried to say, “Maybe another color would be better,” but it came out, “Navy anubber color would ’e ’etter.”

  Kristen looked at him through her peripheral vision. “You don’t like black?”

  Good God, he loved the black. But he realized that he’d have to sit through an entire lunch with several influential people, knowing she had black lace panties and bra under that dress.

  He tugged at the collar of his sweater, but said, “Get whatever color you want.”

  She faced Jennifer. “I’ll keep the black.”

  He had his chauffeur drive them to her hotel and carried her bags up to her suite for her. She opened the door with her key card and let him enter first.

  “Where do you want these?”

  “The chair will do.”

  He set the bags on the chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in about two hours.”

  She nodded and he left breathing a long sigh of relief. He would go to his penthouse, take a cold shower and return a calm man, who would not, absolutely would not, remember the sexy black lace panties and bra she’d have under that sedate dress.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DEAN WAS QUIET when he picked Kristen up at her hotel room at noon. The drive to the restaurant was also quiet, and Kristen was glad. It wasn’t that she was angry about him buying her clothes. It was that he was so flippant about doing everything he wanted, but anything she did had to be part of an agreement.

  When they walked into the restaurant, Dean didn’t even say his name. The maître d’ smiled and waved him forward, leading them to a private room in the back. Decorated for the holiday with evergreen branches bathed in white twinkle lights and a sophisticated poinsettia centerpiece on the large round table, the warm space welcomed them.

  As Winslow had said, the group was small. Eight men in dark suits like Dean’s. Eight women in everything from elegant skirts and jackets to slimming sheaths. In her black knit dress, Kristen fit in as if she belonged there.

  But she didn’t. She and Dean entered to a conversation about European vacations, and Kristen suddenly felt like a bumpkin. She was twenty-four, the executive assistant to a princess, who did have a degree, and who wanted to start a foundation that would build schools—but who knew no one. She’d been nowhere...

  Well, except to Paris, where she’d picked up with this gorgeous, crazy, somewhat obsessive-compulsive guy, and was now pretending to be his date.

  As Dean made introductions, she smiled and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” reminding herself that this was part of her new reality. She had to learn to schmooze prospective donors, speak intelligently about her cause and find support.

  Dean pulled out her chair and she sat. He sat beside her.

  Mrs. Arthur Flannigan, a woman who looked to be in her eighties, leaned across the table. “Julia tells me you work for Princess Eva of Grennady.”

  “Yes, I’m her executive assistant.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  Kristen laughed nervously. Everybody assumed that because she worked for a woman who would someday be a queen, she had a fantastic job and glamorous life. But it was Eva who traveled while Kristen stayed behind and kept up with emails.

  “Some days my work is exciting. Other days, it’s just like any other assistant’s job.”

  Dean slid his arm across the back of her chair. “Kristen is about to leave her post to begin organizing a charity that will build schools in third world countries.”

  Mrs. Flannigan’s eyes lit. “Really? That’s quite an undertaking.”

  “Having worked for a princess,” Dean said, “she’s up on world politics. She knows what she’s getting into.”

  Kristen sat a little taller. Not only did it feel right to have his arm aro
und her, but also he seemed genuinely proud of her. She might not travel, but she did know world politics. Working for Eva had taught her a lot. Now she just had to figure out how to use it.

  “I hear your company is in a spot of trouble,” Mrs. Flannigan said, changing the subject as she smiled at Dean.

  He shrewdly returned her smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Winslow leaned toward Mrs. Flannigan. “Kristen and Dean met because she flew to Paris to get time with him to persuade him to relocate Suminski Stuff to Grennady.”

  Mrs. Flannigan’s face brightened. “Really? Well, my dear, you are quite the adventurer.”

  All the pride she’d felt fled as her chest tightened. No matter how much she’d seen working for Eva, she wasn’t really an adventurer. She was a shy woman with a big goal, who milked cows and baled hay. And being in this room, with a small group of influential people, she suddenly wondered about her sanity. How the hell did she ever think she could start a charity that would change the world?

  Dean’s arm slid from the back of her chair to her shoulders. The reassuring feeling that she wasn’t alone pumped air back into her lungs and restarted her breathing.

  “She’s not much of an adventurer, but she’s got a heart of gold and I’m watching her grow more confident by the day. I have no doubt she can do this.”

  His belief in her revived her confidence. But she also realized this was the second time he’d spoken as if he knew her. Or at least knew things about her. The first time had been the day they’d met, on the plane, when he’d told Jason about her economics degree. He could have looked that up. He could have also guessed she was growing in confidence from the changes in the way she dealt with him since she’d first approached him in Paris. But her heart of gold? How would he know that?

  They spent three hours with the business people and their spouses. It had surprised Kristen to learn Mrs. Flannigan, not Arthur, was the owner of the brokerage firm that didn’t want to downgrade Dean’s stock. They wanted him to get his prototype to another round of beta testers and roll it out, which was why Winslow had invited him to this lunch.

  The group had ideas for how Dean could jump-start his staff’s creativity. Winslow had even suggested that Dean should consider temporarily moving the team to Grennady, if only for the next six weeks or so, to get them away from the daily grind and hopefully motivate them. Especially since it would give him a chance to investigate a permanent move.