The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom Page A
Authors: Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
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surrounded by people, some of which were her fellow employees. Hopefully, none of them had noticed that she hadn’t shoved Monroe away, and also the fact that she could no longer breathe properly.
After a kiss like that, so completely mind-numbing and seductive, she saw no other way out of this mess but to play the damsel in distress in order to save her traitorous ruby-covered ass. She hated that; despised the thought. But Monroe was a master at games.
With the hazy lingering imprint of his mouth on hers, Kim lifted a hand. She slapped Monroe across the face, hard, and said loudly enough for others to hear, “What were you thinking, Mr. Monroe? That I’d jump at the chance to bed my boss?”
Pivoting gracefully on her absurdly expensive shoes, she headed for the door, feeling the burn of Monroe’s inquisitive gaze on her back and thinking that if she’d wanted to cry in frustration before, she had just taken it to a whole new level.
* * *
Shell-shocked, and beginning to get a bad feeling about what had just happened, Chaz smiled at the people at the next table and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t quite believe this, though. He’d been completely helpless in resisting Kim McKinley. Once again, his plan had backfired.
He had locked lips with her. In public.
And he knew what that meant.
Waiting out several agonizing seconds before throwing down cash for the drinks, he started after her, deciding that he wouldn’t apologize if he caught up with her, since she had provoked that damn lip-lock.
That dress...
Those shoes...
The sudden waifish expression in her eyes.
There was no time like the present to get to the bottom of this charade and find out what Kim had up her sleeve. Certainly she had something up there.
He had taken the bait in what might have been a ploy to catch him off guard. Possibly a public seduction had been her goal all along. If so, this made McKinley a real master at manipulation.
He had believed, with his mouth on hers, and with her throaty moan of encouragement, that she wanted closeness as much as he did. That she enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.
Bottom line—he had believed her. He’d fallen victim to the flash of pain in her eyes and the acceptance of her lush mouth. He thought those things were real, as was the sorrow that had overtaken her saucy demeanor. He’d been sure the real Kim McKinley was facing him for the first time.
And she had played him?
What a sucker he’d been. Only one reason came to mind for an objective like hers—either the threat of a harassment case against him, or out-and-out blackmail.
A kiss for a clause.
He didn’t like his new title, which was Chaz Monroe, fool. People in the bar were looking at him. The brunette who had handed over her phone number winked knowingly.
Did Kim have any earthly idea what he’d like to do to her, now that he knew the score?
How could he have been so completely wrong? Because he would have sworn, testifying with one hand in the air and another on the Bible, that she had kissed him back and meant it.
Oh yes, she was good. Damn good. It had been a great performance. Perfect, actually.
“But it isn’t over,” Chaz said through gritted teeth as he moved through the crowd.
* * *
Kim strode past the bar’s doorway and into the corridor beyond that led to the building’s marble lobby. When she reached the bank of elevators, she punched a button with her palm and stamped her feet a couple of times in disgust. The wrong plan had worked. She felt terrible, sick.
All that evocative talk had done her in. Snow. Elves. Presents and candy canes. She hated the slinky red dress and the shoes she couldn’t return.
The fact that she’d almost blurted out the truth about her family simply added fuel to the fire of an already demented situation. Now there was no going back. She’d have to nail Monroe to the wall by using that very public mistake if he continued to bug her about the contract.
To hell with Chaz Monroe
After a kiss like that, so completely mind-numbing and seductive, she saw no other way out of this mess but to play the damsel in distress in order to save her traitorous ruby-covered ass. She hated that; despised the thought. But Monroe was a master at games.
With the hazy lingering imprint of his mouth on hers, Kim lifted a hand. She slapped Monroe across the face, hard, and said loudly enough for others to hear, “What were you thinking, Mr. Monroe? That I’d jump at the chance to bed my boss?”
Pivoting gracefully on her absurdly expensive shoes, she headed for the door, feeling the burn of Monroe’s inquisitive gaze on her back and thinking that if she’d wanted to cry in frustration before, she had just taken it to a whole new level.
* * *
Shell-shocked, and beginning to get a bad feeling about what had just happened, Chaz smiled at the people at the next table and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t quite believe this, though. He’d been completely helpless in resisting Kim McKinley. Once again, his plan had backfired.
He had locked lips with her. In public.
And he knew what that meant.
Waiting out several agonizing seconds before throwing down cash for the drinks, he started after her, deciding that he wouldn’t apologize if he caught up with her, since she had provoked that damn lip-lock.
That dress...
Those shoes...
The sudden waifish expression in her eyes.
There was no time like the present to get to the bottom of this charade and find out what Kim had up her sleeve. Certainly she had something up there.
He had taken the bait in what might have been a ploy to catch him off guard. Possibly a public seduction had been her goal all along. If so, this made McKinley a real master at manipulation.
He had believed, with his mouth on hers, and with her throaty moan of encouragement, that she wanted closeness as much as he did. That she enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.
Bottom line—he had believed her. He’d fallen victim to the flash of pain in her eyes and the acceptance of her lush mouth. He thought those things were real, as was the sorrow that had overtaken her saucy demeanor. He’d been sure the real Kim McKinley was facing him for the first time.
And she had played him?
What a sucker he’d been. Only one reason came to mind for an objective like hers—either the threat of a harassment case against him, or out-and-out blackmail.
A kiss for a clause.
He didn’t like his new title, which was Chaz Monroe, fool. People in the bar were looking at him. The brunette who had handed over her phone number winked knowingly.
Did Kim have any earthly idea what he’d like to do to her, now that he knew the score?
How could he have been so completely wrong? Because he would have sworn, testifying with one hand in the air and another on the Bible, that she had kissed him back and meant it.
Oh yes, she was good. Damn good. It had been a great performance. Perfect, actually.
“But it isn’t over,” Chaz said through gritted teeth as he moved through the crowd.
* * *
Kim strode past the bar’s doorway and into the corridor beyond that led to the building’s marble lobby. When she reached the bank of elevators, she punched a button with her palm and stamped her feet a couple of times in disgust. The wrong plan had worked. She felt terrible, sick.
All that evocative talk had done her in. Snow. Elves. Presents and candy canes. She hated the slinky red dress and the shoes she couldn’t return.
The fact that she’d almost blurted out the truth about her family simply added fuel to the fire of an already demented situation. Now there was no going back. She’d have to nail Monroe to the wall by using that very public mistake if he continued to bug her about the contract.
To hell with Chaz Monroe
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