The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ contract. No question marks. Not up for negotiation.”

      He practiced those words aloud, repeated them less forcefully and set his mental agenda.

      The bar, in three hours.

      They’d have a friendly chat and get to the specifics of the deal. McKinley might turn out to be a good ally.

       As for the bedroom dreams...

      He let out a bark of self-deprecating laughter over the time he was spending on this one issue, a sure sign that truly, and admittedly, he hadn’t been prepared for the likes of this woman.

      He really would have to be more cautious in the future, because, man-oh-man, what he needed right that minute, in Kim McKinley’s saucy Southern wake, and in preparation for meeting her again was...

      ...a very long, very cold shower.

      * * *

      Kim tumbled into her chair and laid her head down on her desk. She turned just far enough to eye the golden plaque perched next to her pencil sharpener that had been a gift from her friend Brenda.

       Kim McKinley, VP of Advertising.

      “Some joke.” She backhanded the plaque, sending it sailing. Who had she been kidding, anyway? Vice president? A twenty-four-year-old woman?

      There would be no big office with floor-to-ceiling windows in her immediate future. No maple shelving for potted plants, and no opportunity to implement her plans and ideas for the company. So didn’t she feel exactly like that jettisoned plaque—shot into space, only to land with a dismal thud right back in her own six-by-six cubicle?

      Could the moisture welling up in her eyes be tears? As in about to cry tears?

       Unacceptable.

      Twenty-four-year-old professionals didn’t blubber away when they were royally disappointed, or when they were overlooked and underappreciated at the office.

       No tears. No way. No how.

      She was mad, that’s all, with no way to express how sad she was going to be if she had to leave this building and everything she had built here in the past five years.

      “Why does everyone want to push me about the damn contract?” she grumbled, figuring that Brenda, in the next cubicle, would be listening. “Haven’t I worked extremely hard on every other blasted campaign all year long? I’ve all but slept in this cubicle. I keep clothes in my desk drawers. Would it be fair to dock me over one single previously negotiated item?”

      Inhaling damp desk blotter and the odor of evergreen that now pervaded the building, Kim reviewed the proverbial question on the table.

       Was there another person on earth who could say that Christmas had been their downfall?

      Plunking her head again on the desk, she muttered a weak “ouch.” Rustling up some anger didn’t seem to be working at the moment. It was obvious that she needed more work on self-defense.

      “You okay?” a voice queried from somewhere behind her. “I heard a squeak.”

      Kim blinked.

      “Kim? Are you, or are you not okay?”

      “Nope. Not okay.” She didn’t bother to sit up.

      “Are you in need of medical attention?”

      Moving her mouth with difficulty because it was stuck to some paper, Kim said, “Intravenous Success Serum would be helpful. Got any?”

      “No, but I’ve got something even better.”

      “Valium? Hemlock? A place with cheap rent?”

      “An invitation to have drinks with the new boss tonight in the bar just arrived by email.”

      Kim muffled a scream. What had Brenda just said? They were both to have drinks with Monroe? The bastard had invited a crowd to witness her third degree and possible dismissal?

      “Now’s not a good time, Bren,” she said. Having a coworker for her best friend sometimes had its drawbacks. Like their close proximity when she wanted to pout by herself.

      “I think now would be a good time, actually,” Brenda countered. “We can find out what the new guy is like, en masse.”

      “I’ll tell you what he’s like in one word. Brutus!”

      Brenda stuck her head over the partition separating their cubicles. “I’m guessing your meeting didn’t go well?”

      Kim pried her cheek from the desk, narrowed her eyes and turned to face Brenda.

      “So not afraid of that look,” Brenda said.

      “That’s the problem. Neither was he.”

      “Yes, well, didn’t you just know that the damn Christmas clause was going to jump up and bite you again someday? I mean how could they understand when they don’t know....”

      Kim held up a hand that suggested if Brenda said one more word along those lines, she might regret it.

      “I’ve probably just lost my dream job, Bren. For all intents and purposes, this agency considers me an ancestor of old mister Scrooge. And by the way, aren’t best friends supposed to offer sympathy in times of crisis, without lengthy lectures tacked on?”

      Not much taller than the five foot partition in her bare feet, Brenda, who went shoeless in her space, was barely visible. All that showed was a perfectly straight center part halving a swath of shiny black hair, and a pair of kohl-lined, almond-shaped eyes. The eyes were shining merrily. There might have been a piece of tinsel entwined in a few ebony strands near Brenda’s forehead.

      What Brenda lacked in stature, however, she made up for in persistence. “I might suggest that nobody will believe that anyone actually hates Christmas, Kim. Not for real.”

      Brenda didn’t stop there. “That’s what the new guy will be thinking. So maybe you can come up with an alternate reason for holding back on the holiday stuff that he will buy into. Like...religious reasons.”

      “Seriously?” Sarcasm returned to Kim’s tone as she offered Brenda what she thought was a decent rendition of a go-away-and-leave-me-alone-or-else look.

      Brenda performed a glossy hair flip. “Still not afraid,” she said. “Or discouraged.”

      Kim got to her feet and smoothed her skirt over her hips. “I think it’s already too late for help of any kind.”

      “Tell me about it,” Brenda said. “But first you have to dish about whether Monroe really does have a nice ass.”

      Kim kneaded the space between her eyes with shaky fingers, trying to pinpoint the ache building there.

      “You didn’t think he was hot?” Brenda continued. “That’s the word going around. СКАЧАТЬ