You’ll be compensated for travel, as always, and I will have you back in time for Christmas. Actual Christmas, and not these vague days leading up to it that everyone seems to want to spend in a red-and-green haze.”
“Luc … my family is …”
“You can bring them back key chains. And a mug. I will give you spending money for cheesy, location-based souvenirs.”
“Luc, I don’t …”
“It is not a request, Amelia, it’s part of your job.”
She balled her hands into fists and raised them up, shaking them, the ring on her left hand glittering in the light. “Blast you, Luc Chevalier.”
“Every year, Amelia. For the past three years. And you still act surprised?”
“You don’t make me go on a last-minute business trip every year.”
“No, but we have this discussion about Christmas every year. Though, this is the first year you’ve borrowed from A Christmas Carol. The year you stole from scripture to try and convince me was a particular low.”
“On earth, peace and time off among men.”
“We leave early tomorrow. We’re taking the private plane, and I will have those candy cane lattes you like.”
“And the candy stir sticks?” she asked.
“Yes, the candy stir sticks.”
She sucked her lush bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it for a moment, and he allowed himself some time to enjoy the sight.
He hadn’t enjoyed a woman in … far too long. Starting up a new company meant there was no time for sex. Though, sex and his assistant should never be a part of the same train of thought. No matter how long it had been.
A good assistant was a lot harder to find than a good time in bed. And his very engaged assistant was off-limits for even more reasons than just employment.
“And scones?”
“In several flavors, though I believe cranberry is your seasonal preference.”
A smile made the corners of her lips turn upward. “You remembered.”
“Again, because I don’t forget. Don’t be flattered by it.”
“I’ve known you for nearly four years and you’ve never once flattered me on purpose, Luc.”
“But what does it really matter since you still end up getting the coffee you like?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I guess it doesn’t. Though, don’t think it atones for the fact that you’re making me fly more than halfway across the country when I have Christmas shopping to do.”
“You can shop online. During business hours. You do it, anyway.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in a perfect rendition of shock. “I do not.”
“You do. On your phone. I’ve seen you do it.”
“Vintage fashion goes fast. I have to be able to buy it when it comes up.”
“And you have to be able to … I don’t know, personally assist me when I need it.”
She rolled her eyes. “When do I not, Luc?”
“You always do, which is why you still work for me. And speaking of the fact that you still work for me, perhaps it’s time you went and did a little of that.”
“Oh, Luc, Santa is going to bring you so many presents.”
He smiled in spite of himself. Amelia had that way about her. She wasn’t the type of person he would normally employ. Much less the type of person he would employ to work so closely with him.
She wasn’t quiet or professional. She didn’t seem to observe any sort of conventional dress code. Though her red shoes, black dress pants and oversize charcoal sweater, open at the front with a white button-up shirt dotted with birds were indeed office appropriate in the strictest sense, they were not conventional.
She also wasn’t one to work with quiet efficiency. Rather, she was one to work while whistling, or singing. She had a nice voice, soft and old-fashioned, like having a black-and-white movie flitting around the office.
And he should mind. She should drive him crazy. She should disrupt his peace of mind and his Zen, though many would argue he actually possessed no Zen. And yet, Amelia didn’t bother him in the least. He found her a strange, if somewhat comforting presence.
She wasn’t quietly efficient, but she was efficient, and sometimes her singing “A Few of My Favorite Things” was a nice signal that her efficiency was in full swing.
“Santa would be better off giving presents to someone who needs them,” he said. “If I want something, I go out and get it. I don’t need to wait for it to be brought to me.”
She pursed her lips. “Yep. Well, I’m off to go and do all that work I have to do. Since I won’t be in the office for … how many days?”
“We’re only staying over one night, Amelia. You’ll be back home in plenty of time for Christmas. Don’t make your eyes all big.”
“They’re just like that,” she said, blinking slowly.
He let out a deliberate sigh, then scooped the papers up from his desk and handed them to her. “No, they aren’t. You definitely make them larger in different situations. You’re doing it now, don’t try and play innocent.”
Dark-fringed eyes widened farther. “I am not.”
He raised his brows and she raised hers back. “Off with you,” he said, smiling again, because she just had that way about her.
“I’m off, Mr. Chevalier.” Somehow when she said “Mr. Chevalier” it had a way of sounding less respectful than when she called him Luc.
“Good,” he said.
“‘Ohh, tidings of comfort and joy!’” she sang as she walked out.
“Well, that’s going to be fun on a three-hour plane ride,” he muttered, sitting back at his desk.
He might be adding alcohol of some kind to his latte. There was only so much holiday cheer he could stomach.
AMELIA BRUSHED HER bangs out of her eyes, trying to undo the damage done by the wind as she’d boarded Luc’s private plane.
She should be used to the opulence by now, but she wasn’t. How could you get used to opulence on this scale? A giant plane, for two people and staff. It was bigger than her
