Mistletoe, Baby. Donna Hill

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Mistletoe, Baby - Donna Hill Mills & Boon Kimani

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seat and linked her long fingers together and rested them on her lap. The pure surprise of stepping into a car and meeting her very gorgeous boss for the first time completely threw her for a loop. She was accustomed to being in control of a situation and certainly in control of her thoughts—but not now. And what was that intoxicating scent he was wearing?

      “At least you have the weekend to get comfortable—a little.” He grinned.

      “I’m looking forward to getting started,” she managed.

      He slowly nodded his head without taking his eyes off of her. “Good. I have several new projects waiting for you on your desk. You’ll have to hit the ground running.”

      “I’m ready.” The instant the words were out of her mouth she wanted to pull them back. She knew what she’d said was simple and direct, but in her head they held a completely different meaning.

      He stroked his clean-shaven chin with his thumb and forefinger and Alexis had the overwhelming need to open the window. It was as if someone had struck a match in her belly.

      “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, jumping into her head.

      She blinked and smiled. “That would be great. Thank you.”

      He reached into the minibar. “Water, juice, soda or something stronger?” He gazed across at her from beneath his lashes.

      “Uh, water is fine.”

      He produced a bottle of water and plucked a glass from the holder, and handed both to her.

      “Thank you.” Somehow she managed to get the bottle open and pour it into her glass without making a mess and a fool out of herself. She was quite amazed actually as her fingers wavered between being board stiff or weak as wet noodles. When she lifted her head from the minor task she was rattled to see Graham looking at her with a bemused expression on his face.

      “Are you always so intense?”

      She straightened. “Intense?”

      “Yes. You were working on that bottle as if it was the most important job you’d ever undertaken.”

      Her cheeks flushed. She lifted her chin. “You haven’t seen me intense,” she said, the hint of a taunt on her tongue.

      Graham made a humming murmur in his throat. He angled his head to the side. His eyes creased ever so slightly at the corners. “Have they found a replacement for you at the college?”

      “Not yet. The position has been posted. I’m sure they’ll find someone reasonably soon.”

      “I’m sure they feel your loss already. You made a lot of important changes over there. Several of the departments missed the ax because of you.”

      At that moment she wasn’t sure if she was seriously impressed or annoyed. The fact that she’d been able to work with the board and the department chairs to restructure without losing students or teachers was not common knowledge beyond the boardroom of Atlanta College. “How did you know all of that?”

      “I make it my business to know everything there is to know about the people that get hired at your level. I also want to make certain that there is real substance behind the fancy words on a résumé and cover letter.”

      “I see.” She now knew she was annoyed. What else did he know about her that wasn’t on her résumé and didn’t come out in the phone interview? Clearly it didn’t matter if he was around to ask direct questions or not. He still got answers.

      And then as if reading her mind he asked, “How did Ian take your leaving?”

      Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Ian...Matthews. Isn’t it?”

      Her heart began to race. “Yes.” Her response was as much a question as an answer.

      “He was one of your references,” he said as if in answer to the question that hovered on the tip of her tongue. “He had wonderful things to say about you and gave the impression that...you would be missed.”

      Her cheeks were on fire. A tight line formed between her brows. “I don’t recall giving Ian Matthews as a reference.”

      “You didn’t. Whenever I’m interested in a potential candidate for the organization at the management level, I look into their surrounding circle of colleagues.”

      “So basically, screw what’s on the reference letters.”

      The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight grin. “Well, let’s be honest, what person who really wants a job would get reference letters or use references from someone who wouldn’t say that they were wonderful?”

      Her right brow arched. She almost laughed but didn’t. He was actually right, but she’d never tell him that. “So who made these calls? You?”

      “Yes. I generally do, but I felt it was even more important since I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you in person during your visit. You’ll come to see in the days and months and hopefully years ahead that I’m a very hands-on person.”

      Her gaze dropped to his hands that rested casually on his thighs. She swallowed and nearly choked over the dry knot in her throat. She coughed and took a sip of water.

      Graham moved forward, halfway reaching for her. “Are you all right?”

      She nodded her head. “Yes,” she managed. “Throat got really dry.” She took another sip of water. She made herself look at him and forced a confident smile. “Fine. Really.”

      He leaned back in his seat, eyed her for a moment and then took out a pair of glasses from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, slipped them on and picked up a folder that was next to him on the seat. He flipped it open and began to read.

      Glasses. Nice touch, she thought absently. He had that whole GQ look down to an art form. He scanned through the papers in the folder and then handed them across to her, taking her a bit by surprise.

      “Some easy weekend reading so that you won’t come in cold on Monday.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the folder. “Those are the plans for the upcoming projects. Some of the details were hammered out while I was in London. No one has seen them as yet. I’d like to get your take on it.”

      Alexis cleared her throat. “I’ll let you know.”

      He gave a short nod just as the Lincoln cruised to a halt. “We’re here.”

      Michael rounded the car and opened the door. He extended a hand to help her to her feet. Alexis stepped out onto Sutton Place. She glanced upward at the four- and five-story town houses that ran between Fifty-Seventh and Fifty-Eighth Streets, oozed style and sophistication and paid homage to the bygone era of the roaring ’20s. The building boasted a long list of who’s who from the financial world like the Vanderbilts and the Morgans of J. P. Morgan fame, and celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe, actress Sigourney Weaver, designer Kenneth Cole and architect I. M. Pei.

      “I know originally that we were to set you up in Midtown,” Graham was saying as he stepped out of the car to stand beside her. “A good friend of mine owns one of

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