A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss (12 page)

Kristen said, “I can't,” at the same time that Dean said, “We have work to do.”

Jason waved both hands. “Oh, garbage, you two. You'll work tonight. Or tomorrow when our wayward staff is scheduled to be here. Go now, while you still have—” He glanced at his watch. “What? Four hours of sunlight?”

“That's about it,” Kristen agreed.

“Good.” He faced Dean. “It's not so long that you'll get bored. But it's enough time to see some of the sights. And clear your head. Get some fresh air into those lungs.”

Dean's scowl grew.

Jason faced Kristen. “Whether he understands it or not, he's going to want to compliment your king and princess when they return from their holiday in Xaviera. Give him a little bit of a history lesson so he can speak intelligently.”

“No. I'm not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D
EAN
'
S
REFUSAL
RANG
through the quiet work space. Jason took a step back, as if he knew he'd pushed too far.

But Kristen sucked in a hard breath. Dean had hurt her, and he'd done it deliberately, but he decided that's what she needed to see. The demanding, difficult side of him that everybody thought was the real him.

She turned and headed for the door. “If you need anything I'll be in the palace.”

He didn't say goodbye. He didn't say anything. He waited for her to leave, and then he faced Jason. “Get maintenance back here. I want this room and the one up the hall ready for work when that blasted sun goes down.”

With that he exited, heading up the hall to the elevator that would take him to his penthouse suite. When the door opened on the modern space with red sofas and black and white accent pieces, he wrestled out of the big coat he didn't want and threw the damned hat at the cold fireplace.

He wasn't just angry that Kristen kept pushing him to be the person he was deep down inside. He was angry that he couldn't be that guy.

He got on the phone and made some calls and forgot all about Kristen Anderson. But when the sun went down and his employees began returning, laughing, happy, more enthusiastic than he'd seen them in weeks, guilt set in. When an hour went by with everybody getting along, making accommodations for each other in the unusual work space and sharing ideas for what they should do next with the games, the guilt tripled.

Winslow and Mrs. Flannigan had been right. They needed this time somewhere different, somewhere they could relax, somewhere their creativity could be nurtured. Kristen had found him, essentially had made this four-week getaway possible, and he'd thanked her by treating her like dirt.

* * *

After dinner with her family, Kristen went upstairs and opened her laptop. Mrs. Flannigan had given her a list of people to consider for her board of advisors but before she approached anyone she wanted to know a bit about them.

But reading resumes for and articles about people who were wealthy because they were brilliant, only reminded her of Dean. How she'd wanted him to be the playful guy she'd uncovered in New York and how he'd bitten her head off. It hadn't taken a real yelling session. She'd gotten the message from the way he'd said no to a tour with her.

It had stung, though. Because deep down she believed he liked her. And it stung even more, because deep down she had more feelings for him than she'd let herself admit.

The sound of sleigh bells penetrated the haze of her thoughts, then two male voices, and she frowned. Her family's farm was far enough off the beaten path that no one “accidentally” drove or walked by. She rose from her desk and looked out the window.

At the edge of the road was a pretty red sleigh decorated with yellow flowers and green leaves. The driver sat on the bench seat, holding the reins of a chestnut mare. Dean Suminski sat in the backseat.

She spun around and raced out of her room and down the stairs to the front door, so thrilled to see him that she didn't care why he'd chosen a sled to come to her house. She hadn't been wrong about his feelings for her, and that, once again, quadrupled her feelings for him.

With a laugh, she whipped open the door. “What are you doing?”

Walking up to the porch of her parents' house, he wore the big blue parka and the hat, with the flaps over his ears. He angled his thumb toward the sleigh. “This is an apology.”

Her heart stumbled. The great Dean Suminski apologized? “For what?”

“I was a bit nastier in my refusal of a tour of your capital than I wanted to be.”

Her heart stuttered. “A bit nastier? Did you intend to be nasty?”

He sighed. “No. I just felt overwhelmed.”

She could have said, “Overwhelmed by what?” and forced the issue that he was having trouble with the fact that he wanted to be himself around her. Except he was here. Outside the door of her parents' house...with a sleigh! He
wanted
to see her. He didn't need to say the words. And she didn't need to push for them.

“So is everything going okay at the hotel?”

“Yes.” He nodded at her white sweater and jeans. “You're freezing without a coat. Go get one. We'll talk while we ride.”

He turned and began walking back to the sleigh. She spun around, raced into her house and grabbed her coat, hat and mittens.

Her mother, a tall, thin blonde wearing a colorful apron over jeans, walked into the front hall. “Kristen? Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“Dean Suminski, the guy I went to New York with...he's here with a sleigh.”

Her mom frowned. “The man working at the hotel?”

Sliding into her coat, she nodded.

Her mom said, “You should invite him to dinner.”

Kristen froze. Invite him to dinner? Have him meet her parents? That would probably freak him out. “Didn't we already eat?”

“I didn't mean tonight. I meant tomorrow or Friday,” her mom said with a laugh. Then she shooed her out the door. “Go. Have fun.”

Kristen raced out onto the big front porch of her family's old farmhouse and down the three steps to the snow-covered sidewalk. Dean stood by the sleigh. When she reached him, he helped her climb inside, then pulled himself in behind her.

The air was crisp, the night freezing cold, but, God help her, to her it felt just plain magical. Every step he took was a step closer to him being the man he was supposed to be, the man who could love her.

She slowed her thoughts. Told her brain to settle down. He was a broken man. A man who'd grown up without love, whose first love had used him. She wasn't going to wave a magic wand and he'd be normal again. His wounds might be healing, but he would need time to learn to trust again.

Still, she knew her heart was racing ahead of things because she had feelings for him far beyond anything she'd ever felt. If she wanted this, wanted him, and she did, she had to take her time. Give him a way to get to know her enough that he'd trust her with his heart. Not rush. Not nudge. Just enjoy the sleigh ride.

After all...he was here, wasn't he?

Spreading a thick blanket over both of their legs, he said, “I actually learned how to drive the sleigh from the internet. YouTube.”

She glanced over, saw he was serious and laughed. “So why aren't you driving?”

“Clyde up there,” he said, pointing to their driver, “knows his way around the countryside. I don't.”

“Good point.”

Powdery snow muffled the clip-clop of the horse's hooves, but caused the sleigh blades to make a
swoosh, swoosh, swoosh
noise as the sled moved along. A light in the front illuminated twenty or so feet ahead, but otherwise her world, her county, was dark and silent.

Dark,
freezing cold
and silent.

The kind of cold where two people who shouldn't like each other, shouldn't belong together, could snuggle under a cover and get to know each other.

She slid her arm beneath his, nestled close, seeking his warmth but also basking in the chance to touch him.

“So tell me more about what you did today.”

“Being this far away from the US and being plunged into darkness more hours of the day than any human being should have to endure has had an odd effect on me.”

She cuddled closer. “Let's not forget that it's cold.”

He stiffened, but he said, “It is cold.” Then he slowly relaxed beside her, as if he couldn't deny he wanted the closeness too, and using the cold as an excuse made that easier. “But it seems to work. The employees came back today more energetic than I've seen them in months.”

He leaned back, relaxed. Saying all that out loud seemed to have helped it to sink in that everything was working out.

“I'm glad we could help.”

“It's just...” He turned to look at her. “Unexpected.”

She couldn't have said it any better herself. What was happening between them was unexpected. But maybe that was part of the attraction. She was an unsophisticated country girl. He was a guy who had pulled himself up by his talent and his genius and made himself one of the most important men in the business world. But they clicked.

They rode through the silent night for about twenty minutes with her prodding him with questions, getting him to talk about his work.

“Jason thinks I should stop the US calls when the team comes in off the slopes. And forget about Asia until we get home. He says the team wasn't just energetic because they'd had fun on the ski slopes. He thinks they respond positively to having me around.” He stole a peek at her. “Normally, I'm in my office four floors above them and they work on their own. Today, I spent time in the meeting room, asking questions, giving suggestions.” He shrugged. “It was fun. Like the old days.”

“Maybe you
should
spend more time with them.”

“I haven't touched that part of the company in years.”

“That's interesting since they've been stuck for years.”

He shook his head. “If you're hinting that they need me, don't. I've hired the best in the business. They don't need me.”

“And yet...here they are...stuck.”

He sniffed a laugh and she let the subject die, knowing she'd gotten her point across.

As the night got colder, their blanket drifted higher, to their chins. She reveled in the way he talked, the sound of his voice, the quiet trust. The sleigh turned around, headed back, and she knew she had only another twenty minutes.

When he asked how her day had been, she returned the favor of being honest with him the way he'd been with her. “When the princess is away I'm bored. I have nothing to do but check her email a few times a day to make sure nothing that comes in is a crisis.” She peeked at him. “And as small as we are, we get a crisis about once every ten years.”

He laughed. “Too bad you can't code.”

“Really?” She knew he hadn't intended to take them down this road, but this was the heart of why she always wanted to be around him and why he'd brought a sleigh to her house in the dead of night. And maybe it was time they talked about it.

“You think it's a bad thing that we're different?”

He faced her, held her gaze for a few seconds.

When she couldn't take the honest scrutiny anymore, she whispered, “Admit it. Part of the attraction is that we're nothing alike.”

He looked around her frozen countryside. “We might have been raised differently and have two different ways in which we want to change the world.” He met her gaze again. “But we both want to change the world.”

“So? That just means we're enough alike that we understand each other, but different enough that we're interesting.”

He shook his head. The sleigh silently swooshed to a stop in front of her parents' farmhouse.

“Maybe. I don't know.”

He appeared genuinely perplexed. She supposed if someone tossed a monkey wrench into her life she'd be confused too. But even with the totally baffled expression on his face, he was handsome, strong. She couldn't resist leaning forward and touching her lips to his. She stayed there a second, giving him time to respond and he did. Under their blanket, his hands came up to her shoulders to pull her close so he could deepen the kiss.

And she realized this was what she'd been waiting for her whole life. The magic prince she didn't believe existed wasn't a guy on a white horse; he was someone who understood her. Someone she understood. An equal.

She broke the kiss and slid out from under the cover, bolting out of the sleigh before he had a chance to get out into the cold when he didn't have to.

They were falling in love. Real love.

She turned and waved. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Then she pivoted around and ran into her house. Her blood racing. Her knees a little weak. But her heart happy as well as terrified.

They clicked. That's why everything felt so different when they were together.

But she had only four weeks to get him to see it.

And even if he did, he'd have to brave a whole new world of communication and honesty. He might not be capable of having the kind of relationship she needed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
Dean woke feeling happy, refreshed. Jason joined him in the penthouse suite for breakfast.

After room service wheeled in their cart, Jason said, “So where'd you go last night?”

Dean kept his attention on his tablet. He'd pulled up
the Wall Street Journal
and was reading the highlights of the day's financial news.

After he finished the article, he glanced up at his friend. “Believe it or not, I hired a sleigh.”

Jason laughed. “Sleigh?”

“I figured I owed Kristen an apology for barking at her yesterday when she was trying to be helpful.” He shook his head in wonder. “I never knew darkness could be so appealing.”

“You've lived too long in the city,” Jason said, lifting the lid off his plate of eggs and pancakes. “When we get back home, we'll start scheduling more time for you in your Albany house.”

Just the thought of the Albany house made him smile. He knew it was because of the vision he'd had of Kristen in that house, on his bed, with his child. Though the vision didn't scare him to death or confuse him as it had the first time he thought it, it did fill him with questions.

Was that what he was doing with her? Falling in love so he could have something he wasn't even sure existed? The sleigh ride hadn't been as romantic as it had been warm, nice. Then she'd kissed him and, of course, everything that had been warm and friendly suddenly became hot and steamy.

He'd thought of her the whole way back to town, thought of her when he woke up and now he was thinking of her again.

He just liked her. Everything about her.

Even her freezing cold country.

And it scared him to death.

He'd liked everything about Nina too. Even her sweltering hot country. When it came to falling in love, he had no guidelines, no common sense. He'd been gobsmacked when Nina told him she'd been using him to make Alex Sancho jealous.

So what would he find out about Kristen? That she had used him to get to know Mrs. Flannigan? That being connected to him gave her a stature that would help her establish herself in his world and easily get the money she needed for her charity?

Because there was something.

There was always something.

A few minutes later, the suite phone rang. Not knowing who would have the number, he didn't answer. Embroiled in a discussion of marketing techniques in Asia, Jason didn't even acknowledge that the phone had rung.

But after Jason left to go do some sightseeing, Dean checked with the front desk. They had indeed taken a message from the call he'd ignored.

“Kristen Anderson called. She'd like you to join her family this evening for dinner. Seven o'clock. She left a number.”

Dean said, “Thank you. I won't need the number.” Because he did not intend to go to that family dinner.

But all day long he thought of the white farmhouse he'd glimpsed when his sleigh had swished up to her sidewalk. He thought about the fact that it was so far out in the country and wondered about the people who lived there...

And the people who had raised Kristen. What kind of parents were so strong that they raised a daughter who took up the cause of a pen pal who'd been killed? What kind of parents raised a child to be so open and honest? Did she have brothers and sisters?

In the end, he waited until the very last second, until it was too late to call and say he was coming. So late, he barely got a cab.

He arrived at her house, bottle of wine in hand—the suggestion of the cabbie—and knocked on the door, wondering what in the hell he was doing.

The door opened. A tall, blonde woman smiled broadly at him. “You must be Dean Suminski.” She opened the door a little wider. “I'm Joan, Kristen's mom.” She motioned for him to enter, then turned and called up the stairs, “Kristen! Your friend is here.”

As Dean stepped inside the old-fashioned foyer, Joan faced him with a smile. “I hope you like roast beef. We're not fancy here.”

Feeling odd and awkward, he said, “That's great,” just as Kristen came running down the stairs. She stopped when she saw him and their gazes met.

She wore jeans and a white sweatshirt. Her hair fell around her in loose curls. But her smile was huge, luscious. As if seeing him made her the happiest woman in the world.

Now, how the hell was he supposed to resist that?

“I'm so glad you came.”

“Yeah, well, I'm sorry I didn't call.”

“There was no reason to call,” Kristen's mom said, taking his arm and guiding him through the short hall that led to an unexpectedly modern kitchen. “We don't stand on ceremony here.”

He walked up to the center island that was cluttered with pots and pans, utensils and dishes used to make the dinner. The hardwood floors sparkled. The other counters were neat and tidy. A table in the adjoining dining area had been set.

Kristen said, “I'll set another place.”

As she scrambled to gather plates, Kristen's mom nodded at a stool by the center island and he sat.

“Kristen's dad should be in any minute,” Joan said, rifling through a drawer. She pulled out a corkscrew and handed it to him with the wine he'd brought. “You do the honors.” She turned to the dining area. “Kristen, would you also get wineglasses?”

He opened the wine as Kristen retrieved wineglasses from a cabinet with a glass front. She set the four glasses on the counter, then smiled at him.

Warmth invaded his heart. Warmth and ease and a kind of comfort he'd never felt before.

The back door opened and an older man entered, a teenage boy on his heels.

“This is Kristen's dad, James, and her youngest brother, Lars. Lars, Jimmy, this is Kristen's friend Dean. He's the man who brought his company here for a bit of a rest while they work.”

He didn't question that they knew about him. He would expect Kristen to tell her family about her work. Given the relaxed atmosphere of the kitchen, he would expect that she talked about everything in her life with her parents, and that they talked freely with her.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.”

The big man walked over and clasped his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Kristen's been all about trying to get a company here to Grennady, especially since her other brother, Brian, is studying computer science at university.”

Dean peeked over at Kristen who blushed. “She never mentioned that.”

Her gaze met his. “I didn't want to unduly influence you.”

That made him laugh. Really laugh. The kind of laugh he experienced with her in New York. “Are you kidding? You stalked me to Paris, wouldn't get off my plane in New York until I listened to your pitch. And now you're trying to say you didn't want to influence me?”

She winced. “All right. Maybe a little.”

Kristen's father and brother went upstairs to wash up for dinner. Dean poured the wine. He sat at the center island while Kristen cleared the counter and her mom put the finishing touches on dinner. By the time the men returned, dinner was ready to serve.

They spent the meal discussing Dean's company, Kristen's charity and the possibility that Lars would be going into computer science too. They sat around the table, eating chocolate cake for dessert, finishing the wine, talking like old friends, not worrying about clearing dishes. Until at nine o'clock when Kristen volunteered to drive him home.

He realized that her parents probably had to get up early the next morning and took his jacket when Joan brought it from the newel post on the stairway in the foyer.

“I can get a cab.”

Shrugging into her coat, Kristen said, “Nonsense. It's not that far.”

Then she smiled that smile again, the one that made him feel warm all over, the one that made him feel very much a part of her life, and the one he couldn't resist.

They got into her little car and he let her have her concentration to maneuver out of the farm's lane and onto the snow-covered main road.

“Your family is really nice.”

“Yes. They are. We're just average, normal people, living life.” She peeked at him. “I appreciate you being so nice to them. My mom really wanted to meet you. She was thrilled you accepted her dinner invitation.”

“She's a great cook.”

“Hey, I made those potatoes.”

“Then you're probably a good cook too.” He took a breath, considered for only a few seconds, then said, “My Gram had been a really great cook in her time, but the older she got the less she wanted to cook.” He shrugged. “We ate a lot of pizza.”

“As a little kid you probably liked that.”

He laughed. “I did.”

“Other stuff, not so much.”

“I just always felt left out. She wouldn't let me sign up for Little League, or even after school activities. Said we couldn't afford the fees and insisted there always were fees. If there were parent-teacher conferences, I knew she wouldn't go. It's why it took so long for anyone to recognize that I was gifted.”

“It sounds like she was just overwhelmed.”

“She was.”

“It also sounds like you forgive her.”

“In a weird kind of way, there was nothing to forgive her for. Even as a kid I recognized that I was a burden.”

“That's not a very nice way for a kid to feel.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“But you're over it.”

“Most of it.” He shrugged. “Lots of it. But there are some things you can't get over. All you can do is adjust.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

No. He supposed there wasn't. He also couldn't believe how free he felt talking about this with her.

When she pulled the car into a parking space in front of the hotel, he glanced around, confused. He'd thought she'd drop him off at the door. Instead, they were in the back.

He turned to ask her why they were parked, just as she stretched across the seat and kissed him. Quick and light, her lips brushed his, and then she pulled back again.

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

He laughed. “You're welcome. That's the first time anybody's ever kissed me as a thank-you.”

Her head tilted. “Really?” She leaned forward and kissed him again. “Now you've been kissed twice as a thank-you.”

This time he didn't let her pull back, he caught her shoulders and kept her right where she was so he could deepen the kiss. He had absolutely no idea what was happening, but if this was love, he really liked it.

After a few minutes, he realized he was necking in a car—in a hotel parking lot, with a woman he really liked who was nothing like any other woman he'd ever gotten involved with—like a horny teenager.

He took her shoulders and set her away from him, back on the driver's side of the car.

“That was different.”

She laughed. “Really?”

“All this is so normal for you. So easy—”

“You think? You think I just go around kissing random guys?” She laughed gaily. “It's every bit as unusual for me as it is for you. And maybe even really poor timing for me since I'm at the beginning of the project I hope will be my life's work.”

He sobered. “I'm sorry.”

She laughed again, then shook her head. “Seriously, you need to work on thinking before you talk. I'm not saying this is a bad thing. It's a good thing. What I'm saying is that what we feel comes with complications.” She stretched around again so that she could look into his eyes. “My family's putting up our Christmas tree on Saturday afternoon. I'd love for you to come.”

Sitting so close, staring into her eyes, all he could think to say was, “Yes.”

She pulled back. “Take the next few days to think things through.” She put the car into gear again and drove up to the hotel door. “I'll see you Saturday.”

Dazed, confused, he said, “Okay,” as he got out of the car. But he understood what she was saying. The timing was wrong for them. Plus, he had issues. He might not be tumbling headfirst into love as much as he could be tumbling headfirst into disaster.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, Kristen was surprised when the doorbell rang and Dean stood on the front porch of her home, holding two bottles of wine.

Her heart spun crazily. She absolutely hadn't expected him to come to her house again. She believed he'd talk himself out of it. First, though he'd been comfortable with her family, she could see him returning to his hotel, picking the evening apart and finding a million things wrong with him getting to know her parents and brother. Second, she was positive he'd decide his work was more important than an afternoon off. Third, they were going to decorate a tree and Christmas was not his favorite holiday. Fourth, she was very sure what he felt for her confused him.

But confused or not, he was on her porch.

“Come in.”

He stepped into the foyer, handed her the wine and shrugged out of his jacket, which he casually hung across the newel post again.

“You brought extra wine to help you get through this, didn't you?”

He laughed and brushed a quick kiss across her mouth. “Sort of.”

Though his answer didn't surprise her, the quick kiss did. She couldn't imagine what he felt for her, that the man who didn't even like talking to people was willing to take himself this far out of his comfort zone for her.

She led him into the kitchen, where they grabbed four wineglasses, then into the living room where a huge blue spruce sat in the corner.

Dean said hello to her family, then uncorked the wine and poured, not really looking at the tree or the decorations that were strewn all over the chairs, sofa and coffee table.

She picked up an ancient ornament and presented it to him. “I made this in kindergarten.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that a—?”

“Toilet paper roll? Yes. Covered in glitter and tinsel, but it's still a toilet paper roll.”