A Mistletoe Kiss with the Boss (5 page)

She laughed. “He was adorable.”

“No. He wasn't.”

“Sure he was. All babies are cute in their own way.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, Dean, life isn't about symmetry or perfection. It's about what makes a person unique, and that little boy's eyes were spectacular.”

He said, “I guess,” but what she'd said made real sense. Not just because the baby with the big eyes and bald head did look happy, but because he'd met all kinds in his world. Superstitious programmers who had lucky T-shirts. Marketing people who wore the latest fashions, and accountants who were never out of their suits. It took all of them to make Suminski Stuff successful. In spite of her naïvety, Kristen Anderson was pretty smart.

Relaxing another notch, he motioned her in the direction of their table, but she didn't make a move to walk toward it. She peered at him. “You haven't spent a lot of time around kids, have you?”

“No. And I plan to keep it that way.”

“Really? You don't want to have kids of your own someday?”

“I wouldn't know the first thing about being a father.”

“I've heard it comes naturally.”

He gestured again for her to walk. “Not when you didn't have one to be an example.”

Her face filled with sympathy. Apology filled her green eyes. “I'm so sorry. I forgot your parents were killed.”

“It's fine.”

She shook her head. “No. It's not fine. I should have thought that through before I made such a careless comment.”

“Don't worry about it. It's hard to remember every little detail of somebody's bio.”

“But that's an important one.”

“Not really. I'm over it.”

She held his gaze, her sympathetic eyes sending an odd feeling through him, a knowing that if he'd talk about this with her she'd understand.

“You're not over it or you wouldn't be so sure you don't want to have kids.”

He laughed to ease the pressure of the knot in his chest, the one that nudged him to say something honest when he couldn't be honest. He'd never told anyone anything but the bare-bones facts of his childhood. And one woman with pretty eyes—no matter how much she seemed to be able to get him to relax—wouldn't change that.

He stuck with the rhetoric that had served him well for the ten years he'd guided Suminski Stuff. “Being over it has little to do with the decision not to have kids. I don't just lack parenting skills, I also have an unusual job. In the past twenty-four hours I've been in two countries, crossed an ocean. There's no place in my life for a wife, let alone kids.”

She caught his gaze and gave him the most puzzling look for about ten seconds, and then she finally said, “You know, that just makes you all the more a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Sure.” Her smile broadened, a bubble of laughter escaped. “Every woman wants to be the one who tames the confirmed bachelor and turns him into a family man.”

She said it in jest. Her laugh clearly indicated she was teasing. But he could picture them in the master bedroom of his Albany estate, white curtains billowing in the breeze from open French doors. White comforter on a king-size bed. Her leaning on pillows plumped against a tufted headboard. Holding a baby.

His
baby.

He shook his head to clear it of the totally absurd thought.

She pointed to a discreet sign on a table only a few feet away. She said, “Thirty-one,” and started moving toward it.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Not that the vision was gone, but also that she'd finally started walking. They reached their seats and he pulled out her chair for her.

She sat. “I want lots of kids.”

He sat beside her. The discussion might not have changed, but it had shifted off him and to her. That he could handle. “While you're globe-trotting for your schools?”

“There are ways around that. Like nannies. And my mom.” She laughed. “I don't have a doubt that she'll be a hands-on grandmother.”

His breath stalled as a memory of his own grandmother popped into his head. If she'd been “hands-on” it had been with her palm to his bottom when she'd decided that he'd misbehaved.

He rose and shook hands when another couple arrived at their table, working to bring himself back from the memory of his grandmother paddling him for spilling milk when he was five or asking for a baseball mitt when he was seven.

But as he frantically struggled to block his bleak, solitary childhood from his brain, Kristen said, “I can't imagine not having my own family. I mean, I love my parents and all, but I want a crack at being a mom. Teaching someone everything I know.”

An empty feeling filled him and on its heels came an envy so strong it was a battle not to close his eyes. She must have had a wonderful childhood. But being jealous was stupid, pointless. He'd gotten over his hollow beginnings years ago. Being lonely had forced him to entertain himself, and that ultimately had made him rich. He was pragmatic about his past. So, it shouldn't make him feel bad that his childhood had been crap. Just as it shouldn't make him jealous that Kristen was so confident in her decision to have kids. Or make him wonder how much fun the family she intended to create would be.

Dinner was served, a very untraditional meal of steak and vegetables. To his surprise, Kristen ate with gusto. While the wives of his counterparts pushed their food around their plates, Kristen ate every bite of her steak and was on the edge of her seat waiting for dessert. Crème brûlée.

Then he realized they hadn't fed her all day. He'd had a sandwich and fries delivered to his office as he'd made all his calls to brokers, but he'd forgotten to tell Stella that Kristen hadn't eaten. And skinny Stella was known to skip meals.

He leaned over and whispered, “I'm sorry we forgot lunch.”

Her head tilted as she smiled. “I slept the day away. I was fine.”

Her pretty face made his breath stutter again. Her smooth, pink skin glowed in the candlelight. Her genuine smile warmed him. She wasn't faking having a good time.

And hadn't she said she needed a good time?

Ignoring the odd happiness that filled him when he realized he'd done something to please her, he motioned to her plate. “You were obviously starving.”

She frowned. “You think I was starving because I ate all my steak?” She burst out laughing. “I eat like that all the time.”

Her laugh made him laugh. Muscles he hadn't even realized were knotted untangled. She really was the most honest, most open person he'd ever met. He might feel the need to fight all the crazy feelings she inspired, but he simply could not help relaxing around her.

Gina McMurray, wife of Tim McMurray, leaned across the table. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop but, oh, my God, I would love to eat like that.”

Sherri Johnson said, “Me too. I can't, though. I'd blow up like a cow. What's your secret?”

Kristen said, “Good metabolism probably. But my parents own a dairy farm. I still do my fair share of the chores.”

Sherri nodded. “When I ran around after my kids, I didn't have to worry about weight, either.”

Gina said, “I guess it's all about moving.”

As the women chatted, Dean glanced over at Kristen and let her work her magic. He now trusted her enough not to worry about what she'd say or how she'd say it. He liked hearing her tell their tablemates about her life. She was
interesting
. She worked for a princess, lived on a farm very different from anything he'd ever experienced and had a degree that she intended to use to start a charity that built schools. While she did all that, she wanted to have kids, and teach them to be citizens of the world.

It was no wonder he liked her.

She was amazing.

George Perkins walked on stage and took the microphone. He wished everybody a merry Christmas and announced the dancing would begin. All the men at his table asked their wives to dance and Dean knew it would look odd if he and Kristen didn't join them on the floor.

He rose and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

She smiled. “I'd love to.”

He led her to the dance floor and took her into his arms, where she fit perfectly. She was the right height for him. She was pretty. She had just enough sophistication that it didn't impinge on her natural, innocent charm. She ate when she was hungry. She wanted to have kids. She wanted to change the world.

All his crazy feelings around her came into focus, and he nearly stopped dancing. She wasn't just amazing. She was the perfect woman for him.
Of course he was attracted to her.
Of course he wanted her.

If there was such a thing as the woman of his dreams, it was Kristen.

Happiness mixed with a knowing that expanded his chest with a fierce need to kiss her, and his heart with a longing to keep her—to never let her out of his sight—that he'd never felt before.

It also explained the unwanted vision of her with his child, the way he could relax with her and why he couldn't stop staring at her face.

Some crazy, romantic part of himself wanted a future with her.

But it was all for nothing.

Not only did he have a really crappy upbringing that meant he had no idea what a real family looked like, no idea how to be a husband or a father, but there was also the matter of why Alex Sancho hated him.

If that wasn't enough to make him all wrong for her, he had a one-track mind. His company. Even if she found him as attractive and interesting as he found her, she should run like the wind away from him.

Once she got to know him, she probably would.

He stepped back, sliding his hands down her arms until he could take her hands. “I'm suddenly very, very tired. Let's go back to the table.”

Her eyes sought his as her lush mouth, her perfect, oh-so-kissable mouth twisted in confusion. “We aren't going to mingle?”

He once again used pragmatism to overcome her questions.

“I might mingle later. I'm not sure. Jason just wanted me to put in an appearance. I think we've done more than that.”

Before she could say anything, Dean caught her hand and began to maneuver through the crowd, toward their table, pulling her with him. Regret wobbled through him, but he wondered why. This was his life. And he was essentially happy with it. He was a rich man, doing work he loved. He wouldn't feel bad that he was attracted to a woman he couldn't have. He had many, many things to be grateful for.

They didn't quite get to their seats before Winslow and Julia Osmond, who owned one of the biggest brokerage houses in New York, ambled up to him.

“I see your stock is hanging tough.”

“Thanks to you,” Dean agreed. He'd had a good chat with Winslow that afternoon. Even though he'd created an informal “no talking about business” rule for this party, this was a chance to reinforce what he'd said.

Kristen tapped his arm. “I thought we agreed no shoptalk tonight.”

The gesture was sweet, familiar, and longing whispered through Dean again. Longing for a life, a relationship, things he'd never wanted before. It was confusing. Frustrating. Ridiculous.

Winslow Osmond said, “I got the same lecture.” He smiled at Kristen. “Where did you two meet?”

“Paris.”

Julia Osmond said, “Oh, how romantic.”

Kristen laughed. “Somewhat romantic. We actually find ourselves on opposite ends of a business thing. I work for Princess Eva Latvia of Grennady.”

Julia caught her arm. “Oh, darling! Didn't she just marry that gorgeous prince from Xaviera?”

“Yes. Alexandros Sancho. They're in Xaviera right now at the end of a vacation celebrating American Thanksgiving. Alex's brother Dom is married to an American and his dad married Princess Ginny's mom, Rose.”

Winslow laughed. “Now, that's going to be a complicated family tree.” He faced Dean. “What business does your company have with Grennady?”

Dean's gaze slowly meandered to Kristen, then back to Winslow. When in doubt, go with the truth. If he and Kristen were alone, that would be lesson five.

“Kristen would like me to consider relocating my company there. Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to even consider it.”

“Why not?”

Dean sort of laughed. “We are in a bit of a hurry to get that series of games ironed out. As I told you in our phone call today, I
will
be beta testing the new version by mid-January. I'm not going to disrupt people who are already stalled.”

Winslow glanced at his glass of whiskey, then back at Dean. “You've never considered that a change of scenery might do them good?”

When Dean frowned, Winslow said, “Maybe their creativity would return if you sent them to a country that's known for fresh air and fresh snow. Somewhere they can get outside and do something physical that will revitalize them. Grennady sounds like the perfect choice to me.”

“Where are your offices?” Julia asked.

“Manhattan,” Winslow answered for Dean. “His employees fight to get into the city, then they're in a high pressure situation trying to fix or finish a product that's obviously in trouble, then they fight to get back home.” He caught Dean's gaze. “No rest for these guys and gals.”

Dean recognized a criticism when he got one, but he smiled at Winslow. “That's certainly an interesting observation.”

“That's not an observation. It's a fact.” Winslow clasped Dean's shoulder. “You know what? A few of my associates and I are having lunch tomorrow. It's our little Christmas celebration. I'd love to have you and Kristen join us.”

“Oh, well...” Dean fumbled for an excuse, but his mind went blank. He couldn't ask Kristen to stay another day, could he?

“Oh, come on. You want to miss the chance to talk to CEOs for some of the biggest companies in the city?” Winslow winked at Kristen. “If nothing else, you should want to show Kristen off.”