A Sinful Little Christmas. J. Margot Critch

knew he wouldn’t get far if he couldn’t get by her.

      He hadn’t packed up what was left of his life just days before Christmas to move to a new country to mess it all up on day one. He had to be on his best behavior, because screwing up his new life before it started wasn’t an option, no matter how beautiful the woman was, or how badly he wanted her to give him a personal tour of her erotic club in the bottom floor of the building, and then maybe he’d show her a thing or two himself.

      Alana watched him expectantly, and Michael realized that she was waiting for a response. Right, the interview. He cleared his throat. “Well, up until very recently, I lived in London, where I opened and ran Swings Playground. We made five million pounds in profit in our first year, and then each year since, we’ve doubled the previous year’s earnings.”

      She nodded with approval, and Michael felt his confidence bolster. “Very impressive. I know Swings,” she said. “I’ve visited a couple of times while in London.”

      “Oh really?” he asked, his interest piqued, and he was curious where her tastes lay.

      “Yeah, a couple of years ago. I was in London for a conference.”

      “And how was your visit?”

      “Quite fun. It’s a nice, comfortable place you’ve built.”

      “Thank you,” he said, a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking about the place he’d created but then been ousted from. “I look forward to finally seeing Di Terrestres as well,” he told her, hoping to take the focus off himself and put it on her own club. “Once our interview is over, that is.”

      “I’ll get someone to show you around later, if we need to. But back to you. Swings is successful, and well-known in the international community. I’m curious, though. Why exactly did you leave?”

      Michael paused. He didn’t know how to form the words, having never said them out loud to anyone before. He had deeply buried the pain and humiliation of the betrayal. But in the moments when he let himself feel, it still stung him. He hadn’t hoped to get into it during his first meeting with the woman he’d be working with. So, he went with a fair response of “It was time for my partners and me to part ways.”

      He caught the flicker of a question that showed in her eyes, her bullshit detector, no doubt, pinging at his nonresponse.

      “Why the vague answer?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her more-than-ample breasts pushed upward. His eyes drifted to the line of her cleavage that disappeared beneath the low neckline of her dress. “Unless you’re too busy looking at my breasts to provide an actual one.”

      Caught. “Sorry.” He wasn’t at all sorry. “There’s not much else to say about my split from my partners.”

      “I think there is.”

      “It’s nothing that will affect my ability to work here,” he assured her.

      But she wouldn’t let it go. “Legal trouble?” she asked, with her eyes narrowed and the tilt of her head showing off a length of smooth skin on her neck. All those sensitive nerve endings. He wondered if she would moan or squeal if he grazed it with his lips.

      “More like personal.” Michael’s voice was gruff, barely recognizable to him. It wasn’t anger that had transformed it—as was what happened when he normally spoke of the infidelity he’d suffered at the hands of those closest to him—but lust. It had been a while since he’d had such a reaction to a woman, no matter the attitude she threw his way. Maybe that was part of her appeal, he mused. She didn’t just fall at his feet and want to give him anything he desired. Her resistance to him was new, and the fact that he would have to work hard to impress her—well, he liked that. He could appreciate hard work. It just made the rewards sweeter.

      Alana raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

      He knew he would have to further elaborate, or she wouldn’t let it go. He averted his eyes, checking out her office—it was sleek in design, modern, but comfortable—and he blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, fine. My wife—” he caught her quick, surprised blink “—my very soon to be ex-wife,” he clarified. “We owned the club with a friend of ours. The marriage ended, the friendship ended, and so did the partnership.” Michael figured giving the short-and-not-so-sweet version of what went down would be the easiest option.

      “I know there’s something you’re leaving out there,” she pointed out. Michael said nothing, offering her nothing more about his personal life. “Why did you want to come here?”

      “I’m at a crossroads in my life. Gabe reached out to me, and I met him in Dublin.” Michael noticed her head tilt and her lips purse, then added, “I figured it was a good time for something new, a change of scenery, and I figure there’s no different scenery than Las Vegas. I’ve heard great things about Di Terrestres. You’re known internationally within the scene. I’m not sure if you know this, but I’ve known Gabe since university. He’s told me all about you.” He flicked his eyes over her. But Gabe hadn’t told him everything about her—he’d left out that Alana Carter was possibly the sexiest woman Michael had ever seen. Smoking hot, hard as steel and capable of making him want to do so many things to her, with her, have her do to him. But he stuck with “Gabe has had good things to say about you and the way you do business.” Knowing she wouldn’t make it easy for him, he kept going, hoping flattery and sex appeal would help melt her icy exterior. “I’m excited to get to work, to see what I can do for you,” he finished with an innuendo-laced, closed-lip grin. Just bring the conversation to sex, and away from his personal life. That was where his comforts lay.

      The way Alana raised her eyebrows, but then quickly lowered them, let Michael know that he’d had the intended effect. He saw the way she looked at him, and it was obvious that the attraction between them flowed both ways. She cleared her throat and leaned her elbows on her desk, zeroing in on him with those light gray eyes, while his eyes dipped again to her chest and the view he’d been presented with. “And what do you think you can do for me?” she asked, her voice husky.

      He, too, leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I can relieve some of the stress and the pressure you must be under. Being a powerful woman in a man’s world can’t be easy. I’m here to do the heavy lifting at Di Terrestres and lighten your load, no matter what it might be.”

      Alana stood behind her desk, forcing him to look up at her. He was a tall man, and had never had a woman stand over him. “I think I know how you can relieve some of the stress, and make my day a little easier…” He watched with interest as she drew her fingertips over the top of her desk. Every movement she made was crafted to have an effect on him. He could tell she knew how to use her body, her mind, every part of her, to seduce to get what she wanted.

      And Michael was almost embarrassed by how well it worked on him.

      He stood as well. He could already feel all of his blood rushing to his dick. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

      “Well, first,” she said, her voice sultry, as she reached back and opened her desk drawer, took a step around the front of the desk to stand in front of him and handed over a stack of paper tickets. He inhaled deeply and found her perfume. Citrus with a floral hint, alluding to a more playful side? He wondered. Her scent was captivating, intoxicating, but no more so than the way she pursed her lips, one side tilted upward, and she dipped her chin to what she’d placed in his hand, urging him to look.

      He looked in his hand and saw what she’d given him, and he laughed without humor.

      “You can pick up my dry cleaning,” she told him, her voice still a sultry whisper. “The address is on the back.”

      Her dry cleaning? “You can’t be serious.”

      All hint of seduction was now missing from her voice and posture. “Mr. Paul, you’ll discover that I’m rarely anything but serious.”

      He shook his head, and glared