A Champagne Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

up to see him standing over her desk. It was almost ten-thirty and he was just now coming into the office. That was typical. What was unusual was that his pale, handsome features looked irritated as he looked down at her.

      “I was out,” she replied shortly. There was not a single detail about last night that she felt like sharing with Alan.

      “Did you finish the wedding plans?”

      Anger—usually such a foreign emotion—suddenly burned through her. Did he think she had no life of her own? Did he really think after doing his shopping, she would rush to spend her whole night planning his wedding and honeymoon?

      The answer was clear as he waited with his arms folded.

      Yes.

      Clenching her hands under her desk, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t enough that she came into work before dawn while he never bothered to arrive before ten. It wasn’t enough that she’d spent the past three hours frantically writing his speech for a charity event that afternoon, a speech he’d insisted for weeks that he would write himself—until she’d found the task waiting in her inbox that morning.

      “Look at these!” The front desk receptionist appeared with an enormous arrangement of exquisite long-stemmed white calla lilies, which she set on Grace’s desk. “Aren’t they gorgeous?”

      “Oh, thank you,” Alan said with a smile and a wink, immediately reaching for the card. “I can’t imagine who—”

      “Oh no, Mr. Barrington,” the receptionist said with a giggle. “They’re for Miss Cannon.”

      “For me?” Grace exclaimed in shock.

      “For you?”Alan said with equal shock. “What…who?”

      Drawing the card from the envelope, Grace silently read a single line written in a rough, sharp hand.

      “Last night you dazzled me like the sun in winter. Waiting outside now for the bright burn of dawn—M.”

      Happiness soared through Grace.

      She hadn’t made a fool of herself after all! Maksim hadn’t been disgusted with her for being a virgin! He’d just sent her away in the taxi because…

      Because he wanted more than just a one-night stand? Because he was trying to protect her and take things slow?

      It was the only possible reason.

      And he already wanted to see her again! She suddenly felt like tap-dancing beneath her desk.

      She closed her eyes and inhaled the heady scent of lilies. Maksim thought she was worth such extravagant beauty.

      And for the first time in forever so did she.

      “Well?” the receptionist asked slyly. “Who’s the prince charming, Grace?”

      “Yes,” Alan demanded. “Who?”

      She looked up at her boss and saw him with utterly new eyes. She’d suddenly had enough. Straightening in her chair, she gave a dismissive laugh.

      “For heaven’s sake, Alan, I’m your secretary, not your wife. Why do you care who sends me flowers?”

      “I don’t,” he stammered, clearly surprised. “I just want to make sure that you devote the proper time and energy to your work.”

      “You mean the time I’ve spent buying gifts for your various girlfriends?” she said coolly. “Or do you mean the time I’ve worked for you around the clock without pay?”

      The receptionist gasped a laugh. At Alan’s dirty look, she gulped and scurried away.

      He looked back at Grace. “Look here, Gracie…”

      She leaned her elbows against her desk. “Or maybe you mean the times I’ve asked you for a pay raise.” She thrummed her pen thoughtfully against her cheek. “All the times you put me off and said we’d talk about it later. When I was promoted to your executive assistant. When I moved to London with you.”

      He swallowed, licking his lips as he attempted a weak smile. “You know how valuable you are to me—how much I need you!”

      “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”

      He leaned over her desk. “Is this because of Francesca? Because you don’t need to feel jealous,” he whispered urgently. “Our engagement isn’t real.”

      “You bought her lingerie!” she gasped.

      He gave a bitter laugh. “I thought it was real. She set me straight last night when I suggested an elopement. That’s why I asked if you’d started the wedding plans yet—you don’t need to bother. She only agreed to a fake engagement to make some other man jealous. She has no interest in marrying me—or sleeping with me either.” He clenched his jaw. “But as long as I play along with her, she’ll make sure her father doesn’t know, and the merger will still go through.”

      Francesca was trying to make some other man jealous?

      Grace suddenly feared she knew who that man might be. And she didn’t like it one bit.

      “So don’t give up on me.” Alan gave her his old charming, Hugh Grant smile. “In a few months, it will all be over. Things can go back to how they were. Just be patient. I’m asking you, Grace. Wait for me.”

      Looking into his smiling eyes, Grace sucked in her breath.

      Oh my God.

      He’d known.

      All this time she’d thought he was clueless about her feelings. But he’d known about her crush all along. He’d used her own feelings against her. Used her for free work. Used her for a nice ego boost or a snog when it suited him.

      “Well? What do you say?”

      “I’m sorry,” she said evenly.

      And she was. Sorry that she’d given him all her time and energy. Sorry she’d thrown away better opportunities with both hands, while pretending he was the solution to all her problems!

      With a sympathetic smile, he leaned against her desk. “Sorry you have to wait?”

      “I’m sorry, but things have to change.” She slowly rose from her desk. “I’m dating someone else. And if you want me to remain your secretary, it’s going to cost you.”

      He gaped at her. “Where else would you go?”

      “I’ve had another job offer.”

      “From whom?”

      “That’s irrelevant,” she said. “Since I had to move from Los Angeles, my mother’s had trouble paying her mortgage. I need ten thousand dollars to stay working for you. Call it a retroactive raise.”

      “Ten thousand?” he gasped. “Dollars? Are you joking?”

      “And effective immediately,” she continued sweetly, “I expect a raise in pay commensurate with the increased cost-of-living expenses in London.”

      “Grace!”

      “So what do you say?” She paused. “Shall I stay and finish writing your speech for the charity event this afternoon? Or shall I clean out my desk?”

      He stared at her.

      “Stay,” he muttered. “Finish the speech. You’ll get your raise with your next paycheck.”

      “And my bonus?”

      “Ten thousand dollars? That will take longer.”

      “You have until Christmas Eve.”

      He ground his teeth. “Fine. Would you perhaps like to take the rest of the afternoon off, as well?” he suggested acidly.

      “Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him. “I’ll go as soon as I’m done