The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

her some street cred.

      “Thanks, Alice.”

      “My pleasure,” Alice said, closing the door as she exited.

      Chaz leaned back in his chair and scanned the office, thinking he’d like to be anywhere but there, undercover. Pretending wasn’t his forte. To his credit, he had been a pretty decent young advertising exec himself a few years back, before entering the family business of buying up companies. In the time since then, he’d made more than one flustered employee cry.

      He was responsible for the decisions regarding the upper echelon of this agency. But once he revealed he was the new owner, the future occupant of the VP’s office would require more than a rave review on paper and a few happy clients. He found it inconceivable that anyone considered for such a promotion would avoid working on campaigns that brought in big revenue for the company. What was Kim McKinley thinking?

      Chaz swiveled toward the window, where he had a bird’s-eye view of the street below. Though it was already dark outside, he got to his feet and peered out, counting four Santas on street corners collecting for charity in a city that was draped in holiday trappings.

      When the knock came on his door, Chaz looked around. He wasn’t expecting anyone for another hour, and Alice never bothered to announce her own entrance. The thought that someone could bypass Alice seemed ludicrous.

      The knock came again. After one more sharp rap, the doorknob moved. It seemed that his visitor wasn’t going to wait for permission to come in.

      The door swung open. A woman, her outline exaggerated by the lights behind her, straddled the threshold in a slightly imperious stance.

      “You wanted to see me?” the woman said.

      Chaz figured this could only be the notorious McKinley, since she was the only person left on his list to see that day.

      After realizing she wasn’t actually going to take a single step into the room, he blew out a long, low breath without realizing he’d been holding it, and squelched the urge to laugh out loud.

      Had he wished too hard for this, maybe, and someone had been listening?

      The woman in his doorway was none other than the delicious blonde.

      Yep, that one.

      * * *

      “The Kim McKinley?” the man by the window said.

      Kim was so angry, she could barely control herself. Her hand on the doorknob shook with irritation.

      “You wanted to see me?” she repeated.

      “Yes. Please come in,” he said from behind the desk that should have been hers. “Have a seat.”

      She shook her head. “I doubt if I’ll be here long enough to get comfortable.”

      This was an unfortunate double entendre. Chaz Monroe was either going to praise her or hand her a pink slip for being his closest competition.

      With a familiar dread knotting her stomach, she added, “I have a pressing appointment that might last for some time.”

      “I won’t keep you long. Please, Miss McKinley, come in.”

      She stood her ground. “I have a tight schedule to maintain today, Mr. Monroe, and I came here to ask if we can have our sit-down appointment at a later time?”

      She had been expecting this talk from the new guy, but truly hadn’t expected this. His looks. The shock of seeing the usurper in the flesh held her in place, and kept her at a slight disadvantage. At the moment, she couldn’t have moved from the doorway if she’d tried.

      For once, rumors hadn’t lied. Chaz Monroe was a hunk. Not only was he younger than she had imagined, he was also incredibly handsome...though he was, she reminded herself, in her office.

      This newcomer had been handed the job she had been promised, and he’d summoned her as if she were a minion. He stood behind the mahogany desk like a king, impeccably dressed, perfectly gorgeous and not at all as rigid as she had anticipated he would be.

      In fact, he looked downright at home. Already.

      She stared openly at him.

      Shaggy dark hair, deep brown, almost black, surrounded an angular face. Light eyes—blue maybe, she couldn’t be sure—complemented his long-sleeved, light blue shirt. He flashed a sensual smile full of enviable white teeth, but the smile had to be phony. They both knew he was going to gloss over the fact that he’d gotten this job, in her place, if he’d done any research at all. He no doubt would also ask about the Christmas clause in her contract, first thing, without knowing anything about her. He’d try to put her in her place, and on the defensive. She felt this in her bones.

      A shiver of annoyance passed through her.

      She was willing to bet that this guy was good at lording over people. He had that kind of air. Monroe was a devil in a dashing disguise, and if she didn’t behave, if she said what was really on her mind, she’d be jobless in less than ten minutes.

      “Did you want something in particular?” she asked.

      “I wanted to get acquainted. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I have a few questions about your file,” Monroe said, his eyes moving over her intently as he spoke. He was studying her, too. Maybe he searched for a chink in her armor.

      She’d be damned if she’d let him find it.

      A trickle of perspiration dripped between Kim’s shoulder blades, caused by the dichotomy of weighing Monroe’s looks against what he was going to do to her when she refused to play nice with him. Maybe it wasn’t his fault that she’d been passed over for the promotion, but did he have to look so damn content?

      And if he were to push her about her contract?

      Monroe had only been in this building for two days, while her guilt about Christmas was years-old and remained depressingly fresh. Her mother had died only six months ago; it hadn’t been long enough for Kim to get over the years of darkness about the Christmas holidays that had prevailed in the McKinley household.

      Kim shut her eyes briefly to regroup and felt awkward seconds ticking by.

      “Please come in. If you’re in a hurry, let’s talk briefly about the Christmas stuff,” he said, verifying her worst fears.

      “If it’s the Christmas files you want, you’ll need to see Brenda Chang,” she said coolly. “Brenda’s the one down the hall with the decorated cubicle. Red paper, garlands, tinsel, and holiday carols on CD. You can’t miss it. Brenda oversees some of the December holiday ads.”

      She watched Monroe circle to the front of the desk, where he sat on the edge and indicated the vacant chair beside him with a wave of his hand. Just a friendly little chat...

      Refusing to oblige his regal fantasies, Kim stubbornly remained in the doorway, anxiously screwing the heel of one shoe into the costly beige Berber carpet.

      He maintained eye contact in a way that made her slightly dizzy from the intensity of his stare. “And you don’t have any Christmas accounts, why, exactly? If you’re one of the best we’ve got, shouldn’t you be overseeing our biggest source of revenue?”

      “Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t do this particular holiday. I’m sure it’s all there in my file. I can help Alice locate my contract before I go, if you’d like.”

      Monroe’s calm, professional expression didn’t falter. “Perhaps you can explain why you don’t do Christmas? I’d honestly like to know.”

      “It’s personal. Plus, I’m very busy doing other work here.” Kim held up a hand. “Look, I’d love to have this get-acquainted chat.” The words squeezed through tight lips. “But I’ll have to beg off right now. I’m sorry. I really am expected somewhere.”

      “It’s almost five. Do you have a work-related appointment?”