The Millionaire's Mistletoe Mistress

Stunned, she turned, her widened gaze colliding with his—all blue fire. Then the solemnity in his face shattered and he smiled—a full-blown, toe-curling, bone-melting blaze of a smile. It felt as if splotches of crimson heat were being stamped all over her body. So much for not being red-faced when she met her new boss. It was going to take at least half an hour for her to cool down after exiting the lift. But this guy was irresistible, and she smiled back.

Nodding, she stated the only thing in her head that she could share publicly. ‘I’m really embarrassed.’ She was also really attracted.

‘Hey,’ he joked, ‘I was wearing less.’

‘Yes.’ Her smile broadened as the lift doors slid open. The comeback bubbled out of her, filled with sassy spark, just as she stepped out. ‘That suited you, too.’

She met his eyes with a lift of her brow, beyond trying to hide the attraction now.

‘I’d like to …’ He glanced at his watch, spread his hands and shrugged. ‘But I have to—’

‘I’m late for something, too.’ Imogen smiled as she closed the conversation. Another time, another place, maybe they’d have talked more, flirted, had some fun?

Imogen hadn’t done that in … well, ever. But honestly just the idea of it, the almost-but-not-quite nature of their encounter, was enough to put a little jolt of pleasure in her day. But now real life had to be attended to—she had a meeting to survive and a career to keep on track.

She walked down the corridor, conscious that he was only half a pace behind her. She stopped as she came to a suite of meeting rooms. He stopped right beside her. For a moment they stood, both reading the sign on the first door.

‘We’re heading to the same meeting,’ he said flatly.

Was the dismay that she was feeling reflected in his face?

He blinked, and in that minuscule moment his whole demeanour changed. He withdrew, and his eyes—those windows to anything personal, to that wild heat—veiled as he became completely professional.

He opened the door. ‘After you.’ And he ushered her in.

She didn’t answer verbally—couldn’t as she hobbled as far to the back of the room as she could. Oh, no. He had an American accent. He couldn’t possibly be …

‘Sorry I’m a little late, everyone. I’ve been sightseeing.’

She turned and looked to where he’d walked in and instantly taken command. Sightseeing? Right.

‘And it took me a bit longer to get changed than I thought it would.’

A smile flashed—charming, but remote rather than hot. Of course it had taken him longer. One of his new employees had tried to burst into his room when he was taking a shower.

‘My name’s Ryan Taylor. Please call me Ryan.’

Imogen closed her eyes as he confirmed the worst. Not for the first time in her life she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Opening them, she saw the impossible hadn’t happened, and she was stuck in what could only be one of the most embarrassing situations of her existence.

She wished she’d done even a smidge of homework—then she would have known, could have been prepared. But as she’d spent every moment outside of work these last three months studying for the two accountancy papers the company was sponsoring her for, she’d hardly had time to breathe—determined to get as high a grade as she could to prove to them and to herself that she was worth it.

All that she’d known about Ryan Taylor was that he was going to oversee the change in management and steer Mackenzie Forrest into a supposedly bright new future.

And now she knew how magnificent he looked all but naked.

CHAPTER TWO

IMOGEN kept her weight on one leg as the other suddenly pounded with pain. Silly how just a stupid scrape could hurt so much. She hoped the bandage she’d fashioned would hold. Hoped this would be a sit-down meeting. Hoped she wouldn’t have to say anything—because she was still puffing, adrenalin still zinging around her body courtesy of her haste, her accident and her encounter with—Oh, hell—she’d practically had her tongue hanging out as she’d ogled him all over, like some sex-starved spinster. Okay, so she was a sex-starved spinster. That didn’t mean she wanted her new boss to know all about it!

She caught him looking at her intently, a frown causing the faintest of lines on his brow. She looked away, wishing to be swallowed whole once more, and heard him address the room again.

‘Please take a seat everyone. This is an informal get-together. A chance to meet and talk through any issues or questions you may have before I start in my official capacity tomorrow. I’ll talk for a bit, and then you can ask some questions, and then we’ll have coffee—okay?’

Great.

She moved to a seat near the back. Tried to avoid Shona’s concerned look, but clearly failed, as her line manager came and took the seat next to hers. Imogen was never late. She was never flustered. And yet here she was—late and flustered and wearing a whole new outfit.

‘What happened? You left ages ago,’ the older woman said in an undertone as everyone found seats.

Imogen had indeed left in plenty of time, intending to call in at a shop on the way to get a quick sandwich. The humiliating accident on Victoria Street had ended that idea. ‘I fell.’

‘You okay? You were all red a minute ago, and now you’re all pale.’

Imogen nodded. ‘Just feel like a dork.’

‘Hence the new outfit?’ Shona was smiling.

‘Complete with grazes.’ Imogen held up her palm, just thrilled that someone found it amusing—and Shona only knew half the story.

Her mentor chuckled now. ‘The colour suits you.’

Imogen searched out Ryan as Shona echoed his words. Surely he couldn’t have heard the comment? But when his gaze intercepted hers the sardonic tinge in his eyes suggested he had.

He was too young. He was far, far too young. Was he even thirty? Even if he was, he was too young to be taking control of Edinburgh’s premier department store. Yes, Mr Mackenzie had been ancient, but this guy was too young and too good-looking.

He talked to a couple of her co-workers who were already seated, asked their names. He’d obviously done his homework because he could match the name with the job position immediately. He moved around the room, learning faces with names as he went. Frozen, she watched as he came closer—until he was right there, by Shona and her. Saw his lips twitch that little bit as he looked her over—very quickly, so quickly you almost wouldn’t have noticed. But she was hypersensitive, and very, very focused on him.

He shook hands with Shona, nodding, as they’d already met. All too soon it was her turn. His eyes didn’t waver from hers, and there was almost a smile in them.

She took in a deep breath, determined not to reveal wobbly voice syndrome. ‘I’m Imogen Hall.’

‘Imogen.’ He repeated, clearly turning through the personnel files in his head. ‘You’re the—’

‘Accounts administrator—yes, Mr Taylor.’ She couldn’t call him Ryan. Ryan was too intimate. It made her think of his naked dripping torso and his muscle definition and … Mr Taylor it had to be.

‘Accounts,’ he drawled, very softly, the veil lifting for a moment and showing her that dry humour again. ‘As in number-crunching?’

‘That’s right.’ She nodded. She was Shona’s second-in-command trainee, and had been given too good an opportunity to lose it now.

‘Well …’ His teeth flashed as he murmured, only loud enough for her to hear, ‘I guess your work should make for interesting reading.’

Her cheeks were on fire, and she went on defence. ‘Ordinarily I’m good with numbers. Just not when stressed … I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘We’ll have to take care not to stress you out, then, won’t we?’ His eyes lasered through her. ‘Imogen.’

Mortified by the fact that she’d been having fantasies about a stranger who was in reality her new boss, she couldn’t return his oh-so-polite smile, couldn’t register the slight emphasis on her name, couldn’t match his intensity any more. She ducked her head. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable about having met one of his new employees while almost starkers … about having flirted with her so boldly … and having her flirt right back. Oh, no. He probably thought she was hopeless at her job. An all boobs, brainless bit of fluff. Wasn’t that what George and all his family had thought?

‘I always like to sit at the back of a meeting, too.’ He stepped away and took the chair two along from Imogen.