The Millionaire's Mistletoe Mistress

And she was damn good at her job—at a junior level, for sure, but with the potential to climb a lot higher. He could see exactly why Mr Mac had agreed to put her through her degree. In early, out late. Always focused, always prepared. Thus far she’d been right—she was able to do everything he’d asked of her. Except he hadn’t asked for what he really wanted. That was in the ‘Not Allowed’ category. And she knew it. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, wouldn’t speak with him unless on a business matter, wouldn’t even call him by his first name. So he was tiptoeing around her when in another time, another place, he’d have had her horizontal as fast as possible. And he knew—deep in his bones, he knew—that she wanted him, too.

The attraction made him ache. And the impossibility made it worse.

So he spent as much time as he could on the shop floor—away from the temptation of sitting in the admin office. Even so he felt it—the magnetic, compelling instinct to get nearer to her. Much nearer.