A Very Merry Temptation: 'Twas the Season / Mistletoe in Memphis / Second-Chance Christmas

Temporarily joined the staff, he corrected himself, quelling the surge of irritation.

When his mother had approached him to help out the family, she’d used guilt and motherly love, but especially guilt in her appeal to her only son to help her in what she called her “time of need.” Time of need, his butt, he thought.

He loved his mother, but she was without doubt the queen bee of drama. Naomi Steele-Hardaway was also blessed with one of the sharpest business minds he’d ever known.

She ran the family’s business, MagHard Interior Design, with all the precision and attention to detail of an army drill sergeant. She’d launched the company with his father more than thirty years ago, and since his father’s passing when Max was still in high school, the business had earned the distinction of being on the Fortune 500 list, with affiliate offices all over the United States.

The fact that she’d used the trump card of her “time of need” was just her way of asking Max to come home. He shook his head. Scratch that. Demanded that Max come home.

The only question was...why.

Max pretended to listen to Michelle Grimes, one of the supervisors in Design, as she regaled him with stories about the manager he’d replaced while he contemplated his mother’s reason for asking him to help...and searched for Nikki Danes in the crowd of partygoers.

The fact that his mother had fired the last office manager made her request more palatable. At least this time the alibi made more sense. But Max knew there was something more, another reason for her demand for him to come home.

“So if you’d like, we can discuss the changes over coffee Monday?”

Max frowned and looked directly at the woman in front of him. Michelle had been one of the first execs he’d met when he’d arrived at the Austin offices. Lucky for him, the office was one of the newer ones, and outside of top management, no one knew who he was. He’d told his mother he wanted to keep it that way. She’d agreed easily to his demand, which was odd, since his mother rarely, if ever, agreed to anyone making demands of her.

“Sure, no problem,” he said to Michelle, without knowing what in the hell he’d just agreed to. When her face lit up like the Christmas tree, he felt apprehensive. Oh, hell...what had he just agreed to? he wondered as he studied the woman. Damn.

Michelle’s over-the-top flirting, starting the moment he’d arrived, hadn’t gone unnoticed. But he’d hoped to hell she would get the hint that he wasn’t interested.

She hadn’t. Obviously. He knew that part of her attraction to him was the mystery surrounding exactly who he was. He had tested the waters by using his mother’s maiden name, Steele, rather than the family name, Hardaway. But even then he’d added a twist and spelled it “Stele,” just to make sure no one made the connection.

When he told his mother, she’d given him a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth kind of smile and agreed.

He felt the frown deepen.

Damn it. He was here to enjoy, let go and have fun. And not think about his mother and what she was up to.

“Great! I’ll uh...come by in the morning and we can go down to Starbucks. Or we can go to the new coffee shop that just opened up on the corner, near the office building. I’ve been wanting to check them out,” she continued to babble, and it became incredibly difficult for Max to pay attention to the woman. He had one woman and one woman only on his mind.

Michelle continued to speak. “I hear they make a great café fresco and they have fresh pastries, homemade! Not like those made at—”

“I’ll just bring the coffee to our meeting,” he cut in, ending her enthusiastic soliloquy. Hell, if he didn’t, she’d probably have him agreeing to crap he had no desire to agree to, as his focus was currently diverted.

“Do you want to meet at eight-thirty?” Michelle asked.

“I’m not always sure what time in the morning I will make it in. Depending on how late I’ve had to be up the night before,” he murmured, letting the very obvious meaning sink in.

“Ooh,” Michelle said, a bright blush staining her pale skin. Obviously she caught the hint he threw out.

Which was another thing he was aware of—the office gossip that he was a player, a guy who enjoyed women. But he made no attempt to rectify the rumors that circulated, both in the office and out. It helped to keep those at bay who knew who he was...or better yet, knew who his family was—and along with that, knew about the money. After convincing his mother that he wanted no one to know he was technically part-owner of the company, he’d finally agreed to help her out of the supposed bind she was in.

In actuality, his original reluctance at being at MagHard Interior Design had evaporated like steam the minute he’d walked into headquarters the morning he had started and seen Nikki.

He’d been on the elevator the first time he’d seen her.

The elevator had been crowded and he’d kept his eyes straight ahead, not in the mood to make eye contact with anyone. The packed elevator made several stops along the way, letting folks in and out and when the doors slid open, allowing the last passengers to leave, he’d breathed a sigh of relief.

Max had muttered, “Thank God,” only to hear someone yelling....

“Oh, please hold that, please!” a breathy feminine voice had begged and although he would have loved nothing more than to have the last few seconds alone until he made it to his destination on the top floor, he had pressed a finger on the door-open button.

“Thank you so much!” the breathless voice had replied as a small woman hurtled herself into the elevator. Before Max could really get a good glimpse of her, her perfume, light, unique and floral, had caught his attention.

“No problem,” he had said, turning to glance down at her.

She had looked up at him as she readjusted the messenger bag over her shoulder, again thanking him. She had smiled and two large dimples appeared in her cheeks, her almond-shaped eyes slanting, giving her an exotic look.

He had run his glance over her as she’d eased her small frame against the wall of the elevator, her gaze leaving his as a fine blush stole over her creamy brown skin. Fascinated by the obvious blush, Max had continued to stare at her.

Beauty didn’t really describe her.

Her flawless skin was the color of deep milk chocolate without a hint of cream, and was just as smooth in appearance. She had the type of skin that made a man want to reach out and touch her face just to verify if it was as soft as it looked.

Her slanted eyes, although a rich brown, had flecks of what appeared from his distance from her a lighter color. He had been tempted to draw closer to her to see exactly what shade they were, and barely restrained himself in time. Her nose was small, and set above a full set of sexy, plump lips.

His cock had stirred as his gaze lingered on her mouth.

He had forced his eyes away. If he hadn’t, he’d been afraid he’d act on the inappropriate desire he had to go up to a woman he didn’t know, lean down and kiss those delightfully full lips.

She had been dressed casually, in a formfitting black skirt, not too short, the hem flirting around her knees. She had worn a pink tank top beneath a billowy, long-sleeved white tunic, buttoned halfway and tucked neatly into her skirt.

Maybe a little bit on the bohemian side, but not outlandish. Nothing special, but on her it looked sexy as hell. The colors she had worn were a perfect foil for her dark skin, and the skirt was fitted enough that it showed off her small waist and tight butt. Perfectly, deliciously proportioned A.T.W.: ass to waist.

And what an ass she had. Perky, the round globes appeared firm, and he had felt his cock stir again at the thought of what they would feel like cupped in his hands. What it would feel like to slide his hands over their no-doubt silky-feeling perfection. She’d wake up the morning after from a night of hot sex with his handprints all over that butt of hers.

She had just enough overflow to...bounce.

His eyes had met hers, caught them on him, checking him out just as he’d been checking every fine inch of her out as well.

Good. She now knew he was interested, and as he prided himself on knowing women, he also knew he’d piqued her interest.

Max had known time was limited; the ride would only last so long.

“Which floor?” Max had asked, his voice low, guttural, his mind on what he would love to do to her even as his gaze locked and loaded on hers.

The offices of MagHard Interior Design were located in a building that the corporation owned and managed, leasing out the luxury suites in the high-rent district of downtown Austin at a premium price. His office as well as all of upper management resided on the top floor, with the two floors directly beneath for the rest of the company. One floor was dedicated to the design team, the other for administration, including Human Resources.

Max had focused his gaze on the beautiful woman, her eyes downcast as she tried her best not to look at him.

So damn sexy, he had thought. And again his dick had reacted to the visual of the offbeat little beauty. A small smile had tugged the corner of his mouth upward when her tongue had sneaked out and swiped across her bottom lip.

When she had glanced up at him, he had dropped his lids low to hide his eyes. He knew his lust had to be shining brightly; there was no way he could hide his reaction.

She had that offbeat, backhanded, casual type of sex appeal. The type that came as naturally to her as breathing.