Oh sure. Go have hot sex with your hot boss in Ohio and leave me with the angry thirteen-year-old why don’t you?

PIPER: Get a picture of his butt for me!!! Pretend he’s a corporate ladder and climb him like a lady boss!!!

BEX: Piper!!!!!

ME: OMG Piper!!!

ME: Okay! Kiss the baby for me! Love you bye!

I mean, I’m not going to go have hot sex with my hot boss, but they wouldn’t believe me if I’d told them that anyway.

I leave a generous tip for my waitress because it’s a pretty slow night here at the Twinstar Hotel’s restaurant. I actually got to do a little Kindle reading on my phone while I ate, so that was an unexpected benefit of this stupid trip. Not exactly worth getting up even earlier this morning to shave, but at least my hormones have normalized now. At least I’m no longer kicking myself for slapping Declan. At least I no longer want to slap him again for shutting me out.

We are clearly incompatible with each other, despite a…significant physical attraction and somewhat entertaining chemistry. And despite the fact that it was the hottest kiss of my life, and I basically had twelve orgasms when he squeezed my hips and shoved his knee between my legs and tugged on my hair and groaned in my ear and oh God I think I’m having another orgasm right now—despite all of that, he was right about one thing. We should stay away from each other until tomorrow.

I check my phone to make sure he hasn’t changed his mind and sent me a booty-text.

Nope. Good. God forbid he should pester me or do anything inappropriate when I actually secretly want him to. He’s probably in his room working, just like he said he would be. That elevator incident was probably just a blip on his radar. We’re never on the same page. And that’s that.

I’ll go back to the room, take a bath, have a night cap while I watch a movie, and get a good night’s sleep for a change. I’ll enjoy the feel of my silky shaved legs against the clean hotel sheets, and I can spread out like a starfish because my boss’s hot naked body won’t be taking up any space at all under the covers.

I might just stop by his room and knock on the door one more time to see if he needs help with anything, work-wise. Since I’m here. And to see if he’s shirtless in gray sweatpants, because I have a hunch he might be. Because gray sweatpants.

As I exit the restaurant and head to the bank of elevators, I can hear someone singing the saddest version of “O Christmas Tree” I have ever heard. But I’m impressed by the smooth and rather depressing deep voice…and strangely aroused, as I head across the lobby to the bar.

When what to my wondering eyes do appear… But my hot boss and a band spreading holiday cheer.

Or running it over with a sad sexy sled, more like.

“O Tannenbaum, O Christmas tree,

Such pleasure do you bring me”

He croons into the mic with reckless melancholic abandon, barely recognizable as the cocky corporate lawyer I know and love to hate in Manhattan.

Oh God, I broke Declan Cannavale.

I take a seat at the bar and watch in horror along with the other dozen or so customers. Only, they don’t seem to be horrified by his performance at all. They’re mesmerized. And I am too. It’s like Morrissey took a downer, put on a sexy sweater, and decided to do an impromptu show at some random bar in the Midwest. He’s just as committed to this song as he is to being infuriating and to kissing me, and now my clitoris is going to tingle every time I see a fir tree until the end of time.

He seems to be getting more and more angry with each verse, though, and when he segues into “Silent Night,” it’s like every word is a curse word. The band keeps up with him, though. He seems to be completely unaware that I’m here, and that’s probably a good thing.

Unfortunately, someone else is very aware that I’m here.

“Hello there” comes a male voice from right behind me.

Shit.

“Oh hello.”

“What’s a pretty woman like you doing alone at a bar tonight?”

“Just enjoying the entertainment,” I tell him without taking my eyes off Declan.

“I’m Bryan,” he says. “With a ‘y.’” He holds his hand out for me to shake, which I do, but I still don’t take my eyes off Declan. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Rey. Also with a ‘y.’”

“Oh yeah? I’ve got an uncle named Ray. He isn’t as good-looking as you are. I’m in town for business. Sales. What line of work are you in?”

“Me? I scavenge parts from ships and sell them.”

“So we’re both salespeople. I knew we’d have a connection.”

Ugh, I can’t talk to people who don’t watch Star Wars.

Suddenly the singing stops, and I realize Declan has dropped the mic and is storming over here, his eyes fixed on Bryan “with a y.” He gets right up in Bryan’s very surprised face, towering over him, and stares him down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Declan hisses through gritted teeth.

“Uhh, I was just talking to my new friend Rey, here.”

“Rey?” he says, turning to me, still frowning. “Rey?” He takes a deep breath and says in a deep, serious voice, “I want you to join me. We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy.”

Shit. Declan Cannavale watches Star Wars. Now I really can’t hate him.

“Don’t do this, Ben,” I quote flatly. “Please don’t go this way.”

“Hey man, I didn’t realize you two were together. She didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, she didn’t?” Now his wrath is entirely focused on me. “Interesting. Why’s that, girlfriend?”

Bryan “with a y” quietly slinks away, unnoticed.

“I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

Declan’s arms are on either side of me, his hands gripping the edge of the counter that’s pressing against my back. “Unacceptable,” he mutters.

Вы читаете A VERY BOSSY CHRISTMAS
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