Midnight Under the Mistletoe

“Common sense tells me to walk away now,” Emma whispered. “You have a reputation for never going out with an employee.”

“I never have,” Zach answered. “That doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I want this job.”

“Don’t quit on me,” he replied, his voice raspy and quiet. A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll double your salary.”

“Double my salary?” she repeated, shaking her head.

“You don’t need to pack and go. Don’t walk out over a few casual kisses.”

Exasperated and stung over his dismissal of kisses that had shaken her, she stared at him. “Those kisses weren’t casual to my way of thinking,” she whispered.

She stepped close, put her arm around his neck and placed her mouth on his, kissing him with all the heat and fury she felt over his dismissive attitude. In seconds, she broke off the kiss and looked up with satisfaction.

“I’d say your body’s reaction isn’t casual, either,” she said, catching her breath.

Dear Reader,

Depending on circumstances, holidays can be painful or joyous, and Midnight Under the Mistletoe is about those opposing feelings.

For some, Christmas is a family celebration. It is a kaleidoscope of events and people, funny moments, happy ones, touching occasions, unpredictable occurrences and as the years go by, the holiday is laced with memories of loved ones and good times. This story, as well as one of the characters, reflects that view of Christmas. Also, the story is about the breaking away of the hardened shell of someone’s hurt and loneliness acquired through too many disappointing childhood Christmases.

Watch handsome billionaire Texan Zach Delaney’s life transform when Emma Hillman pours her love of Christmas into his life. His stunning secretary, who is a total opposite in personality and completely off-limits to him, becomes the biggest temptation of his life. What happens when a man who has always skipped Christmas falls in love with a woman who is the embodiment of the December celebration?

Thank you for selecting Midnight Under the Mistletoe.

Happy holidays to all!

Sara Orwig

About the Author

SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.

Midnight Under

the Mistletoe

Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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With special thanks to

Stacy Boyd, Shana Smith and Maureen Walters.

May you have a blessed and joyous holiday.

One

Another secretary to interview.

Zach Delaney stood at the window of his west Texas ranch and watched the approaching car. This candidate was prompt. He had heard this one lived in Dallas, was single, only twenty-four, a homebody who insisted on weekends free to go home. She wanted a week off before Christmas and two days after Christmas. If she could do the work, it was all right with him. He didn’t know her, but she had worked more than two years at his Dallas office, which held the corporate offices of his demolition company, his trucking company and the architectural firm he owned. She’d risen fast and was highly recommended.

As Zach watched the car approach the house, he thought about the other secretaries he’d interviewed and the conversation he’d had with his brother Will, who had stopped by an hour ago.

He remembered Will laughing. “I know you—you’re probably about to go up in smoke from boredom.”

“You’ve got that right. I feel as if I’m a prisoner and time seems to have stopped,” Zach replied, raking his fingers through his thick, brown curls.

Will nodded. “Don’t forget—you’re supposed to stay off your feet and keep your foot elevated.”

“I’m doing that most of the time. Believe me, I want my foot to get well.”

Will smiled. “You should have just stayed in Dallas after Garrett’s wedding earlier this month. You haven’t been cooped up like this since you were five and had the mumps.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“That was twenty-seven years ago. I don’t know how you’ve made it this long in demolition without getting hurt.”

“I’ve been lucky and careful, I guess.”

“If you don’t end up hiring today’s interviewee, I’ll send someone out to work for you. If I had known the difficulty you’re having finding a competent secretary, I would have sent one before now.”

“Thanks. One secretary lasted a few days before deciding the ranch was too isolated. Another talked incessantly,” Zach grumbled, causing Will to laugh. His brother’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“One of those women hovered over me and told me what to do to take care of myself. Actually, Will, instead of hiring a secretary to help go through Dad’s stuff, maybe we should just trash it all. Dad’s been gone almost a year now and this stuff hasn’t been touched. It’s not important. The only value that stuff can have is sentimental. That makes it worthless as time passes.”

“We don’t know for sure there isn’t something of value in those boxes,” Will argued.

Zach nodded. “Knowing our father, he could have put some vital papers, money or something priceless in these boxes, just so someone would have to wade through them.”

“You volunteered to go through his papers while you recuperate from your fall. You don’t have to.”

“I’ll do it. The secretary will help go through all the letters and memorabilia while I also keep up with work. You became guardian for Caroline and you handled a lot of the dealings to bring our half sister into the family. Ryan’s knee-deep in getting his new barn built while commuting back and forth to his business in Houston. Besides, I’m the one incapacitated with time on my hands. I’m it, for now. I don’t know what got into Dad, keeping all this memorabilia. He would never have actually written a family history.”

“Our father was not one you could figure. His actions were unfathomable except for making money. He probably intended to write a family history. In his old age I think he became nostalgic.” Will headed toward the door and then paused. “You sure you don’t want to join us for Thanksgiving? I’ll send someone to get you,” he added, and Zach was touched by Will’s concern.

“Thanks, but no thanks. You enjoy Ava’s family. Ryan leaves soon to spend Thanksgiving with the latest woman in his life—I can’t keep up with which one this is. I’ll be fine and enjoy myself all by myself.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. Also, it’s less than six weeks until Christmas. We’re going to Colorado for the holiday. Do you want to come along? We’ll be happy to have you join us.”

“Thank you.” Zach grinned. “I think I’ll go to the house in Italy. It’ll be beautiful there and you know I don’t do Christmas.”

“So who is the beautiful Italian lady? I’m sure there is one.”

“Might be more than one.” Zach smiled. “You hadn’t been into Christmas much yourself until you got Caroline. Now you have to celebrate.”

“Truthfully, with Caroline, it’s been fun. Come with us and you’ll see.”

“I love little Caroline, but you go ahead. Doc told me to stay put and this is a better place than snowy mountains in Colorado.”

“That’s true, but we’d take care of you.”

Zach shook his head. “Thanks, Will, for coming out.”

“Let me know about the secretary. I’ll get you one who’s excellent.”

“With Margo on maternity leave, I may have to find a new one permanently. I don’t want to think about that.”

Now, Zach shifted his foot and glared at it, recalling the moment the pile of rubble had given way and he had fallen, breaking an ankle, plus small bones, causing a sprain and getting one deep gash. Staying off his foot most of the time was hell. He didn’t like working daily in an office, and the doctor told him he couldn’t go back to working on site or travel much, but he could do some work at the ranch and stay off his foot as best he could.

Zach sighed as the car slowed in front of the house. Emma Hillman. She climbed out of her car and came up the walk.

Startled, he momentarily forgot her mission. A tall, windblown, leggy redhead, who would turn heads everywhere, was striding toward his front door. With looks like hers, she belonged on a model’s catwalk or doing a commercial or in a bar, not striding purposefully toward his house in the hopes of doing secretarial chores. Even though she wore a tailored, dark green suit with an open black coat over it, she had a wild, attention-getting appearance.

The west Texas wind swept over her, catching more tendrils of long red hair and blowing them around her face. Immobilized, Zach stared. She didn’t look like any secretary on his staff in any office he had. Nor did she resemble the homebody type to his way of thinking. All those recommendations she had—they must have been based on her looks. His spirits sank. He would have to ask Will to find him somebody else. He needed someone who would stay on the ranch during the week. This one was a declared homebody. Add that to her looks and he couldn’t imagine it working out. He also couldn’t imagine her being an efficient secretary, either. He would give Emma Hillman a lot of work and in less than two days, she would probably fold and run as her predecessor had.

When the bell rang, he could hear Nigel get the door. Zach hobbled back to the middle of the room to wait to meet her. Before he sent her packing, he might get her home phone number. Actually, even if she did work out here, when the temporary job ended she’d go back to the corporate office, so getting her phone number was only wishful thinking. She’d still be an employee. Even so, eagerness to meet her took the boredom out of the morning. This promised to be his most enjoyable moment since he arrived at the ranch.

Emma Hillman pushed a button and heard chimes. Her gaze swept over the large porch. The ranch was not at all what she had pictured in her mind. She had expected a rustic, sprawling house, not a mansion that bordered on palatial. When the door swung open, she faced a slender gray-haired man.

“Welcome, Miss Hillman?”

“Yes,” she said, entering as he stepped back.

“I’m Nigel Smith. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Delaney is waiting.”

Following him, she glanced around the enormous entrance. Wood floors had a dark appearance with a treatment that gave them an antiqued quality and probably would not show boot marks or much of anything else.

She tried to finger-comb her hair and tuck tendrils back into the clips that held her hair on either side of her head. She had been warned about Zach Delaney—that he was difficult to please, curt, all business. Actually, he had conflicting descriptions—a charismatic hunk by some; others pronounced him a demanding ogre. She had been told too many times about her three predecessors who hadn’t lasted more than a day or two.

She didn’t care—it was a fabulous opportunity for another promotion in the company and the pay was terrific right at Christmastime. Even though she was going to miss being in Dallas with her family, she was determined to cooperate with Zach Delaney and be the secretary who got to stay.

Nigel led her through an open door into a large room with shelves of books on two walls, a huge fireplace on another and all glass on the fourth. In a hasty glance she barely saw any of her surroundings because her attention was ensnared by the tall man standing in the center of the room.

His prominent cheekbones and a firm jaw were transformed by a mass of dark brown curls and riveting blue eyes. A black knit shirt and tight jeans revealed muscles and a fit physique. Even standing quietly, he appeared commanding.

Dimly, she heard Nigel present her and she thanked him as he left, but her gaze was locked with the head of her company, Zach Delaney. Her breathing altered, her heart raced and her palms became damp. She felt flustered, drawn to him, unable to look away. For heartbeats, they gazed at each other while silence stretched.

With an effort she offered her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Delaney,” she said. Her voice was soft in her ears.

He stepped forward, his hand closing around hers, his warm fingers breaking the spell she had been temporarily enveloped in. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch. I’m happy to meet you, and it’s Zach. We’re going to work closely together. No ‘Mr. Delaney.’ And please have a seat.” His voice was deep, warm and sexy, an entertainer’s voice.

Feeling foolish, yet unable to control the physical reaction she was having to him, she sat in a leather chair. Another chair was close and he turned it to face her, sitting near her. “I’ve read your recommendations, which are excellent. If you want this job, you’re to move here for the duration of the time you work for me—five, possibly six weeks total. Your weekends are free from one on Friday afternoon until Monday morning at nine o’clock.”

“That’s fine with me,” she replied, thinking someone should have warned her about his appeal. He rarely was in the Dallas office and executive offices were on the top floor. She had never seen him or crossed paths with him before. She had no idea she would have such an intense reaction to meeting him.

“I expect this job to end around Christmas, when my foot heals. You can return to the Dallas office and I will be on my way back to the field.”

“Fine,” she replied, barely able to concentrate on what he was saying for getting lost in vivid blue eyes. His conversation might have been practical, all business, but the look in his eyes was not. Blue depths probed, examined and conveyed a sensual appraisal that shimmied warmly over her nerves. “As I mentioned in our phone call, I’d like to take that week before Christmas and two days afterward if the job hasn’t ended.”

“That’s fine. As far as your duties, you’re here to help with any correspondence or business matters I have and to help me sort through some family papers. My father intended to write a family history. He had old letters and family memorabilia that have been passed through generations, that sort of thing. I volunteered to go through all of it while I’m supposed to stay off my feet,” Zach said, waving his hand toward the boxes of papers nearby.

“The memorabilia should be fascinating,” she remarked. “If your ancestors wrote these letters and sent them, how did they get possession of them again?”

“Good question. They wrote other relatives, sisters, brothers, and as far as I can see, everybody saved every word that was put on paper. There are letters in those boxes that aren’t from Delaneys, but are written to a Delaney who saved it. You’d think one person would have tossed them. If the letter isn’t from a Delaney, there is no reason to keep it.”

“I imagine some were tossed. There were probably more since you had such prolific writers in your family.”

“If I were the only Delaney of my generation, I would simply shred the papers this week because I think they’re junk. Some of the letters date back to the 1800s.”

Horrified at the thought of shredding old letters, she stared at him. “The 1800s? It should be spellbinding to read about your relatives,” she blurted before she thought about how it might sound critical of her boss’s attitude.

He smiled. “I suppose it’s a good thing you feel that way because you’ll be reading some of this stuff for me. Anyway, that in general is what I hired you to do. Does this sound acceptable?”

“Certainly. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Great. Feel free to ask questions at any time. I’ll have Nigel see about getting you moved in. You were asked to come prepared to move in. Is this what you did?”

“Yes. I was told to pack for the job because you might hire me and want me to stay.”

“I’m getting desperate for a secretary. The salary should make up for some of the demands,” he said and she merely nodded.

“Nigel is sort of jack-of-all-trades around the house. He acts as butler, assistant and a financial manager. You’ll meet more of our staff, who have homes on the ranch.”

“I wonder if I’ll ever find my way around,” she said as she glanced beyond him toward the hall.

“Nigel will give you a map of the house. We have an indoor pool and one outside. Feel free to swim after or before work hours. We have a gym, too.”

“This is a modernized ranch home.”

“This house has been remodeled many times. The family room was the actual original house, built in the 1800s. Anyway, my grandfather had an elevator installed, so I’m taking it temporarily. You’re welcome to if you want.”

“Thank you, I won’t need the elevator,” she replied with a smile. “I exercise each day, so stairs are good.”

“Great. Do you think we can start work this morning in about an hour?”

“Certainly.”

As he stood, she came to her feet and followed him to the door. He offered his hand. “Welcome to the Delaney ranch, Emma,” he drawled in a mesmerizing voice that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She shook hands again with him, an electric current flashing from the contact while she looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Dark brown curly lashes framed his mesmerizing eyes.

“I hope you find your stay here worthwhile,” he said, a dry, professional statement, but his tone of voice, with those blue eyes focused on her and her hand enveloped in his, made her think of sizzling kisses. Realizing how she was staring, she withdrew her hand and stepped back. He turned to walk into the hall to talk to Nigel, nodded at her, and in seconds she left with Nigel to see where she would stay.

The next hour was a whirlwind of getting unpacked enough to function through the day. To her surprise she had more than a room—it was a suite with a sitting area, a dream bedroom with a four-poster and fruitwood furniture. Dazzled by the lavish quarters, she looked at a bathroom as large as her apartment. The bath held a sunken tub, potted plants, mirrors, an adjoining dressing room plus a huge walk-in closet. She took pictures on her cell phone to send to her sisters. She could imagine how they would ooh and aah over where she was staying. Her paramount concern was how would she work constantly around Zach Delaney. She had heard rumors at the office about how appealing he was, but not from anyone who had actually worked for him. She had talked to one secretary who had spent two days with him and thought he was a monster, piling on work until it was impossible to get done what he demanded. Another secretary had complained about him being silent and abrupt during the day.

When she saw it was time to go back to meet with him, she smoothed her hair into a loose bun and left her room. Trying to familiarize herself with the mansion, she walked to the study where she had met Zach.

He sat behind a desk and stood the minute she appeared in the doorway. Once again, she tried to avoid staring. He looked muscled and fit except for his foot that was wrapped in a bandage and in an oversize health shoe. The unruly curls were a tangle around his face, softening his rugged features.

“Let’s go to the office,” he said, and she walked beside him down a wide hall filled with paintings, plants, side tables and chairs.

As they entered a large room, she drew a deep breath. It was a dream office with two large desks at opposite ends of the room. Shelves lined three walls and the remaining wall was glass with a view of a small pond and well tended grounds up to a white fence. Beyond the fence were stables, a corral and pasture. Through spacious windows, daylight spilled into the room. Fax machines, shredders, computers and electronic equipment filled each end of the office.

“That’s my desk,” he said, pointing to the larger one that was polished, ornately carved dark wood. Forming an L-shape with the desk, a table stood at one end. The table held two computers, one of which had dual oversize monitors. Another computer was centered on his desk. Two laptops and an iPad lay on the table.

The other desk was glass, looking far newer. File cabinets were built into one wall and not noticeable at first glance.

He sat behind his desk, motioning toward a leather chair facing him. She sat, crossing her legs, catching him looking at her legs when she glanced up. She inhaled sharply. She experienced an undercurrent of intense awareness and suspected he did as well. It was unexpected, definitely unwanted. Any hot attraction between them could put her job in jeopardy and this job was important to her. She was saving to go back to college and, ultimately, become qualified to teach. This was a temporary increase in pay she could use to achieve her dream.

“Since you and I and my staff are the only people here, you can dress casually. Jeans are fine.”

She nodded. “Great.”

“The glass desk will be yours. You’ll find a stack of papers I’ve signed that need to be copied and put into the mail.” He leaned back and stretched out his long legs.

She realized she was going to have a difficult time for a few days, focusing on what he was saying because she got lost looking at him.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to read my handwriting. I have a document there for you to type for me to sign. Another stack holds filing. There’s an in-box on the corner of my desk. When you finish anything, if it doesn’t go in the mail or the file, place it in my in-box. If you have any questions, always feel free to ask. Take a break when you want and feel free to get what you want in the kitchen. Did Nigel show you where the kitchen is?”

“Yes, he showed me around briefly.”

“Did you meet my very good cook?”

“Yes, I met Rosie.”

“Good. You can start work each day at 8:00, quit at 4:00 or start at 9:00 and quit at 5:00. You’re stuck here for lunch so we’ll not add that to the time.”

“I prefer 8:00,” she said and he nodded.

“Any questions now?” he asked, giving her a direct look that made her pulse jump another notch.

“One—where do I take the mail?”

“There’s a box on a shelf near your desk that is marked Mail and you put everything in there. One of the hands who works on the ranch will get the mail to take it down to the road to be picked up.”

She nodded and headed over to her desk, feeling her back prickle because she suspected Zach’s gaze was on her. She sat down and looked at the piles of work in front of her, remembering the angry statements from Brenna about Zach Delaney heaping mountains of work on her. It looked like a lot now—hopefully, by the end of the day, she would have made a big enough dent in the stacks to get to keep this job.

Still conscious of him across the room, Emma reached for a stack. As she began to read the first letter, she tried to keep from glancing his way. She pushed the stack aside and picked up a tablet with a bold handwriting. The writing to be typed looked the most time-consuming, so she started with it. In minutes she managed to put Zach out of her thoughts.