The Boss's Christmas Seduction

“What was that all about?” Connor Knight’s voice slid through her like a hot knife through butter.

She drew in a long breath before answering. “I think it went well, don’t you? The children certainly loved you.”

“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Holly sighed. Evasion wouldn’t work. Tenacity was one of the many talents that had driven him to being one of the most-respected men in his field—worldwide. He wouldn’t give up until completely satisfied with her answer.

“Just catching my breath. That’s all. It’s taken a bit of work, getting this all organised.” She tried to assure him, and for a moment thought she’d succeeded.

A tiny flash lit the onyx depths of his eyes and grew into the hot glow of challenge. “Looked like more than that to me. I thought you were going to keel over.”

“Oh, good heavens, no.” Holly forced a smile on her face.

“Are you okay now?” he persisted.

“I’m fine. Just fine.”

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Janet will take over for this evening.”

“No, I’m okay. Truly.”

Connor gave her a hard look. “We’ll see about that. Come on, we’d better get ready for the next onslaught.”

“You go on ahead. I’ll meet you back down here.”

She watched as he left. What had made him notice her during that dreadful moment of weakness? Had anyone else seen it? She should never have agreed to stay on. Never.

Holly quickly glanced around. The cleaning staff were busy completing the transformation of the children’s party to a more sophisticated reenactment of a Christmas fantasy. It had been a brainwave to carry through the same delightful childlike theme to the staff party, and such a simple solution, given the time constraints. She wasn’t needed here any longer.

Back upstairs in her office, Holly opened the coat cupboard and lifted a long dry cleaner’s carrier from the rail. It was a simple matter to slip into the ladies’ room to change and touch up her makeup. She took a brief minute to loosen her hair, combing through its thick dark length so hard her scalp tingled. She studied her reflection a moment. How long had it been since she’d let her hair down, literally or figuratively? Too long. But time was not a commodity she could afford to waste. Not when so much depended on her.

She twisted her hair back up again, softening the tight twist that she usually wore by securing the silky black length in a fuller, softer knot at the nape of her neck. Finally satisfied when not a hair dared stray out of place she slicked on a ruby-coloured lipstick. The sales assistant had been right, Holly acceded with a small grimace, the rich colour did bring life to her faintly olive-tinted skin. She preferred softer, more understated colours that wouldn’t draw attention to the fullness of her lips, yet knew that she needed something striking for this evening. Besides, she’d reminded herself, today was her birthday. A girl had a right to look good.

A swift glance at her watch reminded her she had little time left. Holly slipped out of her sombre businesslike suit and carefully unzipped the carrier to remove the ankle-length crimson sheath cocooned within.

The high, straight, boat neckline of the sleeveless gown belied the deep vee cut away at its back. Holly unhooked her bra and stuffed it in the bottom of the carrier bag before stepping into the gown and shimmying the silky lined fabric up over her body. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if she hadn’t gone too far this year; normally she hired a black dress, but there was something about this gown that had beckoned to her like a promise of hidden treasure. She’d hesitated at the cost, mindful of her financial commitments, but it wasn’t as if she’d be deluged with gifts from family or a lover. She had neither.

So for once she’d splurged. This was her gift to herself, and she would bask in the pleasure of wearing the gown all evening.

The minute Holly stepped from the ladies’ room she heard a raised female voice through the open door to Connor’s office. She would have recognised his ex-wife’s shrill tone anywhere. Before the divorce the secretarial pool had been at her beck and call to assist with her charity work—Carla Knight was nothing if not demanding. The girls would draw straws before anyone would set foot on this floor to take her instructions. Holly sent a silent wish skywards that whatever the situation was, and it sounded intense, it would be resolved quickly.

As silently as she could, she stowed her things back in her cupboard and turned to leave when suddenly Connor’s voice vibrated through the air, disgust lacing his words with a sharpness Holly had rarely heard from him.

“You don’t deny it then?”

“How dare you have me investigated? Those records were private!”

“Everything has its price, Carla. Unfortunately I never realised yours until it was too late. You can tell your fancy overpriced divorce lawyer you won’t be getting another cent beyond the settlement you’ve already received. Ever. Now, get out of my sight.”

“Gladly!”

It was too late to retreat now. Holly straightened her shoulders. There was nothing else for it but to meet the former Mrs. Knight face on.

“Slumming it with the staff tonight, Connor?” Carla spat, vitriol poisoning her exquisite features as she pushed her petite frame past Holly. She slanted a spiteful glare at Holly. “I might have known you’d be hovering around. But of course, I forgot, you don’t have anyone to go home to, do you?”

Speechless, Holly stood back and let the other woman through, leaving behind her a cloud of expensive French fragrance and the air crackling with ill humour.

“I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of that, Holly.”

She drew in a calming breath and turned to face him. Connor stood at the door to his office, the usual resonance in his voice flat, his eyes glittering and fired with anger.

“It’s all right, sir.” She reached across her desk and extracted her evening bag from the top drawer, determined not to acknowledge the barb Carla had flung. She refused to submit to the other woman’s cruel taunt; she’d grown up with worse. While such sneers had the power to inflict pain, Holly had learned the hard way to never let it show. She straightened from her desk. “Are you ready to go back downstairs?”

He let out a breath, slowly and carefully, as if he’d been holding on to his control by a thread.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” He took a step towards her and let out a low whistle. “And so, it appears, are you.” A feral flash of hunger blazed and died in his eyes so quickly Holly wondered if she’d identified it correctly. “Holly, you look…amazing.”

She forced herself to remember to breathe as he raked her body with his eyes. It was one thing being the target of a few harshly spoken words, but quite another to be the target of a gaze that stroked her body like a silk scarf over bare skin. It was as if he saw her through new eyes. She instantly pushed the idea away for the foolishness it was.

“Thank you, sir. You look pretty amazing yourself.” Formal dress should make a man look more distant, she decided distractedly, not make him look so wickedly sensual. With his dark hair and eyes, and dressed in a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt and black bow tie at his tanned throat, Connor Knight looked like he’d stepped out of a dream fantasy. Her dream fantasy. The one where they stood at an altar and he promised to love and cherish her, forever. Enough! Holly snapped her thoughts back into the present. To reality.

She turned her back on him and began to walk towards the door before she did or said anything foolish. Her emotions had already taken a battering tonight, and the way he looked, not to mention the way he looked at her, scrambled her senses so badly she could barely think let alone walk straight.

“Hold on a minute, Holly.” His voice came from close behind. “Shall we?” He offered his arm and, with only a tiny hesitation, she threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow and laid her fingers on his sleeve. He was a solid wall of strength next to her, his hip brushing against hers with each step as he matched his pace to hers. Holly’s nerves wound tighter and tighter, like a spring about to snap.

In the elevator she found respite by removing her hand from his arm and stepping slightly away to press the button to take them back downstairs. She let her hand drop back down to her side, where it rested momentarily before Connor’s strong fingers grasped hers and replaced them on his sleeve.

“Mr Knight?” Her voice caught on a tiny gasp.

His eyes burned with an emotion she couldn’t quite tag. One corner of his mouth tilted, almost as if he mocked himself. “Humour me, Holly. Maybe I need a beautiful woman on my arm tonight.”

Two

Lost for words, Holly tried to school her features into their usual calm. Yet when her eyes met his, she couldn’t hold his gaze, and they flicked nervously instead to her fingers lying, starkly docile, against the black cloth of his tuxedo. He needed her? That was an entirely new and unexpected development. One she wasn’t sure how to handle.

Beneath her hand she sensed the play of muscles in his forearm. Suppressed tension shimmered off him in waves. Okay, so he was stinging after his meeting with Carla, and maybe he was using her for whatever reason tonight—she could accept that—but try as she might, it was difficult to subdue the answering call of her body to the leashed power of his. Heat flickered deep inside her, tiny flames taking hold and sending burning liquid through her veins.

Need? She knew all about need.

As short as the elevator ride was, to Holly it felt like forever. If they didn’t make the distance soon she was certain she’d melt, lose her inhibitions and press herself against his tensely held form.

The cooling air of the cafeteria was a breath of sanity as the doors opened. Staff and their partners had already begun to arrive and were drifting around the room in a hum of conversation.

Connor wondered how long it would be before he could shuck his duties and slink back to his flat. A couple of hours, tops. Holly needed to take it easy, too. She’d scared him tonight when he’d looked across the room and seen her face, as stark and white as the wall behind her, during the children’s party. Despite her denial, it was obvious something was wrong.

It didn’t stop you using her to make yourself feel better, a cynical voice from inside remarked with scathing honesty. The admission brought him down a notch. No, he hadn’t hesitated. Holly was the antithesis of the vicious blazing fury of Carla’s indignation—the constant epitome of calm in his storm. An influence, he freely admitted, he’d always taken for granted.

Until he’d seen her tonight, and been hurriedly and disturbingly reminded she was most definitely a woman. A sensuously beautiful woman.

He looked at the slender bow of her neck as she fussed with something in her evening bag and wondered how her skin would feel, would taste. Connor clamped a lid on the thought before it had time to flourish and grow into something more than a tingle of awareness. She was his PA. And she’d be horrified if she knew the rampant slant of his thoughts. No doubt she’d be a darn sight paler than she’d been earlier tonight.

There was a flush on her cheeks now, he noted with some relief, and her eyes, as they darted about the room checking everything, had a sparkle in their blue depths that had been missing before. He was glad he’d made the decision earlier to put Janet in charge of tonight. Holly deserved the break, and her assistant had been thrilled at the chance to show off her training. It was a win-win all round, and it would keep Holly at his side—all night.

Connor bent his head close to her ear. “Relax, Holly, you’re officially off duty as of now.” Her faint scent teased his nostrils with its hint of warm summer nights and fresh linen, and enticed him to linger before his own hands-off rule, lit in neon signs across the back of his eyes.

“But someone has to oversee—”

“I’ve instructed Janet to take over for you tonight, she’ll manage fine. You’ve organised the party to within a nanosecond of perfection, anyway. Let her take care of whatever crops up.”

“Really, I must—”

“Relax,” he urged her quietly.

With his dark head still bent to hers so intimately, he realised they were getting speculative glances from a few of the staff around the room. The office buzz needed little to fuel it, although most wouldn’t dare get caught out in gossip about one of the Knights. He needed to get things back on an even footing, although for some indeterminate reason he didn’t want to.

“You must let me do my job,” she protested again, taking a tiny step away.

Connor fought back a frustrated retort. He elegantly snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and pressed one into her fingers. “Your job is done, Holly. Here, celebrate. Another brilliant year, thank you.” He clinked his glass gently against hers in his own personal toast.

“You know I don’t drink at company functions.”

“Quit arguing and lighten up, hmm?” He scanned the room. “Try to look as though you’re having fun. I insist.” He lowered his voice and gave her a mock-stern glower. For a moment he thought she’d taken him seriously, until a welcome spark of rebellion flared in her eyes, darkening and deepening their intense blue.

Had he ever noticed the colour of her eyes before tonight? He must have, surely. The negative response, as he dredged his memory, reminded him of his position, and hers. Of course he hadn’t paid attention to her features. Then why, he wondered, did he want more detail tonight?

A perverse, devilish urge made him shift closer to her as the revellers swirled about them, and he placed his free hand against her exposed lower back. Under his fingers her spine straightened, ramrod stiff, as he stroked lightly across skin that felt astonishingly heated. The contrast between his cool fingers and her intense warmth reminded him yet again of their differences, their positions, urging him to desist while sensation burned an enticing brand across his fingertips. He sensed, rather than heard, Holly’s breath catch in her throat. This was getting out of control. He was getting out of control, and way overstepping the mark.

Reluctantly he withdrew his hand. Just in time it seemed, as Janet came over, gushing with pride. “You don’t need to worry, Holly, I have it all under control. I think Mr. Knight’s idea to let you enjoy yourself tonight was great, don’t you? For once you can be one of the guests and really have a good time.”

Holly’s lips peeled back from her teeth in what approximated a smile but inside she was on the verge of shattering.

“Thank you, Janet. I…I appreciate you stepping into the breach like that. But don’t hesitate to—”

“You’re doing a marvellous job, Janet. Thank you.” Connor’s fingers stroked another delicious line across the small of her back, sending a cascade of goose bumps rippling beneath the seam of her gown and shocking the words she was about to utter into silence.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped forward and turned so he could no longer reach her bare skin. “Mr. Knight—”

“Connor. And let it go for one night, okay. Orders from the boss.” He stared down the final protest that hovered on her lips, a taunting slant to his smile. “Speaking of the boss, let’s work our way over and see mine.” He nodded to where his father, Tony Knight, the founder and president of Knight Enterprises stood, like the patriarch he was, his erect posture exuding strength and pride as he gazed about the room.

The steady gentle pressure of Connor’s hand returned against the base of her spine, a pressure that sent wild spirals of warmth unfurling through her body. She barely acknowledged the greetings and festive wishes from the staff as they cut a swathe through the crowd, the minglers parting like the Red Sea as they moved across the room.

As they neared the gathering of senior executives, she struggled to regain her composure, to ignore the imprint of Connor’s proprietary hand against the small of her back and to settle the butterflies that fluttered every time she had to deal with the senior Mr. Knight. She worked with men of his position and power on a regular basis, but there was something about Antony Knight that commanded respect. A respect that, for Holly, bordered on something closer to awe. She certainly didn’t want to dissolve like an idiot at his feet because his youngest son was sending her senses into meltdown.

A first generation Kiwi, born to Italian immigrant parents who’d anglicised their name to better fit into their adopted country, Tony Knight had built Knight Enterprises from the ground up. Holly had no doubt he could still swing a hammer with the best of them, but that wasn’t what made her admire him the most.

No, she acknowledged as she fought to bank the fire burning in her veins, it was his unstinting devotion to his family. His abiding love for his long-dead wife. He’d raised three sons while building an empire, and yet, even though she had no doubt that the past had been rocky, he’d maintained that solid thread of familial connection between them. Despite his setbacks he hadn’t given them up to strangers to raise, like her mother had when she’d discarded Holly, as if she’d been unwanted baggage.

Holly would give just about anything to be a part of a background like that. A background she could call her own. The sobering thought did its work with chilling accuracy and she stepped clear of Connor’s reach to greet his father.

Her face ached with the effort of keeping a smile pasted on.

Connor had stayed close to her all evening, shepherding her as she mingled and chatted sociably with their colleagues, ensuring she constantly had a glass of champagne in her fingers and that she stayed well clear of administrative responsibilities for the evening. For once she knew what it felt like to be the one being looked after—the sensation was totally foreign to her and strangely unsettling at the same time.

She lifted her drink to her lips and took a tiny sip of the wine. Darn, warm again. She’d barely drunk a full glass all evening. Mind you, that was probably a good thing. Her stomach had been so knotted with tension she hadn’t eaten, either. While the food on the buffet and circulating on trays looked wonderful, and as usual she’d ensured there was plenty of it, she simply couldn’t bring herself to take a bite.

She flicked a glance to the wall clock by the door, and her shoulders sagged gently in relief. Things would draw to a close soon. Mr. Knight, Sr. would make his usual end-of-year speech, thanking the skeleton crew who would keep the business ticking over in its usual efficient fashion during the three weeks while most staff took their holiday break, and wishing everyone a happy Christmas.

Happy Christmas indeed, for those who had family and friends to share it with. Holly felt a tiny frown pull at her forehead, and the beginnings of a headache prodded behind her eyes.

Would Andrea even be aware it was Christmas Day tomorrow? The staff at the nursing home had recommended that Holly not come in, and that her foster sister wouldn’t worry if for once she spent a holiday with her other friends. Except Holly had no one else she wanted to spend the day with. Andrea was all she had—her one positive link to her past.

Maybe she’d call into the home, anyway, and take Andrea the filmy new nightgown she’d bought her—a soft mossy green, to match her eyes.

“Hey, smile. It’s Christmas, remember? No need to look so sad.” Connor’s warm breath caressed the side of her neck, his voice lowered to a sensuous hum that stroked along her nerve endings like fingertips over plush velvet. A rush of awareness prickled all the way up into her scalp.

“Was I?” She turned to face him. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she responded in her usual brisk tone.

“Good to see you’re feeling better.” Connor grinned back at her. “You’ve got your ‘office voice’ back again. Come on, let your hair down. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am.” Oh, Lord, she sounded so darn prim and defensive. To offset the prudishly proper tone of her voice she lifted her wine again to take another sip, but was halted when a warm hand grasped her wrist. A shock of electricity raced up to her hand, causing a wild tremble as Connor took the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Here, I’ll get you another. That one must be warm by now. You are supposed to drink it, you know.”

She shook her head slightly, but he ignored her and signalled to a passing waiter for a fresh glass. She grasped the slender stem, sloshing a bit of the wine over the edge.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Holly?” Connor stepped closer, his arm slipping supportively behind her back. “You still look a bit shaky, there.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. If you don’t mind, perhaps I could slip away early.”

“Great idea.” Connor scanned the room. “I think we’ve done our dash tonight. Let’s go.”

Together?

“No, truly,” she protested, “you stay. I’m sure your father—”

“Will excuse me this time. He owes me for that Santa episode. He knows how I feel about kids.” Even though he was smiling, there was a hard glitter in his eyes. The urbane mask he’d worn all evening slipped, and bleakness hardened his face to marble.

“You don’t like children?” Holly couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. He’d been so natural with the little ones, so patient.

“On the contrary.” His voice was clipped. “He knows exactly how much children mean to me. Let’s make our goodbyes.” He slipped her hand in the crook of his arm, and they moved to where his father was holding court with a bunch of his cronies. She felt every eye in the room surreptitiously staring at them as they cut through the crowd.

What on earth was he talking about? If he liked children, why the big deal about being Santa? Unless, a thought occurred to her with sharpening clarity, it had served as a painful reminder of what he didn’t have. That might explain his reluctance earlier tonight, not to mention his irritation with his dad.

Another gulf of difference between them. He wanted kids; she didn’t. So don’t go getting any ideas about his behaviour tonight, she warned herself firmly.

“I see the two of you are off, then.” Tony Knight sent a sharp look at Connor, which Holly read quite clearly as admonishment. She watched the silent interplay between father and son, neither backing down, yet an undercurrent so strong flowing between them no one would dare get caught in their crossfire. Holly knew Tony Knight frowned on relationships between staff, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why Connor was giving his father the impression they were leaving together.

“Yes, Papa. We are.”

Connor’s subtle emphasis on the word we made the older man’s lips thin somewhat in response, and his eyes flicked assessingly between her and his youngest son. A frisson of disquiet trickled down Holly’s spine. He thought they were a couple? She had to dissuade him from that idea straight away.

Before she could interject, he bent down and bussed Holly’s cheeks in his extravagant Italian fashion. Her shock at his action burst through her cool reserve, painting a warm stain of colour on her face. For all that his family had done their best to adopt the “Kiwi way”, he was, and would always remain, Italian to the soles of his handmade shoes.

“You did a marvellous job again tonight, Holly.” He smiled, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They remained sharply tuned to her face—watching as intently as a hawk, and making her feel about as vulnerable as a field mouse exposed on an overgrazed paddock.

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” she eventually managed, her own smile frozen on her face.

He gave a sharp nod in acknowledgement, then fired his gaze back at Connor. “I’ll still be seeing you tomorrow morning, then? Remember my cousin Isabella and her daughter will also be attending.”