Antonia Larson fastened the white fur anklet adorned by three silver bells and a green velvet bow, closing the accessory around her leg with a single snap. From the radio on the edge of her desk, a traditional Christmas carol ended and the Bruce Springsteen version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” now reverberated through her small office. Pulling her hat over her head and securing it with bobby pins, she hummed her own off-key rendition of her favorite Christmas tune. She twirled once, pleased with the jingling accompaniment to the gruff voice of The Boss.
If Santa was coming to town, he wasn’t going to find Toni being a good girl. Not this year. Not this night. Tonight she was a woman on a mission. A mission to seduce the man she’d been attracted to for too long. She planned to act on what was a physical attraction and indulge in a safe interlude she could easily walk away from when their time together was through. Something Stephan, the firm’s confirmed self-proclaimed bachelor, would appreciate and understand.
Because they’d been working closely as colleagues, acting on her desire had been impossible until now—but today had been her last day of work before the long holiday vacation. When she returned after the New Year, she’d be in the new suburban offices of Corbin and Sons. Work and office protocol no longer stood between them. Nothing did except her courage and the nice-girl role she’d played all her life. A role she could afford to let go of, at least this once.
After yet another night of tossing and turning for hours in her lonely double bed, she’d pulled out the December issue of the women’s magazine she’d subscribed to on a whim. What other reason could there be since she had no time in her busy lawyer’s life to read tips on how to attract men and what turned them on?
But as she’d read the steamy article on naughty versus nice, Toni realized she’d spent the better part of her life as a nice girl, following the rules to get ahead and working overtime to make a good impression. Her two thousand–plus billables over the last few years had put her in a prime position for a promotion. The ailing Mr. Corbin had been thrilled when he’d named her the senior associate to work with the as-of-yet unnamed partner who’d run the new office. She’d never have come this far without performing to perfection. Being naughty had had no place on the ladder to success. Neither had coming on to a man she worked alongside.
But having earned her position, she felt free to act on other, impulsive desires. Then with the onset of the new year, Toni would put Stephan behind her and step back into the stable, secure, independent life she’d created for herself.
If the article were to be trusted, the clichéd adage was true and nice girls finished last. So Toni would just have to be bad. She smoothed her skirt and straightened her hat, giving one last jingle of her bells for good luck. In matters of the hormones and the heart Toni intended to come in first.
No matter how naughty she had to be to accomplish her goal, Toni intended to get her man.
They called this a party? Maxwell Corbin glanced at the dark suits milling about the large conference room. Muffled laughs, discreet corner discussions, and a handshake every now and then to clinch a deal. Not an ounce of fun in sight, he thought and immediately remembered why he’d traded in his SoHo apartment and his family’s downtown New York City law firm for a place in the suburbs and his PI office on the Hudson River. An office he’d return to. No matter how happy it would make his father if Max decided to return to the fold, he had to live his own life, his own way. Three years at the family firm had taught him practicing law wasn’t it.
As he made for the eggnog across the room, his sneakered foot crushed a stray pretzel, marring the otherwise pristine carpet. Beside him, someone made a toast to an upcoming merger, increased income, and the guaranteed all-nighters to come. Max shook his head in disgust. The only thing worth staying up all night for was sex—something he hadn’t had in too damn long, mostly because no woman had interested him enough. But lately he’d begun to wonder what being discriminating and picky had gotten him besides a cold bed at night.
He lifted the ladle to pour himself a drink when the faint ringing of bells caught his attention. He turned toward the sound and the expensively decorated Christmas tree, a pine, lavishly trimmed with white and gold, with dozens of boxes beneath the branches to increase holiday spirit. He stepped to the left so he could see around the tree and caught sight of a dainty elf kneeling over a bulging bag of toys. As she reached inside the large bag, the hem on her miniskirt hiked up higher, revealing black lace beneath white fur trim.
Max swallowed hard. So much for disinterest, he thought wryly. A longer glance as she dug through her huge bag and he discovered the lace ended at mid-thigh. He wondered what she wore beneath that green suit, if the hands-on exploration would be as satisfying as his imagination.
He tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. If he had to spend time in the hallowed halls of Corbin and Sons—make that Corbin and Compliant Son, he thought, thinking of his twin—then maybe the pixie in the corner would make his time here worthwhile. He dodged his way around the business suits and headed for the tinsel-laden elf.
On his way, he realized that not only was she the sole focus of his attention, but he was the center of hers. She’d straightened from her chore and looked at him dead-on, heat and something more in her smoky gaze. Drink forgotten, he walked the rest of the way to where she stood. Despite the drone of preoccupied, chattering attorneys, Max felt as if he were approaching her in silken silence.
As he closed in, he raised his gaze from the white fur anklet to her belted, trim waist to her green-eyed stare. Sea-green scrutiny made more vibrant by the interested flush in her cheeks. After promising his father he’d show up at this gig, he’d mentally called the day a bust, but when she pulled him behind the tree, rose onto her booted tiptoes, and touched her mouth to his, he reassessed his opinion.
He’d been kissed before—but he’d never been kissed. Not with such intensity and single-minded purpose. She tasted sweet and smelled sensual and fragrant, making both his mind and his body come alive. Her hands gripped his shoulders in a death-lock as her champagne-flavored tongue darted past his willing lips.
She had a potent effect, yet despite it all her touch was endearingly hesitant, turning him on while arousing a fierce protectiveness within him at the same time. He gripped her waist to anchor himself, something she obviously took as a sign of acceptance because a soft but satisfied sigh escaped and he caught the erotic sound with his mouth, deep in his throat. Though he hadn’t a clue what he’d done to become the lucky recipient of her attention, he wasn’t about to question good fortune. He’d rather make more of his own.
He began an arousing exploration, mating his tongue with hers in a prelude she couldn’t misinterpret or mistake. And obviously she didn’t. Her head tipped backward and she welcomed the onslaught of his roving tongue and hands. His fingers locked onto her petite waist and he pulled her forward, her breasts flush with his chest, her hips brushing his.
Such close contact with his elf had him aching for more and he sucked in a startled breath, inhaling deeply. The scent of pine assaulted his senses and reminded him of their surroundings and the possibility that despite the barrier of the Christmas tree, they might have an audience of attorneys taking copious notes. With regret he raised his head and took a safe step back from temptation. Emerald eyes glazed with desire stared back, an engaging smile on her well-kissed lips.
“Mistletoe,” she said in a husky voice, pointing upward.
He glanced at the bare ceiling. So she had passion as well as a desperate need for an excuse. A grin tipped the edges of his mouth as he wondered what other surprises this mystery lady had in store. “Whatever you say.”
She touched her lips with shaking fingertips. “I say you’re not him. You’re nothing like Stephan.”
Kind of her to point out something he’d been told hundreds of times before. But she’d spoken low, more to herself than to him, and not with the well-aimed need to hurt, the way the information had been used against him in the past.
Her gaze darted from his worn basketball sneakers, up the length of his dark denim jeans, and focused on his face. “In the dim lighting and from a distance you kind of looked like him.” He saw as well as heard her searching for answers. “The same dark hair and piercing blue eyes, though yours are somewhat warmer.” A glimmer of passion infused her voice. “Similar dimple but yours is deeper.” She reached out with the same hesitant determination he’d sensed behind the kiss.
Her touch burned him straight to his soul.
“And when he works weekends, he . . . dresses . . . like . . . you.” She jerked her hand away from the same fire consuming him.
Max was surprised to learn Stephan ever veered away from conservative suits and ties. Maybe he and his twin had come from the same egg after all. Maybe they had more in common than either of them let on. And maybe they could be friends as well as brothers. The thought arose, not for the first time in ages, but it was the first time he considered acting on the impulse.
He had his elf to thank for revealing the surprising similarities and possibilities. His elf. Funny how proprietary he’d become in such a short span of time. But it wouldn’t be funny if she had any kind of relationship with his twin, and based on that hell of a kiss, the odds tipped against Max.
“Since it’s not the weekend, I should have known,” she murmured. Scrutiny complete, she settled her stare on his New York Rangers jersey, an obvious attempt to avoid his gaze. Then she folded her arms across her lush chest, chewing on her bottom lip as the enormity of her mistake obviously set in.
He remembered the feel of those curves pressed intimately against him, recalled the sweetness of her mouth, and he struggled not to groan aloud. “Something against the Rangers?” he asked, seeking the more mundane.
She shook her head, her button nose crinkling in answer. “I don’t have time for basketball.”
“Hockey.”
“Whatever. But baseball’s another story. How ’bout those Mets?” A twinkle sparkled in her glorious eyes.
Apparently she’d been giving him a hard time and was probably as big a sports fanatic as he, something he’d never expected to find in a woman.
“Hard to believe a Corbin would wear a jersey to an office party, though.” Her brows rose in surprise.
On any other woman, the gesture would remind him of his judgmental federal court judge mother. But on her, the otherwise critical display indicated curiosity and interest, not disdain. “You’ve got that right. But I’m not a typical Corbin.” He felt the welcome tug of a smile.
She inclined her head, her silky black hair brushing her shoulders much the way he’d like it caressing his skin. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Once again, her trembling fingers touched her mouth, this time tracing the outline of her reddened lips before she caught herself and stepped around the tree, reaching for the first gift-wrapped package she could find. He allowed her escape for the moment, watching the sexy sway of her hips in retreat. And in that instant, her words immediately after that mind-blowing kiss came back to him. You’re not him. You’re nothing like Stephan.
She’d kissed him and known instantly. And she wasn’t all that upset and she definitely wasn’t unaffected. The thought pleased him. Though Max could never compete with his twin as a Corbin son, he’d obviously made headway with . . . his brother’s woman? His gut clenched at the thought.
“Hello, Max.” Stephan walked up beside him.
“Hey, little brother.” Catching the scowl on his twin’s face, Max grinned, feeling on safe, sibling-sparring ground. “ ‘Little brother’ is a figure of speech. You know that. But you also know I got sprung first.”
“Three minutes isn’t enough to hold it over me our entire lives,” Stephan said with characteristic grumbling. “But I’m glad you made it.” He surprised Max by slapping him on the back. Obviously his brother wasn’t threatened by his father’s summons of his wayward, prodigal son. Another reason for Max to suddenly hold out hope he’d leave this party with more than he’d walked in with.
At the very least, a renewed connection to his twin and at best a new woman in his life? Possible, Max thought, unless—he glanced at his brother. “Who’s the elf?”
Stephan folded his arms across his chest and glanced around the tree to where the woman who’d kissed Max senseless now tried to feign interest in her bag of toys and not the Corbin brothers. Max stifled a smile.
“Who, Toni?” Stephan asked.
“Toni.” Max tested the name on his tongue, liking the sound as well as the incongruity of a man’s name on such a feminine creature.
“She’s an associate—something you’d know if you didn’t make yourself so scarce.”
His brother was right. Other than the obligatory holidays at home, Max avoided family situations—especially family business functions like this one—if only because they were always fraught with tension between himself and his parents.
“Any interest?” Max asked, ignoring his brother’s jibe but still needing to lay other cards on the table.
Stephan shook his head. “Maybe when she first started working here, but that was a while ago. And once we became colleagues and friends . . .” He waved his hand in dismissal. “No interest.”
It was obvious to Max that she didn’t feel the same—at least she hadn’t before kissing the wrong twin, but no point in informing his brother now. “You sure?”
“No interest. Not that way.” Stephan glanced at him, surprised but obviously certain. “Field’s clear.”
And so were his brother’s words. Nothing stood between Max and his elf.
He turned, determined to stake his claim, but she was talking with a female colleague, and then without warning the conference room was overrun with scampering, chattering children. “What’s this?” Max asked over the din.
Stephan laughed. “This is Toni’s contribution to the annual firm Christmas party. We always made a cash donation to a charity, but she insisted we do something more personal, too. Now we buy gifts for the kids at one of the local women’s shelters and Santa hands them out—with her help.”
“Santa?”
“Dad. But not this year. He’ll be here but the doctor’s banned him from anything too stressful like picking up the kids and putting them on his lap. At least until next year.”
A twisting pain lanced through Max. “You sure?”
“That he’ll be around till next year?” Stephan asked, finishing Max’s unspoken question in a way only a twin could. “I’m sure. Spend some more time with him and you will be, too.”
Max had seen the older man in the hospital and again when he’d been released, but they’d never been alone long enough to get into serious conversation. Yet apparently the stroke had prompted a renewal in the older man’s determination to get Max back into the family firm, because he’d been summoned here by his father, who claimed he had an offer Max couldn’t refuse.
“He’s determined enough for four men,” Stephan said.
“Swell.” Determined to stick around and determined to get his way with his one ornery son. Well, one out of two wouldn’t be bad. Max glanced at his twin, knowing he had to be honest about not wanting to take over in the office, or in his brother’s hard-worked-for domain. “Hey bro, you should know I have no intention of coming back—”
Stephan cut him off with a slug to the shoulder. “I know. The only one you have to convince is Dad.”
Max nodded. His brother was obviously secure in his place and position within the firm and the family. One potential problem taken care of.
He looked over. His elf—Toni—was kneeling down with kids beside her, tickling one, laughing with another. Not only did she have an altruistic streak but from the looks of things she was a natural-born nurturer, too. Add that to her sexy-as-hell appearance and her knock-out kiss and Max knew he’d found a gem. Getting to know her would be a real pleasure.
“Who’s replacing Dad as Santa this year?” Max asked.
“Even cash couldn’t sway any of these uptight jokers to do the job and I wasn’t sure I’d make it on time, so Toni’s handing out the gifts herself,” Stephan said.
“Really.”
His brother chuckled aloud. “You sound awfully pleased. Aren’t you too old to be telling Santa what you want for Christmas?”
Max grinned. “Hell, no. Especially not if it’ll let me get close to his sexy emissary.” And as soon as the children were finished, he planned to tell Santa’s helper exactly what he wanted for Christmas.