Hot Holiday Fling
Adie Ashby-Tate was done—for this evening at least.
In a small but exquisitely decorated conference room in the iconic Grantham-Forrester hotel on 5th Avenue in the heart of Manhattan, Adie waved goodbye to her last guest and allowed her smile to fade.
She gripped the edge of her main display table, thankful for the empty room now that all the millionaires and billionaires who’d attended her “Christmas Indoor Market” had left. She loved interacting with clients and showing them her carefully chosen wares, but keeping the charm flowing for four or more hours was exhausting.
Because her feet were aching, Adie kicked off her heels and sank her feet into the expensive carpet. She looked around, pleased she’d managed to capture the essence of a snowy European Christmas market in the small ballroom. She’d strung fairy lights, the ten-foot Christmas tree in the corner was draped with fake snow and a diffuser released hints of hot chocolate, pinecones and cider. She’d dropped the temperature to just this side of chilly to echo the sharp bite of a snow-tinged winter’s night and she’d propped a snowboard and skis against a papier-mâché replica of a horse-drawn buggy.
The room suggested wealth, but more importantly, romance and the spirit of Christmas. The costs involved made her eyes water, but setting the scene, drawing in her clients and then transporting them to a simpler time was worth every penny and the hours of backbreaking work.
Still holding onto one of her display tables—covered in an expensive rich red velvet—Adie stared down at her burgundy-tipped toes and rotated her head from side to side. In a moment she’d move to the bar and pour herself a much-deserved drink, a reward for a job exceptionally well done.
An evening that ended with a book full of orders could be termed only successful, and her artisanal, superbly talented suppliers were going to be very, very pleased with her work tonight. More orders would come. Her gifts were one of a kind and the very rich liked nothing more than rarity and exclusivity.
After this event, Adie was spending the run-up to Christmas in New York City to see whether there was scope for her to open a branch of Treasures and Tasks in Manhattan and to ascertain whether she and Kate—a new friend she’d met through one of her clients—could work together. She needed more than a few orders before she decided to sink a lot of cash into expanding into one of the most expensive cities in the world. So she’d spend the next three weeks working out of New York, testing the market while juggling requests from her existing clients in London and all over the world.
As an exclusive, private concierge who dealt only with very high net worth individuals, Christmas was Adie’s busiest season. But she wanted, and needed, every moment of her days filled, especially at this time of year. This was the time of the year when the ghosts of the past—Christmas and his friends—decided to drop by and harangue her and she’d prefer to be too busy to pay them any attention.
She’d be exhausted in January, but being distracted was worth the price.
Adie looked at her tables. More than half a million pounds worth of inventory sat on the exquisitely decorated tables—from jewel-encrusted bottle stoppers to gold plated memory sticks—but because some of the richest people had the stickiest fingers, she needed to count the inventory and then pack everything away. It would take a few hours.
Tomorrow she had a series of meetings with potential clients, but the one guy Kate never stopped talking about—an old friend of Kate’s whom she called “the most reluctant influencer” on Earth—hadn’t pitched. Turned out, Adie hadn’t needed his support. Tonight had been a raging success.
Adie heard the rap of knuckles on the partially open ballroom door and swiftly turned. This was an upmarket hotel with good security, but being burgled was always a possibility.
The man in the doorway was doing a damn fine job of stealing her breath.
Adie placed her hand on her sternum and told herself she was an idiot for feeling lightheaded. He was just a man, flesh and blood...
But...what a man!
He was so tall he had to duck his head to walk through the door. Wide shoulders, long muscular legs and what had to be a washboard stomach under the mint green button-down shirt tucked into a pair of plain black pants. He held a battered leather jacket in his clutched fist. His body was off the charts hot, but it was his face that held Adie’s attention.
A young Cary Grant, maybe... But then she quickly decided he wasn’t classically handsome enough for the comparison to work. He had the broad forehead and the strong chin, but his nose was a little too hooked, his stubble too thick to carry off Grant’s urbane, man-about-town look. No, this man belonged in action, like her all-time favorite Hollywood hotties, Gerard Butler and Tom Hardy.
“Ma’am, he was on the guest list so I let him up. I hope that’s okay?”
Adie pulled her eyes off Mr. Delicious to look at the security guard. When she processed the amusement in Dan’s eyes at her slack-jawed reaction to her guest, she straightened her spine and told herself to act her age. Many billionaire princes and A-list movie stars were her clients. She was not normally this easily impressed.
Meeting those light eyes—fog blue or silver?—under those straight thick brows, a shade lighter than the burnt sugar color of his hair, she felt pinned to the floor, but finally managed to pull a polite smile onto her face. “Good evening. You’re a couple of hours late, but you’re welcome to take a quick look if you don’t mind me packing away behind you.”
“I should’ve been here earlier, but I was unavoidably detained.”
His voice was as rich as the dark chocolate tart she’d consumed in a tiny restaurant in the French Quarter of New Orleans last year. But within the richness, Adie heard exhaustion. Frankly, the man looked like he needed a drink. She gestured to the small bar tucked into the corner. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“God, yes. Please. Whiskey if it is available.”
Adie smiled at his enthusiasm and walked, still barefoot, to the bar. She glanced down at her feet and shrugged. He was four hours late, she was packing up and her three-inch slingbacks were beautiful but torturous so he’d have to live with her bare feet.
And judging by the glance he’d directed at her legs, bare under the edges of a red cocktail dress hitting her legs midthigh, he rather liked what he saw.
It had been a while since she’d come across a man who made her feel both hot and shivery. It was a delightful feeling but, she cautioned herself, also a dangerous one.
Be careful, Adie.
Adie held two bottles in the air. “Bourbon or Scotch?”
“Scotch, please. On the rocks, if there is ice.”
Appreciating his choice of a twelve-year-old whiskey, Adie poured a healthy amount into two glasses and lifted the lid on an ice bucket. Using silver tongs, she picked up ice cubes and dumped a couple each in the crystal tumblers before walking back over to him. Without her heels, the top of her head reached only his collarbone and next to him she felt dainty and deliciously feminine.
Adie handed him the glass and his fingers slid over hers, sending a delicious stream of “oh, yeah” up her arm and causing her nipples to contract. Heat pooled between her legs and she felt both languorous and hyped. Adie stared down at her fingers, still wrapped around the glass, bracketed by his darker ones. She wanted to see, and feel, his fingers cupping her breasts, to look down and see his head between her...
Holy Christmas crackers! What was going on here?
Yanking her hand away, Adie stepped back and lifted her own glass to her lips, hoping he didn’t notice. She didn’t like feeling so out of control. Even in the old days, back when she’d used men and their attention as a distraction, she’d never experienced such an intense reaction. Back then, she’d been more concerned about what a man could do for her—mentally and emotionally as opposed to physically and financially—rather than what he did to her.
He stopped in front of a faceless gold mannequin wearing a tiny camisole and panties and cocked his head to the side. Tucking his jacket under his arm, he reached out and rubbed the silk between his thumb and finger.
“It’s from one of the most exclusive and talented designers in the world. It’s made from Lyon silk edged with Chantilly lace and comes in every color you can think of,” Adie gabbled, her face heating. “Obviously she has other designs, if that’s not your thing.”
His lips quirked and those gorgeous eyes flashed with amusement. “It’s not my thing at all. I’m more of a take-it-off than a try-it-on guy.”
Adie smiled at his joke.
He cleared his throat and Adie forced her eyes to connect with his. Those eyes darkened, turned intense.
“Gorgeous,” he stated, his eyes not moving off hers. Adie wasn’t sure whether he was referring to her or the lingerie or both. “I’d like to see it in its more natural setting...”
And she’d have no problem wearing it for him. She could easily imagine a huge bed, luxurious, sweet-smelling cotton sheets, a bottle of Moët in a silver ice bucket, fado music—expressive, passionate and melancholic—playing in the background.
And the late afternoon sun falling on the bed, turning his hair to burnished gold...
Adie quickly lowered her eyes, took a fortifying sip of whiskey and placed her glass on the table, grateful when he resumed his slow stroll down the tables, those light, intense eyes darting over her inventory. He picked up a hand-blown glass Christmas tree ornament, holding the gorgeous peacock design up to the light.
“It’s mouth-blown and hand-painted. The crystals on its plumage are diamonds.”
He didn’t react but simply sipped his drink and looked down at the open box displaying Christmas crackers. “And these?”
Adie looked at his profile, wondering whether his wavy hair was as soft as it looked. She inhaled his woody, sunshiny smell. It took all her processing power to make sense of his question.
“Uh...handmade in the UK from eco-friendly luxury paper. They are tailor-made and the prizes can be anything you want. I had a client who bought each of his children a new car for Christmas and we inserted the car keys inside.”
His lips quirked up in a half smile and Adie desperately wanted to know whether his mouth was as skilled as it was sexy. She really should have sex more often; this reaction was ridiculous. But, like relationships, random sexual encounters weren’t her thing.
But she was seriously considering making this man the exception to her rule.
“I take it those kids didn’t receive entry-level models.”
Of course they didn’t, her clients didn’t understand the word entry-level. “Porsches and Lamborghinis.”
He whistled and moved on.
“Are you in the market for something special?” Adie asked him, trying to judge whether he was a serious spender. His pants were quality, his shoes were expensive, but she couldn’t tell if he was a billionaire or a millionaire or just rich. Unfortunately, if he was just rich, he wouldn’t be able to afford what she was offering. Her products were aimed at the multimillionaire to billionaire section of the marketplace.
“Just looking.”
Those words, she’d come to learn, were often code for I-like-it-but-I-can’t-afford-it. Oh, well, he might not be good for business, but he was lovely to look at. Adie glanced down at her watch and noticed that it was past eleven and she still had a couple of hours of work ahead of her. She had a long day packed with meetings tomorrow and it was time to hustle Mr. Delicious along.
“No way!”
At his outburst, Adie’s eyes flew to the object in his hand and she grinned. The centerpiece of the object was a 3.5-carat heart-shaped diamond, and more round diamonds studded the crocodile leather band.
“Is this a dog collar? For three hundred thousand?” he demanded, sounding and looking outraged.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Adie took the collar from his hand and examined the intricate work.
“How can anyone spend so much money on a dog? I’m mean, don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but this amount of money?”
“My clients adore their animals,” Adie explained.
She put down the dog collar and stacked the boxes of handmade chocolates and moved them to the side, giving her enough space to sit on the heavy table, her legs swinging. It felt so good to get off her aching feet. Picking up a sample dish of chocolates, she held it out to him.
He shook his head. “I rarely eat chocolate.”
“You’ll want to eat this,” Adie assured him. “Have you ever tasted bacon and Mexican chili in chocolate?”
“That would be a no.”
“It’s rare, rather wonderful and...”
“Ridiculously expensive,” he finished her sentence and smiled.
Adie snapped her fingers and pointed her index finger at him. “You’re catching on.” She watched as he slid the chocolate into his mouth, wishing it were her lips making contact with his, her tongue sliding against his. Adie wiggled in place and released a frustrated breath. Needing to do something with her hands, she picked up another chocolate truffle, looked at it and bit down on the bittersweet treat.
Gorgeous...rich, creamy and, hell, hot!
Adie chewed, swallowed and waved her hand in front of her mouth. She looked into his laughing, fog-colored eyes, and blushed. “Wasabi. Not what I was expecting...”
“Want some of mine?”
Adie looked at the half-eaten truffle in his fingers and wondered if he was going to feed her the rest of his chocolate. Suddenly desperate for some contact with him, any contact, she slowly nodded.
He seemed to hesitate, his eyes skimming her face. It was obvious to her that he was testing the waters, wanting to make sure he was interpreting her signals correctly.
He was.
His eyes held hers, fascinating and mysterious, as he placed the chocolate in his mouth and his hands on her knees. Heat skittered up her spine as he gently pushed her legs apart, stepping into the space he’d created. Adie held his eyes and her breath as he lowered his head...closer and closer until his lips were a whisper from hers. Unable to bear the suspense—she wanted his kiss more than she needed to breathe—she lifted her hands to his chest and placed her lips against his. Soft, hard, both at once and when his hot tongue on the seam of her lips cajoled her to open up, she willingly followed his lead. But instead of his tongue entering her mouth, she tasted bittersweet chocolate, a hint of chili, the rush of salty bacon. She moaned in delight.
Adie, wanting more—wanting everything—curled her hand around the back of his neck and held him in place, enjoying the chocolate-covered strokes of his tongue against hers, the way his fingertips pushed into the skin on her hips, his other hand cupping her jaw.
Adie heard him moan and then his hands were on her waist, hauling her closer so that the vee of her legs connected with his rigid erection, her feet curling around the backs of his knees.
Adie felt like she’d dived off a cliff into a warm, deep pool of delight. She ran her hands down his strong, muscled back, over his spectacular butt—and it felt as good as it looked. Her fingers danced over the backs of his thighs. She wanted this, she wanted more...to see him naked, to taste every inch of his hot, masculine skin.
It had been so very long...
He pulled back to drop kisses on her jaw, over her cheekbone, on her temple. His breathing was harsh in her ear and Adie reveled in the notion that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Had there ever been such a perfect kiss? Adie didn’t think so...
Needing him, needing more, Adie gripped his jaw with one hand, seeking his mouth. Oblivious to where she was, she picked up his hand and placed it on her breast, groaning when the pad of his thumb brushed over her nipple. Tipping her head to the side, he changed the angle of the kiss, taking more, going deeper, silently demanding that she give him everything...
Adie pulled his shirt out of his pants and sighed into his mouth when her hands found hard muscles. She explored the bumps of his spine and when her hands moved over his sides and across his stomach, heading south, she felt his hand on hers, stopping her progress.
He stiffened, stopped kissing her, and after a moment lifted his mouth off hers.
He stared at her for the longest time, his eyes now steel gray with passion, his breathing ragged.
“You’re beautiful,” he muttered.
“Kiss me again,” Adie begged, pleasure overwhelming her pride.
He shook his head. “If I do, I won’t be able to stop.”
Adie, knowing that this was wrong, that she was taking a massive risk, and not caring, lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “So, don’t stop.”
A part of Adie hesitated, wondering what her real motivations were. Was she acting like this because it was that time of year? The season of doubts and regrets and over-thinking. During the festive season she always, always second guessed herself...
Was she making the right choices? Was she really happy with her life? What if this, what if that...
But no one had ever made her feel so much, so soon. It had been a long, long time since she’d used a man, and she’d never jumped into bed so quickly, but nobody had ever made her feel like this. She wanted more. She wanted one night of wild passion and if his kisses were a prelude to the main event, she was in for the treat of a lifetime.
She was a grown woman and she was allowed to explore her sexuality so, tonight, she wasn’t going to second-guess herself, to wonder if she was falling back into old, destructive patterns. In the morning she could analyze her actions and deal with her regret, but she wasn’t going to do that tonight.
Not with him.
“I have a room, upstairs,” Adie whispered, her heart in her throat.
His thumb drifted over her bottom lip, tense and expectant. As he opened his mouth to speak, her phone jangled from across the room. Not interested in anything anyone else had to say, she stared at him, waiting for his answer. Why was he hesitating? Was he playing hard to get?
“I—” Her phone rang again and Adie, through her lust, recognized the ring tone. It was Kate. If she didn’t answer, her friend would keep calling. She was pain-in-the-ass persistent.
Adie pushed him back and jumped to the floor. “Sorry, if I don’t answer, she’ll keep calling.”
He nodded and Adie brushed past him to walk over to her bag, yanking her phone out of the side pocket. Annoyed and frustrated, she scowled at the screen and jabbed the answer button.
“What?”
“I just realized that I left you to pack up. I’m on my way back to help you...”
Seriously? Nooooo!
“I don’t like you being on your own with so many valuable items. I mean, the security there is good, but anyone could con his way in...”
Adie’s eyes darted across the room to where he stood, hands in his pockets, pulling the fabric of his pants against his still-hard erection. Who was he and what was he really doing here? As blood returned to her brain, Kate’s words sank in and Adie bit her lip, her eyes flying over the table. Had he kissed her to distract her, so he could slip something valuable into his pocket? The dog collar was too big but the diamond-encrusted bottle stoppers and the gold memory sticks were easily hidden.
And had she really invited him up to her room? Would she have walked away with him without securing the room? Possibly.
Probably.
Oh, God...what the hell was wrong with her? He was a stranger and she’d been about to risk her body and her safety and her business? She was acting like she had when she was a young adult, impulsively and without thought, looking for attention, a distraction.
She refused to go back there, go back to that person she’d been. She’d worked too hard to jeopardize everything she’d work so hard to achieve, to become the person she was.
No man, no matter how attracted she was to him, was worth her backsliding even an inch.
Adie disconnected her call with Kate and folded her arms across her chest, forcing herself to meet his eyes. Passion had fled and his gaze was now concrete gray and hard.
“I see the moment has passed and your offer has been withdrawn.”
Adie bit her bottom lip. She jerked her head toward the door. “I think I got a bit carried away,” she said, her voice low. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
He walked over and stopped an inch from her. Adie refused to move—her pride was back—and she kept her folded arms as a barrier against him coming any closer.
She stiffened as he dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Don’t hurt yourself counting stock, I didn’t steal anything.” He dropped another kiss on her cheekbone and then her temple. “Thanks for the chocolate. And the drink.”
“It was nice meeting you.” He gave her a sexy smirk but Adie noticed his smile didn’t soften his eyes. “But kissing you was better.”
Adie said nothing as he turned away. She watched him walk to the door, biting down on her bottom lip to keep herself from calling him back, from begging him to take her up to her room and show her how good sex could be.
Because she knew with him it would be too bloody fantastic.
Christmas was a pain in the ass, Hunter Sheridan decided, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the corner of his desk.
After Thanksgiving, productivity went down, laziness went up and it felt like every one of his employees was distracted by thinking about, planning for and chatting over holiday festivities.
If Hunter had his way, the entire holiday would be canceled. But, while Christmas meant less than nothing to him, there were people out there obsessed with the holiday and who were, judging by what he’d seen last night, prepared to spend a lot of money celebrating.
Three hundred thousand for a dog collar? Wow.
Hunt leaned back in his chair and dug his fingers into his eye sockets, reluctantly admitting that dog collars and wine stoppers and bittersweet chocolate weren’t foremost on his mind.
Adie Ashby-Tate was.
Oh, he’d known who she was the moment he stepped into the ballroom of the Grantham-Forrester. He instantly recognized her from Kate’s incessant social media posts. And who else but the owner of the company would be the last to leave?
With her shaggy, short espresso-colored curls cut close to her head and her delicate features, she reminded him of a young Audrey Hepburn. Her skin was a deep shade of cream, and her eyes...
He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a long stream of air. Those eyes... Jesus, they were gorgeous. Against her luminous skin, they were the color of dark coffee beans tipped onto winter snow.
Her body, slim but curvy, had been a revelation and she’d fit him perfectly, as if she were a puzzle piece he hadn’t known he was missing.
Puzzle piece, luminous skin, the action in his pants... How old was he, thirty-five or fifteen?
Hunt rubbed his hand over his jaw. He’d been immediately attracted to her looks, but catching her at the end of her event, he’d seen the woman beneath the salesperson, a woman more down-to-earth than he’d expected for someone completely immersed in their world, his world.
It was a place laced with over-the-top opulence, fantastic service and unforgettable experiences. It was a world of excess and bling, instant gratification, pride and arrogance. According to his online research, her father was a British lord, her mother an American tobacco heiress and she was their only child. Adie’s mother was a former famous model, her father was once—before inheriting a fortune from his parents—a professional polo player. These days, her father didn’t seem to do much of anything, choosing to hop from superyacht to superyacht, mansion to mansion in the pursuit of pleasure, accompanied by a variety of young, busty women.
Their daughter was very much a product of that rich, aristocratic world. Adie’s dress, a shorty frothy number, had been designer, and fat diamond studs had glinted in her pretty earlobes. Her perfume was expensive and her accent was upper-class British, thoroughly classy. She was the real deal, a proper aristocrat and, although he hadn’t seen her working the room, Hunt knew she’d done it with grace and charm.
He should’ve introduced himself, that much was obvious, but if he had, he wouldn’t have gotten to kiss her, hold her slim body against his, feel her sleek curves under his shaky fingers. He’d been surprised at her offer to go upstairs—because she hadn’t seemed the type—but he’d wanted to accept her unexpected offer, because, hell, that kiss blew his socks off.
Knowing that she needed to know who she was going to bed with—a potential client, one of the most influential business people in the city, according to Kate—he’d been about to introduce himself when her damn phone rang.
He’d watched as a frisson of fear and wariness replaced lust in her eyes and he’d seen his chance slipping away.
By the time she’d finished her conversation, it was obvious she was having second thoughts about what she’d proposed. So, he’d kissed her goodbye, knowing he’d see her again in less than eighteen hours.
And that they’d soon be picking up where they’d left off.
Hunt massaged the tight knot in his right trapezius muscle, thinking that he had work to do, lots of it. But, because he was acting like an adolescent, he couldn’t stop thinking about Adie’s sweet and sensuous kiss. It had been the sexiest of his life and, had they gotten to the really good stuff, Hunt thought there would have been a good chance of them setting the hotel on fire.
It had been that hot.
He couldn’t remember when last, if ever, he’d had that same take-her-to-the-floor reaction to a woman. He’d been busy lately and hadn’t slept with anyone but Griselda for more than a year, not because he was committed to her or their arrangement—he wasn’t—but because he’d been too busy to bother.
Right now, he’d ditch everything...
EVERY.
THING.
...to take Adie Ashby-Tate to bed.
Hunt released a frustrated growl, annoyed that he couldn’t move his focus and concentration onto anything other than a gorgeous woman with big brown eyes and a pixie face.
This wasn’t who he was, wasn’t what he did. He was never distracted by women and he never allowed them to affect his productivity. Work was all that was important.
He had several companies to run, a legacy to create, goals to reach. People—women, friends, acquaintances—sucked up time when he could be working. But here he was, completely distracted.
God.
Help.
Him.
Hunt heard the door to his office open and looked up as his long-time assistant approached his desk, staring down at his tablet. “So, Griselda is off the list of people for whom I must purchase a Christmas gift? Is that correct?”
Very. “Yep.”
Hunt noticed the curiosity in Duncan’s eyes, but didn’t explain that he’d broken off his two-year—Fling? Liaison? Affair?—with Griselda a few days earlier when she’d asked him to consider co-raising a child with her. His “hell no” had been rather emphatic and his ending of their fling/liaison/affair had been the vehement exclamation point on that subject.
Honestly, people exhausted him.
He’d thought he’d hit the jackpot with Griselda. Thanks to his bouncing between foster families and group homes as a kid, his short but drama-filled marriage, and his best friend and business partner’s death, he’d deliberately chosen a woman who made no demands, financial or emotional. And Gris never had. Until the other day when she’d asked him to father her child.
And all thoughts of his ex faded on meeting Adie last night...
Duncan pursed his lips. “Well, not buying Griselda an expensive piece of art or jewelry should save you a pretty penny.”
Hunt swallowed his smile and hoped his expression remained inscrutable. Even after so many years as his PA, Duncan still acted as if Hunt were on the knife-edge of slipping into debt. Since he had enough money for a hundred lifetimes, even if he chose never to work another day in his life, Duncan’s penny-pinching and cost-cutting attitude was a constant source of amusement.
Leaning back in his chair, Hunt looked up and noticed a deeper worry in Duncan’s eyes, something more intense than the cost of gifts. Duncan was almost as stoic and implacable as Hunt so seeing his stressed face was a surprise.
“Everything okay?” Hunt asked, sitting up and leaning forward.
Duncan gripped the back of the visitor’s chair and shook his head. “I just got an email... Uh, my first partner, the man I thought I was going to marry, is in the hospital after suffering from what they are calling a brain episode. For some reason, and although we haven’t been together for more than fifteen years, he designated me to make any medical decisions if he’s incapacitated. And, he’s incapacitated.”
Hunt heard the surprised confusion, and the intense fear, in Duncan’s voice. “I’m sorry.”
Duncan’s head bobbed up and down in a terse acknowledgment of Hunt’s sympathy. “I know it’s not a good time for me to take a leave of absence, there’s so much that needs doing concerning your foundation’s annual fundraiser.”
Honestly, Hunt had mostly forgotten about the yearly Christmas fundraiser. This year they were trying something new—an urban treasure hunt race. All the funds raised would go to support the Williams-Sheridan Foundation, named in honor of his and best friend, Steve’s friendship.
Duncan quietly and efficiently organized everything, and Hunt’s involvement was to show up at the cocktail party and hand out prizes to the winning teams.
Duncan also purchased Christmas gifts for Hunt’s biggest clients, his favorite suppliers, for the sports players who acted as his brand ambassadors. As his right-hand man, Duncan made Hunt’s life run smoothly. Duncan not only managed his office with aplomb, he also booked theater tickets, made reservations, dealt with Hunt’s housekeepers and interior designers and made suggestions for and booked Hunt’s infrequent holiday breaks.
And Duncan made Christmas bearable by shielding Hunt from the chaos of the season. But Duncan needed personal time and Hunt had to put his assistant’s needs first. He’d survive Christmas...
Maybe.
“Call Jeff and tell him to file a flight plan and leave as soon as you can.”
Gratitude at the casual offer to use his private jet flashed across Duncan’s face. “I can book a commercial flight, it will be so much cheaper...” Duncan protested.
And jam-packed and stressful while Hunt’s plane and pilot were just sitting there, doing nothing. “Use my plane, Duncan,” Hunt told him, using his don’t-argue-with-me voice.
Duncan nodded his thanks. “Concerning work, I’m pretty sure I’ll be just sitting around at the hospital so I can still be productive. I’ll have my laptop and phone with me.”
Hunt stood up and walked around the desk to briefly lay his hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “Work if you want to, Duncan, but not because you have to. Be with your friend.”
Because, God knew, Hunt would do anything for a couple more hours, days, with Steve.
Duncan looked down, sighed and then he straightened his spine and blinked back the sheen of moisture in his eyes. “Thank you, Hunter, I appreciate it.”
Duncan picked up a couple of folders, straightened them and placed them on the corner of Hunt’s desk. He picked up a couple of pens and dusted some used staples off Hunt’s desk into his hand. Hunter smiled at his assistant’s fussing.
“Kate and Adie Ashby-Tate will be with you in five minutes.”
Hunt was looking forward to seeing Steve’s twin Kate. It had been a while, although she had called earlier in the week to ask him to attend the Christmas market last night.
“I’ll finish up a few things here, but I’ll be in touch, as soon as I can, with a plan on how I’m going to manage my duties regarding your Christmas schedule, your functions and the treasure hunt race.”
God, Hunt hoped he would. He was lost without Duncan.
Seeing the time, Hunter stood up and buttoned his suit jacket, smoothing down his designer tie. Hunter walked over to his massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park and scowled at the dark gray clouds. Snow was predicted for that evening, just a light dusting, but that wouldn’t stop Hunt from his daily run around the park. Keeping fit kept him sane and he needed to spend a little time each day outside. If he didn’t, he felt like the walls of his office and apartment were closing in on him, pulling to the surface memories of being locked up in group houses.
After his meeting with Kate and Adie, he’d walk toward the park and back. That would do him until he could pull on his exercise gear. Hunter turned at the brief knock on his door and saw Duncan pushing it open.
“Your four-thirty is here, Hunter.”
Hunter looked at the slim woman walking into his office, immediately taking in her tousled brown hair and bright red, sensuous mouth.
There she was...
And it terrified Hunter to realize that he’d missed this woman he didn’t know.
Copyright © 2020 by Joss Wood