A Very Special Holiday Gift. Barbara Hannay
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Help! She was still tingling and zapping from having him take off her coat.
This was such a dangerous moment. She only had to give the slightest hint of acceptance and Zac Corrigan would be kissing her. And she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want to be kissed. His lips were so close, so scrumptious, so wonderfully tempting.
The air between them was crackling and sizzling. At any moment he was going to lean in …
Now she was struggling to remember why this was wrong. “Zac, we can’t—”
“Shh.” He touched her arm, sending dizzying warmth washing over her skin. “Forget about the office for one night.”
“How can I? How can you?”
“Chloe, you’re an incredibly sexy woman, and I’m absolutely smitten by you.”
A Very Special Holiday Gift
Barbara Hannay
Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAY’s life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Brownies’ writer’s badge. It was about a girl who was devastated when her family had to move from the city to the Australian Outback.
Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbara’s books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and she’s a full-time writer she’s enjoying a country lifestyle.
Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. When she’s not lost in the world of her stories she’s enjoying farmers’ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.
Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is: www.barbarahannay.com.
For Elliot, with huge, huge thanks for your unfailing faith in my writing … It would never have happened without you.
Contents
THE PHONE CALL that changed Chloe Meadows’s life came when she was poised on tiptoe, on a chair that she had placed on top of a desk in a valiant attempt to tape a loop of Christmas lights to the office ceiling.
It was late on a Wednesday evening, edging towards nine p.m., and the sudden shrill bell in the silent, empty office was so unexpected Chloe almost fell from her precarious perch. Even so, she slipped as she scrambled down awkwardly in her straight grey business skirt and stocking feet.
She was slightly out of breath as she finally grabbed the phone just as it was due to ring out.
‘Hello? ZedCee Management Consultants.’ She wondered who would call the office at this late hour. On a Wednesday night.
There was a longish beat before she heard a man’s distinctly English voice. ‘Hello? I’m calling from London. Could I please speak to Mr Zachary Corrigan?’ The voice was officious, like the command of a bossy teacher.
‘I’m sorry. Mr Corrigan isn’t in the office.’ Chloe politely bit back the urge to remind the caller that it was well after office hours in Australia and that her employer was almost certainly at a social function.
On any given week night, Zac Corrigan was likely to be socialising, but that possibility had become a certainty this week, the week before Christmas, when almost everyone was at some kind of party. Everyone, that was, except Chloe, whose social calendar was quiet even at this busy time of the year.
Sadly, the red letter date in Chloe’s festive season was the office Christmas party. This was the third year in a row that she’d put up her hand to be the party’s organiser. She’d ordered the champagne, the wines and beer, as well as a selection of delicious canapés and finger food from François’s. And she’d been happy to stay back late this evening to decorate the office with festive strings of lights, shiny balloons and bright garlands of tinsel and holly.
Secretly, she loved this task. When she’d first landed her job at ZedCee she’d also moved back home to care for her elderly parents, who weren’t overly fond of ‘gaudy’ decorations, so this was her chance to have a little Christmas fun.
‘To whom am I speaking?’ the fellow from London barked into the phone.
‘I’m Mr Corrigan’s PA.’ Chloe was used to dealing with bossy types, matching their overbearing manner with her own quiet calm. ‘My name’s Chloe Meadows.’
‘Ms Meadows, this is Sergeant Davies from The Metropolitan Police and I’m ringing from The Royal London Hospital. I’m afraid the matter is urgent. I need to speak to Mr Corrigan.’
‘Of course.’ Instantly alarmed, Chloe forgave the policeman his bossiness and reached for a pen and paper. She was appalled to think that this urgent matter was in any way connected to her boss. ‘I’ll call Mr Corrigan immediately and tell him to ring you.’
Sergeant Davies dictated his number, Chloe thanked him and her stomach clenched nervously