Her Festive Baby Bombshell. Jennifer Faye
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was wrong, but to Holly’s relief, it hadn’t been her fault. The numbers on one of the source files had been transposed. After printing a revised copy, Finn signed it. Holly used his personal assistant’s scanner to email the contract to the designated party.
“Thanks for the assistance.” Finn slipped the hard copy back into the envelope. “Sorry to take up so much of your evening and for causing you to miss dinner.” He glanced at his Rolex. “We’ll have to remedy that.”
“That’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”
“I insist on dinner.” He stood and then moved around the desk. “You did me a big favor tonight by helping with the contract.” His gaze dipped to her lips before quickly returning to her face. The corners of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile. “And I’d like to show you how thankful I am for the help with meeting that deadline.”
Oh, he definitely had more than dinner on his mind. The thought sent a new wave of nervous tremors through her stomach. She glanced away. Her initial inclination was to turn him down. Her experience with men was less than impressive. But did that mean she had to live in solitude?
What was wrong with a little company? A little laughter and perhaps flirting? And maybe a little more. Her gaze met his once more. It’d all be fine as long as neither of them had any expectations. After all, it wasn’t like it would ever happen again.
“Dinner sounds good.”
“Great.” He made a brief phone call and then turned to her. “It’s all arranged. I’ll just drop this envelope on Clara’s desk and then we’ll be off.”
A little voice inside Holly said to be cautious. Finn Lockwood wasn’t just any man and she knew nothing of his world. But another part of her was drawn to him like a moth to a flame—and boy, was he hot.
The sizzling tension smoldered between them as they quietly rode down in the elevator. When they stepped into the parking garage beneath the building there was a sleek black town car waiting for them. A driver immediately alighted and opened the door for them.
Holly climbed in first, followed by Finn. When he joined her, his muscular leg brushed against hers. Her stomach shivered with excitement. When their hands came to rest side by side on the leather seat, neither pulled away. It felt as though the interior of the car was statically charged. Every nerve ending tingled with anticipation.
As the car eased into the Friday evening traffic, she glanced over at Finn. She was surprised to find him staring back at her. Her heart thump-thumped, loud and fast.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.
“The penthouse.” Finn’s darkened gaze returned to Holly. “I thought we would dine in. Unless, of course, you have something else in mind.”
She had something on her mind, but it wasn’t food. Perhaps she had been spending too much time working these days because there had to be a reasonable explanation for her lack of common sense. Because all she could think about was how much she longed to press her lips to his.
Seven weeks later...
BAH, HUMBUG...
Finn Lockwood didn’t care if the saying was cliché. It was how he felt. Even though this was the first week after Thanksgiving, the holiday festivities were in full swing. He wanted no part of having a holly jolly Christmas. Even though he’d turned off the speakers in his office, the music still crept down the hallway, taunting him with its joyous melody.
He did his utmost to block out the mocking words. Instead, he focused on the stack of papers awaiting his signature. He was so close to being out of here—out of the office—out of New York City.
“I just love this.” His longtime assistant, Clara, strode into his office with a hefty stack of papers.
“Love what? The endless phone calls and this mess of paperwork?”
“Um, no.” Color filled her cheeks as she placed the papers on his desk. “I meant this song, ‘Home for the Holidays.’ It puts me in a warm fuzzy mood.”
His pen hovered over the document as he paused to listen. The sentimental words about home and family stabbed at his scarred heart. “To each his own.”
She swept her dark bobbed hair behind her ear. “Although it never feels like the holiday season until that first snowflake falls. Don’t you think so?”
He frowned at her. “How long have you known me?”
“Almost eight years.”
“And by now I’d have thought you’d realize I don’t do holidays.”
“I...I just keep hoping—”
“Don’t. It’s not going to happen.” An awkward silence ensued as he glanced over a disbursement and then signed it.
“Oh. I almost forgot. These came for you.” She handed over two tickets for the Mistletoe Ball.
He accepted the tickets. Without bothering to look at them, he slipped them in a side desk drawer with other tickets from years gone by. When he glanced back at his assistant, unspoken questions reflected in her eyes. “What?”
Clara hesitated, fidgeting with the pen in her hand. “Why do you order tickets every year but then never use them?”
“Don’t you think it’s a worthy cause?” When Clara nodded, he continued. “I want to do my part.” His voice grew husky with emotion. “If everyone does their part, maybe they’ll find a cure for leukemia. The damn disease steals lives far too soon.” His hand tightened around the pen. “It leaves nothing but devastation in its wake.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “I...I agree. I, um, just can’t afford the tickets.”
Finn realized he’d said too much. No one knew he was the sole sponsor of the ball and that was the way he intended for it to remain. But he just couldn’t attend—couldn’t face the guilt. If it wasn’t for him and his actions, his mother and father would still be alive. They’d be attending the ball each year just like they’d always done in years past.
Finn pulled open the desk drawer and removed the tickets. “Here. Take them. It’d be better if they were used rather than sitting around gathering dust.”
Her gaze moved from the tickets to him. “But I couldn’t. You should give them to someone else.”
When she rattled off the names of people who headed up his various divisions and departments, he said, “I want you to have them.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the tickets with a hesitant smile.
“Now back to business. I hope this is the last of what I need to sign because we have a trip to prepare for.”
“A trip? When?”
“Tomorrow morning.” This wasn’t the first time he’d sprung a spur-of-the-moment trip on her. “And I’ll need you there—”
“But...” Clara worried her bottom lip.
“But what? Surely you can reschedule anything on my calendar for some time after the first of the year.”
“It’s not that.”
Color stained her cheeks as she glanced down at the tickets. She remained quiet, which was so unlike her. Something was definitely amiss and he didn’t like it, not one little bit. They were set to leave in the morning for his private island in the Caribbean for a secret business meeting. When it concluded, Clara would return to New York while he remained in the sun and sand until after the New Year—when life returned to normal and people were no longer gushing with the holiday spirit.
Clara’s continued silence worried him. He leaned back in his chair, taking in the worry