Jingle This! (11 page)

His eyebrows shot up. "You prefer a man who will put you first?"

"Well, of course! What woman wouldn't? No, what
person
wouldn't want a partner who prioritizes their relationship? Do you think anyone really wants the person they love to put other things first?"

Kyle actually had the temerity to look confused by her comment. "I would understand if a woman put her work before me. Work is important."

"Seriously? Then all the crap you've been spouting all week about true love has been a lie? Something you saw on a documentary when you were flipping through the channels and it got stuck on the Oxygen Network?" And to think she'd actually gotten weak-kneed at some of his descriptions about how emotional and loving these stories were supposed to be. Had it all been purely for work, without an ounce of real emotion in his words?

"How could you say it was a lie? I never said I was reflecting my own values. I was talking about the focus of the story." He shrugged. "It's fine for other people to put love first, but that's not my gig."

"And you wonder why I don't have a crush on you anymore." She turned her back on him. "Go away and leave me alone so I can write drivel in peace." Fuming at him, at who he had turned out to be, Angie buried herself in the words, not even caring what she wrote. Just writing.

As he watched her fingers fly over the keys, Kyle felt like his head was spinning from Angie's confession. She'd had a crush on him?

A crush.

On him.

All those fantasies he'd had about her over the years, and she'd been having them too? Suddenly, he couldn't look away from her hands as she typed. The flawlessness of her skin, the sparkle of the ruby ring on her right hand, the delicate bones in her wrist, the curve of her forearm as her bracelets gently clanked while she typed.

Shit.
He was so not over her. How could she be over him before he'd even had a chance to digest the fact that she had a crush on him? How had he missed it? "What about all those glares you gave me whenever I showed up anywhere with your sister?" he asked.

"Your imagination." She didn't even look at him. She just kept typing, but she bit her lower lip, her teeth nibbling adorably, revealing a nervousness that he found quite endearing.

He leaned forward, needing to get closer to her. "And you've given me those hostile glares at work, too. You always look like you want to jab a thumbtack in my eye."

A small smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, and she glanced over at him. "Thumbtacks are powerful weapons. Be very wary of them." Then her smile faded, and she cocked an arrogant eyebrow at him. "And it's because I'm representing the masses, who resent you being an autocrat."

He couldn’t decide whether to start laughing, or to take offense. Was she serious? "You're saying no one at work likes me?"

She shrugged and kept typing. "It's not a matter of liking you. It's a matter of not liking to work for you." She slanted a look at him. "Don't take it personally, Kyle. It's just about work."

He stared at her, still unsure whether she was teasing him.

Finally, she broke into a grin that lit up her face.

Heaven help him, he was melting into that smile. He laughed softly and touched her arm. "Touché, huh?" A man would never tire of that smile. Ever. He realized he hadn't seen it much this week…or at all. Was he really driving her too hard? "I'm not really overly obsessed with New Age, am I? I mean, people know I value them, don't they?" Sure, he worked hard, but always thought he was fair and a good boss. He prided himself on it, actually. A company was nothing without happy, motivated employees. "I don't work people too hard."

She lifted a brow. "Then why are we at work on a Saturday evening?"

"Because we have a story due." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. But what was wrong with that? They had a deadline. It wasn't optional.

"Okay, Kyle." Angie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She gave him a challenging look, but there was none of the defensiveness and resistance there had been earlier in the week. It was as if telling him what a jerk he was had finally cleared the baggage out. He was stunned with how vivid her eyes were. "What's wrong with my writing?" she asked.

He gave her an honest answer. "It's flat."

She inclined her head slightly. "Okay, I agree with that. But your editing makes it flatter."

"I'm trying." He wasn't a writer, though Lord knew he'd been trying all week.

She sighed. "I'm trying too, despite what you may think." She studied him, mischief and life sparkling in her eyes. "The evidence seems to be pointing to the unassailable truth that being handcuffed to my desk isn't going to fix the problem. But I think I have an idea about what might help me inject some life into my writing."

"What?" He thought of the kiss they'd shared, and the story she'd written immediately after that. It had been her best story, full of passion and life. Yes, it had still been a little jaded and cynical, but it had been alive. Did she want more kissing? For the company, he could make the sacrifice. Hell, yeah, he could.

"Getting out of here and enjoying myself. Finding a reason to be happy." She put a finger over his mouth when he started to speak. "Not forever. Just for a few hours. We'll be back in time to get the story written. I just need to take a break and get outside with sane people. I need to experience fresh air without stalking the world looking for my next victims. You need to release me. Now."

He wrapped his hand around hers and removed it from his lips, contemplating for a moment what she'd do if he took her hand and kissed each fingertip one by one...

"So? Can I go?" She picked up her purse and looked at him expectantly.

Regret flickered through him and he released her hand. "You're so eager to be relieved of my company?"

"Yes." She answered quickly. Too quickly, perhaps, suggesting that she was trying to convince herself of that fact? Or maybe he was just deluding himself that he wasn't the only one feeling a dangerous spark between them.

He managed a rueful smile and leaned back in his chair. "Thanks. I didn't need my ego anyway."

She snorted. "Give me a break. A herd of elephants couldn't damage that thing."

He frowned. So, she thought he was a pain in the butt, too obsessed with work, a bad manager and he had a big ego? What kind of image had he been presenting? That wasn't who he was...was it? "Fine. You want to go out? Let's go."

"With you?" Her eyes widened, and she looked almost panicked. "I meant for me to go alone."

"Maybe I need to get out of here too." Yeah, maybe he didn't want to be at work. It was Saturday evening, after all. Why the hell should he be at work when Angie was running around the city? "What do you want to do?"
Get inspired at my condo?

He cursed immediately. What kind of thought was that? Since the kiss, he'd been in complete control around Angie. He hadn't trailed his fingers over her arm when she'd been leaning across him to get something from the other side of the desk. He'd stopped himself from kissing her earlobe when her snowman earrings had caught his eye. And certainly he had refrained from giving her a backrub when she'd complained about sitting too long. So why in the hell had he thought about escorting her back to his condo and taking that kiss to the next level?

"I was thinking Christmas shopping," she said, apparently oblivious to the lascivious turn of his thoughts. "I need to buy Roger some arsenic."

He scowled at her joke. "He's not worth the money." Why did she care so much about Roger? Didn't she know that he simply wasn't worth it? "Though it would probably give me the company if you killed him, so maybe it's not such a bad idea..."

She rolled her eyes at him as she shrugged on her jacket. "You and your precious company. See? It's just like I said. You have a one-track mind."

"No, I don't." He pushed back from her desk and caught the shoulders of her coat to help her into it. He slid it easily over her shoulders, and for a split second, let his hands linger. Her eyes widened, and he saw the pulse in her throat quicken.

He swore under his breath. Was she actually as affected by their intimacy as he was? Desire flared deep and powerfully within him, and he tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Angie—"

"I'm going Christmas shopping." She pulled back, and he reluctantly let his hands slide off her. "And I really wasn't planning on having you join me."

Damn. It was pissing him off that she wanted to get away from him so badly. "Why not? What if you run into an interview candidate?"

Her mouth opened to protest, so he quickly moved on to a non-work rationale. "Besides, you're so anti-Christmas these days that you'll probably survive one store, kick a Santa in the nuts and then bail for home, which would completely defeat the purpose of taking a break from the office. I'm going along to make sure you have some fun." All in the name of the story. That's what it was all about. Just business. He had a professional interest in making sure she lightened up enough to write something truly phenomenal because the twaddle they were creating now was flat and wouldn't get them a contract.

See? It was all about work.

Which it was, but it was also a complete lie. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be the one to bring light and happiness back into her eyes. Not for work, but because he wanted to be that guy. He could do it. Give him one hour, and the old Angie would be back. He would accept nothing less of himself.

She was staring at him. "You're really going to let me go shopping?"

"Sure I am. You're right that we're not making these stories any better with this approach, so let's try something else." He grabbed his overcoat from the back of her office door and threw it over his arm. "Let's go. I have shopping to do as well."

* * *

"I hate shopping. Hate it." Angie squeezed through the crowd of people lining the aisles of Macy's. "I'm going to be doing Internet shopping from now on."
Must get out. Must find freedom.
She barely dodged a handbag being thrown from what looked like a mother to her teenage daughter. People were cranky, shouting at each other, grumbling over the long checkout lines, and even the store clerks were snappy as they tried to straighten merchandise that looked like a typhoon had ripped it from its place. "Either that or abandon present-giving altogether. It's kind of a commercial proposition, anyway, isn't it?"

"Except diamonds. That's not commercial." Kyle had his hand on her lower back and was providing a buffer between her and the crowds, as he had been since they'd walked into the store. He'd been whispering comical observations about the crowds all evening, making her laugh despite the chaos. She didn't want to be shopping, but there was something about braving the holiday crowds with Kyle that had driven away her bad mood and made her feel relaxed and a little silly. "Diamonds are about love and everything pure."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you ever forget about work?" she teased him.

"According to you, never." He winked as he guided her toward an exit. "Let's go to Tiffany's and scope out the competition. Maybe you'll get inspired."

Angie grimaced, stiffening at the reminder of the stories she was having such trouble writing. "I went to Tiffany's with Heidi last week. It's just jewelry."

"Ah, but you didn't go with me and get my unique perspective." They reached the sidewalk, but it wasn't any less crowded. The line to walk by the store window displays was all the way around the corner, and a Salvation Army volunteer was standing on the corner ringing his bell.

Kyle dumped something in the bucket as they walked by, then he stopped. "I forgot. I need to get my mom a nightgown." He turned to go back to Macy's. "Come on."

Angie stopped "No way. I'm not risking my life for those crowds again."

He grinned, walked over to her, slung his arm around her neck to anchor her to his side, then started back into the store. "I'll protect you, my fair maiden."

Fair maiden? Okay, so being smashed up against Kyle might be sufficient justification to brave the crowds again. She sighed as she let him clear a path for them. What was she doing?

She was falling for him again, that's what she was doing.

She'd been so removed from him this week, trying hard to see him as an autocratic workaholic hated by the world. Yet it had taken only a few minutes of being out of the office and seeing his dimples to make her feet start tap dancing to songs of love.

No, not love.

Lust.

No way would she love him.

"Okay, here we go." He stopped next to a rack of flannel nightgowns. "Navy blue. Size extra large. Perfect."

Angie grabbed his hand as he went for the item. "Not so fast."

He lifted his brow. "You don't like it? It's conservative, practical. Perfect for my mom."

"Is she married?"

He frowned. "Yeah, to her second husband. Why? I'm not getting him the nightgown." He grinned at his own joke.

"Well, maybe you should."

"He's not a cross-dresser. I don't think he'd want it."

"No, he wouldn't want the flannel one, I agree." Angie strolled over toward the
other
side of the lingerie section, where lace, silk and spaghetti straps were in abundance. "He might, however, enjoy something from here." She picked up a pale blue nightie with a lace bodice and held it up. "This is what you should get your mom." She turned to show it to him, only to find him still standing at the flannel nightgowns, a look of horror on his face.

She waved it at him, and he shook his head and turned back to the rack of flannel nightgowns and started pawing desperately through the red plaid.

Angie started to laugh. And to think this was the man who claimed to know all about romance, at least to the point of being a love muse. She waved the sexy nightie cheerfully so that the silk fluttered. "Hey. Just because she's your mom doesn't mean she doesn't like being sexy. And I'm sure your stepdad would appreciate a little heat in the bedroom just as much as you would."