A Sinful Little Christmas--A Hot Holiday Romance Read online

  “Oh really?” he asked, his interest piqued, and he was curious where her tastes lay.

  “Yeah, a couple of years ago. I was in London for a conference.”

  “And how was your visit?”

  “Quite fun. It’s a nice, comfortable place you’ve built.”

  “Thank you,” he said, a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking about the place he’d created but then been ousted from. “I look forward to finally seeing Di Terrestres as well,” he told her, hoping to take the focus off himself and put it on her own club. “Once our interview is over, that is.”

  “I’ll get someone to show you around later, if we need to. But back to you. Swings is successful, and well-known in the international community. I’m curious, though. Why exactly did you leave?”

  Michael paused. He didn’t know how to form the words, having never said them out loud to anyone before. He had deeply buried the pain and humiliation of the betrayal. But in the moments when he let himself feel, it still stung him. He hadn’t hoped to get into it during his first meeting with the woman he’d be working with. So, he went with a fair response of “It was time for my partners and me to part ways.”

  He caught the flicker of a question that showed in her eyes, her bullshit detector, no doubt, pinging at his nonresponse.

  “Why the vague answer?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. She crossed her arms, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her more-than-ample breasts pushed upward. His eyes drifted to the line of her cleavage that disappeared beneath the low neckline of her dress. “Unless you’re too busy looking at my breasts to provide an actual one.”

  Caught. “Sorry.” He wasn’t at all sorry. “There’s not much else to say about my split from my partners.”

  “I think there is.”

  “It’s nothing that will affect my ability to work here,” he assured her.

  But she wouldn’t let it go. “Legal trouble?” she asked, with her eyes narrowed and the tilt of her head showing off a length of smooth skin on her neck. All those sensitive nerve endings. He wondered if she would moan or squeal if he grazed it with his lips.

  “More like personal.” Michael’s voice was gruff, barely recognizable to him. It wasn’t anger that had transformed it—as was what happened when he normally spoke of the infidelity he’d suffered at the hands of those closest to him—but lust. It had been a while since he’d had such a reaction to a woman, no matter the attitude she threw his way. Maybe that was part of her appeal, he mused. She didn’t just fall at his feet and want to give him anything he desired. Her resistance to him was new, and the fact that he would have to work hard to impress her—well, he liked that. He could appreciate hard work. It just made the rewards sweeter.

  Alana raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

  He knew he would have to further elaborate, or she wouldn’t let it go. He averted his eyes, checking out her office—it was sleek in design, modern, but comfortable—and he blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, fine. My wife—” he caught her quick, surprised blink “—my very soon to be ex-wife,” he clarified. “We owned the club with a friend of ours. The marriage ended, the friendship ended, and so did the partnership.” Michael figured giving the short-and-not-so-sweet version of what went down would be the easiest option.

  “I know there’s something you’re leaving out there,” she pointed out. Michael said nothing, offering her nothing more about his personal life. “Why did you want to come here?”

  “I’m at a crossroads in my life. Gabe reached out to me, and I met him in Dublin.” Michael noticed her head tilt and her lips purse, then added, “I figured it was a good time for something new, a change of scenery, and I figure there’s no different scenery than Las Vegas. I’ve heard great things about Di Terrestres. You’re known internationally within the scene. I’m not sure if you know this, but I’ve known Gabe since university. He’s told me all about you.” He flicked his eyes over her. But Gabe hadn’t told him everything about her—he’d left out that Alana Carter was possibly the sexiest woman Michael had ever seen. Smoking hot, hard as steel and capable of making him want to do so many things to her, with her, have her do to him. But he stuck with “Gabe has had good things to say about you and the way you do business.” Knowing she wouldn’t make it easy for him, he kept going, hoping flattery and sex appeal would help melt her icy exterior. “I’m excited to get to work, to see what I can do for you,” he finished with an innuendo-laced, closed-lip grin. Just bring the conversation to sex, and away from his personal life. That was where his comforts lay.

  The way Alana raised her eyebrows, but then quickly lowered them, let Michael know that he’d had the intended effect. He saw the way she looked at him, and it was obvious that the attraction between them flowed both ways. She cleared her throat and leaned her elbows on her desk, zeroing in on him with those light gray eyes, while his eyes dipped again to her chest and the view he’d been presented with. “And what do you think you can do for me?” she asked, her voice husky.

  He, too, leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I can relieve some of the stress and the pressure you must be under. Being a powerful woman in a man’s world can’t be easy. I’m here to do the heavy lifting at Di Terrestres and lighten your load, no matter what it might be.”

  Alana stood behind her desk, forcing him to look up at her. He was a tall man, and had never had a woman stand over him. “I think I know how you can relieve some of the stress, and make my day a little easier...” He watched with interest as she drew her fingertips over the top of her desk. Every movement she made was crafted to have an effect on him. He could tell she knew how to use her body, her mind, every part of her, to seduce to get what she wanted.

  And Michael was almost embarrassed by how well it worked on him.

  He stood as well. He could already feel all of his blood rushing to his dick. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, first,” she said, her voice sultry, as she reached back and opened her desk drawer, took a step around the front of the desk to stand in front of him and handed over a stack of paper tickets. He inhaled deeply and found her perfume. Citrus with a floral hint, alluding to a more playful side? He wondered. Her scent was captivating, intoxicating, but no more so than the way she pursed her lips, one side tilted upward, and she dipped her chin to what she’d placed in his hand, urging him to look.

  He looked in his hand and saw what she’d given him, and he laughed without humor.

  “You can pick up my dry cleaning,” she told him, her voice still a sultry whisper. “The address is on the back.”

  Her dry cleaning? “You can’t be serious.”

  All hint of seduction was now missing from her voice and posture. “Mr. Paul, you’ll discover that I’m rarely anything but serious.”

  He shook his head, and glared down at her. “Do you know what you’re paying me? I didn’t come all the way here from London to run your errands.”

  “You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t care what I’m paying you, just make sure you prove you’re worth it.”

  He could tell she was angry, and no longer the ice queen she’d been when he walked in. It made him smile that he’d been able to affect her. “I’ll show you how worth it I am. But I have to say, I was under the impression from your partners that I’d be running Di Terrestres. Hence, that large salary.”

  “That’s a joke. I run Di Terrestres. I can’t be blamed for any misinformation you were given by my associates.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Good question.” They each watched the other, and the more Michael dueled with Alana, the more frustrating she became. And the more a sick part of him enjoyed it.

  She sighed, and he wondered if he was finally wearing her down. “Let’s get this over with, and we’ll see where you belong here,” she said. “What sorts of t
hings have you been credited with in your old club. What did you do there?”

  He sobered, and for a moment forgot about their battle of wills and the sexual tension and got back down to business. Sure, he was having fun playing with Alana, but there were few things Michael took as seriously as his old club. When it was his. “Originally, Swings was my idea. There were some deficiencies in the London kink and swing scene. It was limited to a few private parties here and there, held in private homes. But as you can imagine—going to a person’s home or someone else’s dungeon opens you up for all kinds of risks. We gave people a place to safely play. But we made it accessible to most people. Not just the super rich. With different price points and levels of membership, our first-tier dues are modest, but the application process is still as intense, and people had to be referred by a member.”

  “Did you see any challenges with that? Allowing it to be more open?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone deserves to have fun, as long as they follow the rules and respect other people. We had a private area for more well-known patrons, but everyone at all tiers was able to enjoy the facilities. Maybe that’s something we could do here. Increase profits by finding a way for allowing everyone to come here.”

  “I wouldn’t start making big plans yet,” she told him.

  “Are you so afraid of change?”

  She said nothing. Michael sat back and regarded her. The angrier she looked, the more defiant the look in her eyes, the sexier she became, the more he liked it, and it made him smile. She had a tough, cold exterior, but he could see the passion that burned underneath the facade. “Control,” he said.

  She blinked, looked startled. “What?” she asked, even though he knew she heard exactly what he’d said.

  He grinned. “You get off on control, don’t you?”

  Watching Alana as she busied herself with some files on her desk, straightening them in a stack, and then restraightening them, not looking at him, he thought this might be the way to get beneath that tough exterior. She didn’t respond.

  “Am I right?” he prodded. “You like to show you’re in charge, no matter where you are, don’t you?”

  “What are you doing?” Alana’s voice was low.

  He shrugged. “I’m just trying to get to know my new boss. Tell me what you’re into. When you go downstairs, where do you go? The dungeon?” He thought about it, and shook his head. “No, I don’t think you’re a dungeon woman. Orgy rooms? I have to say no again, because I don’t see you having fun unless you are in complete control. A fem domme?” he asked himself, knowing she wouldn’t answer. He nodded in appreciation at the thought. “Well, that’s intriguing.” He had to admit, he liked to be in charge, but he might seriously let Alana call the shots if she wanted to. Perhaps. Maybe once. Then he would show her exactly how he liked to be in control.

  “You are seriously skating on the line of a sexual harassment suit,” she warned him. “I don’t know how you ran things in London, but we have a professional place of business here. We keep our extracurricular activities separate from work, and we expect the same from our staff. So, if you expect to have a future here, I recommend you remember that.”

  “I will. And I respect your policies.” That part was true, but that didn’t mean he was done prodding her. “You’re definitely not a woman who likes to be told what to do, are you?”

  “You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head, and closed her eyes. He knew she was losing patience with him. And he loved it. “This interview isn’t going particularly well.”

  He grinned, still desperate to break through her walls and see the passion he knew was underneath. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. But I’ve already got the job, remember? Tell me how you like to be in charge.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

  Michael pushed himself up from the couch, and took the step to stand in front of her desk. Flattening his palms on the desktop, he leaned over it and watched her. Her eyes were widened with surprise, her pupils dilated as they locked on his. Her shoulders heaved with her deep breaths. Every one of her actions, the micromovements of her face exhibited desire. He knew she wanted him.

  “I think it has quite a bit to do with us.”

  She blinked. “Us?” Her laugh was more of a coughing sound, and she looked away from him briefly, as if she were trying to hang on to the control that he was pulling from her grasp. But she looked up, confident, and he could see that she was still holding her own. Alana Carter was a formidable opponent. A coldness came over her eyes. “Let’s get this straight, Michael. I might run an erotic club, which my partners may have hired you for, but my own sexual proclivities are none of your business. As for us, I’m your boss. You’re my employee. And I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, or what it is you’re trying to prove coming in here and swinging your big old dick around,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But there is no us.

  “And as for you thinking you’re going to come in here and fluster me, throw me off guard, dominate me,” she ground out, “whatever your goal is here, it isn’t going to work. Every single day, men come in here and think they’re going to have their way with me—in the boardroom, the job site, the bedroom—but every time I make sure to let them know just how wrong, how small, they are.” She drew her pink tongue over her top teeth. “And they never try again.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Alana’s laugh was humorless, and held an edge of malice. Although she was at least a foot shorter than him, she faced him. “Look at the set of balls on you,” she said, her voice a dangerous whisper. “You think you can stroll on in here and presume to run my club. I know a man who looks like you, carries himself like you is used to having women fall at your feet, ready to do whatever you want. But listen to me, buddy, I’m not like those women. I will break you down, piece by piece, and completely dismember you.” She jutted her chin in his direction. “And I’ll keep those big balls of yours in a jar in my Birkin bag.”

  A slight shiver crawled up Michael’s spine. Impressed and a little frightened of the woman in front of him, he stepped back from her. “You’re good.”

  “I know,” she said, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face as she crossed her arms. “So, don’t think you’re going to beat me, or that I’ll give up control of my club that easily.” Her smile turned full, revealing straight white teeth behind ruby red lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you want some advice before you go?” she asked. “I promise, it’ll make your day a little easier.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She leaned close so that their lips were only inches apart. He could taste her sweet breath. “The dry cleaning place closes at six,” she whispered. “You’d better leave now if you hope to make it.”

  Michael looked at her, then at the tags he’d put on the desk. He wasn’t her errand boy, and that wasn’t how their business relationship was going to work. But when he saw the defiant set of her jaw, he knew it wasn’t a fight that he was going to win that day. He snatched up the tags in his fist. “Fine. Anything else?”

  “No. See Cameron outside, he’ll call you a car.”

  “I have a car.” Michael glared, and turned on his heel. Walking out, he looked over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he promised. It would be a new day to do battle with the woman in front of him. Even though she had the power to destroy him—so help him, God—he was looking forward to it. He’d never been a masochist, but when it came to Alana, he was certain that she could convince him. If he didn’t lower her resistance first, that is.

  “Tomorrow. Bright and early,” she told him, an all-too-sweet smile adorning her cynical lips.

  Michael vowed to revisit the conversation. Another time. Right now, he had some dry cleaning to pick up for the boss lady. If she thought she’d won the battle, however, she was sorely mistaken. He left her office, slamming the door
behind him.

  Alana may have won that round. But the war wasn’t over.

  * * *

  Alana stared at the closed door for a while before she was able to breathe again. And when she did, the air escaped her lungs in a quick rush. “Oh, fuck me,” she said aloud to her empty office. The words shot out, unabated, as they’d been on the tip of her tongue, and were the same words she’d almost found herself saying to Michael Paul, her newest employee. The man was arrogant, imposing, annoying, condescending, thought he could take her down, and he’d even had the nerve to try to manipulate her with sex. But what surprised Alana the most was that she also found him to be completely irresistible.

  The heat returned to her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with her supposed medical issue, but with a pure, carnal desire for a man she knew could make her life extremely difficult. Save his cocky attitude—which was due for a serious adjustment—Michael would have been just her type. And when he’d grilled her on her sex life, which was completely inappropriate in a workplace setting, he’d absolutely nailed her, and what she liked.

  Control. Power. They were the things that she carried with her throughout her life, and not solely in the bedroom. Alana held on to her business with a tight grip, and she wasn’t quite prepared to pass it over to some man she didn’t even know. Who thought he could stroll in and turn her life completely upside down.

  But God. Just his presence had had an effect on her. Clenching her thighs together to alleviate the pressure that had built there, she took deep breaths until she was able to think about anything but him again. What had happened to her? One moment, she was sitting behind her desk, ready to send Michael Paul packing back to London. The next, the tall, dark Adonis had made her melt into a puddle on her chair.

  Inhaling, she could still smell him—his spicy cologne, his essence. Even though he’d gone, he was still in her office. Like he’d invaded the place, and refused to leave. She had to find a way to get him out of her building, and the hell away from her, before she found herself underneath him.