Mistletoe Over Missoula Read online

  “Mr. Redmond? I didn’t see you come in. I apologize for any confusion. Our gathering is upstairs. I do hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Drew said as her eyes darted between the two of us.

  What did she just say? Holy shit! Harris Redmond.

  I was still stuck on stupid trying to process everything when the handsome stranger…correction, when the head of Red Reads, Harris Redmond replied.

  “No apologies necessary,” he said, as he stepped out from behind me and circled to my left side. Looking down at my stricken face, he spoke to me this time. “Ms. Morris, or should I say Becca? After so many lively email exchanges I feel as though we should be on first-name basis. Anyway, Becca and I were just discussing first impressions, bourbon, and the importance of a good fit.”

  “We agree on the importance of a strong finish,” I said smugly. Now it was Drew’s turn to look confused. I decided to smoothe the awkwardness by clarifying, “When it comes to bourbon that is. There’s nothing worse than a cheap phony disguised in clever packaging.” I dared to glance at him through my eyelashes as I sipped the amber liquid. At the moment, drinking was the only suitable distraction for a man like Harris Redmond.

  “Oh let’s not overlook the package, Becca,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “As someone who specializes in packaging, you know better than most not to judge a book by its cover.”

  Well played, Sir. Well played.

  “True. But, even the most carefully crafted cover can’t overcome every shortcoming.”

  Were we still talking about bourbon?

  Harris gave me a knowing smile and took another pull from his glass. I did the same. So much for staying sober tonight. Right now I was just thankful for a liquid dinner. It might be the only way I make it through this night with my legs closed and still gainfully employed.

  Drew–sensing a shift in the conversation–did what any good friend would do. She bailed me out.

  “Well, lucky for us, R&R only publishes the best and brightest.” She then addressed Harris directly. “Speaking of which, some of our local talents were especially honored to learn you would be attending our gathering tonight. Shall I escort you to the lounge so you can be introduced?” With the poise of a pageant queen, she gestured to the stairs that led to our cursed Christmas party location.

  I was in no mood to venture back to the party. Besides, Mr. Redmond and I had a few things to sort out before heading upstairs.

  And by upstairs, I mean the party of course.

  Not his room.

  Not that I thought he wanted to take me to his room.

  Or that I would even go if he did want to take me back to his room.

  I don’t think I would go if he did. I’m like, seventy percent sure I wouldn’t set foot inside his room. Okay…more like fifty percent sure. I am however, one hundred percent sure that there a few things that need to be clarified before being surrounded by co-workers.

  Suddenly I found my voice again. “We were actually about to go find you, Drew. We just need to settle up at the bar first. Then I’ll show Mr. Redmond upstairs.”

  As the words left my mouth, I received two distinctly different looks. Drew gave me her, “I expect you to spill every juicy detail of whatever the hell just happened,” face. And Harris? Harris gave me a look that read a lot like the only thing he wanted spilled was my cleavage out of the sequin casing that clung to my “girls.”

  I needed to hold my ground. And hold on to my dignity by keeping my dress on. I waited for Drew to head off back upstairs before I laid…Nope. Before I let Harris have it. Aghh! Let’s try this again. Before I gave Harris Redmond a piece of…my mind! I was going to say, give him a piece of my mind!

  Judging by the blinding smile he wore, Harris was not only fully aware of my dirty mind, but he was enjoying it. Well, we shall see how much he enjoys having a patent leather pump suppository, because he’s about to get my foot up his backside.

  “Mr. Redmond, I…”

  “Please, call me Harris, Becca.”

  “Fine. Harris Becca. You…”

  “Just Harris,” he said with a chuckle. I decided to skip over his name entirely.

  “You knew who I was?” Seeking more privacy, I walked him slowly toward the recess under the stairs.

  “Yes.”

  “You knew I worked for you?” I poked at his chest, pushing him farther into the darkened space as he removed the glass from my hand.

  “Yes.” No shame what-so-ever showed on his face. He set both glasses on the small ledge under the staircase, but I didn’t fully register the act as I pressed him further.

  “Did you have any intention of mentioning that little fact? And what kind of boss flirts with an employee? Plus, how did you even know what I looked like? And why are you even here?” The questions were pouring out of my mouth like whiskey from a bottle. The only thing that stopped the steady stream of my inquiry was the abrupt sensation of his lips capturing mine.

  My chest tightened as he stole the air from my lungs. With a hunger that matched my own, his tongue slipped past my lips and began searching my mouth for forgiveness. One hand buried in my hair and the other cupping my jaw, he tasted of Four Roses and forbidden promises.

  And damn. The man can kiss.

  Suddenly, I forgot where I put both my drink and my anger. My hands at first found their way to his firm chest with every intention of pushing him away. Then those same hands navigated their way up over his muscular shoulders and wrapped around his neck. Having successfully caressed me into compliance, he broke our kiss. He eased back just enough to look into my eyes. My lips puffy from his ambitious mouth, I returned his gaze and waited for words to come.

  His words. Mine. It didn’t matter. Anything to cut through the silence. He found the words before I did.

  “As I said before, you had my attention the moment you entered the room. If I’m being completely honest, you had my attention long before that. To answer your questions…I knew what you looked like from the H.R. files. I know who you are from your many e-mails. I knew I had to meet you after the first month of our correspondence. And to be clear, I intend to do more than just flirt with you, Becca.”

  Harris paused briefly before continuing, “You asked what kind of boss would kiss you speechless at his company’s Christmas party? The answer? A man who has traveled a great distance to meet the woman he has been waiting for two years to see. I’ve been waiting a long time to feel you under me, and hear you screaming my name again, and again.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s it? Oh?” The hint of laughter in his voice did nothing to mask the desire in his eyes.

  “Just give me a second. Okay?” I took a steadying breath and eased my hands back down to his chest, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Either the bourbon, or that kiss kind of scrambled my brain a bit. I...I just don’t know what to say just yet.”

  “Fair enough.” He released my head and brought his hands to cover mine. With my much smaller hands in his, he brought my wrists up to his lips and planted soft kisses there. First one hand, followed by the other.

  “This…you…it’s a lot to process,” I said finally. I looked up at him to gauge his response.

  “There’s nothing to process, Becca.” His fingers gently stroked my jaw as he spoke. “I want you. Plain and simple. I am a patient man. Hell, I’ve waited this long to meet you.” For a split second, he seemed almost shy. Then, just as swiftly, the confident businessman regained control. “But I’m here now because I’m tired of waiting. I’m here tonight because of you. I came here for you.”

  Realization finally dawning on me, I spoke. “You came for me?” Holding me close, he simply nodded. The way he looked at me. Looked at me with such intensity. With such longing. I had to know more.

  “Why?”

  “I came here to make you mine.”

  “I must be drunk. You sound just like the books I design for.” He laughed as he held me. “I’m serious. Who talks like that? Men only
talk like that between the sheets or between the pages of an H.R. Scott novel.” His entire body grew rigid.

  What did I say?

  He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if not able to say what was on his mind.

  This night seemed bound and determined to test me. After letting my boss feel me up and stick his tongue down my throat, I needed to save us both from saying anymore. “We should probably get upstairs before Drew sends out the search party for us.”

  “Becca, I…I have a confession to make. It’s funny you should mention…”

  “Harris, please.” I stepped back from him. I needed to gather my wits before this went any further. “I’m not sure I can handle much more in the way of honesty at the moment.” His hands dropped to his sides as he let me continue. “My best friend has hijacked my night, forced me into this dress, and hauled me to this party. I’ve just put away a full dose of booze on a half-empty stomach after running into my ex and the woman he left me for. Oh, and let’s not forget… I just made out with my boss. I just made out with my boss and I really, really liked it.” He was smiling again at my admission. “Can we push pause on the honesty right now? At least, until I regain feeling in my lips and I can think straight?”

  “Consider this conversation tabled for the moment.” He held his elbow out for me to take, and we emerged from our hiding spot. I should have known he would have the last word, though. We began to climb the stairs, and he spoke one last tease to me. “Make no mistake, Becca. We’re not finished yet. Tonight is going to be a very long night.”

  Chapter 6

  Co-workers are a lot like Christmas lights. They all hang around together, but half of them don’t work and the other half aren’t that bright. Harris and I reached the top of the stairs looking suspiciously together. Half of the people at the party didn’t even notice while the other half were already fully in the bag.

  Me? I had lost all remnants of my buzz after Harris promised that we’d be continuing our previous conversation. His wild flattery left my body swimming in a mix of confusion and lust. Two things were now clear to me. One was that I really did need to get out of the house more. And the second was that I needed to put the bourbon down and pick up some food before I lost every last ounce of self-control.

  As if on cue, one of the most obnoxious authors in the R&R story stable saddled up right next to Mr. Harris Redmond. Mavis Beaumont wrote of historical indiscretions. Of willing ladies in waiting and devilish rogues with no intention of waiting. A pharmaceutically preserved fifty-three, this cougar-tastic tease had just devoured husband number four. Now freed from captivity and released back into the wild, Mavis was on the prowl for lucky number five. And like I said before, Harris was pure catnip.

  “Harris Redmond!” she exclaimed.

  Perhaps her overly enthusiastic greeting could be used as a diversion.

  I attempted to slide my hand out from under Harris’ arm, but no dice. He squeezed his arm tighter to his side, effectively pinning my hand in place. He wasn’t letting me go that easily.

  “Nice to see you again, Mavis,” he replied, unfazed.

  “How long has it been darling? One? Two years now? Why I can’t believe I haven’t laid eyes on you since the convention back in San Antonio.”

  “Convention?” I asked. If he wasn’t going to let me go, then I wasn’t about to be ignored.

  “More of a conference really. The Romance Writers of America’s annual conference, Honey. Everyone who’s anyone in the industry attends.” She paused before landing a passive aggressive jab to my ego. “Have you never been, Sweetie?”

  And the claws are out, I see.

  And what’s with the names? Honey? Sweetie? I was about to punch her square in one of those sweet new implants if she threw any more of those sugar-laced nicknames at me.

  Harris countered before I could. “I don’t believe she has had the pleasure yet. Though, a few moments ago, Becca and I were discussing what lay ahead. I see many new experiences in her future.” He stood confidently while I turned as red as Mavis’s dress. If I didn’t need a change of underwear before, I certainly needed them now.

  “If you’ll pardon us a moment, Mavis, I was just about to deliver our Mr. Redmond here to Drew, as per her request.” I nodded apologetically as I tugged on Harris’s arm to lead him away from that surgically enhanced harpy.

  Once we were out of earshot, I spoke to him through gritted teeth. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That? Mavis Beaumont runs her mouth faster than she runs through husbands.”

  “What did I say?” he asked. Mirth was obvious on his face.

  “You can’t use words like pleasure, and lay and talk about what experiences I might have,” I spat out as quietly as I could.

  He inched closer to my ear as we ventured farther into the space and whispered, “Oh, but Becca… I fully intend for you to experience a great many pleasures tonight.”

  “Oh for the love of everything holy,” I shushed him. “You can’t talk like that. I have to work with these people. Granted I work from home most the time. But, still.” Turning to face him, I gritted my teeth again and threw on my best fake smile before continuing. “Why don’t ya just hold up a neon sign?”

  “And what would this sign read.” He was baiting me.

  “That you just made me drench my skimpy little knickers when you made me your willing make out puppet downstairs. Why don’t you just broadcast it to the whole damn party that I just snogged my boss and was two seconds away from climbing him like a damn Christmas tree in the middle of the damn hotel?” I huffed at him while trying to keep my professional mask in place.

  Harris’s expression changed instantly. From alight with amusement to burning with need. His jaw clenched. He inched closer to me, inhaled a ragged breath, and closed his eyes as if trying to picture what I had just told him. When he opened those startling baby blue-eyes, I could see them crackle with a craving he didn’t even attempt to hide.

  “Ahh, good. Your timing is perfect.” Drew’s voice broke the spell.

  Again with the voice from behind?

  This was becoming a bit of a theme tonight.

  If Drew saw all that was unspoken between Harris and me, she gave no indication. “I’ve assembled a few of our local talents just over here for you to meet. Would you mind if I introduced you to them? It would make their year. Then perhaps you can give a few words to the group? You know, before the celebrating gets too out of hand.” Drew flashed Harris her winningest smile and cast a not-so-subtle eyebrow raise in my direction. I could see she had already made a calendar appointment with me for a complete “debriefing” of this evening.

  Speaking of debriefing…up until Drew cornered us, Harris looked as though he was about to address my besotted britches comment. Instead, now, he simply smiled at Drew and responded as courteously as ever.

  “Of course. It would be my pleasure.” He then released my hand and turned to looked at me warmly while continuing to address Drew. “Don’t let this one duck out early though. Becca and I have much to discuss and I feel I’ve only nicked the surface. I would hate for her to finish before I get a chance dig deeper.”

  Clever son of a…

  I need to stop arming this man with such easy comebacks. I also need to put my eyeballs back in my head. His remarks had stretched my expression so wide my eyes felt like they might actually pop out of my skull.

  Drew led Harris Redmond to a gaggle of adoring authors.

  I led myself to the hors d'oeuvre table.

  Four roasted baby red potatoes with crème fraiche, two bruschetta’s, three barbecued meatballs, and one jalapeno popper later, he was still at it. I cozied up to a cheese tray while I continued to clock Harris’s location as he worked the crowd.

  I had to wonder–have I been living under a rock? Everyone seemed to know who he was. Was I the only employee who never bothered doing a Google search to see what our fearless leader looked like? Before tonight, I
had never creeped on Harris Redmond via Facebook or any other social media platform. But, in person–I was borderline stalking him as he made rounds. I couldn’t help it. My brain was stuck on the rewind button replaying every word he said to me. I kept replaying them over and over. Like I was scrubbing the memory to make sure I was not a part of some cosmic blooper reel. That I hadn’t just imagined the whole thing.

  To call Harris handsome seemed ridiculous. Handsome just wasn’t a strong enough word. No, this man was stunning. Sure, he had a body that begged to be worshipped. And yes, those hands could no doubt play any willing woman like a guitar. And who wouldn’t be willing? But the final nail in the coffin has got to be the combination of those eyes and that smile. One look from that man in my direction, and I was being gifted a thousand Christmas Eve’s wrapped up in one incredibly sexy package.

  And he wanted me? Those could not have been the words he used. Men like him, don’t tell girls like me, things like that. The Harris Redmond’s of the world don’t go around professing years of lusting after a romance novel cover designer they’ve only ever e-mailed.

  What was even in those e-mails?

  What was so damn tempting that this man now wanted to, and I quote, “feel me under him screaming his name?”

  I racked my brain so hard that it practically begged me to refill my bourbon glass. Mentally I sifted through every correspondence I could conjure up to the front of my memory. I thought I had been professional enough. Had I ever missed a deadline? Had I ever been curt or unreceptive to his critique? Did a client lodge a complaint or something? I certainly didn’t recall any of our e-mails ever being anywhere NEAR as intimate as the dialogue we had tonight. Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with any plausible reason why the smoking hot guy across the room would be fixated on the girl in the borrowed dress currently hunkered over the cheese platter.

  Still trying to recall the backlog of e-mails, I absentmindedly reached for another cube of Dubliner Cheese. That’s when a woman’s hand about the size of a wombat’s, lightly prod my shoulder for attention.