Seduced By My Billionaire Boss (The Billionaire Boss Series, #1) (13 page)

She pursed her lips but wisely chose not to contest this. Instead, she supported me in her own silent way by running out and getting me a little care package from the mini-mart down the street. Vodka, chapstick, and condoms. The perfect storm. I blushed a little when she handed it to me, but zipped it up without question into my bag. Rose had been on many sex weekends before. I’d do well to follow her advice...

So long story short, here I was, in my finest underwear, under my warmest clothes, drumming my fingers nervously against the handle of my bag, waiting for a town car to whisk me away and the sex weekend to begin.

As it turned out, I was only right about the first part of it. It wasn’t a town car that pulled up against the curb, but a shiny red sports car. At first, I thought the driver must merely be stopping to ask for directions, so when the window rolled down, I was surprised to see Tom.

“Get in,” he instructed, throwing open the door.

I hesitated for a moment before tossing my suitcase in the back and climbing onto the smooth leather seat. It wasn’t the kind of car I’d expect him to drive. In fact, after having lived in New York for so long, I was surprised to see anyone I knew driving. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten behind the wheel of a car myself. But he looked perfectly at home, gunning the engine and shooting us off through traffic like a pro. It wasn’t long before we were leaving the city and winding our way through snowy, mountain roads.

We hadn’t said much in the first hour or so of the drive. I think both of us were too nervous to be caught red-handed leaving the city on our illicit retreat. But when the skyscrapers were replaced with towering pines, I cast him a look out of the corner of my eye.

“So how is this going to go?” I asked in neutral tones. “Are we going to talk at all? Should I have brought a book?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Geese.”

He turned to me with an amused frown. “You want to talk about—”

“No—
geese
!”

He slammed on the breaks and the car went skidding forward, coming to a stop just inches away from a flock of birds, ambling obliviously down the country road. We both sat there for a minute, catching our breath before he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Good talk.”

It was definitely the ice breaker, and we laughed for a good ten minutes. The conversation flowed and I felt like I’d known him forever. We talked about work, and then it got more personal. We were both exchanging stories and before we knew it, we’d reached the cottage. As our tires crunched to a slow stop, my mouth fell open in amazement. Tom’s ‘cottage in the woods’ turned out to be a little slice of wintery heaven. It looked like one of those Thomas Kinkade puzzles my mother would always do. Tidy brick walls, quaint thatched roof, frozen winter garden. There was even a little stack of firewood under the eaves.

“This is cozy,” Jenna said.

“It’s small,” Tom said as we looked up appraisingly. “I apologize for how small. It was never meant to entertain guests...”

I glanced at him curiously before returning my gaze to the house. Small, perhaps. But cozy, picturesque. It looked like a little painting, nestled away in the snow.

“Shall we?”

I looked back to see him offering out his hand.

Alright, Jenna, it’s now or never...

“We shall.”

We headed round to the trunk and unloaded the groceries we’d picked up from a little snow drenched shop on the way in. For the most part, it was fruits and vegetables, with a couple bags of pasta thrown in. But Tom had insisted on making a particular purchase, and the second we walked in the door, he ripped open a package of Oreos. He grinned in anticipation, taking a big handful before offering them out to me.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t get enough Oreos.”

“It’s tradition,” he said, “can’t argue with tradition.”

With dainty fingers, I extracted a single one from the bag. He frowned and shook it again under my nose, and I took two more. With a grin to match his own, I popped them into my mouth as we continued unloading the car.

Who was I to argue with Larchwood family tradition?

While I started stacking the empty cupboards with the food we’d bought, Tom went out onto the porch and returned with an armful of logs. A minute later, a roaring fire was crackling happily beneath the mantle. I finished quickly in the kitchen and came to stand in front of it, warming the tips of my fingers, when something soft came down upon my hand.

“What the—”

I whirled around with a ridiculous kung-fu gesture at the same time that a fluffy cotton ball dangled down past my face. I peered around incredulously to see Tom standing by the sofa, wearing a Santa hat of his own—and a huge, goofy grin.

Oh, be still my melting heart.

He was just too perfect. A band of white fur around his forehead. His dark hair—messy now—peeking out from underneath. The smile of a five-year-old child.

...And an ax.

He grinned. “Come with me if you want to live.”

I snorted with laughter as he raised the weapon above his head to illustrate his point.

“This was my nightmare, you know. All except for the Oreos.”

“Oh no,” he grabbed another handful, “the Oreos are a must. But we still have a few more traditions to uphold—and the first one happens to be outside.” He glanced down at my fancy designer flats before cocking his head toward a closet. “I have some boots if you—”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I teased. Without another word, I unzipped my bag and pulled out my hiking boots—quickly hiding a lace garter from sight. Tom raised his eyebrows but said nothing as I yanked them on and stood up triumphantly. “There, ready.”

He pursed his lips and flicked the cotton ball from my face. “You look adorable.”

I laughed.

He smiled. “If you’ll follow me.”

We must have walked for miles out there in the snow. There were times when it grew so dense, that I had to follow behind in his tracks. Another time, he had to literally pick me up out of a deep bank that came up to my waist. But I hardly noticed. I hardly even realized it was snowing. I was too busy listening to Tom.

If he’d been quiet before in the car, he certainly made up for it now. It was like I was seeing a whole different side of him. In light of the holidays, he’d put the businessman away, and all that was left was a thirty-year-old with a sports car—thrilled to be out in the snow.

He rambled on about childhood memories as we walked, occasionally picking up a handful of powder and tossing it back my way. He told me stories about him and Michael as children, stories that had never been published in the papers. He was just regaling me with a tale of how a twelve-year-old version of himself with a younger Michael had stolen his grandfather’s Mercedes and went joy-riding around Central Park when he stopped dead in his tracks.

The look on his face sent chills down my spine as he stared intently over my shoulder.

“Jenna...don’t move.”

Without thinking, I leapt into his arms.

“What-is-it-a-bear?!”

He blinked in surprise, catching me gracefully—despite the ax—and staring down with a smile into my flushed face. Then, quicker than I could see, he kissed the tip of my nose.

“I think I found our Christmas tree.”

He set me down gently on my feet and I turned around with him to stare at the giant Douglas fir. It was indeed, the perfect tree. Leave it to Tom to find it. Even someone who had little attachment to the idea of Christmas trees had to admire its beauty. Its needles were a deep emerald green, set on perfectly arched branches and tilted up in sharply scented points to the sky.

“Alright Jenna, here’s your big moment.”

I looked around to see him offering me the ax. For a second, I just stared between the heavy blade and the tree. Was he kidding...?

Then he threw back his head with a loud laugh. “Shit—you should see your face.”

He started slicing at the trunk, still chuckling to himself, as I shook my head sarcastically and stared up at the sky. It was snowing even harder now, with big, fat flakes spirally slowly out of the winter clouds. I opened my mouth to catch a few, smiling as they melted on the tip of my tongue. Tom continued hacking away, and before I knew what I was doing, I fell straight down onto my back.

The hacking immediately stopped as I closed my eyes and waved my arms up and down to make an angel. A second later, there was a soft thud beside me in the snow.

A pair of warm lips pressed down over mine.

My eyes opened, and I pulled in a silent gasp to see Tom leaning over me in the snow.

Okay, so maybe I was a little behind on my sex weekend rules, but wasn’t this...a little romantic?

I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, but he immediately pinned them down and held them above my head. When his eyes opened and locked with mine, he gave me a little smile.

“You don’t want to ruin the angel...”

He got to his feet and lifted me in a single movement, setting me down lightly beside the imprint. As I turned to the fallen tree, I could have sworn I saw him take a quick picture with his phone before slipping it hastily back in his pocket.

“So now what?” I asked a little breathlessly, caught off guard by the kiss.

“Now, we carry it home.”

I looked at it doubtfully. “A whole tree?”

He chuckled. “What did you think was going to happen?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Well I don’t know, but I didn’t think...”

“Come on, you big baby. You can carry the little end.”

It took much longer to get back to the house dragging a tree than it had to hike out into the woods in the first place, but we did it in fine spirits. I only fell down twice, and each time, he immediately tripped himself in a hilarious show of solidarity. We laughed and pulled and teased, until finally, we made it back to the cottage.

Getting it inside the cottage, was another story altogether.

“Could you have picked a bigger tree?” I huffed, pushing with all my might.

“It didn’t look this big in the woods,” he admitted, panting as he tried to body slam it through the door.

“Well, maybe we could just—”

I cut off, choking, as I inhaled what felt like a pound of snow.

“There—I got it!” Tom said triumphantly, oblivious to my plight. “I just tipped it toward you, and I went right in.”

I spat out a mouthful of powder and glared. “That’s so wonderful for you.”

But inside—I had to admit—the tree looked wonderful. While I did a covert check for spiders, Tom disappeared into the hallway. Soft Christmas carols began floating down from speakers mounted into the wall, and a second later, he reappeared with a box of ornaments.

“Let me guess,” I pointed up at the speakers, “another tradition.”

“Miss Harks, I’m going to make a believer out of you yet.”

We delved into the box while feasting on eggnog and a tray of snowman shaped sugar cookies that Tom swore he baked, but I was certain I’d seen on display in the store. The ornaments weren’t exactly what I expected. I’d assumed they’d be sleek, pointed, a uniform color. But these...?

I couldn’t help but laugh as I pulled a hand-crafted snowflake from the mix. It was made of what looked like popsicle sticks and enough glitter to blanket Manhattan. When I held it up in a silent question, Tom took it with a smile.

“Ah yes, my greatest creation. Some would argue it was the Penelt-Concord merger of 2002, but no,” he hung the snowflake carefully on a branch, “it was this.”

My fingers froze inside the box. “You...made these?”

“Me and Mike.” He grinned and held up a rock that had been dipped in green paint. “This was his contribution that year.” With delicate hands, he placed it on the mantle. He turned back around with a smile, but saw that I had frozen, staring at him with a most peculiar look tightening my face. “What is it?” he asked quickly, coming back over with a frown.

I tucked my hair quickly behind my ears. “It’s nothing, it’s just...” I stared up into his eyes. “This weekend isn’t turning out to be what I expected.”

His face softened and grew almost tender as he stared down. Then gently, ever so gently, he twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. “Me neither.”

We bustled around more quickly after that, eating our weight in Oreos and tangling ourselves in Christmas lights as we slowly draped them over the tree. When we were done, Tom hung a huge wreath up on the mantel and then turned off all the lamps. He draped his arm around me as I came to stand beside him. “Alright, are you ready?” I nodded with excitement, and he plugged in the lights.

The room lit up with a million little twinkles and I shivered from head to my toe. Tom gripped my hand tightly as our faces flashed with a dozen glowing lights. First blue, then green, then yellow. I was so mesmerized by what was happening. I didn’t even realize he was leaning down until we kissed.

It was sweet, slow, and tender.

Magical.

With the lights sparkling all over the room—it was pure magic.

Before I’d nearly had enough, he pulled away and set me gently on the couch. I stayed perfectly still, watching with a little grin as he pulled open the doors on an ancient television and then started fiddling with the VCR. A second later, the music started in on ‘Miracle on 34
^th
Street.’ He draped a thick, fur blanket over our legs and settled in beside me on the couch.

“This was always my favorite,” he said softly, his eyes still flashing with the many colors of the tree. “We’d watch it every year on Christmas Eve. I kept it up for a long time,” he admitted, “but I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“I’ve never seen it,” I confessed.

He wound his arm around my shoulder and snuggled me tighter up against him. “Well, you will tonight.”

The movie was exactly the sort of calming, holiday sparkle we needed after a rather emotion-packed day full of tree-hauling and sudden make-out sessions. We nestled deep down under the blanket, pulling our feet onto the couch as the fire slowly gave way to glowing embers.

Alright—I had to say it—I was out of my element here.