“You are impossible!” I shook my head and headed out the door with a grin.
A black town car was waiting for me. As I approached, Tom slid out from the other side and walked around the back to open the door. He was looking mouthwatering as usual in a dark suit with a silver-blue tie that perfectly complimented his eyes. I tried not to stare, merely smiling politely as I approached. Tom, however, couldn’t keep the admiration off his face as those beautiful eyes gave me a slow once-over, lingering on my curves.
“We have a lot to discuss about the merger,” he said quickly, holding open the door.
I nodded, and slipped swiftly into the car.
We talked about the merger in great detail on the ride to Bello. He told me about his new ideas and I thought they were brilliant. The man was definitely a genius. I opened my laptop and showed him some charts and graphs I’d drawn up and he loved them. He looked over at me a couple times, but his eyes seemed to be having a constant struggle as to whether to look at my legs or the laptop.
When we got there, the maître d’ led us up past the normal dining area and to a service elevator in the back. Once he’d escorted us there, he left and I looked at Tom curiously.
“What’s this?”
He pressed a button and the door closed. “You’ll see.”
When it opened again—we were in a fairy world.
I blinked in amazement as I stepped out onto the roof terrace. Little twinkle lights had been strung in a beautifully tangled web from corner to corner, and there were marble space heaters set up in tasteful columns to provide warmth. A candlelit table stood in the middle, complete with crystal stemware and a bunch of white roses on top.
“Oh my gosh!” I squealed. “This is gorgeous!”
“You like?”
“Like? I love it!”
Alright, the briefcase felt very clunky in my hand by now. Tom eased it gently away and set it by the door. Then, taking my hand, he led me to the table and pulled back a chair.
I sat down silently, face aglow from the candles. But when he sat down across from me, I couldn’t help but ask. “This is a work dinner? With champagne?”
“Do you see this?” He pulled out a single page from the merger. It was an appendix, or a translation glossary, or something equally useless. I watched with wide eyes as he wedged it beneath his wine glass. “Now it’s a work dinner.”
I bit back a smile as he poured me a glass of champagne.
“To your hard work—not bad for your first week on the job,” he toasted.
I raised my glass and countered, “To your hard work. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“To us.” He smiled. “We make a good team.”
“To us,” I agreed.
We clinked glasses and took a sip, each of us staring at the other over the top of the sparkling stemware. The champagne provided a well-needed relief, and within a minute, we’d both finished our first glass. He was quick to pour us another, and we got to work on those.
“So,” I said eventually, “do you own this place too? It has the same soundtrack.”
Faint strains of Christmas music were tinkling down from speakers overhead. He glanced up as a band struck up with ‘Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,’ noticing it for the first time.
“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly.
I looked up quickly, not entirely hiding my surprise. “No...of course not.”
It wasn’t exactly true. I hated Christmas. In fact, I hated everything to do with the holiday. But it wasn’t something that ever came up in conversation, and I truly didn’t think anyone had ever noticed before.
“You’re lying.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned across the table. “I saw it at the coffee shop as well. Tell me why.”
“I’m not,” I insisted. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. But he raised his eyebrows and stayed right where he was. After a second or two, I relented. “Christmas isn’t exactly my thing.”
“Isn’t exactly your thing?” he quoted. “Who doesn’t like Christmas?”
I smiled and took a sip of my champagne. “You’re looking at her.”
“Well, there has to be a story behind that,” he cocked his head curiously, “care to tell me why?”