Crashing Christmas: A Billionaire Office Romance Page 3

  I send an emergency text to Nicole.

  Remember how I made fun of you for sleeping with the boss? Apparently, I slept with mine, too. The mystery man is Jack Morgan. And now I think he’s here to fire me. Meet me for drinks after work? Or lunch. I might be done by then.

  Before I can receive a response, I’m summoned to the conference room.

  Jack looks good enough to eat in his black three-piece suit. I need to get my head out of the gutter. He’s surrounded by the senior staff and his lawyer stands beside him. Every single one of them has their shoulders back like they’re ready to go into battle. Without question, a commanding presence.

  Confusion, embarrassment, and annoyance all course through me, and the mixture makes me want to throw up the coffee and Berlinger donut I just ate.

  Jack Morgan doesn’t look surprised to see me, which means he has to have known who I was. What the hell was he thinking? My blood pressure rises.

  There’s only one seat left, immediately to his left.

  Gesturing to the seat, Jack says, “Why don’t you sit down, Jillian? Can I call you Jillian?”

  The bastard is smug. Screw him. “No.”

  His eyes flash.

  I swallow hard and try again. “No, thank you.”

  He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. If he weren’t laughing at me, I’d find him so devilishly handsome that if we were alone I’d straddle his lap. Those damn hazel eyes with flecks of gold, and his hair. Why does it have to be salt and pepper at his temples? I never thought I liked it until I met him and now I find it wildly attractive. Not to mention what he looks like with his clothes off.

  I shake my head to get the image of him naked out of my mind.

  “Take a seat, please, Ms. Harmon,” he says crisply.

  Even his bossy voice has me thinking dirty thoughts. With a sigh and groan, I accommodate him and sit.

  Jack opens the meeting. “My name is Jack Morgan. I’m the new owner of this company. We’ll be doing some restructuring and we’re going to have to let some of you go. You should be pleased with the severance packages.”

  Turning to his lawyer, he holds out his hand. The lawyer gives him a tall stack of envelopes.

  My throat goes dry. There’s zero chance he’s keeping me.

  “As I call your name, please come collect your severance check. You’ll have half an hour to clean out your desk and leave the building. Thank you.” He’s calm and I don’t understand why.

  Glancing around at my co-workers and the shocked look on their faces puts me on edge. Most of them have given many years of their lives to the agency. Jack Morgan is a heartless jerk. I grip the edge of my seat, holding on for the rest of the ride.

  Jack is passing out envelopes like Oprah. Only, unlike Oprah, no one wants what he’s giving.

  “Sheila Davis,” Jack says, his voice monotone and cold.

  My heart sinks. All I can think about are the pictures of Sheila’s twin babies. She and her husband tried for so long to have them and spent a small fortune on fertility treatments. What is she going to do?

  Sheila is crying into a wrinkled up tissue. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she’s sniffling loudly. I’d like to go comfort her, but I don’t have any encouraging words for her. Instead, I give her a sympathetic nod as she walks past.

  “Jason Preston,” Jack calls out.

  Oh, no. Not Jason. He’s probably the hardest working guy on my team. Not to mention, he just shared with me that his wife just lost her job, too. The contents of my stomach move further up the back of my throat.

  My head hangs as nearly everyone in the office gets his or her pink slip and severance pay. I take a calming breath and wait for my name to be called. What will I do if I don’t have a job? I have barely enough room to turn around in my apartment, much less find a roommate. I don’t want to move, but I might have to.

  Finally, he’s silent, and the rest of the room has cleared out. Hot tears sting my eyes.

  Jack leans over and whispers in my ear, “So, I suppose you hate me now.”

  My head snaps around to glare at him and we’re nose to nose, which makes me want to kiss him. My stomach flips when I smell his masculine cologne. I hate that I’m still attracted to him. “So much,” I mutter.

  “Well, maybe you’ll get over it since we’ll be working very closely together,” he announces and stands to make his way out of the office.

  The elevator closes behind him and he disappears from sight. I go to my desk and am swarmed by a group of my co-workers.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Jason Preston says. His big brown eyes are hopeful.

  “There has to be something. He knows you, right, Jillian? He likes you, that much is obvious. I bet he’ll listen to you,” Sheila says, her eyes still red from crying.

  They’re talking over each other now, each one pleading with me to try and get them their jobs back. It’s absolute chaos with all the talking and sad puppy dog eyes they’re giving me.

  I’m not about to tell them I got stupid drunk after the Christmas party because I knew this was coming. And they’ll never know just how well I know Jack. “I promise you all that I’ll do what I can to get him to change his mind. Go enjoy your holidays.”

  After all, unlike all of them, I have no Christmas plans.

  Six

  Jack

  I don’t speak on the way to the car. I stare at my phone and pretend I’m looking at stock prices. Anything to avoid talking. William and I sit in silence on the way back to his office. All I can think about is the look on Jillian’s face when she saw me walk into the agency. She was shocked at first, and I recognized the moment she realized who I am.

  It wrecked her.

  Her face went from confused, to realization dawning, and finally panic. I did that to her. Gone is the woman who was carefree and wild Friday night. Now she looks at me like I’m some kind of animal. Maybe even the Devil himself. She’s probably right.

  We pull up outside William’s office. He turns to face me. “You sure you don’t want to come over for the family party on Christmas Eve? I’ll have your favorite scotch,” he asks, looking entirely too sympathetic.

  “No, I’m set to take off for the Adirondacks now. I’d like to be alone. But thank you for the offer,” I tell him, hoping it’s enough for him to get out of the car and not have guilt about it.

  He reaches for the door handle but turns back in my direction. “You could be alone at the cabin. There’s a storm coming. Don’t you worry about getting snowed in up there?”

  “No. I’m all stocked up. We’ll talk after Christmas. Enjoy your family, and tell Linda Merry Christmas for me.” I reach my hand out and William gives it a firm shake.

  William steps out of the car. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

  “To you, too.”

  My driver takes me directly to the airport where my private plane is waiting. With the storm coming, it’d actually be nice to be snowed in. And the conditions on the mountain would be ideal with a fresh layer of powder. I wonder if Jillian likes to ski.

  My bags are loaded onto the plane and I get on. Easing into one of the plush over-sized cream leather seats, my shoulders loosen for the first time all day.

  The pilot does his last-minute checks and we’re ready to take off. It’s a quick forty-five minute flight to Lake Placid, the perfect amount of time to close my eyes to get some rest. Napping isn’t a luxury normally afforded to me. I still have a bit of a headache from the overindulgence last night. Hopefully, the sleep will help.

  Jillian is in my dreams, naked and ready for me. My hands are all over her smooth porcelain skin and my mouth claims her full red lips. We have sex in every position and she tells me that I’m the best lover she’s ever had.

  I wake up as soon as the wheels hit the ground and I’m hard as a rock, my heart hammering in my chest. I’m going to have to stop thinking this way if I’m going to work with the woman every day. That’s only if she doesn’t decide to quit on me. Odd, the thought
of her not working there would be disappointing. People come and go all the time from my offices, but Jillian is different, and not just because I had sex with her. I like that she’s fiery, feisty, and has an excellent track record at the agency. I don’t even want to analyze why I feel this way about her. Best to just get to the cabin and get to work. That should take my mind off her.

  A four-wheel drive SUV is waiting for me at the airport. In good conditions the drive is quick, but today the roads suck. The storm hasn’t even started yet. Maybe I won’t be going anywhere this trip. Fine with me.

  Pulling up in front of my beloved cabin, my shoulders relax, and I breathe easier.

  My home is a timber frame log cabin with massive windows in the front and back where it faces the mountains. It’s an estate-size lodge with ten bedrooms and twelve baths. My favorite spot in the house is the great room, with two story-vaulted ceilings and a massive wood-burning fireplace.

  Snow crunches under my boots when I get out of the SUV. I get my bags out of the back and make my way inside. It’s bitterly cold and the dark clouds are rolling in. Not much time before the storm sets in.

  One step into the cabin and I smell wood burning in the fireplace and something else. Is that pine? I take my boots off and head into the great room to find a Christmas wreath hanging on the south wall. The caretaker is a good man, retired with time on his hands. The smell of the wreath reminds me of being a kid. My mom would always get us a tree and we’d all decorate it while drinking hot cocoa and singing Christmas carols. A pit forms at the bottom of my stomach. No time to dwell on the past or what my future could’ve looked like.

  Taking my bags to the master bedroom, I set the larger bag on my bed. I change out of my suit and into comfortable work clothes. A sweater, jeans, and work boots.

  The caretaker loaded up the deck with wood, but not enough. I plan to run the fireplace for days. Hell, I might even build a fire outside and hang out in the hot tub in the buff.

  Zipping up my heaviest coat, I head outside to gather more wood.

  Usually this type of work clears my head. Getting my hands dirty in the great outdoors has always been therapeutic for me. For some reason, today it isn’t. The image of Jillian’s face is burned in my brain. I haven’t been able to shake her from my thoughts all day. Any ideas I might’ve had about having her in my bed again are all but gone now. She hates me. It was obvious from the look of disgust she had on her face the entire time I handed out the severance packages.

  I’m an entrepreneur who wants to get ahead. Today, I had to do what I had to do. Period. It’s cut and dry. Dad would be proud.

  But I’m also a man who wants a woman; one who’s an employee. The biggest no-no in business: you don’t sleep with the help. But damn it, I want Jillian Harmon. My dick gets hard at the mere thought of her, the way her nipples pebbled under my touch, the taste of her skin, the press of her tongue against mine.

  I’ve become very disciplined over the years. I only hope I can get my shit together and forget about this woman as soon as possible.

  The woodpile should be sufficient for now. I’m winded and sweating underneath the layers I’m wearing.

  A few flakes start to fall out of the sky. I better check the food situation.

  The refrigerator and pantry are both stocked with everything I asked for. There should also be enough liquor and wine. There are steaks to grill, a turducken to roast, and plenty of fixings to keep my stomach happy. This Christmas won’t be so bad after all.

  Seven

  Jillian

  It only took two phone calls and an Internet search to figure out that my new boss, Jack Morgan, is spending the holidays alone in his mountain house. I first get the name of his lawyer from documents from the takeover. Calling his office, I tell the receptionist that I need to talk to William Davidson regarding an issue at the agency. She says that Mr. Davidson is gone for the afternoon. I in turn ask her if there is contact information for Mr. Morgan available so I could talk to him directly. She gives me the number to his personal assistant, Claudia.

  Clearing my throat, I get my voice ready to sound official. Claudia has a stern, clipped, and almost rushed tone to her voice. Who could blame her? I’m sure working for Jack is no walk in the park. Our quick conversation revolves around Jack being unavailable until next week after the holiday, as he’s gone to his cabin in the Adirondacks and won’t be taking calls. She says she can help me in Mr. Morgan’s absence. Perfect. She told me right where he is. I end the call by telling her that I’ll worry about the issue next week.

  My Internet search of airports near the Adirondack Mountains gives me one result. A tiny airport that only has a couple incoming commercial planes per day and scheduled private planes.

  Thankfully, I’ve been saving money to take a vacation. I was originally hoping I could book somewhere tropical where I’d lay on the white sandy beach and have piña coladas. Looks like that’s off the table for another year. I use my savings to book a seat on the last plane in.

  A quick stop home to pack an overnight bag and a cab ride get me to the airport just in time for my flight.

  The overcrowded airport does nothing for my mood. Babies crying and pushy people bustling around sets my nerves on edge.

  Taking my seat, I buckle in for the short trip. When the beverage service cart stops, I order a glass of wine and drink it unceremoniously fast.

  We land in Lake Placid just after sunset. I’m sure during the day it’s quite beautiful, but I’m not here for sightseeing. This is a business trip and I’m not leaving until my co-workers get their jobs back.

  Now I have to deal with the small issue of renting a vehicle. In my rush to get here, I never thought about all the logistics. It’s an airport, why wouldn’t I think it had an Enterprise window? Nope, not one rental car agency here.

  Slinging my duffel over my shoulder, I go outside and am slapped in the face with the blistering winds and snow flying directly in my face. Dammit. My stomach sinks. There aren’t even taxis out here. There’s only a small parking lot with twenty or so cars. Most are covered in several inches of snow.

  Running back inside, I make my way to the tiny customer service desk. There’s an older woman sitting there with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, engrossed in a thick paperback novel.

  “Umm, hello. I just flew in and need a car to get to my final destination. Do you have any recommendations?” I give her the biggest smile I can muster and wipe my wind-blown hair off my damp cheeks.

  The woman with short gray hair looks at me like I have six heads. She dogears the page she’s on and sets her book down. “Most people that fly into this airport have their own transportation.”

  Of course, they do. I ignore the dig and focus on my mission. “I’m stranded and don’t really want to spend the night here. Is there anyone who might get me to Jack Morgan’s mountain house?”

  Her eyes widen. “Will you be staying with Mr. Morgan for the holiday?”

  Good thing I name-dropped. I’m not above embellishing the truth just a bit to get what I need. “Absolutely. I wasn’t supposed to come in until tomorrow. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

  She glances out the large windows over my shoulder and bites on the inside of her lip. “Are you sure you know Mr. Morgan?”

  She’s hesitating. I don’t blame her; I’m a complete stranger. Why would she believe that I, with my unkempt clothing, wrinkled from a long day of travel and hair and makeup that’s seen better days, be here to see the billionaire, Jack Morgan? I’m sure he only comes here with gorgeous women that look like they’ve walked right off the pages of a fashion magazine.

  Squaring my shoulders, I say, “He and I go way back. We have a big week planned.” Hopefully, she doesn’t notice the slight tremor in my bottom lip when I lie.

  Her nose is wrinkled, and her glasses look like they could fall off at any moment. She keeps looking out the window and shaking her head. “The storm has started.”

  I al
most cry. Tears sting the back of my eyes. I haven’t come this far to quit. “There has to be a way. Isn’t there someone you know that could come and get me?”

  She purses her lips and reaches for the phone on her desk. “I’m not making any promises. Hold on.” She points her finger at me. “Hank, it’s Joan. You out plowing?” She nods. “I need a favor. Can you come to the airport? Mr. Morgan will thank you for this one, too.” She taps her fingers on her desk. “Yup, looks like one hell of a storm.” There’s more nodding. “Okay, we’ll be looking out for you.”

  “Sounds like good news.” I’d like to jump up and down, but instead I smile warmly at her.

  “You got lucky, young lady. Hank will be here in five minutes and he’s going to drive you to the service station. The last part of the ride will be a little trickier, but you can trust Hank.” She gives me a small nod and picks her book back up.

  My city girl guard is up. Who is Hank, and will he be taking me to some secluded part of the back woods and kill me? But at this point, I have no other options. Hank will have to do. “Thanks,” I say as I walk toward the window to wait for my ride, trying not to guess what she meant when she said a little trickier.

  True to his word, Hank pulls up in a huge white plow truck.

  It’s blaringly obvious that I’m not dressed for this weather. I run out to the truck through a thick layer of snow in my Louboutin heeled ankle boots. I saved up for them for months, but clearly, they weren’t made for this amount of snow. I’m slipping and sliding all the way to the passenger door.

  I’m greeted by a burly looking man with a thick orange jacket on and a long brown beard. “Hello, miss. You the one needing a ride to Mr. Morgan’s cabin?”

  “Yes, my name is Jillian and I’m so very grateful that you’re able to give me a ride. I’m happy to pay you.” I dig through my purse to find my wallet.

  “No. Happy to help.” Hank puts the truck in drive and we make our way out of the airport.

  Huge white flakes float through the sky, making the visibility almost nothing. It’s mesmerizing watching the snow swirl around toward the windshield. “How far away is the house?”