Santa's Xmas

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: SANTA'S X-MAS

Copyright © LANI AAMES, 2006

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

"What would you like in your...mmm...stocking?" Rob asked, his voice huskier than usual.

Oh, yes, the slight pause before he repeated the word stocking meant he understood her allusion perfectly. She quivered with excitement and eagerness. After more than two years of working as Rob's administrative assistant, she'd finally mustered the courage to make her move. She had Tasha Elliot, soon to be Tasha Sinclair, to thank for that.

"Surprise me," Chelsea challenged.

Both Rob's elder brother Reed and their Uncle Roger had always intimidated her with their height and breadth. She knew Mr. Sinclair, Reed, and even Tasha and Miss Monroe, the strict office manager, thought of her as a klutz and a ditz. She always stumbled and dropped things at the most inopportune times, and she stuttered when she got nervous.

Rob wasn't short or small by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't quite as massive as the other Sinclairs. Around Rob, she didn't trip or drop things or stammer over her words. Probably because she didn't find him daunting, she felt graceful and articulate around him.

She stood on tiptoe to lick his earlobe. "If you're very naughty, we might have a nice time tonight."

"Naughty sounds like fun," he responded.

Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief. Using the strand of garland around his neck, she guided him around until the backs of his knees hit the seat edge of a cushioned leather and wood guest chair with a low back and no rollers from the reception area outside the office. Then she put her hand in the middle of his chest, the sensuous softness of red velvet against her palm making her knees turn to jelly, and pushed him down.

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree reflected in Rob's brown eyes, shielding them from her, but she could tell by the expression he wore that her actions fascinated him. The lights also cast a multitude of moving shadows across the planes of his face from the sharp angles of his cheekbones to his square jaw.

Sometimes, when he sat still and silently studied a report or letter, his face appeared to have been carved from stone. Then he would smile, softening the edges of his countenance, and she'd melt.

She took his arms, placing them on the arms of the chair, and proceeded to tie down his wrists with the ends of the garland, the bulk of it strung loosely across his lap.

In a moment of frank girl-talk about six months before, Tasha had confided in Chelsea how she and Reed hooked up the previous December—the same night Reed had caught the thief who'd been stealing merchandise from the store. Tasha's story had given Chelsea the idea of how to make a play for Rob.

Her plan scared her because if she discovered Rob had no interest in a relationship with her, their mutual embarrassment would send her seeking employment elsewhere come the New Year. Crazy about Rob for as long as she could remember, Chelsea had taken administrative assistant courses expressly for the purpose of working with him.

At the time, his uncle Roger was alive and running Sinclair's, and Rob had dedicated himself to the family business. He'd rarely dated at that point, usually hanging out with his friend Tasha when he had any free time. A few years younger, Chelsea just couldn't seem to catch his eye.

Now, in this one special moment in time, she held his undivided attention...and he seemed very interested.