Page 15 of Jack Frost, CEO

I shake my head at her antics before swiping up both suitcases and taking them upstairs. After a quick peek in the bedrooms, I deposit Maisie’s in the one with the best view. It may be a small consolation, but it’s all I can give her right now.

I walk into the bathroom to find even more festive Christmas junk. Gathering it all up in my arms, I dump everything in the one recliner in the room before hopping in the shower. A delicious smell wafts upstairs when I finally open the stall door again. I take my time getting dressed before returning downstairs.

On a good day, Maisie doesn’t hold a grudge, but today is a bad day, as she’s obviously irritated with me. Dragging her out here to Colorado has put me firmly in her bad books, and I’m desperately trying to give her time to calm down. That said, after the little incident in the living room, I can only imagine her irritation has kicked up a notch.

I make my way to the kitchen and am floored by the vision in front of me. Maisie is dancing around, her long blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun on her head, while she sings Christmas carols at the top of her lungs. At the same time, something simmers on the stove, giving off the most fantastic aroma.

But what stops me dead in my tracks is the sight of Maisie’s ass in a pair of tight black leggings, her chest accentuated by a fitted tank top. I’ve seen women of all walks of life wear this type of workout wear and never had an issue, but on Maisie, it’s downright sinful.

I watch her maneuver around the kitchen, wholly comfortable and oblivious to my presence, and she radiates happiness. I think back on all the changes in my office since she arrived. Productivity is up, we’ve landed several new contracts, and employee satisfaction is high. The halls are now filled with laughter and chatter as people work far more productively. The place is not the silent tomb it was before.

She’s happy. It hits me with an almost physical force, strong enough to bring me to my knees.

The song changes to something with a deeper, more suggestive beat. When Maisie’s dancing switches to match, I decide that I’m really not a masochist and clear my throat, only to have a wooden spoon smack me in the face.

Chapter 13

Maisie

Iwatch in horror as the sauce-covered spoon slides off Jack’s face and onto the floor. Flecks of sauce decorate his cream-colored sweater, which looks like it costs more than my monthly rent.

What is it made of? Baby alpaca wool?

I stand here, contemplating the composition of my boss’s clothes for far too long. Until I realize we’ve been silently staring at each other and jump into action. “Oh, oh no. Give it to me, and I’ll put it in cold water. We can save it. I can clean it. I can clean it.” I tug ineffectually at the hem of Jack’s sweater, trying to get it over his head while he tries to hold it down.

“Miss Mitchell.” Jack pushes at my wrists as we grapple for the sweater. And for a moment, he appears to have the upper hand. However, after the utterly accidental discovery of his ticklish spots under his arms and, ironically, his elbows, I end up victorious.

Crowing triumphantly, I rush to the sink and shove the sweater under the cold water, swishing the sauce spots to try to loosen them. “It’s okay. I can get the stains out. It’s okay.” I’m so focused on my task that I don’t hear Jack calling my name from behind me until he forcefully grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around to face him.

“Maisie! I don’t give a damn about the sweater! Calm down and listen.”

Given the height difference, I’m face to face with his toned chest. A light sprinkling of hair dusts his pecs in a trail down to his jeans, hanging low on his hips. I swallow roughly before raising my eyes to meet his. Jack’s jaw is clenched while his hands almost massage my shoulders. He presses me between his warm body and the sink.

On reflex, my palms come up and rest on his pecs. He pulls me closer, and the heat radiating off him is a jarring contrast to the cold water splashing up from the tap. He rubs his nose over my hair, breathing deeply, and I can feel the groan rattling in his chest.

“Jack.” His name leaves my mouth in a whisper, but it still breaks the spell, and he jerks back, putting several feet between us. I clutch the benchtop behind me as we stare at each other for an eternity.

“Don’t worry about the sweater. You can throw it away. I’m going to go get a new shirt.” Jack turns abruptly and heads upstairs.

It takes several more minutes before I collect myself enough to turn off the tap and wring out the garment. Most of the splotches are pale pink by now, and after checking the tag, I’m sure I can get the rest out with a bit of elbow grease.

Setting the sweater aside, I grab a sponge and cleaner to wipe up the floor. Placing the kitchen to rights centers me, and I can think again when I’m done. I hang Jack’s sweater over the drying rack in the laundry, spray on a bit of spot remover I found in a cabinet, and leave it to soak.

I’m spooning up the chili when Jack joins me in the kitchen again. I give him a tight smile and sit at the far end of the table with my own sleeve of crackers. Jack grabs sour cream and shredded cheese out of the fridge.

I shake my head. Of course, he would go all out.

“The fridge is well stocked. Did you arrange that?” Jack grabs a bottle of Pelligrino before taking his seat.

I nod and finish chewing my food. “I provided a list of groceries I got from your housekeeper, added a few of my own, and paid the owners an extra fee to have the place stocked. Apparently, this cabin isn’t booked often due to its distance from the resort, so the hosts were thrilled we were interested. Jocelyn, the wife, was so grateful she made us several meals and left them for us to reheat. Hence the chili.”

We eat in silence before we both decide to break it at the same time.

“Look—”

“Jack—”

Jack chuckles as we each stumble over what to say. “I was very unprofessional earlier. I want to apologize. I never want you to feel anything other than comfortable here with me.”

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