Page 1 of Flown in for Christmas

One.

Joy

“Davis bought those slacksa size too small, wouldn’t you say?” Lisa whispers, jabbing my elbow sharply. She’s the lead from marketing, and quite the lover of office gossip, if I do say.

She’s not wrong. His fitted black suit seems to be tailored a little tighter than usual, but then again, hehasbeen using his private gym a bit more aggressively the last two weeks.

Water cooler gossip says it’s hisstress reliefduring the holidays.

Of which, he hates—the holidays, that is.

A modern Grinch, as they say.

I can attest to witnessing his humbug attitude myself. Between his demands I work late, including weekends—because if he’s here, so should I—to blowing a head gasket when the littlest things don’t go quite his way.

My face heats as I take in the tall, broad frame of our CEO. We stand off to the side as Mr. Davis gives his expected company speech on behalf of Davis Sporting Goods.

“He looks…nice,” I say quietly, subtly rubbing the ache from my elbow.

Lisa snickers over the rim of her eggnog. “Ah, yes, a fine mixture of boy next door meets hunky Cavill.” She sighs wistfully at the very mention of her favorite British actor.

I suppress a laugh as Mr. Davis raises his short glass of amber liquid, addressing the room with a warm, “Here’s to another successful year for Davis Sporting Goods!”

The room breaks out in a resoundingcheers, raising their glasses of wine, liquor, and spiked eggnog, while I sip my water.

I’ve got a late flight to catch in just a few hours. I can’t be hammered going through TSA. One good swig of that eggnog and I know I would be. I’m the walking definition of a lightweight.

The crowd disperses to enjoy the rest of the party as Mr. Davis breaks off with his CFO, Richard Hanes. I keep note of my boss’ whereabouts in case he needs anything. I was hired nearly three months ago by the advertising department as a promotions assistant. An extra set of hands to help run the busiest time of the year in retail: the holidays.

Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Christmas Specials. In-store and online doorbuster deals.

We sell anything and everything sports-related that you can imagine—gear, equipment, apparel, memorabilia, footwear.The DSG brand is worn by the greatest in the NFL, NBA, NHL, and MLB.

Even with the holiday rush, someone in HR decided I didn’t have enough to do, and added ‘personal assistant to the CEO’ to my workload, bringing on amassivelist of duties on top of it.

Why me? I haven’t the slightest idea.

It’s not like I could sayno. He’s the C-E-O. And I’m still working through my ninety-day probationary period. There was no feasible way I could turn it down. I suppose I should be grateful for the opportunity, but…it’s been a crazy few months, to say the least.

I smooth a hand down my shimmery red skirt, adjust the dip of cleavage in my black blouse, and toss my long, brown waves over my shoulder. “Any big holiday plans for you and Joe this year?” I ask Lisa.

She shrugs, her blonde bob bouncing as she sips her glass. “Family crap, you know the drill.” She downs the remainder of her eggnog and I fight back the urge to gag at how thick that drink is and how fast she just did that.She’ll be feeling that tomorrow.

“I’d slow down if I were you,” I tell her. “Whoever made that wentheavyon the rum.”

“I know.” She smiles wide. “It was me.”

Of course, it was. We share a laugh, making our way to the buffet catering. The ten-minute alarm I set on my phone goes off in my purse, warning me that I need to start my goodbyes if I want to catch my scheduled cab to the airport.

“You’re spending Christmas with your brother, right?” Lisa asks, watching as I fish my phone out.

“Yep. Spending the whole week with him.” I smile at the thought of it. It’s beenyearssince Emmett and I made plans like this. “I had to book a few connecting flights to get through the holiday chaos, but I’ll get to LAX by tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed.”

She nods absently, glancing over my shoulder. “Don’t look now, but Scrooge the Handsome is on his way.”

I turn and my heel catches on itself, causing me to promptly lose my balance. I sway, nearly taking a tumble when a strong hand grabs my arm, pulling me into a heated, hard chest. An air of a masculine cologne envelopes me and I melt against my rescuer.

“Miss Bell.” His deep baritone rumbles.

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