Page 4 of A Holiday Lift
“Why don’t you sit, Holly? We could be in here for a while.”
“Thank you.” I sit on the jacket, crossing my ankles in front of me since I’m not wearing panties. “I’m sorry I was being sort of bitchy. Troy does that to me.”
“Don’t be. I don’t exactly like talking about my ex either.”
I nod. “Yeah, they aren’t usually a great topic.”
“Okay, so let’s move to neutral ground. We could talk about us,” he suggests with a hint of mischief. “Or we can just be quiet . . .”
Oh, the possibilities for that suggestion are as endless as they are unlikely. And with as low on the list as talking to Dean about Tony is, talking to him about what happened is even lower.
“Can we keep talking? Please? Just not about any of the aforementioned things.”
“Okay then, what about your pitch, do you want to practice?”
I laugh. No freaking way am I going to tell him my pitch. “I’d rather swallow nails than go there.”
“Is it because you aren’t confident?”
I raise my brow. “No, it’s because I would rather not give you an edge.”
Or because I don’t have it done and don’t want him to know that.
“I don’t need an edge, babe. I plan to kick your ass.”
“Really? You’ve had a whole a day to get your presentation together, and you think you’re going to win?”
Dean’s eyes narrow and he leans close. “You hate Christmas. This is all about why the holidays are the best time of the year. You’re sort of the poster child for who not to hire.”
“I can fake it.”
“Ahh, but I know the real thing. You’re exquisite when you’re not faking it.”
I scoff. “You donotget to bring up my orgasms in a business conversation.”
He chuckles that deep laugh that does things to my girly parts. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Why would you even want this account? You’ll have to practically pretend you live in Santa’s workshop and you’re his bitch.”
Admitting this will make me sound so stupid, but it’s the truth. “I want to love the holidays again. I want to remember the magic and smile when I put my tree up again. I thought...I thought that maybe this would help.”
Dean’s hand rests on mine. “You shouldn’t have ever had to feel that way, Holls.”
I shake my head, not wanting to spill any more of my crazy in front of him. “Next topic.”
“All right, why don’t you tell me why you ran off last week?”
He’s like a beacon for topics I want to avoid. “Jesus Cringle! Can’t we talk about the damn weather instead of the worst topics possible?”
“Cringle?”
I know . . . I’m a dork. My mother used to say it when she was mad instead of cursing, so I can’t help it. “It’s my version of Christ.”
His smile brightens the dim space. “Adorable.”
My stomach clenches, and I look away. Is he calling me adorable or does he think the word is adorable? Either way, it shouldn’t matter. Dean and I are nothing, and we’re about to battle for this account where I will make everyone believe the holidays are nothing but joy because I’m a professional.
“Do you think we could talk about something else?”
“You want to talk, I pick what we talk about. You just mentioned the sex, I’d like to find out what the hell had you bolt like that.” His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green.
