Page 17 of Under the Mistletoe
“Good night, Jessica.”
My eyes flick to meet his. My words are gone; I have no idea what to say. The urge to lean in, to have the feel of his body against mine again, is strong. Instead, I pull my wet soggy scarf tight around my neck.
“Good night, Donovan.”
His eyes don’t leave mine as I slide out of his fancy car, and Gordon walks me to my apartment door, handing me the umbrella before I dash inside my complex. I look out the glass entry doors, watching Gordon run back. The dark car windows provide no sight of the man who completely surprises me and makes me feel more seen than ever.
I make my way up the stairs to my apartment in a complete daze. Unlocking my door, I push inside, feeling discombobulated. I fell asleep on Donovan York. In the back seat of his car. But instead of firing me, he tucked me into him tight and then gave me my own car and driver. I try to tell myself not to read too much into it. But one thing’s for certain.
Donovan York felt as good as he looks.
8
Donovan
I’ve barely slept. It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about stocks, reviewing staffing allocations with HR, or having a conference call with our global teams. All I can think about is Jessica. Specifically, her falling asleep on me in my car. It’s been a while since something so genuine and intimate has happened to me. Having her warm small body tucked into mine felt better than I expected. So I left her there, listening to the small snores that escaped on every second breath she took. It took all my will power not to pick her up and carry her inside her apartment just so she could keep sleeping.
It’s now been over a week since then, and the two of us have been working side by side most days, yet I haven’t unpacked the fact that her body felt too good against mine.
I’m not usually one for cuddling; I rarely display soft touches of affection. It certainly wasn’t something I saw between my parents growing up and isn’t something I partake in now. Maybe because I haven’t found the right woman. But Jessica isn’t like the usual women I meet. In a good way. So when Gordon took a corner too tightly, and her sleepy body slid right across my leather seats into my side, I kept her close, continuing with my work call, all while admiring her little snores on my chest.
Unprofessional? Absolutely. But my willpower can only do so much. And apart from providing a cushion for her head, I didn’t cross a line. A line that’s starting to become very thin in my eyes.
Working with her all day without touching her is becoming increasingly difficult. Yet necessary. Because she is my employee, one of the best I’ve had, and therefore, she’s off-limits.
“I need you to join me for dinner tonight.” I grab a handful of coffee beans, the addiction to them one I developed over the years as I sink back in my office chair, watching for her reaction. Taking her with me to business events is a requirement. One that ensures she meets all the right people and gets a better understanding of the industry. So I try not to wait on tenterhooks for her answer.
“Dinner?” We’re sitting in my office, the two of us reviewing some paperwork out of Asia, trying to work out what our next step should be.
“Yes. It’s a networking event. It will give you a chance to meet some of the heavy hitters personally. I want you with me to review the crowd, engage, and discuss the markets. The team from Jasper will be there. I want you to see what you can find out about them.”
She blanches before she takes a deep breath.
I didn’t want to spring this on her; I thought about taking one of my guys from logistics or one of the board members, but I want Jessica to start meeting people, knowing that she’ll glean much more from the event than anyone else. I also want her on my arm. I want to spend time with her. More than we already are.
“Oh, but I…” She looks down at herself, doubting her attire.
“You look fine. It’s Prada. You’ll look better than most of the other people there, I assure you.”
She blinks up at me like she has no idea what I’m talking about. But seeing her work wardrobe every day has become one of my favorite things. Yesterday, it was Gucci, and the day before, it was Chanel. She wears each piece effortlessly. All vintage, all understated. Pure class.
“If you’re sure?” She frowns as do I. Can’t she see that she’s perfect?
“Gordon will meet us downstairs at six.”
With a nod, she looks back at her screen, and I force myself to do the same. My shoulders lower, knowing that bringing her along tonight is a great move for the business.
But the man in me likes it even more.
We pull up to the curb and Gordon jumps out. I spot some photographers nearby, always at the ready. It’s like they know my schedule because they always seem to be wherever I’m going. It isn’t something I’ve noticed too much, but today it seems particularly intense for a normal business networking event.
“Careful when you walk in, the entrance is marble and can be slippery.” I look over to Jessica and pause as I watch her with lipstick in hand as she paints her lips bright red. I don’t mean to stare, but I’m mesmerized. She looks like an Old Hollywood style icon in her black designer attire, her natural glossy hair, and now her bright-red lips. I feel parched as she rubs her lips together to set the color, imagining what it would look like on my…
“Is this okay?” she asks, that sweet voice of hers sending tingles through my body.
I almost jump from my seat as she turns to me, catching me staring.
“You look… beautiful…” I swallow roughly, my throat dry.
