Page 1 of His Christmas Wife

CHAPTERONE

Finally.

At nearly nine fifteen on the Saturday before Christmas, Kaylee Robbins’s asshole boss finally left the office. Blowing out a relieved breath, she shoved aside the file she’d been working on. It wasn’t bad enough that he seemed to have unlimited focus and energy, but he demanded the same from her. Working fourteen-hour days was the norm, and he expected her to show up for at least half of the weekend.

She didn’t complain—at least not to his face. Unlike the scores of people he’d fired the first day he’d walked through the door, she still had a job.

But now that he was gone, she could get ready to head to the Quarter, New Orleans’s premier BDSM club, where she could find a hot Dominant to scene with and forget all about Evan Frost.

Evan Frost.With his icy blue eyes and chilling demeanor, could there be a more perfect name for a tyrant like him?

She spent the next half hour wrapping up her day, straightening her desk, closing the computer programs she’d been working on, locking up her files, and leaving herself notes so she could hit the ground running at seven o’clock on Monday morning.

After grabbing her purse, tote, and the garment bag that hung from a hook behind her door, she left her office and entered the reception area.

An unlit Christmas tree stood in one corner. The sad star on top leaned to one side, and a shattered glass ornament lay on the hardwood floor—all seeming to sum up the holiday spirit at Christoff Investments.

Aware of time ticking, she caught the elevator to the fourteenth-floor fitness center. Not that she ever had time—or the inclination—to work out, but the locker room was beautiful, more fitting for a spa than an office building.

Once she’d freshened her hair and makeup, she crossed to one of the changing rooms to slip into her red elf costume with its hood and white faux fur accents. Although the skirt was ridiculously short, the A-line cut flattered her figure.

If her Christmas wishes came true this evening, she would capture the interest of Santa, played by Master Denton. Big and burly—and wicked with a flogger—the Dominant was perfect for the role. They’d scened together a couple of times in the past, and she’d love the opportunity for an encore performance in a few hours. A good spanking from a skilled hand would banish her stress and hopefully allow her to sleep well tonight.

Anxious to get going, she gathered her belongings. Then, phone in hand, she opened the app that would summon a vehicle to spirit her to the French Quarter. She pushed open the door, only to plow into an unyielding, solid mass.

As the breath whooshed from her lungs, she lost her balance, and strong hands landed on her shoulders to steady her.

“Well, well, Ms. Robbins.”

Stunned, she looked up at her boss.No.She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening.

Frost’s black hair was damp as if he was fresh from the shower. He’d ditched his usual suit in favor of a white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. The sleeves had been turned back to reveal his strong forearms, and his dress slacks were tailored so tightly as to be scandalous.

His face—one that could have been chiseled from granite—was freshly shaven. And Lord save her, he smelled of spice and invitation.

What was wrong with her? The collision hadn’t just left her stunned; it made her thoughts reel.

Still imprisoning her, he swept his gaze down her, and when he met her eyes, the usual glacial ice had vanished from his, replaced by something she didn’t recognize.Interest, maybe?

Why was her mouth suddenly dry? And why was she still standing so close to him?

“Are you going somewhere, Ms. Robbins?”

In her usual crisp and professional manner, she replied with a question of her own. “If you’ll excuse me?” Technically she was off the clock. Even if she wasn’t, she owed him zero explanation about what she did in her free time. With fierce resolve, she shrugged out of his grip and took a step back.

“Enjoy your weekend,” he said.

“Or the small part that’s left of it.” She turned to stride away, aware of his heated gaze watching her.

In the silence, her heels tapped a frantic rhythm on the tiles, matching the pounding of her pulse.Please stay where you are. Or take the stairs.

Of course he did no such thing.

His footsteps like thunderbolts, he devoured the distance between them. “Allow me.” He reached around her to press the elevator call button. “It’s late. Can I walk you to your car?”

Narrowing her gaze, she looked over her shoulder at him.Who are you?Someone had clearly taken over his body and infused it with some human consideration. “I didn’t drive.”

He stood next to her, closer than comfortable. “I’m happy to drop you somewhere.”

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