Page 44 of His Christmas Wife

“Makes for big headlines in the business news.”

“As well as feature articles. Bonds pointed out I could garner press that would refocus on my career rather than the loss of the family business.”

“Did it?”

“Bastard is astute.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it required loans. One from my grandmother and another from Bonds himself—at a fucking usurious rate,” he admitted. “Self-serving asshole.”

Something he had in common with the genius? “There’s a reason he’s a billionaire.”

“I worked my ass off to pay him back.”

“I’m curious how you’ve accomplished so much in so little time.”

“Are you?”

His tone was noncommittal. Part of her was surprised he hadn’t shut down the conversation. “You got my life story out of me earlier. Fair’s fair. And after all, your grandmother will expect that I know your history.”

A small smile toyed with his lips. “Now you’re playing the Gran card?”

Saying that he wanted to keep his grandma happy had certainly worked to his advantage so far. “Again, fair’s fair.” She shrugged. “It’s effective; I have to admit.”

“Indeed it is. I’ll show you around.”

She followed him back to the entry.

“Let’s make you comfortable.”

Had he intentionally laced his words with sensuality? When she looked at him, desire was banked in his eyes. Who knew the man she thought of as cold actually possessed this kind of passion?

After she placed her purse on a table near the elevator doors, he helped her to remove her coat, which he hung in a closet alongside the blazer that he shrugged out of.

“I was going to offer you champagne, but for the room I want to show you, something warm might be better.”

His comment intrigued her. “Oh?”

“Coffee?”

“As appealing as that sounds, I didn’t sleep well last night, so I think I shouldn’t have any more caffeine.”

“Did something keep you awake?”

Heat crept through her body.

“Perhaps the same thing that prevented me from getting much rest?”

Was he serious?

“A hot scene with an alluring elf kept going through my mind.”

The knowledge she’d had some impact on him rocked her. “Well, Santa wasn’t so bad himself.”

Though they shared grins in an intimate, easy exchange, the idea that he’d had an equally challenging night thrilled her.

“I have decaf. Or maybe even hot chocolate. I’m sure I can figure out how to make cocoa. How hard can it be?”

“Do you have the ingredients?” she asked. “Cocoa, milk, sugar, salt?”

“I’m sure the household manager thought of that. The pantry is well stocked. Or so I’m told.”

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