Page 13 of Craving Her Christmas Boss

‘I know. Good for you.’ Did he have to sound so damn genuine? ‘But you finished for now, so why not come out for a drink? It can’t hurt, can it?’

With his almost electric blue eyes he regarded her intensely. Not trying to domineer, but coaxing, tempting—frankly mesmerising.

‘It’s Christmas,’ he said softly.

Her head nodded before she thought better of it. Somehow he had her coat in his hands and was holding it for her to slip her arms into.

‘Won’t they be wondering where you are?’

‘Shona has gone on ahead and opened up a bar tab. The others will be there—just relaxing after work. Having a quiet drink and celebrating the festive season.’

Her arms were in her coat and he leant behind her and switched off her computer and next moment they were walking out the door.

The bar was in a narrow street at the back of the shop. As they walked in she looked around—a small, intimate, hip and yet comfortable at the same time. It had been a long time since she had been in a bar like this.

No night life. No social life. She’d avoided it all since arriving at eight months ago.

He was looking at her, at half smile teasing. ‘What are you having? Wine? Cocktail?’

‘I told you I don’t drink.’

‘Not ever, Imogen? Not even on Christmas day?’

He knew somehow, didn’t he? That she liked a glass of wine but didn’t trust herself—and certainly not tonight.

‘A glass of bubbly is lovely on Christmas day. But we’re still a couple of weeks from then.’

‘So how about a glass of red?’

It wasn’t that she’d fall down drunk. But she didn’t want to run any risk of doing or saying anything stupid. He was too much temptation already—look at what she’d done this morning. Just a whiff of alcohol might have her throwing caution to the wind completely.

‘I’d prefer a lemon, lime and bitters.’

‘Bitters?’ He echoed. ‘How appropriate.’

With a lethal look she left him and joined the others already sitting around a table. There was only space for one left in the U-shaped booth. Ryan would have to find another chair. But a few minutes later when he walked over, a tray of drinks in hand, he just smiled.

‘Bunch up.’

They all bunched up. Imogen’s temperature soared as he squeezed against in the tiny space that freed. He was too close. His leg was hard against the length of hers. Their arms were pressed tight together. Then he lifted his and rested it along the top of the seat behind her. Now his body was too close. It would take nothing to lean a little closer and be right in his lap. She had a long sip of her drink and tried to tune into the conversation.

Christmas plans. They all were sharing them. She had another sip, not wanting to admit the Christmas dayshewas headed for.

‘What are you doing, Ryan?’ Shona asked, and Imogen was all ears.

‘Going home.’

She could feel the vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

‘It’s a big family occasion—my parents, my brother and sisters. A few aunts and uncles, lots of cousins.’

‘Do you have masses of decorations and neon lights everywhere? And a giant Santa on the roof like you see on American TV shows?’ That clanger was from Angela, one of the marketing team.

Ryan’s smile was good-natured. ‘Wedohave a tree in the garden that we put lights on. The tree inside only has paper decorations that we make.’

‘That youmake?’ Imogen’s question was out before she even thought it—or thought to stop it.

‘Sure. My grandparents originally came from Denmark, and there they call the Christmas season the festival of hearts. We make hearts to hang on the tree. Mum’s kept them all over the years. They have a name and the date on the back of them. Now the tree is smothered. It looks pretty good, even for home made.’

---