“Cool your jets, sweetheart. I’m not asking you to come home with me. I try to avoid verbal abuse in my home. It’s getting late, though, and you don’t need to be on the beach alone.”
Emma opened her mouth to argue before noticing how much the traffic had thinned out around her. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She didn’t usually linger on the beach alone at night. She ignored his hand and got to her feet much less gracefully than he had. She grabbed her cover-up and thought she must be imagining things when Brant’s eyes seemed to linger on her body. “How about another day off . . .”
Before she could finish her sentence, Brant said, “Don’t even think about it. I’ll expect you in the office at the regular time in the morning. I think you owe me a cup of Starbucks, too. Make sure you leave the cream out, though.”
Refusing to dignify that comment with a reply, she turned and stomped away from him toward the car. Asshole. The traffic was light since rush hour was over, so she made it home in record time to her small apartment in Surfside Beach. It was much quieter than the other heavy tourist areas of Myrtle Beach. It was only a two-bedroom, two-bath unit, but since she seldom had overnight guests, it worked well for her. When her parents visited from Florida, they preferred one of the luxury hotels in the area.
She dropped her beach bag on the kitchen floor and went straight to the refrigerator. Why hadn’t she stopped for a sandwich on the way home? Being stuck on the beach with Brant had thrown her whole evening off. She grabbed the container of leftover spaghetti from the previous night and popped it in the microwave to heat while she showered off.
After her shower, Emma threw on a long T-shirt and panties and towel-dried her hair. As much as she loved the beach, it always felt good to get the sand off. She couldn’t stand having it on her furniture. Before settling down to eat her leftovers, she rummaged in her bookcase and found her senior yearbook. With her ten-year high school reunion coming up, she thought she would take a trip down memory lane while she ate.
As she flipped through the pages and saw pictures of friends she hadn’t talked to in years, she turned the page and noticed a booklet nestled there. Flipping it over, she saw the caption STUDS OF SUMMER. Emma started laughing, recognizing the college calendar that her friend Madison’s boyfriend, Paul, had been featured in. The fraternity that had the calendar printed had been raising money for a big graduation trip to Hawaii. Each month, a different fraternity brother was listed with some mindless list of his likes. She thumbed through the pages laughing as she passed Paul’s pose as Mr. September. When she got to the last page, she wasn’t sure what made her pause to study Mr. December. He was dark and sexy. His hair was rumpled in an “I’m too sexy to care” kind of way. He appeared completely nude, but a clever crossing of his legs covered the family jewels. He was lying on what looked like a black silk-covered bed with an arm thrown back propping up his head. He was giving the camera his best smoldering look. The caption read “Mr. December has been a very naughty boy. This bad boy would love to deck your halls with his boughs of holly . . .” Emma rolled her eyes at the poor attempt to defile Christmas. She took one last look and suddenly it hit her. No fucking way! It couldn’t be, could it? She finally knew why Brant had looked familiar to her from their first meeting. Her uptight, sarcastic, arrogant ass of a boss was freaking Mr. December!
Emma gripped her sides as she rolled with laughter. She hadn’t been this excited since Macy’s put the pair of platform pumps she’d been eyeing for months on clearance. Man, that had been an awesome day, but this was better, way better. Oh, the things she would do to him with this information! Suddenly the thought of going back to work tomorrow didn’t bother her. She couldn’t wait to get in there and start baiting him. How many hints would she have to drop and how long would it take for him to connect the dots? She was going to deck his halls all right, and she didn’t need boughs of holly to do it.
Chapter Three
Emma arrived for work fifteen minutes early the next day with the Starbucks coffee that Brant had suggested. He was already at his desk when she gently placed the cup in front of him. He leaned slightly back, looking at the cup as if it might explode at any moment. He didn’t look any more encouraged when she graced him with her brightest smile. “Here’s your coffee as requested. Don’t worry; it doesn’t contain any dairy product.”
“Er . . . thank you. I appreciate it.” Then, clearing his throat, he said, “I trust you’re feeling better today after your headache yesterday.”