Page 23 of The Christmas Trap

"And you are?"

"Whittington. I’m one of the board members."

Ah, he’s the one I left a message for earlier.

"Hello, Mr. Whittington." I nod. "I’m Lark Monroe. Mr. Davenport was pulled into something unavoidable and thus, had to re-schedule the board meeting."

"Something unavoidable?" His tone indicates he’s not buying the excuse I mentioned earlier.

"I’m afraid, I don’t know more."

"Surely, you have access to your boss’s agenda. You could tell me what he’s doing in its stead, couldn’t you?" He flashes me a smile, which I admitischarismatic. Instinctively, I know, it’s nowhere as magnetic as how it would be if Count Crankypants were to smile.

It does soften his attitude,somewhat.

I lean back in my seat and curve my lips. "I’m really sorry, but that is not information I can give out."

He doesn’t seem surprised. "Damn." He snaps his fingers. "And here I hoped my charm would buy me that information."

"Nope." I chuckle, his playful attitude beginning to thaw my wariness.

"How about I take you to dinner and you could, perhaps, tell me then?" His eyes are hopeful. His tone confident.

"No. Sorry." I laugh, not at all put off by his open flirtation. If anything, it’s refreshing after my boss’s sullen attitude.

"Why not?" He seems genuinely taken aback. "Right, you don’t know my name yet." He holds out his hand. "Kingly."

"Kingly?" I almost snort but stop myself in time.

He must notice my expression though, for he chuckles. "My mother was hopeful. I do think I haven’t turned out too badly." He strikes a pose. "What do you think?"

I pretend to study him, then shake my head. "Nope. Sorry. Not my type."

He pretends to be crushed. "Tough audience. Cut me some slack, will ya?"

I laugh, then lean in and beckon to him. He lowers his head.

"I have a fiancé."

"You do?" Thankfully, he doesn’t glance at my ringless left hand. He does look genuinely put out though. "Damn, why are the good ones always taken?"

"You’re good for my ego, though. Thank you."

"You’re welcome." He dips his head. "Kingly Whittington at your service."

I take his hand. “Pleased to meet?—"

"If you’re done with the list I gave you, I have a lot more to add to it.” My boss stalks toward us, spine straight, head held high. I have a glimpse of a tightly held jaw. Of a nerve popping at his temple. Damn, he looks ready to blow another gasket.

I pull my hand back like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. This pang of unease running through me like I’ve done something wrong is so strange.

"Not yet. I’m…working my way through it." I wonder what’s got him all worked up.

Kingly looks from me to my boss. "Ol’ chap, I was asking Lark why the board meeting was postponed?"

“Have a meeting with Arthur instead,” Brody says in a brusque voice.

“Ah.” Kingly nods slowly. “Of course. And how is he?”