Page 33 of The Christmas Trap

"He sounds like a real character,” she offers.

"He can be. Comes with living a hard life. He built the Davenport Group of companies almost single-handedly. He’s also the one who took care of us after our parents passed."

"I’m sorry." Her eyes mirror the regret in her voice.

"It was a long time ago.” I shrug.

"It was good of Arthur to step in."

"Progeny is important to him. There was no question he wouldn’t. Not that he’s the most paternal in his approach. But he did his best."

"Sounds like you guys are close."

"In the way that family is. You’re close until you aren’t." I chuckle. "Arthur loves meddling in the lives of my brothers and me. The rest of them like to keep their distance from him. I don’t blame them. I, however, feel a sense of responsibility toward the old man."

"It’s why you keep him updated so often," she says on a sudden flash of insight. "That, and it’s probably the only way to keep him at arm’s length, so he doesn’t get involved in the day-to-day.”

"You…are perceptive." I tilt my head.

“I have to be to keep pace with you.”

Our gazes lock. The air crackles between us, thick with something unspoken. A pulse of heat coils low in my belly, even as a strange ache tightens my chest. It’s like my body’s responding before my brain can catch up. Goddamn, this woman. There’s something about her that calls to me. This awareness, which has buzzed between us from the start, ignites into something more potent.

I lean in toward her. She leans in too, and licks her lips. My eyes lock on the pink flesh. My cock lengthens. I want this woman. And I don’t care if she’s my employee. I want to push her down onto the seat and cover her body with mine and?—

The chauffeur’s voice comes over the speaker in the partition between the driver’s seat and ours. “We’re here, sir.”

10

Lark

3.Figure out how to wrap presents without using an entire roll of tape per box.

—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list

I draw in a sharp breath and straighten.

Talk about bad timing. Or maybe, that wasgoodtiming?

What was that about?

From the moment we got into the car, I was so aware of him. The feel of the soft leather against my thighs, the dark, masculine scent of his which enveloped me, the larger-than-life presence of his which seemed to suck out all the oxygen in that enclosed space. God. I was wet instantly. I had to stop myself from squirming around and squeezing my thighs together. Not that it would have helped fill that aching void in my core.

And when our gazes locked, I was overcome with thissurge of lust that made me want to crawl into his lap and kiss him. Argh. I almost kissed my boss.

So unprofessional. So bad.This is very bad.

I need to get control of my lust. I’m engaged, not blind. Of course, I find my boss attractive. That doesn’t mean I need to act on it.Right?

I feel terrible that, I haven’t spared a single thought for my fiancé this entire time. And he did send flowers to apologize for being distant. I wish I could accept the gesture for what it is…but something in me wonders if there’s more behind it than simple remorse.

The door on my side is pulled open. I step out and try not to notice how big he is. And how he towers over me. How his gaze seems to follow me as I approach the handsome period house in Primrose Hill.

Christmas lights illuminate the windows. More lights encircle the trees and shrubs that surround the short driveway.

To the side, I spot the waters of the Regent’s Canal.

We’re in the heart of the city and yet, it’s so quiet. The sun has set. I take in a deep breath and smell pinecones.