Page 3 of Misadventures With My Billionaire Boss
“White elephant party?” Goldie repeated.
Violet placed a hat with ear flaps and a big pom-pom on top over her straight, dark hair and answered for me. “Everyone brings a wrapped gift to the party and they're put in a big pile. Everyone draws numbers. Whoever gets number one picks a present and opens it. Number two picks a present, opens it and decides to keep that present or take number one's presentinstead. Then number three does the same, but can choose from the three presents already opened. It goes around until everyone has a chance to open a gift and debate keeping it or trading it in.”
Goldie put down the latest piece of lingerie she was putting on a hanger. “That sounds like fun. So, you never know what you'll end up with since someone can take your gift.”
I nodded my head. “Exactly. The good gifts usually get swapped frequently.”
“Are you bringing a date?” she wondered. Like a dog with a bone, she wouldn't give it up. Maybe I should invent a guy so that she'd stop, although that could quickly backfire on me. Besides, inventing a date would mean my love life had stooped to an all-time low and I didn't consider myself there. Yet.
I was particular. I had standards, wants. Needs. Oh, boy did I have needs. Needs that involved a little kinky, a little rough and very steamy. And the only guy who'd been able to even kick start those needs had been Sam, and he was out of the picture.
“Nope, like I said, no hot date,” I told her, all of a sudden a little depressed.
“What are you going to get for your gift?” Goldie asked.
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder. “I'm not sure. A tree ornament maybe, so we're going to check out that craft store down the street.”
Goldie brightened and I swear I saw a light bulb go off over her head. “Why don't you get something here?”
I bit my lip as I contemplated the idea, considering the implications behind getting a gift from a sex store. It wasn't like me to give such personal andinspiringgifts. It could be embarrassing if people found out it came from me, but the gifts were unsigned. It was anonymous gift giving. Who would know?Howwould someone know? It could work. Anything was better than a silly ornament. I glanced at Violet for her opinion and she shrugged her shoulders.
“Are kids going to be there?” she asked.
“I'm not sure,” I replied. “I know Cindy McKade, my friend who's hosting, has a son. So, he might be included.”
“Violet, you're not going?” Goldie wondered.
My friend shook her head. “Can't. It's the same night as my faculty holiday party.”
“Of course. So many fun parties this time of year. In fact, Paul and I are going to a hospital ball tomorrow night as well, but it's down at Big Sky and we're going to stay the night.” Goldie thought for a moment. “Why don't you two go have a nice lunch and some hot chocolate and come back. I'll come up with something that's appropriate and get it all wrapped up and ready to go.”
She'd cornered me. I knew it. She knew it. And she knew I knew it. There was nothing for me to do but smile and nod my head. “Okay, but to make the presents fair, Cindy set the spending limit to ten dollars.”
“No problem,” Goldie said with a satisfied smile brightening her face.
“Thanks.” I pulled the door open, hunching my shoulders to ward off the cold breeze.
Goldie smiled and waved, the sleigh bells jingling at her ears. “I just love Christmas!”
2
I made it to the party just before the gift exchange, taking extra time to get my car warmed up and then even longer driving. It had snowed four inches during the day with a chance of a few more overnight. It was quiet, peaceful and beautiful seeing all the colorful lights twinkling on the houses and yards. There was no question of a white Christmas. At the rate it was snowing, it might be a white Easter, too.
My friend Cindy, whom I'd worked with for the past six months, had decorated for the season, garlands of greens and holly with festive red ribbon covered every available surface. A large buffet was set on the dining room table, platters of meats and cheeses, piles of cookies in various seasonal shapes like a sleigh and a Menorah. A large Crock-Pot sat in the center with little smoked hot dogs in a sauce bubbling away. Red candles were lit on the mantle in the family room, a large Christmas tree filled a corner with many presents tucked beneath. Those were for Cindy and her family—husband Rob and eight-year-old son Charlie—on the big day. The ones for the gift exchange were on the other side of the room, a disorderly pile on the carpet. Many were odd shaped, big, small, all interestingly wrapped.
Standing in my argyle socks—everyone left their winter boots by the front door—I added my small box to the top of the heap. Goldie had done a good job with the wrapping. Bright red foil paper with a white satin ribbon. Perfectly festive and didn't scream porn. I had absolutely no idea what was in the box. I'd been tempted to open it since I'd picked it up yesterday, but I trusted Goldie, especially when it came to an all-ages party. What could be in there? She knew it had to be PG-13 or even PG. Not much in an adult store could have that rating.
By the time Cindy handed me a glass of white wine, I hadn't come up with any ideas. The gift was about half the size of a shoe box and wasn't too heavy. I even tried shaking it. No luck. I, like everyone else, would have to wait and see. Thankfully, the gifts were anonymous. No one would know it—whatever it was—came from me.
By the time we'd piled around the family room on couches, chairs pulled from the kitchen and a number of us comfortably seated on the carpeted floor for the start of the white elephant gift opening, I had just started my second glass of wine. Usually I had no problems with just two glasses, but all of a sudden I felt lightheaded, hot all over and my stomach felt all fluttery as if butterflies, no maybe a cave full of bats, were trying to escape.
Or, it could have been from the surprise at seeing Sam—shit, Sam!—walk in with Cindy, chatting about something before finding spots around the room for themselves.
Oh, he looked good. Damned good. Just as I'd remembered, although his light hair was a little longer. My fingers twitched at the memory of how silky soft it had felt as I’d tugged and pulled on it. He was tall, over six feet, broad shoulders beneath a dark button-up shirt. Strong jaw, blue eyes that somehow had the ability to not only look at me, butseeme. His nose had a slight bump in it. Character, I thought, from some youthful roughhousing incident. He'd told me he played hockey on anadult recreational league at the fairgrounds, so it could have occurred more recently. However it had happened, it made him look very sexy.
Everything about him screamed sexy, as if testosterone seeped from his pores. I took a deep breath, tried to calm myself.
He hadn't seen me yet. What was I going to do when he did? It was possible I might go up in flames, spontaneously combust if he touched me. The chemistry had been that intense. Would it—could it—be like that again? I felt it, but I had no idea if he would.