Page 8 of Misadventures With My Billionaire Boss

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Calling Goldie to get the key,” I grumbled. I’d wanted to be close to Sam, but like this? With Goldie’s involvement written all over it? No way.

Sam looked at his watch and said, “Em, it's pretty late. Why don't we just call her in the morning?”

I looked at him, stunned. “You don't care that she pulled this stunt? That she locked us together in some evil plan?”

“An evil plan for what?”

I just glared at him, knowing what kind of evil plan Goldie could come up with. Meddling woman.

“Anyone could have picked that gift,” Sam continued.

That gave me pause. “True. But that doesn't make us any less locked together.”

I looked up the number and called Goldilocks. I didn't know the guy working but I explained my predicament. He started laughing, and I held the phone away from my ear until he was done. Sam gave me an I-told-you-so look. After the guy pulled himself together, he gave me Goldie's cell and wished me luck. Grumbling, I listened to the phone ring, waiting for her to pick up. “Voicemail,” I told Sam.

He nodded, not quite as bothered by this ridiculous situation as I.

When I heard the beep, I said, “Goldie. This is Emma Hardy. Listen, about your gift for the exchange? Yeah, well, I'm handcuffed to someone, and I need to get the key from you, which should have been in the box. When you get this—oh shit, I just remembered. You're in Big Sky for the night.” I gave a frustrated sigh. “First thing in the morning, call me.” I left my number and hung up.

“No luck?” Sam asked, although he already knew the answer and was making fun of me.

“We are officially stuck together,” I grumbled.

Sam leaned in and gave me a soft, slow kiss. The fingers of his captured hand meshed with mine. “Is that such a bad thing?”

My mind had gone blank at the start of the kiss and all I could do was shake my head.

3

We stood in the quiet of the Cindy's hallway for about five minutes considering our options, not too eager to share our predicament with fellow partygoers. Eventually, we decided to make a run for it. We didn't even say goodbye. Under the circumstances, Cindy would probably understand. Our coats were right there in the den, I had my gift—George the Gnome—under my arm and Sam had his permanently—at least until I tracked down and killed Goldie—attached to me.

We tried to see humor in the fact that neither could slip both arms into our jackets, so we must have looked ridiculous with a them dangling off our shoulders. The only thing more idiotic looking than that was me climbing into the driver's side of Sam’s car, crawling over the center console to get to my seat, one arm stuck out behind me attached to Sam. It wasn't graceful, and definitely not ladylike, and I didn't want to think of the view Sam had of my rear end. The option of having Sam do it instead might have required the fire department come to extricate him, so I performed the acrobatics.

The only perk in this fiasco was that Sam had taken my hand in his once we realized our situation was fairly permanentand had yet to let it go. Who knew something so simple as handholding could be so...intimate? Erotic even. It might be freezing out, but my hand was warm in his.

We were safely tucked into the quiet confines of his car, the heater set to high, the heat seats on. Sam drove since his right wrist was attached to my left. We agreed there was no choice but to leave my car behind and make Goldie pick it up in the morning. She'd gotten us into this mess, the least she could do would be to return my stranded wagon.

It was snowing and extremely dark all around us. Heat started to blast from the vents. The radio pumped out the holiday tunes.

“I've been wanting to ask you something since the first time we met at the office,” Sam said, once we'd left Cindy's neighborhood behind. “But I thought it might be a little forward.”

“Oh?” I asked, a little breathless. A lot curious. I had George the Gnome in my lap and decided to take the Santa hat off it. His smile was broad and frozen in place. I imagined him winking at me and saying, “Go for it!” I carefully set him on the back seat. If any move making was going to occur, I didn't want him leering.

At a stop sign, Sam glanced over at me. “Your place or mine?”

He had the same heated look on his face that I’d seen earlier, when he'd just stopped kissing me. The look that said—more—without any words.

I cleared my throat, trying to dislodge the nerves, desire and excitement all clumped there. “I guess you don't have much choice either way,” I replied. We were stuck together, literally, but that didn't mean he wanted to be. Kissing was one thing, but handcuffed together was something else entirely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

I looked down at our joined hands. The contact felt good. More than good. Warm, safe. But I had to know. “This isn't like last time. You were able to walk away. In fact, you did.”

There was no doubt he knew exactly what I was talking about. Unless he was a complete womanizing jerk, I'd like to think he remembered the kiss in Seattle.

He rubbed his free hand over his jaw. I could tell he was thinking, stalling. “I did walk away,” Sam replied.