ask because I couldn’t want to know.
“I’ll do what’s required for my job, but as for any more than that, Mr. Saint Nicholsen.” I paused and straightened my spine. “I think I’d rather walk the plank.”
Holly Jolly was nothing like I expected.
Her resume had been perfect for the job. Her skill, judging by the meticulous documentation on her social media and glowing reviews, was unmatched. And her name... her name was what first caught my eye while searching for a pastry chef for the job. Holly Jolly. From there, I’d created this image of her in my mind—a woman with a Christmas-centric name just like mine. And I thought I knew her.
I was wrong.
And somehow, it felt even better than being right.
From the moment I’d run into her in the lobby, her introduction instantly clueing me in to who she was, I found myself enraptured by her. With her honey-blonde hair in disarray and her nerves frazzled, her quick wit and guarded gaze vied with her ample curves and striking beauty for first focus in my mind.
At the risk of coming off like even more of a Christmas fanatic than a man with the name Saint Nicholsen could be, Holly reminded me of a Christmas present sitting... waiting... underneath the tree. She was wrapped in layer after layer of beautiful but unmarked paper, refusing to disclose what was inside and unwilling to participate in the frills of what surrounded her. There was both magic and mystery to the gorgeous Grinch, and I was determined to know more.
“A very merry morning, Mr. Nicholsen,” Noelle greeted me cheerfully, appearing at her post at the front desk. Her hair was pulled back, a small elf hat pinned to the side of her head and a red bow tied around her neck.
“Good morning, Noelle.” I tipped my head and smiled.
“Oh my Christmas, does it smell wonderful down here.” She dragged in an exaggerated breath and I couldn’t help but do the same.
It started over the weekend as Holly had Roberto and his crew erect the frame the gingerbread house would be built on. This morning, they’d just started bringing up the gingerbread bricks from storage—vacuum packed and sealed away for months—in preparation for them to be laid.
The scent of ginger, cinnamon, and cloves began a slow and steady invasion that went from faint to infusing every breath with the familiar, spiced warmth.
“Can I help you?” she offered pleasantly, adjusting her numerous Christmas pins while she signed in to her computer.
I shook my head with a smile. “Just watching.”
Her mouth formed a small circle. “Do you know what she’s going to do? I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful.”
“I do not,” I confessed and added without thinking, “She’s turned out to be quite a mystery.” Noelle’s attention snapped to me, intrigued. “The project, I mean,” I tried to correct myself lamely.
She hummed and nodded, but I caught the hint of a smile on her face. “Well, I can’t wait to see what she comes up with. I heard she’s the best,” she agreed and added, “And I heard she turned down a lot of holiday offers to come here.”
My heart thumped extra heavily at that.
I let my attention drift back to where it had been lingering for the last ten minutes—at the back of the lobby where a certain prickly pastry chef was directing her two assistants, along with Roberto, as they began divvying up the numerous gingerbread blocks inside the sectioned-off the work area.
“I think I’m going to go find out.”
Pushing away from the column I’d been discreetly concealed behind, I adjusted my bright green Grinch tie against the pale green button down I’d paired it with.
I fought to control my smile. I couldn’t help myself. I knew the Grinch would set her off.
As I approached, my blood began to pump a little hotter, seeing her skin-tight black pants molded to her legs and disappear beneath the fitted white jacket that clung to the curve of her ass. Damn, she had a great ass. Grunting, I shoved my hands into my pockets before my fingers started twitching, wanting to grab it.
Wanting to know more about her was one thing, but the way I wanted her was another—completely inappropriate—thing.
Clearing my throat, I shot my dick a warning glare, demanding it stand down as I came up behind her.
“Miss Jolly,” I drawled warmly.
She jumped and spun around, pressing a hand to her chest over the white coat she’d buttoned up to her chin.
“Mr. Nicholsen.” She recovered