Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,6

hadn’t even noticed her. He’d been barely aware of her existence, unless he wanted his pay check early and Jax wouldn’t give it to him. And now, he was watching her with a hunger that Chloe liked just fine. There was power in being at her best and that fed her confidence in a new way.

She had a plan for her life and it didn’t include guys like Hunter, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be glad he thought she looked hot.

Who would have guessed?

Quiet, conservative Chloe Richardson had been replaced by a sexy, svelte boss lady with legs up to her neck. Damn. Hunter could have looked at her all night. She was polished, with poise to spare, and exuded confidence in a way that made him want to drop to his knees and worship at her altar. She could have been a movie star, her movements graceful and elegant, her legs smoothly muscled and her lips so lush that Hunter wanted to run his fingertips across them.

No, he wanted to kiss them. He wanted to back Chloe into the wall, take off her glasses and unpin her hair. He wanted to unwrap that sexy librarian look and loose the tigress trapped inside. He wanted to kiss her until she moaned. He wanted her to make him a list of just what she wanted, in very precise terms, then he would deliver on every single item. He wanted to peel her out of that black suit and make love to her until she begged for mercy. She could keep those heels on. They worked for him in a big way.

He didn’t disguise his interest, but instead of being on the same proverbial page, Chloe had spared him only one glance of amusement—or maybe pity. Hunter prayed that it wasn’t pity. Then she ignored him as if he didn’t even exist.

Women did not ignore Hunter Tate.

Not the ones who counted anyway.

Could this be his holiday challenge? Hunter knew Chloe well enough to understand that her life was a spreadsheet, all planned from one day to the next, with no room for surprises. She was probably in tight with some business dude, like Tyler, all expensive suits and fancy cars, big money and private jets, and they probably had a twenty-year plan all worked out and carved in stone. There wouldn’t be any living in the moment with Chloe: no impulse, no whims, no sudden detours.

What if he took it as a challenge to teach her how to have fun?

It would be doing her a favor.

He was pretty sure Chloe wouldn’t see it that way.

Could he change her mind? Hunter was tempted to try. He spent the meeting considering numerous possibilities and discarding them as implausible. She’d have an answer to every suggestion, inevitable refusals, most based on her existing schedule. How did people live like that?

Hunter made his presentation about the roll-out of more fitness classes for new mothers in the new year but wasn’t really paying attention to much beyond Chloe’s note-taking.

They were packing up and he had no plan, then Chloe’s phone chimed.

Chloe shook her head when she looked at the text message. “Oh, Mom,” she said with resignation, then looked around the room with what might have been desperation. “I don’t suppose any of you know a hunk with a tux who’s available Friday night?”

It was the opening Hunter needed.

Sonia grinned. “If I did, he’d be busy,” she said and Meesha laughed.

“I do,” Hunter said and waited for her to look at him. “I am,” he added with a smile.

“You?” she said.

“Me.”

“What about the dance club?” Damon asked.

“Jax made me take a Friday off. This one.” He smiled at Chloe. “My dance card is open.”

“And you have a tux,” Meesha said, folding her arms across her chest to eye him. “Color me skeptical. No rental is going to cut it for any party Chloe’s going to.” She turned to Chloe. “Isn’t this your mom’s annual charity ball with all that Upper East Side money?”

“That’s the one,” Chloe said, meeting Hunter’s gaze. “All the fancy people will be there. I don’t think you’d like it.”

“You don’t know, though,” he countered. “And I’d like to find out. Come on, let’s do it, Chloe.” He lowered his voice, letting her worry about the double-entendre. “Are you afraid to take a chance on something that isn’t already on your calendar?”

She bristled predictably. People who loved their routines hated having that trait pointed out to them in Hunter’s experience. “Of course not.”