winks at me. “Don’t worry, West has got too much on the line to risk being a party pooper. I told him that if he behaves himself, I’ll give him what’s underneath my tree skirt before Christmas.”
Quinn pretends to gag. “We don’t need to hear about your unwrapping festivities. I prefer to not see Mommy kissing Santa Claus.”
Harper bumps her shoulder against her ex-stepsister’s, giggling.
“Speaking of Santa Claus,” Sloane interjects, “where is the jolly old boss in the suit?”
“Making the rounds,” I mutter bitterly as my gaze tracks the man in question across the room. “And heading toward your men, by the looks of it.”
Yes, I’ve been watching Ryder closely all night. Like an idiot. My posture has been aloof and disinterested, but my eyes have been daring him to flirt with even one woman. Which is unfair and hypocritical of me, I know. I’d get redder than Rudolph’s nose and kick him in his jingle bells if he warned me against flirting with other men.
Regardless…
I’ll go Jackie Frost on his ass and stab him with an icicle if he starts spreading his holiday cheer to any female that isn’t me.
It’s not like I can blame them, though. What sane, straight woman wouldn’t want to sit on that man’s lap and take his sleigh for a ride? Even I want to lick him like a candy cane. More like lick his candy cane. He’s wearing a red and black velvet sport coat over a black shirt, black tie, and black slacks. On anyone else, I’d probably say the velvet jacket would be tacky, but I don’t think there’s a look that Ryder can’t pull off. His hair has that characteristic floppy thing going on up top, looking messy and put together at the same time, and he kept his day-old facial stubble.
Five minutes under the mistletoe with that man is all I need.
He’s been watching me, too. We’ve been circling each other like two opponents in the ring about to come to blows. And blow is exactly what I have in mind.
Ryder follows Carter and West as they cross the patio to us, drinks in hand. I zone in on the one Ryder has in his hand because—
It’s my punch.
He’s drinking my Santa’s Got a Brand New Bag and he seems to be enjoying it. In fact, his glass is already halfway empty. The way my skin instantly warms has nothing to do with that, though. I’m just standing too close to one of those heated lamps.
Watching my boss closely as the three of them near, I intentionally cock my hip to the side, widening the slit in my hip-hugging maxi skirt.
Ryder’s eyes lower to my exposed skin.
My wine-colored, two-piece velvet outfit is sleek with a slender silhouette. The long-sleeved top is fitted and cropped, with a deep V in the back. The matching skirt would look almost demure if it wasn’t for the near-indecently high slit that runs along my left leg, all the way up to the top of my thigh.
Not gonna lie, I feel like a Bond woman in this outfit.
If only I had a tube of lipstick that doubled as a gun.
I rarely wear my hair up. It has a mind of its own, and I gave up trying to tame it a long time ago. The thick strands are heavy and fall into the same wavy look every day without me having to take a hair wand to them. It works for me. But I wanted if off my shoulders tonight in order to showcase the back of my top, so I pinned it up with some silver glittery clips and called it good.
Judging by Ryder’s expression, I’d say I made the right call.
“You throw quite the party,” Sloane muses to Ryder.
My boss ducks his head sheepishly. “Oh, I can’t take credit. All I did was make a phone call and book the place.”
“If this is how you do Christmas, I can only imagine what your New Year’s Eve looks like,” Quinn comments.
“Yeah, I’m jealous,” Harper pipes up, leaning into West when he slips his arm around her waist. “Gretchen was just telling us how you two will be at a conference in New York for the New Year. What better city to celebrate the holiday in, right?” Blondie tosses me a discreet wink behind her glass.
“I’m thrilled.” I glare at her. “Can’t you tell by my face?”
“Trick question,” Ryder quips. “You always wear that scowl.”
Everyone snickers while Ryder grins at me proudly.
“If you weren’t