Boss's Christmas Proposal Page 12

  “Well, whatever. She won’t get anywhere with him in the end. Charity knows someone he was involved with in Germany. Absolutely crazy for him, but he walked away without a second glance when he got the position here at the Taka.”

  Fortunately, Greg stepped to the front of the room and immediately drew everyone’s attention, so the subject was dropped.

  Unfortunately, however, a good portion of the meeting went in one ear and right out the other because Kimi could not manage to concentrate on anything other than watching for some sign between Greg and Bridget that supported Tanya’s rumors.

  Considering Kimi’s experience with Greg, she wanted to doubt it.

  But really, how would she know?

  Just because Greg had a host of intractable reasons why he wanted to keep her at a distance didn’t mean he applied those reasons to anyone else.

  He had obviously been kissing someone the other night. Someone other than Kimi. That smear of lipstick had not appeared out of thin air.

  She realized she was staring hard at Bridget’s glossy red lips, and looked away, consciously relaxing her tightly curled fingers.

  Suddenly, everyone around her began clapping and cheering, and Kimi hurriedly followed suit. The senior management team at the front of the room was clapping, too, and employees were pushing back their chairs, enthusiasm in their faces and their movements. Some were heading up to the front of the room where Bridget was rapidly doling out sheets of paper, while others were filing out of the training room, chattering in a half dozen languages.

  “Well, this is an unexpected kettle of fish,” Nigel said.

  Charity, on the other side of him, gave him a deadly look. “That is all you have to say?”

  “Well, old girl, you can win the contest just as easily as anyone else can,” he quickly soothed. “But even you must admit that it’s a good morale booster to involve all of the hotel staff, rather than leave the decision about the party to a small committee. You can put as many ideas into the pot as you like.”

  “The theme for the party has always been decided upon by the planning committee,” she reminded icily.

  “Sure—” Tanya leaned over Kimi and Nigel “—with a tidy little budget that you’ve always managed as the chair. But we’re in a new hotel, Charity, with a new general manager. What’s wrong with shaking things up a little?”

  Charity focused her outraged and, surprisingly, hurt attention on Kimi. “Everything was fine until you came along.”

  “Me?” Her voice rose incredulously. “I haven’t offered even one opinion about this particular debate.”

  Charity turned on her heel and flounced out of the training room, clearly in a huff. Nigel clucked his tongue and hurried after her, obviously fretting.

  “I guess y’all don’t have to care too much about the prize,” Tanya said, evidently less concerned about Charity’s mood than Nigel was.

  Kimi gave a vague “hmm,” since her complete preoccupation with the shade of Bridget’s lipstick had prevented her from hearing a single detail about any prize, much less how it related to the holiday party.

  “Personally, I wouldn’t mind winning plane fare to the States,” Tanya went on. “Then I could go back to Atlanta in April for my mother’s birthday. But I’m not that creative when it comes to party themes. And to give Charity her due, she’s usually top notch.”

  “Then her idea could well be chosen. Or is it an actual drawing of chance?”

  “Not just chance. We could end up with some horrible theme. No. Senior management will select the winner after reviewing all the entries this week.” She did not seem to wonder why Kimi missed the details.

  “Then Charity should just move her winter wonderland idea to a more suitable space in case it snows.” Though, judging from the flock of employees busily scribbling on their papers and handing them in to Bridget, Charity might have some competition.

  “I doubt she’ll want to. The employee party is the night before the Nguyen wedding, and the only space Charity would likely consider is the grand ballroom. She’d hate being relegated to the exhibition hall downstairs.”

  “Ah.” Kimi knew quite well that the ballroom in question was being set and decorated the day before the wedding. That’s what happened when a wedding reception became more of a theatrical production than a simple party. “That seems a shame, though. The party is obviously important to her.”

  “She’ll get over it. She’s just miffed because the decision making has been taken out of her hands.”

  “What about you? You should submit at least one idea,” Kimi encouraged.

  “I’m good at carrying out the plans that others make,” Tanya said, hesitating.

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” She could see the way Tanya’s gaze sidled toward the front of the room. “What is the harm? At least think about it.”

  “I don’t know.” Tanya made a face. “Look at everyone who’s giving Bridget an idea. There’s nothing original about a costume party.”

  “Fine. But it could be your costume theme they go for.” She yanked a piece of paper out of the portfolio pad that she had learned never to be without and quickly scribbled Tanya’s name at the top. “Anything else you want to add?”

  Tanya huffed, looking amused. “I don’t know. Something like the movie Casablanca, maybe. Black-and-white and from the forties.”

  “Perfect.” Kimi wrote it down, folded the sheet in half and held it toward Tanya.

  “I’ll turn the idea in if you’ll turn one in.”

  “I have no need for the tickets,” Kimi demurred.

  “So?” Tanya waved her folded sheet. “It’s just good fun, anyway. What’s the harm,” she returned pointedly.

  Kimi grimaced and scrawled the first thing she could think of on another sheet. Before she could back out, Tanya snatched it and took it to the front of the room. Moments later, she returned and headed out of the room. “Come on,” she told Kimi. “A bunch of us are meeting up at Seven for happy hour. You can get us comped.”

  “I cannot comp anyone anything,” Kimi protested, but she was so surprised at the invitation that she followed along despite the homework that waited for her attention.

  Even if she did foot the bill, which was the norm whenever she had socialized in the past, it was better than sitting around alone tormenting herself with images of Greg’s mouth plastered over his secretary’s glossy red lips.

  She would have plenty of time doing that later when she was alone in her room, looking anywhere but at the connecting door to Greg’s room and listening for the faint sounds of him coming and going.

  When they made their way up to Seven, the holiday bedecked lounge was already crowded. Tanya grabbed Kimi’s hand and pulled her through the throng until they reached a circular banquette crowded with staffers, some of whom Kimi recognized and some whom she did not. Even Charity was there, looking cozy with a man that Kimi vaguely recognized from Security. Tanya tossed out introductions as she nudged over a young man enough so that she and Kimi could sit, too. “Y’all have a head start on us,” she observed, looking at the collection of cocktail glasses already littering the hammered copper table. She lifted her hand, waving over one of the cocktail waitresses and soon, Tanya’s rum and coke and Kimi’s cosmopolitan were added to the confusion.

  The music from the live band perched on a small stage next to the dance floor was unabashedly rock and roll, and before long, the alcohol and the warmth from the crush of bodies had Kimi pulling off her suit jacket and tossing it atop those that had already been discarded by the others.

  Someone ordered up sushi, more drinks were delivered and the music just got louder.

  And then came the dancing.

  And more drinks.

  And more people crowding into Seven.

  Kimi’s feet were practically numb inside her Jimmy Choos from whirling around the dance floor with anyone and everyone before she called a laughing time-out and found her way back to the table to take a breather. Her martin
i glass had once again been replaced by a filled one. She could not quite recall how many that made.

  She picked it up and sipped, looking around for the cocktail waitress. What she really wanted was a tall bottle of water and a gigantic hamburger.

  Then she spotted Greg on the dance floor with Bridget and realized that the only thing she wanted, needed, was to escape.

  Would he have red lipstick smeared over his lips again tonight?

  She turned away from the sight.

  Shin Endo stood behind her. She started with surprise and barely kept from spilling the vodka and cranberry juice concoction down the front of her thin turtleneck.

  He had to lean closer and speak loudly to even be heard over the loud music. “Having fun?”

  She had been until she had spotted Greg with Bridget. She lifted her glass and took another small sip, buying time until her tight throat released. “Seven is quite a place.”

  Shin’s expression was inscrutable, though behind the severely tailored goatee he wore, his lips seemed to smile slightly. “We like to think so. Would you like to dance?”

  She looked back at the dance floor, pretending that she was just checking the crowd, rather than the location of Greg and his beautiful assistant. “Why not?”

  She quickly lifted her glass to her lips and drank deeply before setting it on the table and worked her way back onto the floor. Shin was a good dancer, and she knew she was making a miserable partner given the way she kept glancing behind him to Greg.

  Whether fortunately or unfortunately, however, soon after she and Shin had begun, the band wrapped up with a resounding flourish, announced that they were taking a break, and before the crowded dance floor could empty, a slow ballad throbbed through the state-of-the-art sound system.

  Shin deftly swept her into his arms, and continued dancing and despite herself, Kimi grinned. “Nice moves, Mr. Endo.”

  “I dated a dance instructor,” he admitted. “She taught me a few moves.”

  She lifted her eyebrows humorously. “I am sure she did.”

  His teeth flashed and he twirled her through the slightly thinning crowd. She laughed, unexpectedly delighted.

  “Mind if I cut in?”

  The laughter caught in Kimi’s throat. Greg stood behind Shin, his hand on the security director’s shoulder.

  “Can’t very well say no to the boss,” Shin said good-naturedly. “Thank you for the spin.” He bowed to Kimi and released her to Greg.

  Because she could not stop herself, Kimi’s gaze slid down Greg’s body and back up again. Unlike nearly everyone else in the lounge that had shed jackets and ties and name badges, he still looked wholly on duty. She knew she could either invite attention by standing like a stump in the middle of the swaying dancers, or she could move into his waiting arms and dance slowly. Against him.

  Telling her heart to settle down did little good, and she put her hand in his. He took her other and situated it on his shoulder as if he recognized her hesitation and turned her smoothly again into the swaying couples.

  She lifted her chin slightly, and tried to pretend that every nerve inside her had not gone into free fall. “So tomorrow is the big day. I do not suppose you are the least nervous.”

  He leaned over her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his cheek against hers as he spoke close to her ear. “I can’t hear you over the music.”

  She felt buffeted by the shiver that danced down her spine. She tilted back her head to repeat what she had said, only to find the words drying in her throat when her lips brushed against his jaw.

  Accidentally?

  She could not even be certain of her own actions. All she knew was that her lips were tingling from that glancing brush with the faint shadow blurring his jaw. “I…I said—” Someone bumped her from behind, jostling her closer to him. “Sorry.”

  “My fault.” He revolved around so that his back was to the bulk of the crowd. His thumb seemed to drag slowly across her knuckles and Kimi’s knees threatened to turn to water.

  He leaned closer again. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice sounded as raspy as his jaw had felt against her lips.

  Despite the alcohol swimming so freely through her veins, she knew she was treading much more dangerous waters. She stepped closer into him, stretching up to his ear. “I cannot help it,” she admitted. “What did you ask me to dance for?”

  “To stop Shin from making a spectacle of himself with you.”

  She sucked in a stinging breath. “Mr. Endo was merely dancing,” she defended and managed to plant her very sharp heel into his shoe.

  He gave a muffled oath and his hold on her tightened warningly.

  She smiled innocently. “Pardon my clumsiness.”

  “There is nothing clumsy about you,” he countered.

  “And you do not worry about making a spectacle with anyone?”

  She could feel the warmth of his breath as his lips brushed even closer against her ear. “Do you want to hear that I was jealous?”

  She pulled back to look into his face, searching his eyes for some answer that might end the confusing tangle of emotion inside her. “Were you?”

  The song ended, and her words sounded suddenly loud in that breath of a moment before the strains of the next fast number geared up.

  Flushing, Kimi took the escape. “Thank you—” she pulled her hand away from his and turned half away “—for the dance.” She quickly left the dance floor, grabbed up her jacket and headed out, stopping only long enough to tell the hostess to charge the bill for the table to her.

  She did not look back to see if Greg would follow.

  Because she knew he would not.

  Feeling decidedly defiant, she eschewed the service elevator and used the main bank to reach her floor.

  In her room, the first thing she did was kick off her high heels and yank open a packet of coffee to start the coffeemaker. Unfortunately, her hands were trembling so badly she scattered as many grounds across the counter as she managed to pour into the filter. She swept the mess into the trash and hit the start button on the machine.

  The second thing she did was sprawl facedown on the foot of her bed and groan. How often was she going to make a fool of herself where Greg was concerned?

  She turned her head, eyeing the desk where her laptop and textbooks vied for space among the piles of clothing that her closets and drawers did not have room for.

  If she had just stayed in school, she would not now be here in Kyoto, fighting an impossible attraction to an equally impossible man.

  Would she have been better off?

  She closed her eyes and looked away from her computer. The coffeemaker’s soft hiss and gurgle were the only sounds in the room. But Kimi sat bolt upright when she heard a short knock on the connecting door.

  “Open up, Kimi,” Greg’s voice was muffled and low but still distinct.

  She pressed her hand against her heart and slowly slid off the bed. “Why?” She hurriedly folded down her laptop and tossed her discarded jacket over the textbooks.

  “Do you want me to get a pass key?”

  She fumbled with the lock and slowly opened her side of the connecting doorway. “You would not do that. It would go against your ethics.”

  He looked grim. “Don’t be too sure. I seem willing to do all sorts of things when it comes to you.”

  Her hand tightened reflexively against the doorknob and she rested her head against the solid door. “Like interrupt a perfectly innocent dance?”

  “Like open this bloody damn door between us,” he returned evenly. His gaze flicked from her to the door that she was using more or less as a shield. “Are you hiding someone in there?”

  “Yes.” The lump in her throat made it hard to speak. “The entire maintenance crew, if you must know. We are going to have an orgy. Would you like to join us?”

  His lips twisted. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Whereas I suppose you have never overindulged.” Tir
ed of keeping up the front, she turned away and padded over to her coffeemaker. She yanked out the small pot and shakily filled one of the provided porcelain cups.

  She was painfully aware of him coming up behind her, but resolutely kept from lifting her gaze to the mirror on the wall above the counter and set the cup on the matching saucer. She lifted it slightly to the side. “There is enough for two cups if you want. The Taka provides the very best in amenities, even for the lowly emp—” She broke off when his hands closed over her shoulders. The coffee cup rattled in the saucer, and she hastily set it on the counter. “What do you want from me, Greg? Other than for me to go away altogether?” She finally looked up at the mirror and felt pinned in place when his gaze trapped hers there.

  His thumbs roved slowly, lightly, over the point of her shoulders left bare by her sleeveless turtleneck. That was distracting enough. But the torn expression on his face was what really sent her emotions spiraling.

  “You would rather that I was not here at all,” she said huskily.

  His lips were tight, but his touch on her shoulders was impossibly gentle. “I would rather that looking at you didn’t turn my guts inside out. I would rather that I could still think straight when you walk into the room.”

  “Nothing distracts you from business,” she whispered. “Everyone in the hotel says so.”

  “Nothing ever has—except you.”

  Why did hearing what she desperately wanted to hear make her also want to cry? She swallowed hard and managed to pull her gaze free, staring hard instead at absolutely nothing to keep the burning behind her eyes from becoming anything more. “I didn’t come here to be a distraction to anyone.”

  “Some things don’t happen by choice. You can’t help being distracting any more than the sun can help rising in the morning.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a compliment coming in such a terse tone.” She carefully centered the coffee cup and saucer in front of the coffeemaker. “If you do not believe it is choice that brought you into my room, then you should go. I know there are many things that we cannot choose in life, and maybe who we are at—” she curled her fingers against her palms “—attracted to, is one of those things. But what we do about it is a choice.”