Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

My hormones surged. His voice was deep and rough. Smooth and so seductive.

My words came out unsteady. “Hello, Saint.”

“I would have thought that your long flight would have you looking exhausted, but as usual, not a hair out of place.”

I kept my composure. “I have to maintain my image.”

“Something you do impeccably.”

“You too. Loving the Louie Vuitton jacket. This winter’s collection. Very hip.”

“I made sure my outfits were together on this trip. You’re a top designer. I must impress when I can.”

Park cleared her throat. “And I am her assistant.”

“Oh yeah.” I giggled, yet never took my gaze off him. “This is my personal assistant. I hired her last spring.”

Saint held his hand out for Park. “Nice meeting you. Let’s hope you stay on the rest of the year. She has a problem with keeping her assistants.”

I frowned.

Park gave him a shy smile. “She’s a great boss.”

Saint snorted. “Sure she is. She has you working on Christmas instead of spending time with your family.” He pressed his lips together.

“Well, my family doesn’t celebrate, but. . .it would have been nice to hang out with my friends.” Park gave him a weak smile. “But working for Ivy is a once in a lifetime opportunity. As she says, we can sleep when we die.”

Saint frowned at me. “Really, Ivy?”

“It’s a popular saying. I didn’t create it.” I squared my shoulders. “And when I decided to bring her along, I never really thought about the holiday part.”

“It’s the holidays, Ivy.”

“The fashion industry doesn’t take breaks.”

He shook his head. “You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch.”

I took my hands out of my pocket. “Wow. That’s unnecessary. It’s just one Christmas.”

“What will you say next? Bah humbug?”

I rolled my eyes. “Bah humbug.”

Park inched away as if not wanting to be a part of our exchange.

Saint studied me. “While I believe you’re a super talented designer and immensely successful businesswoman, you’re sewing clothes not performing heart surgery.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not excused. Surely you won’t need your assistant for the whole trip. You shouldn’t need her for the rest of December? You are staying in Finland for a few days after the wedding?”

“Yes, but that’s to get work done in my villa.”

“You won’t be working.” He shook his head. “We’re going to the Santa Village.”

“The hell I am.”

Saint leaned forward, letting me know he meant business. “She can stay for a few days to enjoy Finland. Not work. Then, you’ll let her have off until after New Year’s. . .with full pay.” Always bold and unapologetic, his eyes bored into me like they would unravel all the thoughts in my mind, picking them apart until he found what he wanted. “Do we have an understanding, Mrs. Grinch?”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am. Do you agree to my proposal?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Proposal? It sounded more like an order.”

“Fine.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Then it’s an order.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

“It’s Christmas, Ivy.”

I sighed. “Of course Park can fly back in a few days if she wants to. . .and take a paid vacation.”

“She’ll want to. This is a time for family and friends, not Ivy Smith.”

I blinked. “Fair point.”

“Do you need me to cover the money?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. Park can go back in two or three days for her paid vacation.”

Excitement buzzed from Park, although she kept her mouth closed.

“Then there we have it.” Saint curved his lips into a smile. “That’s nice, Ivy. Very Christmassy of you.”

“Well, you know how I am. Just call me Mrs. Clause.”

As if finding a way to break the tension in the air, Park pointed to my two bags. “That’s yours, right?”

“Yep. That’s me.” I headed for it, ready to get away from Saint’s disapproving look.

Saint jumped in front of me. “The two pink leather suitcases?”

“Of course.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

He walked over to the bags and grabbed them.

Park looked at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to be a big deal or—”

“No way.” I held up my hand. “You deserve it. I should have come to that conclusion myself. Saint has a way of. . .making me see situations differently.”

“Well, I still want to help you with the bachelorette party.”

“Perfect.”

Easily holding both of my bags, Saint called back to us. “Which one is yours, Park? I’ll get them.”

“Oh my.” She batted her eyes.

I shook my head. “Hers is the lime green one over there with the puppy stickers all over it.”

He grabbed that one before it slipped away. “Very cute, Park.”

She beamed. “I’d like to think so.”

Somehow, he had all the bags and led us forward. “Okay, gorgeous ladies. Let’s head away on the Saint Express.”

“The Saint Express?” Park whistled. “I love that.”

“But most important, do you all have your tickets for the Saint Express?” he asked.