That was not happening to me.

I eased to the edge of the wingback chair. My brother’s office looked more like a library than a place of business. A wall of books was all I could see beyond his large shoulders. He might be a desk jockey, but he made time for the state-of-the-art gym on the premises.

I didn’t care if we had a superior view of Manhattan’s Sixth Ave, I didn’t want to run on a treadmill. I’d pound the miles out on the pavement until there were icicles hanging off my damn nose. Or, for the next few days, whatever hiking trails I managed to climb.

Anything to push the blackness out of my brain.

“I have to get to the airport.”

“Your cabin upstate will still be there in a few hours, Lincoln.”

I curled my fingers over the leather arms. I knew my duties as the head of the family, and the head of our fucking company. The annual Christmas party had once been my favorite part of the year.

Once.

For the last three years, I’d escaped after saying Merry Christmas with a wave and a smile. Our employees didn’t give a rat’s ass if I walked around the room and glad-handed everyone while carrying a glass of spiked eggnog.

No, the only people who actually cared were my mother and Parker. Which was the only reason why I wasn’t in the air right now. I made an appearance, slapped on a tight smile, then got the fuck out.

I stood and pushed up the sleeves of my black cashmere sweater. No suit for me. I had a date with a bottle of whiskey and the lake for the next three days. It was Casual Fuck You Christmas for this Murdock.

A brisk knock on the door saved me from another lecture from my brother. I crossed to the door and opened it. The first thing I noticed was the short green skirt and striped red and white stockings on endless legs, ending in sky high boots in a deeper red shade. Boots that definitely did not make me think of elves even if the rest of her outfit screamed Santa’s helper.

I immediately dragged my eyes up to her face. Too many years of sexual harassment protocols had been burned into my brain.

“Oh God.” Her summer blue eyes were huge and her blond hair had been plaited into girlish braids, but there was no mistaking that face. Or that body.

I saw the realization in her face as well.

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So is this why you ran off last night? Had to get back to Santa’s workshop?”

Parker crowded behind me. “Jesus, Lincoln.” He clamped a hand on my shoulder and dragged me out of the doorway. His glowering face was one I was used to. “Can I help you?”

“Hello.” She blinked and swallowed before tucking a flyaway curl into her braid. “Sorry to bother you.” Her gaze darted to me, then back to my brother. “I’m looking for Mr. Murdock.”

I shifted my gaze to another woman in the hallway. Brunette, attractive, super pale. I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the New York winter. She was fidgeting and kept crossing and re-crossing her arms across her middle. She, however, was not dressed like a North Pole reject. Instead she had on black pants and a white shirt with a little candy cane on the pocket.

“I’m Parker Murdock.”

“Right.” Her gaze kept tripping to me, then back to my brother. “Of course you are. That’s the name on the door.” She blew out a breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’m really sorry to bother you. The only other person I’ve talked to is Lincoln Murdock.”

She sure as hell hadn’t. I would have remembered that smoky voice made for firelight, crisp sheets, and screaming my name until she was hoarse. “That would be me.” I opened the door wider to stand beside my brother.

She paled until her freckles and overly made up cheeks practically glowed. “I was really hoping to speak with Jordan, but I can’t seem to get a hold of him.” She was almost as tall as I was, and yet again looking to bolt. Just like last night.

The woman from Purgatory. In my office, right now. Christ on a crutch.

I didn’t even know what, or who, I was looking for when I went into the club. I knew I wanted to forget—it was about all I cared about doing this time of year. Finding a warm body to lose myself in.

She’d fit the bill in every damn way. She was built like a woman should be—all curves and fiery grace. She didn’t care who had been watching her. She’d been lost in the music, then lost in me. At least for the span of two songs. Nearly as tall as me with an ass that fit against me like she’d been created for my body.

I’d never been so hot, so fast, for a woman in my life.

I was damn glad I was wearing all black right now so my semi didn’t fucking show.

“Jordan—the assistant of the Mr. Murdock you’re looking for—is probably already down at the party.” Parker gave me a hard stare, then turned his attention back to the woman in the doorway. “Can we help you with something?”

She lifted her chin and some of the color came back into her cheeks. “I’m from Kandy Kane Dreams.”

Tags: Taryn Quinn Erotic
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