Her Festive Baby Bombshell

Seriously? This was the thanks she got for going above and beyond her job duties—not to mention sacrificing her sleep—all in order to help him. Maybe it was her lack of sleep or her growing hunger, but she wasn’t going to stand by quietly while he railed against her efforts to help.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know that I tried to tell you about my idea this morning, but you didn’t have time to listen. And something tells me that isn’t what has you riled up. So what is it?”

His heated gaze met hers. “I knew this was going to be a mistake—”

“What? My plan?”

“No. Your idea has some merit. I meant us trying to work together.”

“Well, don’t blame me. It wasn’t my idea.”

He sighed. “True enough.”

“Wait. Did you say my plan has merit?”

“I did, but I don’t think it’s feasible.”

Her body stiffened as her back teeth ground together. Really? That was what he was going with? Feasible?

She pressed her lips together, holding back her frustration. After all, he was the boss—even if he was being a jerk at the moment.

“I know you’re not happy about this decision, but it’s a lot to ask of so many pilots, and what happens if they back out at the last minute? It would be a disaster.” He glanced down at his deck shoes. “I hope you’ll understand. This is just the way it has to be.”

“I don’t understand.” The cork came off her patience and out spewed her frustration and outrage. “I have given you a cost-effective, not to mention a timely solution, to your problem and yet you find every reason it won’t work. If you didn’t want to go through with Project Santa, why did you start it in the first place?”

“That’s not what I said.” He pressed his lips into a firm line as his hand came to rest on his trim waist. When she refused to glance away—to back down, he straightened his shoulders as though ready to do battle in the boardroom. “Okay. Your idea could work, but how do you plan on getting the message out to the people about Project Santa and the MyFace page?”

“We’ll need a spokesperson.”

“Where will you get that?”

She stared pointedly at him. “I’m looking at him.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“No way.”

“Why not? All you have to do is a few promo spots to secure the public’s assistance. What’s the problem?”

His heated gaze met hers. “Why are you pushing this?”

She implored him with her eyes to truly hear her. “Do you realize the number of children you could help with your generous gifts?” When he refused to engage, she continued. “It would give them hope for the future. It might influence the path they follow in life.” And then for good measure she added, “And without your cooperation, they’ll never have that chance.”

“That’s not fair. You can’t heap all of that guilt on me.”

“Who else should I blame?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You know, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

A tense moment passed before he spoke again. “I wanted to tell you how impressed everyone was with your presentation.”

“Everyone but you.” The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them.

“Holly, that’s not true.” He raked his fingers through his hair, scattering it. “You don’t know how hard this is for me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

Conflict reflected in his eyes as though he was warring with himself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should. Sometimes getting it all out there helps.” She walked over to the couch and had a seat. She patted the cushion next to her. “It might not seem like it at this particular time, but I am a good listener.”

His gaze moved from her to the couch. She didn’t think he would do it—trust her with his deeply held secret. But if it stood in the way of his helping with the publicity for Project Santa, then they needed to sort it out.