Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“Can I help you?” I ask with my hands clasped behind my back and my chest puffed out.
He turns and looks a little stunned when he sees me standing beside him. I’m a little stunned too. I knew those dark eyes would be gorgeous, but I wasn’t prepared for the total body shock of having them locked on me. They’re a magnificent chestnut color and I feel like I could get lost in them for days. It feels like when I finally pull away, it might be the New Year already.
“Do you work here?” he asks in a smooth, rich voice.
“Jemma, at your service,” I say, pointing to the name tag pinned above my boob.
He looks at my chest and my nipples immediately get hard. Oh shit. Is he noticing? Of course, he’s noticing! They’re sticking straight up like they’re raising their hand—Look at me! Look at me!
They’re sticking up like they’re desperate for his attention.
I look like I’m on the set of Friends. What was with that anyway? Did they jack up the air conditioning on the set or something?
I shake out the crazy in my mind and force out some words. “Are you shopping for your girlfriend?”
“Sister,” he says, never taking his eyes off me.
“Oh,” I say, getting a little excited. But my excitement is premature. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Guys like him always have girlfriends. If not, they’re players and I definitely don’t want that. “Did you finish shopping for your girlfriend already?”
I’m hoping I’m not too obvious with my fishing for details. Who am I kidding? If I was any more obvious, I’d be throwing a fish hook at his forehead.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says as he runs his hand along his tie. “I just need something for my sister.”
Interesting…
“I can help you…” I lift my eyebrows up.
“Quinn,” he says, quick on his feet. I like that in a man.
“Quinn,” I say with a smile. “Let’s find something for your sister. What does she like?”
“I’m not sure,” he says with a quick lick of his lips. “She lives in Hawaii, so we don’t see each other too often.”
“Hmmmm,” I say as I look around the store. “Then you’re going to need something that travels well. Maybe a nice sweater?”
“In Hawaii?”
“Girls always need sweaters,” I say as I lean in and brush my hand along his arm. “Something light. Cashmere maybe?”
“Cashmere is nice,” he says.
“Great,” I say with a big smile. “Follow me.”
I walk over to the sweaters, swaying my hips just in case he’s looking. I glance in the mirror on the column and see his heated eyes all over me. It makes my body tingle with excitement.
“Did she give you a list of things she’d like?” I ask as I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s so hot. Like so so hot.
“It’s a Secret Santa, so she doesn’t know I have her.”
“Oooh, mysterious. Fun.”
“I wouldn’t call it fun.”
I frown at him in a flirty way. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those hot, rich, New York finance guys who hate Christmas. I saw a movie about you.”
He chuckles. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, and you were the bad guy in it.”
He shakes his head. “Figures.”
“But don’t worry, you learned the magic of Christmas before the credits rolled.”
“I doubt that will be happening in real life,” he says, grinning at me. “What do you want for Christmas?”
A heaviness hits my stomach, but I quickly push it away. What I really want for Christmas is to be home. Or, anywhere festive really.
I always dreamed of moving to New York City and three years ago when I was twenty-two, I did it. I packed my things and moved from Arizona all the way here to the Upper East Coast. I wanted to work in fashion, designing clothes more specifically, but all I’ve gotten so far is an unpaid internship that fired me halfway through. But still, I work every night on my designs and I’m not giving up yet.
I love my family, and I adore spending the Holidays with them, but it’s too expensive to fly back and forth every year. I haven’t been home since I left. I really miss it.
Last year, I spent Christmas with my roommate. We made a small turkey and watched Christmas movies all day, which was fun.
But this year, she’s going home, so it’s just going to be me and her cat hanging out, eating spicy Ramen noodles, and trying not to cry.
“I would be thrilled to have one of these sweaters under the tree,” I say, waving my arm at the folded sweaters on display. “They’re real cashmere, feel.”
We both put our hand on the same sweater and our fingers touch. Electricity sizzles through me. Literally. We both get a static electric shock and I yank my hand back with a gasp.