Page 7 of The Christmas Trap


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Not even when I narrow my gaze, lower my eyebrows and paste on my most fierce expression. She doesn’t back down. I’ll give her that much. And despite being decked out like a Christmas sale, it’s clear she’s serious about this role.

The longer our gazes hold, the more something shifts between us. The air thrums. A buzzing sound fills my mind. The heat expands out from my spine to my extremities. I feel alive. Expectant. On the verge of something monumental. Alarm bells go off in my head.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this attracted to a woman. And it’s not because she’s gorgeous, or that she has an incredible hourglass figure,which I wasn’t aware I favored, until now. Or that she’s as ambitious, as focused, and as intelligent as her cover letter hinted. No, it’s the complete package.

Her enthusiasm is like a jolt to a system that’s running on fumes. She stands out because she wants this, not only for the title, or for the proximity to power, but because she intends to deliver.

My instincts say she’ll put in the hours, fight to prove herself, and rise fast if given the chance.

That should be the only thing I’m noticing.

But it isn’t.

The chemistry between us hums, low and constant, crawling under my skin in a way I have no business acknowledging. It’s distracting… Annoyingly so. But her potential outweighs all of that. Enough for me to set the rest aside. For now.

I turn away, walk to my desk, and take my seat. Then I nod to one of the chairs across from me.

Time to be professional.

“Take a seat.”

The tension drains from her shoulders. She swallows audibly, then walks toward the chair.

Those luscious hips of hers sway as she walks toward me. Her thighs stretch the tight material of her skirt, making me want to rip it off her and bury my face between them and—Whoa. Stop that train of thought right now.

I am not the kind to feel so powerfully drawn to a woman. This has never happened before. It’s a complication. And I’ve long resolved not to have those in my life.

I’ve worked toward becoming CEO of Davenport Capital since I left the Royal Marines.

Money and power are everything. That’s what my grandfather taught me. And I intend to live up to Gramps’ expectations.

I might allow a woman into my life by getting married like he wants, but I will not complicate my life by allowing her into my heart, like my brothers have.

The reminder helps me shove the unwanted attraction I feel for the woman sitting opposite me to a corner of my mind.

There’s a woof, and Tiny pads over to her. He parks his butt next to her chair and looks up at her with his tongue lolling and what looks like hearts in his eyes. It irritates me for some reason. I can’t be jealous of a mutt.Can I?

I snap my fingers. “Tiny, to your place, boy.” I pull out a chew toy from my drawer and toss it over to the rug at the side of my desk.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t move. Then, as I wonder if I’m going to have to lead him by his collar, he heaves a sigh.

He lumbers up to his feet and, with a last toss doleful look in the direction of the gorgeous woman in the chair, he pads over to the rug and collapses with another sigh. Instead of playing with his toy, he slides his head between his paws and blinks up at Lark.

“He’s so cute.” She smiles at him.

It’s unusual for me to conduct an interview with a mutt inattendance. I’m taking care of him so my grandfather can enjoy some time off.

It’s singularly irregular that the sight of the Great Dane mooning over her fans the kernel of jealousy in my chest into full-blown fire.

It makes me want to get the pooch out of the room.

With a last scowl at him, I turn my attention back on the woman seated opposite me.

“I have had more than a thousand applicants for this role.”

“A thousand?” She pales.

“What sets you apart?” I tap my fingertips together and survey her.