Christmas for Two: Thirsty Hearts, #5.5

By Kris Jayne

Unwrap some holiday passion!

Seeing her old boss Griffin Kelso's name show up on her phone gives Delilah Johnston the shivers. His charming but self-centered ways are the #1 reason she left her job behind. Recently divorced, Delilah is starting a new chapter in her life—right after she enjoys a quiet Christmas. She's flying solo and loving it.

Griffin Kelso has a vision to create an empire entirely on his own. His main goal? To escape the reach of his overbearing billionaire father. This includes ducking a dysfunctional family holiday and recruiting his former assistant to help him hone his plans. That woman could organize confetti in a windstorm.

On impulse, Delilah invites Christmas-hating Griffin over to re-introduce him to holiday cheer. Soon, what started off as just business turns personal. They unwrap their common histories and more. No mistletoe needed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kris Jayne
• Release date: Nov 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781944460136

Kris Jayne

Kris Jayne is a devoted writer, reader, and traveler. She spends her days blissfully sweating out the writing process in the Dallas area with her dogs, Otis the Shih Tzu, Rocco the Terrier, and Red the Foxy Mutt. Her passion for writing is matched only by her passion for the adventures of travel. In 2008, she let a friend talk her into sleeping outside for the first time in her life when she climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. P.S. If you're buying her a gift, she has a penchant for single-malt Scotch and scarves. Visit Kris online at krisjayne.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

DELILAH

Ishould’ve erased his number from my phone. As soon as I had walked out the door with the two cardboard boxes containing the remnants of my twenty years at Crossgate Industrial Equipment, I should have tapped on his stupid name and deleted him from my contacts.

Seeing Griffin Kelso pop up on my phone caused my shoulders to tighten and my forehead to tense to a dull ache. And on a Saturday? Typical.

I set my rapidly cooling coffee cup on the rustic table I’d just purchased for my sunroom and clutched the chenille throw tighter around my shoulders. Hating myself for still being subject to the reflexes of an executive assistant, I answered the phone.

Hello? I pretended like I didn’t know who it was.

Delilah.

Yes?

Griffin Kelso.

I almost asked what I could do for him, but the real question was: What would I do for him? The answer was nothing. I didn’t work for him anymore. Hell, I didn’t work for anyone anymore. The air slowly hissed out of my chest into little clouds, rising and dissipating in the cool December air.

A few years ago, my job situation might have freaked me out. Now, it filled me with excitement. As of three weeks ago, I was gloriously unemployed. I’d been working since I was eleven unpacking boxes in my grandfather’s hardware store. I was tired.

Did I leave something at the office?

I hadn’t left anything behind that I needed. The awards and plaques and outdated paper files—I’d put everything that couldn’t be shredded in the giant dumpster behind the office. I didn’t want to carry the baggage of it home. My house had been knickknack-free since my daughter, Katerina, left for college two years ago and my friends helped me with a post-divorce exorcism last year.

No, he said. I was wondering if you might be interested in a new position. Nothing with the company. I need some help with a new business. And I thought of you.

His vocal pitch curved high at the end. He expected me to be flattered. I huffed.

The tightness in my gut shifted from mild discomfort at his presence to full dread. Of course, Griffin wanted something. He always wanted something. He came at you with the charm of a benign narcissist then worked you to death with a thousand requests of the things that he probably should do himself but couldn’t be bothered.

Most executives had some version of that affliction. It’s how they became executives, but Griffin took it to Olympic levels. And all the support staff obliged—especially when he turned on his megawatt smile and flashed his wide, hazely brown eyes at you.

Not working for him was my Christmas present to myself. He didn’t mean to be so self-involved. I don’t think he could help it.

I kept my reply light. I’m taking some time off.

I’d make it worth your while.

His alluring rumble told me he would. Lumina Incorporated, where Griffin worked, bought Crossgate nearly a year ago, and Wall Street was loving the new company. The stock price and dividends had soared. He and the other execs were pocketing millions. I’d even received a sizable payout for my old Crossgate stock, which added to my confidence in telling him no.

I’m truly taking a break, and my package from the company was generous.

Everyone can use more money, Griffin persisted.

I took a deep breath, knowing I should be more direct. I’m going to be honest. I don’t need the aggravation.

Of a paid gig?

Of you. Another deep breath. Of another assistant job.

This wouldn’t be an assistant job.

Say it. Say it out loud. Okay...honestly, working with you is not in my plans right now.

What do you mean? We had a great working relationship. Denial and disbelief whined through the phone. He sounded like a child.

He’d had a great working relationship. They thinned the executive assistant pool three years ago and asked those who remained to support more than one member of the executive committee. I supported two executives—Jim Lampley, the old CEO, and Drew Witten, the head of operations. Then, after the merger, they added Griffin to my roster. Jim was replaced by the new CEO, Daryl Cummings, and left shortly thereafter.

Maybe it was because Griffin was younger and greener or because he was new to the business, but he took more than half my time. I’d been so glad to still have a job, I grinned and did his bidding.

The terms of the merger included substantial severance packages for select staff who stayed through the first year post-merger but agreed to be let go. So I signed up. The chance to take a break from Griffin and every executive like him was too good to pass up. Who would want to be left behind working their ass off and buying kiss-off flower arrangements for your boss’ bevy of girlfriends? Or dealing with his assumption that