Why Not More Christmas

By Yolande Kleinn

Caleb Dell has spent years concealing a stubborn infatuation from company vice president Neal Magnuson. The fact that they no longer work together only exacerbates the problem.

 

A corporate Christmas party should be the perfect pretext for their paths to cross, but Caleb knows better than to put himself anywhere near Neal at this shindig. Forget business and pleasure: mixing alcohol and secrets is a disastrous idea. Caleb can't risk showing his hand.

 

But when he discovers Neal needs him, Caleb won't falter. How hard can it be, keeping his mouth shut for one night? He just needs a couple hours to sober up, a modicum of self-restraint, and maybe a reality check for his wayward heart. Then again, it's Christmas, and the terrain of a hopeless crush can change when you least expect.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yolande Kleinn
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781946316288

Yolande Kleinn

Yolande Kleinn may be a shameless dreamer and a stubborn optimist, but she is also a proud purveyor of romance and hijinx. Excitable, fastidious and a little eclectic, she spends every spare moment writing the stories she wants to read. If she can drag other people into the pool along with her, then so much the better.

Book preview

Why Not More Christmas

by Yolande Kleinn

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The worst part of harboring a blatant office crush—especially one that had spanned literal years and multiple promotions—was the perpetual fear of failing to conceal it.

Caleb should have been used to this conundrum. Under normal circumstances, he had long practice pretending not to be desperately smitten. But tonight was a different matter entirely, his fears exacerbated by alcohol, and by the casual atmosphere of a holiday party that spanned an entire floor of the downtown office.

He was drunk tonight, more or less. Caleb had allotted himself—and already finished—two cocktails, early enough in the evening to sober up and drive home later. He'd made no promises to sober cab for any of his colleagues, though he stood ready for the possibility. Ideally, Caleb wanted to drive himself home at the end of the long night, no extra obligations. Even more practical, being his own ride was terrific motivation to keep his shit together, all through a rowdy party full of people he needed to work with on Monday.

For the moment, he was enjoying being tipsy and surrounded by his favorite colleagues. If it weren't for the fact that Neal Goddamn Magnuson was also around here somewhere, Caleb could stop worrying and truly relax.

But Neal was at this party. And while Caleb had made a concerted effort to avoid spotting his big shoulders and stocky frame across the room—too much risk of staring like a compromised and besotted wreck—he couldn't stop anxiety from coiling low in his gut. It would be embarrassingly easy to say something that might alert his work friends to his infatuation. Or even worse, find himself faced directly with the object of his affections and do something unforgivably foolish.

Like admit Neal had beautiful eyes.

Neal did have beautiful eyes. Hazel and clever and galaxy-deep. That didn't mean Caleb could ever tell him so. And given the mathematical certainty that the man was sober as a stone, there would be no hope of retroactively downplaying any crush-related foolery.

Caleb couldn't risk it. Better to shield himself within this noisy circle of colleagues and keep his head down.

Except he was failing at that too, apparently. The sound of his name gave him a physical start.

Caleb? Are you really not going to weigh in? Since when do you hold back about failed marketing strategies? There might have been a faint undercurrent of concern running beneath Steenson's words, but Caleb couldn't be certain through the perpetual air of smugness.

Which failures are we talking about? No point pretending. Caleb might as well own up to his lapsed attention and try to work his way back into the conversation, especially since Steenson had been so uncharacteristically kind as to extend him a lifeline.

Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb spotted a familiar silhouette—broad shoulders and chest—wearing the crisp lines of a perfectly tailored suit. A splash of silvering hair completed the impression. Caleb resisted the almost overwhelming urge to turn and track Neal's progress.