'Tis the Season Read Online Free Page B

right?”
    â€œBefore you come in,” he said, “are you wearing shoes?”
    What? Moonlight shone through the large windows, but her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the darkness yet, and she couldn’t see him. His voice had come from the far side of the spacious room. She peered harder and asked, “Excuse me?”
    â€œGet shoes,” he repeated. “There’s broken glass on the floor. You’ll cut yourself.”
    â€œI have slippers on; I’ll be fine. Are you all right?” she asked again, more demanding this time.
    â€œI’m fine too,” he said. “Just a little drunk.”
    Lisette stopped in her tracks. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough, and she could see him now. He was sitting on the wide leather couch, his arms crossed over his chest. Gesturing toward the floor by his desk with his chin, he explained, “I dropped the glass when I stood up.”
    â€œI heard it. It woke me up.”
    â€œYou heard it upstairs?” he asked, confused.
    â€œNo, I fell asleep in the den. So . . .” She twisted the ends of her sash around her fingers, stalling, trying to process the scene. How drunk was he? “I’ll get a broom.”
    â€œNo. You’re off the clock.” He moved, sat, and patted the cushion beside him. “Come keep me company. Talk to me.”
    Lisette couldn’t help but stare. What the hell was going on?
    â€œLuckily, the glass was empty when I dropped it,” he said jauntily. “No scotch lost. Just crystal.” He patted the cushion again and slanted a grin at her. “Come on, sit down. We never really talk.”
    Apparently, her boss was a friendly drunk. But she didn’t answer until she was sitting on the sofa, the leather creaking as she settled. “Should we turn on a light?”
    â€œNah. This darkness suits my mood.”
    Oh, boy. She turned to him, pulling her sash a little tighter, and asked, “Did you come home from the party drunk?”
    â€œNope,” Charles said, shaking his head. “But I’m working on it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Can I get you a drink?”
    â€œNo, thank you,” she said.
    He grinned, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You’re always so polite.”
    â€œGood manners were very important to my father,” she found herself saying. “Army and all. So he drummed them into me early on.”
    Charles gave an approving nod. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”
    She merely quirked a return grin and folded her hands in her lap. This whole scene was unusual, to say the least, and she wasn’t sure what to say or do just yet. So she let him lead, let him go on talking. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: Remember, honey. He who speaks first, loses. Always wait it out.
    Charles scrubbed his hands over his face as his eyes wandered around the room. “I can’t be anything less than perfect, ya know. Perrrrrfect. Since I was a little boy. What a drag.”
    That gave her pause. He always held himself so carefully in check. Sympathy pinged through her, but concern flooded her. Something serious had to be going on. And the secret she swallowed every day—the feelings for him that were inappropriate for an employee to have for her boss—surfaced and took over. Because he was obviously not himself, and she cared about him. “Charles? What’s bothering you? Are you okay?”
    He peered at her from beneath his lashes, his gaze holding hers in the moonlight. “Not really,” he murmured. “I . . . well . . . Can I confide in you, Lisette?”
    â€œOf course,” she said, her heart rate rising with a curious thrill.
    â€œThat party tonight . . .” He shook his head and sighed. “What a pain in the ass. I love Tess to death, but I didn’t want a goddamn party. I don’t feel like celebrating anything. I feel about a hundred years