Ranch Christmas

Mistletoe and Holly Chapter One

"That's quite a rock you've got there, Professor Shanahan," Holly overheard Eric's good friend and fellow professor at the University of Colorado say as she approached the pair from behind. She'd come to the Economic Department's Christmas party as a surprise for Eric. She'd told him she would be skiing this weekend in Vail with some friends, but had changed her mind at the last minute. Something had made her decide to come see the man she'd been dating for the last year instead of going off to play. Something had whispered in her thoughts that this would be a life changing weekend. From what she'd overheard, and from the jewelry box held open in Eric's hand� well, the change definitely would be a big one.

Out of habit, she smoothed down the side of her dress. She'd spent her entire final check from the job she'd just quit on this designer dress. It fit like a glove, molding to her every curve, even though it only fell to mid-thigh. The back was non-existent and the neckline nearly reached her waist. Hot. A red silk charmeuse dress designed to get any man's attention. For a mere instant she remembered how conservative Eric was, how he'd frowned at a few of her more daring outfits. Still, he was holding a jewelry box right now.

"So which one of them is the new head of the department's future wife?"

Which one of them? She froze, feeling the blood draining from her face, feeling her heart pound. Which one of them? Surely she'd misunderstood. No, Eric couldn't possibly be �

"Alexandra doesn't want the strings of marriage. She's content with our continuing just as we have been. As am I," Eric explained casually. "While Holly Peterson isn't exactly the ideal wife for a man in my position, she's passable. Of course I'll have to put my foot down about some of her flighty ways. I'll find her a suitable career position, too. No more flitting from one job to another every few months. And, though I truly enjoy that playbunny body of hers in private, I'll have to oversee purchasing her a proper wardrobe."

She felt sick, faint. Playbunny? Put his foot down. Oversee changes in her wardrobe. Oh Gawd. She'd never felt so humiliated. She'd finally thought she'd overcome her looks, finally thought people had begun seeing beyond her former blonde bimbo image�including having been a popular cheerleader in both high school and college. Okay, her family still seemed to basically pity her as the only daughter of five who didn't have a doctorate degree. She didn't have a degree at all, having quit in the middle of her senior year. They tended to roll their eyes when she either lost or quit yet another job. Did they really see her as much of a loser in need of serious overhaul as Eric did?

Sick. Almost mortally wounded. She needed to get out of here.

"Holly!" Eric's friend, whom she had begun to think of as her friend as well, spotted her before she could even move. "We thought you would be in Vail by now." He glanced at Eric with a sly grin. "Your lady looks even hotter tonight than ever."

Eric stared at her dress, but it wasn't approval she saw in his expression. Lying, cheating scumbug1

Unaware or unconcerned with Eric's disapproval, the friend prodded, "Why don't you pop the question now?"

No, no, no! Holly inwardly countered. All she wanted to do was go somewhere�the ends of the earth might be far enough, maybe Pluto�and hide. She took a tentative step back.

Eric appeared to gather his disgust and forced a tolerant smile. He walked toward her, grabbed her arm, and thrust the small box at her. He didn't say a word, just handed her the box. No dropping to his knee and looking lovingly up at her as he asked her to marry him. Not even a request to her at all. Just giving her the damn box. Mr. Romantic�not�at his worst.

Moving way out of character, Holly lost it. She didn't pretend understanding, or tolerance, or patience of any kind. She tossed the box at him and it fell to the floor with a surprisingly loud Thunk! Immediately they gained the attention of most of the hundred plus people in the large, festively decorated room. She didn't care. If she could help it, she'd never see any of these people again.

"I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on the planet," she snapped, pleased to see him grinding his teeth and turning red. "And believe me, Professor Shanahan, there are many far better men than you on this planet. Even in this room."

With that she jerked her arm free and strode as fast as she could on her stiletto heels from the party. She ignored his calling after her. What she couldn't ignore was that he didn't bother to come after her. Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she didn't care. This had been the absolute worst night of her life. A Christmas Eve to never forget. After this humiliation she just might never celebrate Christmas again. It would only hold bad memories for her.





******





Eleven months, two jobs, a different state, and a lake's worth of tears later Holly sat anxiously waiting in the ultra modern reception room of McNamara Enterprises' executive offices. She was more nervous than she'd ever been, but she prayed it didn't show. She was here to apply for a "real" job with one of the biggest up-and-coming entrepreneurial companies in Kansas. She'd heard from a friend of a friend of a friend about Brandon McNamara looking for a personal assistant. The man was legendary, both for having taken his family's failing company and completely turning it around in less than two years, and for his sexual appeal to every woman in the state�single or married. An alpha male, former cowboy, bad boy who'd made millions. What more could a woman want, or at least dream about. But she wasn't here to catch the eye of the much-sought after CEO. Nor was she here to drool at his feet, or dream about him asking her out. She wanted a job. This job. Even if she wasn't the least bit qualified for it. She didn't seem to be qualified for any job.

"You can go in now," the twenty-something receptionist said from behind the huge ebony desk. She gave Holly a supportive smile even as the much older woman standing behind her shook her head, lips pursed in obvious disapproval.

Holly tried to ignore the pointed glower of the woman who'd snippily informed Holly that she was The executive secretary for the firm. Standing, she took a second to suck in a steadying breath and to smooth down her skirt that only came to mid-thigh. Until she'd noted the prim and proper two-piece, gray suit, with the over-the-knee skirt, and the pristine white shirt the secretary wore, Holly had felt fairly comfortable with her clothing choice.

"It isn't good to keep a potential employer waiting," the secretary huffed, adding under her breath yet loud enough for Holly to hear, "Not that you have a prayer of getting the position."

Holly knew the woman probably spoke the truth, but in spite of her limited job history, she felt strangely optimistic. More optimistic than she'd felt in the last year. Like finally her life was coming together again, or actually beginning. This would be her chance at a career-type job, and a huge step away from the too-carefree and non-responsible lifestyle she'd led for far too long. She was really ready to show everyone�including herself�that she could do something of real value. It had taken her longer than she'd expected to get over that lying, sneaking, loathsome scum ex-boyfriend. Okay, maybe she was still a tad bitter about that horrible Christmas. Even now, with Christmas in the air everywhere she went, she preferred not to think of the special holiday time.

Feeling the secretary's gaze pinned in disdain on her, Holly forced a smile, picked up her purse, and the hot pink, slim briefcase that held her skimpy resume. "Mr. McNamara's office is where?" she asked the receptionist, pretending the secretary wasn't still standing there..

"All the way down the hall. Corner office." The young woman returned Holly's smile. "Good luck."

Luck. Yes, she supposed she needed a lot of luck. She battled down the fresh battle of nerves tensing in her stomach. Don't think about El Jerko. You are more than a bimbo blonde, no matter what everyone else seems to think. How many times had she told herself that since she'd broken up with Eric? How many times had she tried to overlook her family's sympathetic looks? Well, she didn't need anyone's sympathy.

The end of the hall. Thirty feet from a whole new chance to make something with her life. A job like this was such an opportunity. She wanted this job.





******





Brandon looked at his schedule for the next two weeks and knew he'd never have time to deal with all of the holiday party plans. The annual Christmas party given by McNamara Enterprises was traditionally a serious event in the city. Clients, other big dogs in business like himself, and a ton of networking contacts important to his company planned to attend every year. He'd counted on his personal assistant to take care of everything, like she had for the last ten years, since he'd taken over the corporation. He certainly hadn't foreseen her falling in love at the last conference he'd sent her to. Or deciding to elope right then and move to Las Vegas immediately.

He massaged the headache pounding at his skull. His usually neat-as-a-pin desk was covered in paperwork he'd spent most of the night trying to get through. His message box on the monitor flashed persistently. There wasn't a quarter hour open for the next two weeks on his schedule. A glance at his former assistant's schedule revealed a nightmare almost as bad. He shouldn't have accepted her two days notice last week, especially since she hadn't bothered to come back and even work those last two days. He should have at least hired a temp, but he'd never have been satisfied with a temp. Now he'd spent a day and a half interviewing applicants. Time he hadn't really had for that chore. Sure his executive secretary had offered to handle the interviews, but she didn't know all of what he actually looked for in an assistant.

He rubbed his head again and pulled out the folder with the dozen resumes he'd received in interviews. Several of the women and one of the men had impressive work history. One woman in particular seemed like she could do what he would require, but there had been something about her that hadn't had him immediately offering her the position. Maybe he was just too tired, too overwhelmed at the moment to think straight. He was in a truck load of trouble right now. He needed a qualified assistant to start ASAP and dive right into the holiday plans. Everything else he desperately relied on his assistant to do would have to wait.

Closing the folder, he wished he hadn't told his receptionist that he would see this last minute job applicant. He needed to go ahead and call Mrs. Flannery and offer her the job. The problem was she couldn't start until next week. And that was a serious problem with his timeline. Two weeks to the party.

He reached in his top drawer and snatched a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. Popping two pills, he waited to see the young woman Annie had told him about. He could have refused to see the woman, probably should have. Still, when he'd heard Catherine harassing Annie about him taking the time to see whoever this person was, he'd caved. Annie was young, but a fairly decent judge of character. Catherine Hawke� Well, Catherine had the personality of a female Hitler at times. He should let her go, and one of these days when he had time to deal with hiring a new executive secretary he would. He'd inherited her with the job.

He heard the soft footfalls on the carpet coming down the hallway, and then heard them stop. He knew his reputation in the business world and that a number of people were in awe of what he'd accomplished in such a short time. Being admired was a good thing, being feared was not. If this young woman was hesitating because she feared meeting the lion in his lair, then she wasn't the employee he needed. The person in this position would have to put up with his intense work schedule, with the constant new challenges that he brought to the firm, and with his need to be decisive and in control at all times. He knew he could be hard to work for, but there wasn't an employer who treated his employees more fairly. Yes, this was a plum opportunity for the right woman. And the qualifications he sought were all but written in stone.

She was on the move again. He felt oddly eager to see the mysterious final applicant.

The scent of vanilla drifted his way. He sniffed again. No, no that smelled like cookies. Sugar cookies. The scent was enough to draw on his childhood memories of his grandmother baking the best sugar cookies ever made for him and his three brothers. She was the only warm spot in his youth. Certainly his mother wouldn't ever have made cookies for her sons. Even to this day, he doubted she could find the kitchen in her house.

"Mr. McNamara?" a soft voice questioned from the doorway. Soft, but not hesitant like he'd thought at first.

A living, breathing sugar cookie in human form. The woman he'd guess to be in her late twenties smiled at him. She had the silkiest looking pale blonde hair he'd ever seen, hair that hung in soft waves partially down her back and partially draped over some pretty spectacular breasts. The breasts were gently held within a pale lemon, low-necked shirt that tucked into a too-short-for-the-office lemon skirt that hit her at mid-thigh. Mid-thigh of some well-toned legs. Legs that held his rapt attention all the way down to her strappy hot pink high heels. He could easily envision those legs wrapped around him. He could almost feel his mouth suckling those breasts. Damn. He was in trouble here.

"Am I in the right office?" she asked, flipping her hair back over a shoulder with one slender, perfectly manicured hand. The action nearly made her lose the hot pink purse hanging by a gold chain over her shoulder. Her other hand held a slim hot pink briefcase. "I was looking for Brandon McNamara."

"You've found him." He continued with his curious observation of the woman before him. She was nothing like the other applicants, who had all marched in here in business black suits, with carefully styled hair, and attitudes. Yes, each of them had very self-confident attitudes, and resumes to back up those attitudes. But this woman� She appeared to be an interesting combination: sweetness and brightness all wrapped up in one very tempting package. It had been a while since a woman had actually captured his attention as quickly as she had. His ex-wife had made damn sure he carefully checked out any woman he even considered going out with, let alone taking to his bed.

Going out with? Bedding? Brandon forced his gaze from hers, forced his thoughts back under rigid control. This fairly tall, sensual vision standing so calmly in his doorway was T-R-O-U-B-L-E in capital letters. Bold, capital letters.

"Come in and have a seat." He concentrated on straightening the papers on his desk. If he was lucky, he could get through this interview and have her out of here in five minutes. He didn't even intend to ask for her resume.

Then there it was right in the middle of his desk, right under his nose. A pale yellow sheet of paper with a bunch of words that he wasn't interested in reading. All but the name, that is. Holly Peterson. Holly, was that a sign or what? He needed someone to dive into Christmas party arrangements and in walks a "Holly."

He heard the soft whoosh of the leather chair in front of his desk as she sat down. In spite of how hard he tried not to, he drew in another breath of her soft vanilla scent. It soothed him like nothing else had in weeks. And she stirred him like no other woman had in months. Damn. Focus.

"I realize, Mr. McNamara, that I don't have the ordinary type of job qualifications you might be looking for," she began, although she didn't sound worried about that fact.

A quick glance at the resume told him her statement was completely truthful. He wanted someone with several years of experience as a secretary, possibly even as a personal assistant. The resumes in the folder proved there were many such people out there looking for jobs. This woman didn't have several years of experience at any one job. And he didn't see any experience in an office. Definitely not qualified.

"I'm a diversified employee," she captured his attention again, that spell-binding smile still in place. "Kind of a Janet-of-all-trades. You might say I'm extremely versatile."

"You might." Although he saw it more as couldn't hold a job. He was also strongly interested in someone with a degree in business administration, or at least with a lot of college behind them so that he could encourage the person to complete their degree. Education was important to him. Earning a degree showed perseverance, and determination. He was that rare cowboy who had a college degree and knew how to use it. His father hadn't thought it was necessary if he was going into ranching. His mother had thought it was absolutely necessary, since she'd manipulated him into taking over her family's business. It had been difficult to please divorced parents. So he'd pleased himself: he took over his mother's family's business and he had a small ranch that someone else managed for him.

Again she seemed to read his thoughts. "I don't imagine you were looking for someone majoring in visual arts and gerontology."

"An artist who likes working with senior citizens," he summarized. "No, I honestly can't say that was the background I was searching for."

She fiddled with the purse in her lap. Her small shoulders slumped for just an instant. Then she pulled herself together, raised her head and looked him squarely in the eye. Her smile had disappeared and he missed it. Without concentrating on that, he took the time to really notice her brown eyes. Specks of gold were sprinkled in them. A flick of a glance down and he noticed the way her full pink upper lip tipped up at the corners and looked like a bow. Cupid's bow. He curled his hands into fists and tried to get even a modicum of control over his thoughts. Cupid's bow? What the hell was he thinking? Totally inappropriate in the situation.

"The position you're offering is an amazing opportunity. I'm sure many more qualified applicants have come in that door and interviewed with you. But I want this job, Mr. McNamara. I need this chance to� Well, I really want to be considered. I promise, I won't let you down. I just need a little faith in me."

Faith. He made judgments based on research and valid proof of potential value. Never had he made a gut-instinct decision. Until now. "Can you start tomorrow?" he asked, before his brain fully kicked into gear and overrode the unprecedented gut decision. He could have rescinded the offer. But the relief in her expression, combined with the true smile she gifted him, had him biting his tongue. She could start immediately. That was the important thing to remember.

She jumped to her feet and to his amazement did what could only be described as a Happy Dance. Totally inappropriate in an office interview situation. But, damn, if he didn't feel as excited about his decision and her reaction as she did.

Then, moving right along that "inappropriate" path, Brandon said, "I'm a firm task master, Ms. Peterson. My staff works hard. They are well rewarded because of that." She'd stopped dancing and took her seat again, watching him curiously. "You will be working closely with me. I will expect even more from you than anyone else. Did I mention that I'm very controlling? That I expect obedience and compliance with my every request and order."

"Okkkkkaayyy," she acknowledged, clearly as confused as he was by where this conversation was going. "I'm pretty sure I can handle whatever you want me to do. No, I mean I know I can do whatever is asked of me."

He went even further down that "inappropriate path." "There will be consequences for disobedience and failure to fulfill any required duties. Serious consequences." Suddenly he'd envisioned having the delectable young woman upturned over his knee, being spanked by him for whatever reason. True, he believed in spanking when necessary. He'd certainly received his share of spankings in his early years. He'd even done a smattering of spanking of a more playful nature with women over the years. And he'd wanted, badly, to soundly spank his ex more than a few times during their hellish marriage. But he never had. He hadn't really cared about her enough to attempt to do so. This woman, though, this woman brought to surface an interest of his that he normally kept hidden. He waited almost breathlessly for her response.

She sat quietly for a minute. Studied his large hands now lying on the desktop. "As I said, Mr. McNamara, I want this job."

He still wasn't sure she understood what he'd been awkwardly hinting at, but they could face that matter should it ever actually become necessary. If she balked when it came to that, then he would back down and just let her go. Then he'd hire the woman he'd interviewed yesterday, who really was qualified for the position. The woman he hadn't had any thoughts about spanking at all. The woman in the boring, tailored black suit and not the refreshing lemon yellow skirt.

"Be here at eight o'clock sharp. We'll deal with all the employment details tomorrow." He gave her a nod confirming their agreement to work together and went back to sorting through the papers on his desk. She made him strangely uncomfortable, and all too aware of her as a woman. He needed her out of his sight, out of his office. By tomorrow morning he'd have shaken off these strange feelings and be ready to deal with her as her boss.

Hearing her soft footfalls padding back down the hallway, he suddenly realized he hadn't mentioned the holiday party. But it was a party, and a Christmas one at that. What woman didn't like a party? Who didn't like Christmas? Even as distanced from his family as he was, he still enjoyed this special time of year. His decorator was at this moment turning his usually stiffly modern mansion into a Christmas wonderland. Tonight she would decorate his office and much of the McNamara building. He smiled at that thought.



******



Holly left Brandon McNamara's office all but floating on a cloud of happiness. She didn't know why he'd hired her. She certainly wasn't qualified for the job. But she'd gotten it! She'd actually been offered the job! She couldn't wait to call her best friend, Beth, and tell her the good news. Beth had been worried about Holly even applying for this position. She hadn't wanted Holly to be disappointed yet again. After applying for and being turned down for around a hundred jobs in the month she'd been living in Wichita, Holly's spirits had been pretty low. She'd even considered moving back to Colorado and staying with her parents while she tried to find work in Denver. But she hadn't wanted to even be in the same state as Professor Jerko. Now she didn't have to even think about that� or him.

"See you tomorrow," she said cheerfully as she swept through the reception room and smiled at the receptionist.

"Tomorrow?" the executive secretary asked, sounding shocked as she stuck her head out of a side room.

Holly stopped and turned to focus on the older woman with a look of victory firmly on her face. "Mr. McNamara wants me here at eight. We'll fill out the necessary paperwork then, he said." She turned away once more, giving Annie a fingery wave. With effort, she managed not to go skipping down the hallway toward the elevator.



******



She slept restlessly, tossing and turning. Eric had taken her shopping. He'd thrown out her entire wardrobe and bought her a closet full of "proper" clothing for her role as an esteemed professor's wife. He'd even taken her to a hair salon and stood rigidly while the slyly smiling beautician�who looked oddly like a feminine version of Eric's professor friend�cut off Holly's long hair. Cut it to a short, more "dignified" length.

Holly rolled over and sobbed into her pillow. She was miserable in her new life as a professor's wife.

Squirming as if fighting the unwanted role, she managed to shove the quilt and sheet to the end of the bed. Her satin shortie nightgown rode up. It rode higher and higher, until she felt the faint sensation of warm air from the furnace brushing over her bare bottom. Something about it was soothing. She drifted back down into dreamland again.

Brandon replaced Eric in her dream, such a welcome replacement. Where Eric had been good-looking and in fair condition for a bookish man who seldom was out of the lecture hall or his office, Brandon was intensely handsome. He walked to her from some other room, striding naked in her direction. His body was firm, his abdomen definitely six-pack. Long legs were muscled, a joggers type of muscles. His chest was broad with a splattering of fine black hair across his pecs and leading a sensual path down to�

She squirmed against the bed, sighing, aching, wanting. Now that was a serious piece of man designed to please any woman. Wet, she was soooo wet. She wiggled her bottom, tempting him, begging him.

Smack! His hand slapped her bottom. She wriggled in reaction. That wasn't what she'd expected. As she turned to glower in his direction, he smiled at her and sat beside her on the bed. She loved the shadowed beard stubble on his face, loved the dimple in his chin.

Smack! Smiling with a heated look in his mahogany brown eyes, he spanked her again. She wiggled away from the hand stinging her bottom. She wanted him to love her, not spank her. But he'd warned her that there would be consequences for disobedience. He spanked her again, and she tried to remember what she'd done wrong, how she'd disobeyed him.

Then his hand smoothed slow, gentle circles over her barely burning bottom. Now that was okay. That kind of touch more than made up for a slap or two to her bare buttocks. Oh, yeah, that definitely made up for it.

The alarm clock rudely interrupted her dream. All Holly was left with was why she'd drawn Brandon McNamara into her dream world. And why she'd dreamt of him spanking her. She'd never been spanked.

Racing to the shower, her thoughts went back to the interview yesterday. She mulled over his comment about "serious consequences" and Brandon's expecting obedience and compliance. Surely he hadn't really been referring to�

No, that was just silly.