My Secret Santa: A Sexy Bad Boy Holiday Novel (The Parker's 12 Days of Christmas Book 3)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Table of Contents

  My Secret Santa

  Description

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Want More?

  Insider Group

  About the Author

  Copyright

  My Secret Santa

  By

  Ali Parker

  Description

  Set at UT Dallas, Texas -- A big jock type is failing accounting, and the nerdy type-A cute blonde in front of him becomes his tutor, and teaches him so much more than 2+2.

  Introduction

  Checkout the other 12 Days of Christmas Novellas

  Find them all HERE

  Chapter 1

  Connor

  I was reading the email when John appeared at my desk, sipping his cup of coffee. I'd never seen the man without his mug in his hand. I wondered if his fingers could even unclench anymore to set it down.

  Before I could get out a word, he asked the question. "Are you going to do it?"

  I knew what he was referring to but hadn't made up my mind yet, so I played coy. "Do what?"

  The whole office had been buzzing about the email for the last ten minutes. Becca had sent it out just after lunch and it had spread through the open floor plan like wildfire.

  One silver eyebrow rose and then his face went deadpan. "You saw the email." It was a statement, not a question, probably because the email was still on my screen.

  "It's an interesting proposition," I said, leaning back in my chair. The heading of the email was "Secret Santa with a Twist." It seemed that this year, the office was taking their usual gift exchange to the next level.

  This holiday season, those of you who'd like to try something new can opt into Singles Secret Santa. It's time to think outside the gift box, so our office singles have a chance to come up with some creative and stimulating gifts for their own, more provocative, Secret Santa Exchange.

  John nodded. "I'll say. The usual Secret Santa is dull as dishwater. But this..."

  "It gives a whole new meaning to 'white elephant.'"

  John burst out laughing, and for a moment I thought he'd splash coffee on his shoes. "You should do it," he said. "Why not?"

  "Would you do it?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

  "In a heartbeat."

  John was inches away from his 40th birthday and had been married for fifteen years. He had three beautiful daughters, each with carrot red hair that would mellow into the auburn waves of his wife Carolyn. Although I knew how much he loved his family, he nevertheless encouraged me to enjoy my 'wild youth' and to sow whatever oats I had.

  "If I was your age and not the stately family man you see before you, I'd jump at the chance to do something a little more exciting than the typical coffee shop gift cards and fuzzy socks."

  I tapped my pen against the desktop. "It's an intriguing idea, but it's also a little difficult to know where to draw the line. I mean, it's still an office party."

  John shrugged. "Liam isn't rule-crazy. He wouldn't give this his approval if he thought it would get out of hand. "

  Liam Lewis was the owner of the investment firm that employed dozens of people, including me. He was worth billions, and a shrewd businessman.

  I could see John's point, but I still had my doubts. Or maybe my mind was just a little more...imaginative. "Still, if I'm reading the email right, Singles Secret Santa is less office party and more Red Light District."

  My coworker smiled. "That did seem to be the tone, yes."

  "Instead of hitting the mall, we'd be hitting the adult shop."

  "Not we," he said with a chuckle. "You."

  I laughed. "Have you ever been in one of those shops, old man? You'd see things that would make your gray hair curl."

  John rolled his eyes. "I might be old, but I'm not dead. I could teach you a thing or two, whippersnapper."

  Everyone at the office seemed to go out of their way to remind me that I was the youngest one in the bunch. Only 25 years old, I was the firm's baby boy. But, compared to the maturity levels of some of my coworkers, present company included, I felt like an old soul.

  "Seriously, though," I said, lowering my voice. "How far could you go? I mean, it's not completely anonymous, since we'd eventually work out who gave what to whom. Say you went balls deep on this," I started, then frowned when John chortled. "Okay, I'm sorry, bad phrasing. Say you went all in on this. How far could you go before HR was having security escort you out of the building?"

  John's expression grew serious. "Nothing with the words 'vibrating' and 'realistic' in the title."

  I laughed loudly, then slapped a hand over my mouth. We traded various 'banned item' ideas, and I realized that John might actually be able to teach me a thing or two. He was a font of 'specialized knowledge.'

  "You're right," I said, my abs starting to ache from laughter. "I disagree about the edible underwear. They're not banned, since they're probably more edible than Doris's fruitcakes."

  John shook his head, his face red, and opened his mouth to respond, but I couldn't hear what he said. At that moment, Madlyn Jones walked past my desk and the world stopped.

  It stopped every time she walked by. Every time she talked to me. Every time we made eye contact over the conference table. Madlyn Jones was a goddess among foolish mortals, and I wanted nothing worse than to worship her.

  Statuesque wasn't the right word for her, since she wasn't made of cold marble but warm olive skin. Chestnut hair cascaded in waves just past her shoulders, and her eyes were so dark that you couldn't tell the iris from the pupil. She was so striking it was hard to think when she was nearby.

  Madlyn was returning to her desk. She'd walked by earlier, her cup in her hand, and I'd wondered what her skin felt like. I knew what it felt like in my dreams. Like a mixture of satin and velvet, a texture that couldn't exist in the real world.

  I don't know, I thought as she walked by. Maybe it could exist.

  I dreamed about Madlyn more than I liked to admit, even to myself. She was a feminine fantasy, smart and funny. Organized. Efficient. Although her demeanor might come off as distant, she possessed an abundance of kindness that attracted me.

  "Close your mouth," John said, "before you catch flies."

  His words brought me back to the present. "Shut up, old man," I said, turning my office chair back to my screen.

  John laughed and slapped a hand on my shoulder.
"Have you got up the balls to ask her out yet?"

  I frowned, and John shook his head. "You don't even have to answer," he said. "What are you waiting for?"

  I inhaled deeply. Ever since I'd started working in Liam's office, I'd had the hots for Madlyn Jones. The first time I'd seen her, talking with our coworkers in the break room, I'd dropped the paper cup I'd been carrying and had to awkwardly wipe up the coffee that had spilled through the hole in the lid.

  She hadn't even glanced in my direction then, and I'd rarely received her attention since. In the months since I'd started, I'd learned that she was thirty-one years old, divorced, and the mother of a six-year-old son. I knew she preferred fruit and yogurt for breakfast and salad for lunch. And I knew she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

  Sometimes I wondered if she even knew my name.

  "You should do it," John said, leaning in and gesturing with his coffee cup towards the email that was still displayed on my screen. "Maybe you'll draw her name."

  "Unlikely," I grumbled. Not with my luck when it came to Madlyn.

  "But possible. Even if you don't draw her, you could still catch her attention with an interesting gift, after the Secret Santa reveal."

  The question of what Madlyn Jones might consider an interesting sexy Secret Santa gift sent the blood rushing south. I shifted uncomfortably. "You've got a point."

  John straightened. "Sign up. You've got nothing to lose." His hand left my back and he headed towards his own desk.

  There really was no reason not to opt into the Singles exchange. I was single, after all, and it sounded much more amusing that the usual Secret Santa fare. And if my luck changed and I did draw Madlyn, well, that would certainly provide an opportunity to get her attention.

  I was working away when I realized a possible fatal flaw in John's perfect plan.

  What if Madlyn doesn't opt in?

  Shit.

  She might not. I'd heard she wasn't dating, which led me to believe that someone had asked her out and had been rebuffed. Maybe being a single mother meant she wasn't interested in silly singles games.

  The rest of the afternoon I struggled to concentrate, my mind pingponging from Madlyn opting out of Singles Secret Santa to drawing Madlyn's name. I forced myself not to think about shopping for her gift. It took an extra hour and a half to compile my weekly report.

  Will she, or won't she?

  Chapter 2

  Madlyn

  I'd barely taken my seat when Becca popped her head around my screen, startling me. "Dammit, Bec, I told you to stop doing that."

  She grinned maniacally at me, like some kind of beautiful but sinister jack-in-the-box. "Did you see the email?"

  "The whole office saw the email," I replied. I'd noticed the buzz start picking up after lunch. Becca's emails were often the talk of the office, but I hadn't had a chance to read it myself. I'd heard her name mentioned in the break room and the word 'email' thrown around, but I hadn't paid particular attention to the contents. I knew I'd find out soon enough from the source.

  And I was right. She circled around the desk and leaned against it. "Then why haven't you replied yet?"

  I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair. Rebecca St. James, a.k.a. my BFF Becca, could be a bit of handful. She was a couple years older than me, with dark blond hair and big blue eyes. Her smile was wide and white, and almost always on her face.

  Becca loved to crack jokes, encouraged office pranks, and was invariably in charge of any office retreats, birthday parties, and holiday celebrations. She also had the tendency to skirt the line of risqué, but so far she'd received no complaints. Everybody loved her, especially me.

  Still, she was a damn handful sometimes.

  "I've been buried in spreadsheets all day," I muttered. The quarterly earnings statements were due next week, and I wanted to finish before the deadline instead of scrambling up to it as usual.

  "Check it right now," Becca said, crossing her arms over her chest. Did I mention she was also bossy?

  I clicked on my email and found the one from her. "Secret Santa with a Twist" was the title. I read her message, my eyebrows shooting up. Was she serious?

  "Fun, right?" Becca was smiling and nodding, already mentally patting herself on the back.

  I shook my head. "Are you sure about this?"

  She laughed. "The office needs to lighten up. We've all be working our asses off this past year as the business has grown so quickly. I figured something exciting would take our minds off how busy we've all been."

  We had been busy, that was true, but I liked being busy. Being buried in work meant I didn't have to think about what a disaster my divorce had been, and how difficult things had been since.

  "There's plenty of singles around the office," she continued. "What could it hurt to have a 'special' gift exchange?"

  I didn't want to burst my best friend's bubble, but if I'd read her tone right, she was encouraging more suggestive things than the typical tea infusers, bath salts, and knit mittens for the exchange. Could her singles-only Secret Santa be in violation of some inter-office rule?

  "Um, did you run this by HR before you sent it out?" I asked.

  Becca nodded in reply and my brow furrowed, until I remembered that Brad worked in HR.

  Brad had a crush on my bubbly best friend, and it was a bad one from the looks of it. I figured she'd gone in, batted those baby blue eyes of hers, and Brad had given in before she'd even had to ask.

  "And Liam gave it the okay?" The buck stopped with the owner of the firm, and I wondered if he'd given it his stamp of approval.

  Becca waved her hand and the corners of her mouth turned down. "I'm sure Brad took care of that. What matters is that Brad gave the okay, so I'm doing it."

  I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that, but once Becca got an idea in her head, it was easier to persuade my six-year-old son to clean his room than to get her to change her mind. Stubborn didn't start to cover it.

  "So are you in?" she asked, her megawatt smile back in place.

  I turned back to my spreadsheets. "Sorry, Bec. Not interested."

  "What?"

  I hunched my shoulders at the volume of her voice and swiveled back to face her. "Now don't start that," I said. "I don't even want to participate in the regular Secret Santa. I'm saving for the new Optimus game system for Bennie. He won't stop talking about it."

  The system was touted as the first affordable virtual reality game geared towards younger children. Apparently, their version of 'affordable' differed from mine. Nearly $600 wasn't what I would call affordable.

  I still thought Bennie might be a little young for that kind of system, but one of the wealthier neighbor kids had one and Bennie had fallen in love with it. There was no way I was going to disappoint him come Christmas morning.

  My BFF, however, had that look in her eye, the one that said she wasn't taking no for an answer. "Come on, MaDarlin’, you gotta do it."

  "You know I hate that name," I said through gritted teeth.

  "Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin' Madlyn, you are my best friend and you love me. Oh my darlin’, Madlyn."

  I rolled my eyes. "Singing that damn song isn't helping your case, Bec."

  "Just think about how much fun we could have shopping," she said, leaning in and lowering her voice. "We could check out that new shop on the west side. The one I showed you the brochure from."

  I covered my face with my hands, remembering the brochure. She hadn't so much showed it to me as left it sticking out of my desk drawer where half the office had seen it before I'd found it there. I'd been subjected to my coworkers’ sniggers for more than a week.

  "I don't have time to shop," I tried, knowing the gambit would fail before I even finished speaking.

  "Nonsense. You told me that sitter I hooked you up with had been working out great. I'm sure she can watch Bennie for a couple of hours, long enough to find something appropriate. Or should I say, inappropriate." Becca waggling her
eyebrows was an adorable sight.

  Still, I fought back my laughter, determined to stand my ground. "Bec, you know I'm not doing the whole singles scene thing. I'm not interested in dating."

  "Does this look like the VIP section of one of those clubs in Hollywood? Because I don't remember the VIP section having a copy machine that sounds like it's grinding up meat when it's making copies?"

  "Well, clubs are kind of like meat grinders," I started, but she waved her hands in my face to shush me.

  "This office is not the singles scene. Participating in one quirky Secret Santa is not going to result in some Happily Ever After with one of the office hunks, as few of them as there are."

  The mention of office hunks inevitably drew my mind to one hunk in particular. The one I'd caught looking at me like I was something other than his boring accountant coworker. Connor Douglas.

  He was handsome, tall, and muscular. I'd taken my son to a couple of the office softball games, and watching Connor play had done interesting things to my insides. His light brown hair ruffled slightly in the wind as he ran, the sun painting it with golden highlights. Not to mention his body as he'd moved from base to base with more skill than any of the other players.

  Still, he was almost a kid himself. A 25-year-old charmer with green eyes and a subtle smile that spread slowly across his face.

  Alright, so maybe I spent more time thinking about Connor Douglas than I should. It was okay to fantasize, especially since I knew it could never happen. Not only were we office mates, and he was outside my preferred age range, but I'd sworn off relationships at least until Bennie hit high school. My son was my sole priority. Men would just confuse things.

  "I bet I can guess who you're thinking about," Becca chanted in a sing-song voice. "Wouldn't you like to go shopping for him at that new shop?"

  My cheeks heated at the thought. "Hush your mouth, foul temptress."

  Becca laughed. "See, this will be fun."

  "There's no guarantee that I'll draw his name," I reminded her.