Page 37 of Naughty Heart

I knew what it was about, too.

Malcolm had single-handedly turned everything in my life around in such a short time. He made me excited about the upcoming holiday. Even if I would only have the time to spend with my best friends before the big day to celebrate with them, I’d be able to do it without worrying how I’d pay for gifts I wanted to get for them.

I wanted to go above and beyond when it came to my job, because I wanted to leave a good impression.

I was horrified to think Malcolm might have viewed what I’d been doing in his office as a way to avoid doing real work.

The only thing I could think to do in the moment was defend myself. “I’m sorry I got carried away with the music and the dancing on top of all the decorations. I… I… it reminded me of my… well, it was like being a kid again.”

Curiosity washed over him. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to get emotional. This day had been going well, and I’d been in such a good mood. “I already told you how much I loved Christmas as a kid. The reason for that had everything to do with the memories I made. We had traditions, and every year, I looked forward to those things. Whenever we decorated the house, my mom always put on the Christmas music, and the two of us would dance around the house while my dad would look at us as though he thought we were crazy. He was always smiling, so I know it made him happy to see us that way.”

“I can understand how he’d feel that way,” Malcolm returned, his thumb brushing gently over the skin on my wrist. “In fact, more than I like being able to look around this room and see your stamp on it, I have never been so entertained as I was watching you sing and dance.”

The teasing was gone from his voice. There was a tenderness lingering there, soft like the touch of his finger on my skin, and comforting, like he knew I needed something to convince me it was okay to get caught up in the nostalgia.

"I’m mortified,” I confessed, looking everywhere but directly at him.

Malcolm released my wrist, lifted his hand to the side of my face, and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “You shouldn’t be. It was adorable.”

Heat hit my cheeks, but I couldn’t work out whether it was from embarrassment or the way it felt to have him touching me like he was. "I'm not a good singer, and you heard me."

“What? Are you kidding? I think you sounded fantastic.”

I assessed him, trying to decipher if he was being honest, and I was shocked to find he was telling the truth. Malcolm might have been a smart and capable man when it came to business, but if he genuinely believed I was a good singer, there was no doubt he’d never have a career as a producer in the music industry.

Instead of arguing that point with him, I offered, “I can finish this up later, if you’d like.”

“I do think you should take a break from it for now,” he returned.

Disappointed, wondering if he’d said all he had just so I wouldn’t be upset about any of it, I nodded and moved to take a step in the opposite direction. “Okay. I’ll get back to—”

"I think we should practice,” he declared, cutting me off.

“What?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face during the several beats of silence that ensued. Eventually, Malcolm held his hand out to the side to point at the radio I’d brought over to his office. "I’m not sure where you got that from, but since the music is playing and we do have a party that’ll require us to dance with one another coming up, I think we should practice our dance moves.”

My brows shot up in surprise. “You want to dance with me in your office to Christmas music?”

“Yes, I do,” Malcolm replied as “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” started playing.

I held his gaze briefly before I decided it was worth it to get back to feeling good. It was a far better place to be, and if Malcolm truly didn’t want me in his office, he wouldn’t have asked me to dance with him. And if I was honest, I was eager to be close to him again.

“Okay,” I agreed.

Malcolm slid one arm around my waist, hauled me up against his body, and took my hand in his free one. For the next few seconds, I simply gave myself the chance to come to grips with what was happening.

My boss was dancing with me, holding me like I was someone much more important to him than an employee. I had to admit I liked the way it felt, so I melted into him, smiling back at him.

“It was my father,” he declared.

“What?”

“When I was a kid, my dad was the one who put on the Christmas tunes,” he clarified. “He’d put them on, dance his way over to my mom, and all but force her to dance with him.”

I lifted a brow, intrigued by this bit of knowledge. “Are you serious? So, he’s the romantic one?”