Cougar Christmas Read online

  Cougar Christmas

  Evangeline Anderson

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Evangeline Anderson Books

  Cougar Christmas

  Copyright © November 2016 by Evangeline Anderson

  E-book License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the e-book retailer of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  To be the first to find out about new releases

  click HERE to join my newsletter.

  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

  Excerpt – Uncharted

  Excerpt – Big Package

  Excerpt – A Manhattanite’s Christmas

  Also by Evangeline Anderson

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Drew Jameson couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Genevieve Wells, the most feared and hated woman in the entire company—who also happened to be his boss—was crying.

  She wasn’t just wet around the eyes with a few ladylike tears rolling down her cheeks, either. She was genuinely crying—almost sobbing—her slender shoulders shaking and her face buried in her hands as she sat behind the large, glass and brushed stainless steel power desk she’d been given as part of her last promotion.

  He’d only meant to come up and grab a file he’d forgotten. One of the questionable perks of having to take personal time to attend a company party after hours was that he didn’t have to make a thirty minute drive to get the forgotten file—he was already here. Eight o’clock on a Friday night and he was at the office with no date and nothing but work on his mind.

  Nothing until he’d seen his boss crying that was. And though he had the manila envelope he’d come up to his office for clutched in his hand, Drew found himself rooted to the spot.

  I should go, he thought, not moving an inch. But what the hell could make a woman like Genevieve cry?

  It was that question more than anything else that kept him where he was. He’d been working under Genevieve Wells for the past three years, bucking for a well-deserved promotion and putting up with all her crap to become what he wanted to be—a senior marketing executive for Spiritual Soul Mates, the company they both worked for.

  In those three years he’d seen her deal with difficult clients, handle Stuart Solomon, the CEO and founder of the company, and fire countless fellow employees who weren’t up to the Spiritual Soul Mates standards. But never once, no matter how thorny, complex, or stressful the situation, had he even seen her break a sweat—let alone bawl her eyes out.

  "The Ice Queen," the other employees—especially the ones unlucky enough to report to her directly—called her. "The Dragon Lady" and "that Frigid Bitch" were also popular nicknames. Genevieve had been called everything under the sun but no one had ever accused her of being too emotional. She had an icy veneer of calm that never cracked, no matter how intense the pressure. It was probably this quality that had allowed her to become head of marketing and promotion.

  She was now thirty-seven and had held the position with no difficulty for years. Drew himself was twenty-six and had witnessed her meteoric rise first hand—the last part of it, at least. She was absolutely ruthless but she got results like no one else, which was probably why Stuart Solomon called her “my right hand man” with no irony whatsoever.

  Yet here she was. The Ice Queen. The Frigid Bitch. Here she was sitting alone at her big, expensive desk and crying.

  Leave. Just leave now. You’ll be a hell of a lot better off if she doesn’t know you saw.

  It was the voice of reason and Drew knew it. Yet he couldn’t help himself—he was curious. Knowing it was going to get him in trouble but unable to stop, he stepped into her plush corner office and knocked lightly on the open door.

  For a brief moment he thought Genevieve was so lost in misery that she didn’t hear him. He was on the verge of clearing his throat when she looked up, her beautiful face a mask of tears. For a moment she stared at him mutely then she wiped hastily at the tear tracks on her cheeks and sat up straighter.

  “Drew, what are you doing here?”

  He shrugged awkwardly. “I just came up to get a file and heard you. Genevieve, are you…are you okay?”

  Not that he should care. This was a woman he regularly fantasized would be hit by a bus. She’d made him work nights and weekends, given him difficult assignments he disliked, and had generally been the boss from hell.

  But somehow, seeing her sitting at her desk with her big brown eyes filled with tears and her elegantly upswept hairdo coming down in wisps around her flushed cheeks, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

  It wasn’t the way she looked—although with her curvy figure, high cheekbones and full lips, she was very attractive. In fact, every man in the office lusted for her and hated her at the same time. But what made Drew feel for her for the first time wasn’t lust but the heartbroken expression on her face, the sheer vulnerability he had never seen before on her usually cold and emotionless features. For just a moment she wasn’t his hard-as-nails bitch of a boss anymore. She was a lost child—a little girl he wanted to take in his arms and comfort…

  That last thought snapped him back to reality. As if Genevieve Wells would tolerate anyone taking her in their arms to comfort her or for any other reason. It would be safer to hug a porcupine.

  She wore a huge rock on her finger and Drew had met her husband at one or two company functions—he was a corporate lawyer rumored to be as cold and heartless as Genevieve herself. So presumably he was safe hugging her—not that Drew could imagine it happening. But there was no way a lowly peon like himself would get away with it.

  “I’m fine,” Genevieve said, breaking his train of thought. Then she shook her head. “No, that’s a lie. I’m not fine. Not fine at all.”

  For a moment Drew thought she was going to start crying again but she lifted her chin and nodded at him regally instead.

  “You might as well be the first to know because I’m sure the good news will spread soon enough. Effective tomorrow morning I will be leaving Spiritual Soul Mates.”

  “What? But why?”

  Drew was stunned. From what he understood Genevieve had been with the company from the very beginning. In fact it was her marketing savvy that had turned the founder, Stuart Solomon’s ideas, from a blurry infomercial at three in the morning stuck in between a spot for the Magic Bullet and the Shamwow, to a household name. Because of her, Stuart Solomon had been on Oprah numerous times and was the leading name in couples counseling—the relationship guru.

  Genevieve might be a bitch but she was a damn hard worker and a very intelligent woman—he couldn’t imagine her leaving of her own volition.

  Something or someone must be forcing her out, he thought, scanning her tear-stained face.

  “I am in breach of my corporate contract,” she said, confirming his suspicions. “And as I’m not interested in letting myself be terminated, I’m going to give my notice.”

  “You? In breach of contract?” Drew almost laughed it was so ridiculous. “What did you do—embezzle the funds from the new Spring marketing campaign?”