Andrew gives me a weird look like maybe I’m inappropriate for voicing how yummy my drink is? He’s hard to read. The moment any type of emotion—beyond irritation—flits across his face he shuts it down. “There is no drink that screams Christmas like eggnog.” He raises his eyebrows and I wonder how anyone could hate Christmas so much.

“The party planner that was handling the firm’s holiday party is… no longer available, and the firm needs someone to take over.”

I blink a couple of times. He can’t mean… “You mean this year’s holiday party?”

He presses his lips together and nods.

“But Christmas is in seven weeks.”

“I’m aware.” He picks up his drink and takes a hefty gulp.

“That’s not really a lot of time to pull something together. Have any decisions been made? Event space, number of attendees, please say you have a caterer?”

With every word out of my mouth, his eyes slowly get wider and wider. It’s just now, being this close to him, that I get a better look at how deep blue his eyes are. Like a stormy sea, which knowing the little that I do about him, fits.

“I don’t know what decisions have or have not been made,” he says stiffly.

“Wait. Why are you involved in your firm’s Christmas party? You hate Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes and puts up both hands. “I don’t hate Christmas.”

“Would loathe be a better word?” I raise an eyebrow.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m involved because I’m the connection to you since I suggested you for the party.”

While I do believe his apology from earlier, I don’t believe for a second that he suggested me as some benevolent act. “And…”

He pushes his hands through his wavy hair and his shoulders sag a bit. “Okay, I’m being considered for partner and the man who can make that happen is engaged to a right twit who’s in charge of the Christmas party this year. If I’m able to solve her problem, it would bode well for me in the future.”

“Ah, I see.” I nod slowly.