Ah, Christmas. The most magical time of the year. The snow is falling, cider is flowing, and couples are kissing under the mistletoe.
Too bad all that makes me want to gag.
It isn't that I'm a hater, it's just that I have a job to do, and this particular holiday is getting in the way of that. And I know what you'll say, that Micah Noble's Christmas Tree Farm is a beloved tradition for many of the families, but you have to see the bigger picture here: a luxury resort where overworked Manhattanites can escape to, a serene place of spas and shopping and watching sexy lumberjacks chopping wood . . .
Scratch that last one. Lumberjacks aren't my thing. Anymore. Micah cured me of that, which tends to happen when you're trying to buy someone's family land to bulldoze to the ground.
He can call me a Scrooge all he wants, but business is business, and pleasure is . . . well, not something I can afford to think about. Even if it does come packaged in those tight jeans and flannel shirts that make me want to rip them off with my teeth-
No. This is not happening. I will not think of Micah as anything other than an obstacle to getting what I want. A really sexy obstacle.
