Free Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas by Ella Sheridan

to be just a…a…an ass. What else could he be, to say things like that to her?
    Except she’d spent the past week watching him, and he wasn’t an ass to anyone else. A leader, a businessman, a good friend to Marc, and a damn sexy flirt with every woman who came into his presence. Except her.
    Oh, and Hank.
    Damien’s attitude plummeted for two reasons: because she was in his direct vicinity, or because Hank was in hers. Which seemed to indicate he had a problem with her in general, and with her being around Hank specifically. Damien appeared oblivious when any other man spoke or even flirted with her, but Hank’s presence triggered the jerk in Damien, a fact even Marc had commented on—in private, of course, and to her, not Damien. He might’ve lost his tongue otherwise.
    And what exactly did it say about her that here she was, obsessing over the man acting out said jerkiness?
    “Hey, Harley!”
    Hank jogged toward her across the lobby of the club, giving her a moment to take in the broad expanse of his shoulders, the solid build of his body. He was almost beautiful in a tough-guy sort of way. Masculine. Definitely sexy. Why couldn’t he be her obsession instead of her jackass boss?
    Hank came to a stop before her, barely breathing heavy, she noted enviously as his hands settled onto her shoulders. “Hey. Still working?”
    “Always,” she said with a little grimace. “There’s so much left to do.”
    “You’re tired. You need a break.” He rubbed his thumbs down along her tense biceps, bending to put his face on level with hers. A mischievous grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. “Come to lunch with me.”
    “Hank, I…”
    “Come on, Little Miss.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come play with me.”
    He always had known how to get to her. Her life had been one big responsibility since she’d found out Sonny was pregnant. He was right; she needed a break. Besides, she had to eat anyway, didn’t she?
    And then the reason she shouldn’t go out barged its way into her frazzled brain. “You know you’re going to get me in trouble, right?”
    Irritation replaced the twinkle in Hank’s eyes. “You mean Lover Boy? Oomph.”
    Shaking out the fist she’d used to punch his rocklike abs, Harley rolled her eyes. “Suck it up. That was just a love tap.”
    “Well, hopefully there’s more where that came from,” he said, his grin reappearing. “And as for your boss? Bring it on.” He reached up to smooth back a strand of her hair that had fallen forward, his touch familiar, soothing. “You need. A break. Come on.”
    “Okay.” Looking around, she saw Marc standing next to the bar, attention focused on the paperwork spread out in front of him. “Let me tell Marc where I’m going. I’ll meet you over by the door.”
    That earned her a full-on frown. “You aren’t trying to shuffle me out of here before a certain someone sees who you’re leaving with, are you?”
    “I don’t want him seeing me leave, period. I can do without the indigestion. Go on.”
    Hank didn’t look happy, but he went. Harley headed in the opposite direction.
    Marc glanced up at her approach.
    Steeling herself for some ribbing, though not of the jerky variety Damien had been hitting her with the past couple of days, Harley cleared her throat. “I’m going to grab some lunch. Is that okay?”
    Dropping his pen on the bar, he turned to her with a huff. “Harley, how many hours have you worked this week?”
    “No more than you,” she said defensively.
    “Way more than me,” he countered. “I at least take a break to eat. And despite what Damien wants you to believe, all work and no play…” His raised eyebrows told her to fill in the rest. “Lucky for you, the slave master is out meeting with some LA bigwigs. So”—he leaned in, his voice going low and serious—“I want you to go to lunch, and stay gone. Don’t come back here till three, got it?”
    Her shoulders literally sagged in