Twins for Christmas Read online

  Twins For Christmas

  Layla Valentine

  Contents

  Twins For Christmas

  1. Isla

  2. Isla

  3. Adam

  4. Isla

  5. Adam

  6. Isla

  7. Isla

  8. Isla

  9. Adam

  10. Isla

  11. Adam

  12. Isla

  13. Isla

  14. Adam

  15. Isla

  16. Isla

  17. Adam

  18. Isla

  19. Adam

  20. Isla

  21. Isla

  22. Isla

  23. Adam

  24. Adam

  25. Isla

  26. Adam

  27. Isla

  28. Adam

  29. Isla

  30. Adam

  31. Isla

  32. Adam

  33. Isla

  The Baby Plan

  1. Emma

  Want More?

  Also by Layla Valentine

  Twins For Christmas

  Copyright 2019 by Layla Valentine

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Isla

  December 23rd

  I realized the moment I stepped through the grand front doors of Corliss Enterprises that I was wearing mismatched shoes.

  For a second or two, I simply stared at them, like they were a puzzle that I needed to solve before I could enter my workplace. The crowds of people moving in through the doors spread out around me as I stood, my mouth slacked open just enough to make me look totally clueless.

  Sure enough, they were mismatched. Each was from a separate pair of flats, one a deep, dark red, the other a cheery emerald green.

  Perfect for the holidays.

  “Isla!” called out a voice passing by me.

  I glanced up to see that it was Marta, a fellow admin assistant on my floor. She flashed me one of her usual bright, sunny smiles as she glanced back over her shoulder, one red-tipped fingernail pointing down to my shoes.

  “For the holidays, right?” she asked. “I love it!”

  Then she melted into the crowd and was gone. I looked up slowly at the massive Christmas tree in the center of the lobby, the branches of the giant green pine loaded down with all kinds of ornaments, a circle of presents around the base. And with my shoes looking the way they did, I fit right in with the decorations dangling from the tree.

  I was mortified. I looked like a little girl who’d decided to experiment with that day’s kindergarten outfit.

  Not sure what to do next, I stepped out of the way of the beginning-of-the-workday procession and took a glance at my reflection in one of the nearby mirrored columns of the lobby—just to make sure I looked as ridiculous as I thought I did.

  And yeah, I did. The whole effect was made even worse by the fact that, aside from the shoes, I was dressed in my usual sharp business style, my dark skirt suit looking great, my auburn hair pulled back in a professional ponytail.

  Of course, the contrast only made my little wardrobe malfunction even more noticeable. It would have been one thing if I’d really committed to the bit, maybe along with a pair of red pants and a nice, ugly Christmas sweater like the dozens I saw last night at the company Christmas party. But nope—I just looked totally clueless.

  Well, Isla, I thought. You either go home and change and come in two hours late, or you suck it up and deal.

  I’d always been the “suck it up and deal” type and not the “show up for work late” type. Heck, I hadn’t been late once or missed a day of work since I’d started at Corliss three years ago.

  Sure, I looked like a goofball, but I wasn’t about to break my streak.

  Feeling silly but determined, I continued on through the lobby. I swiped my keycard at the entrance gates, saying my hellos to the security staff and trying not to notice as each one of them took a quick glance down at my shoe situation. Thankfully, they were too polite to say anything.

  It’ll be fine, I thought as I headed toward the big bank of elevators beyond the entrance gate. Soon you’ll be at your desk where no one can see your feet, and before you know it the day will be over. And then the only thing you’ll have to worry about is how you’re going to spend your Christmas break.

  Christmas break. Truth be told, I didn’t have the foggiest idea how I was going to spend it. Since I’d moved to San Francisco from Portland, where I’d attended college, I hadn’t really made a ton of friends. Or even one, really. Sure, I had a few girls at the office I’d occasionally get drinks with after work. But that was the extent of my social life.

  Work had been priority number one, and while it had paid off in promotions and increased responsibilities over the years, it didn’t exactly keep my social calendar full.

  But I’d make do—I always did. If anything, I’d have a chance to finally catch up on the sleep I’d been sorely neglecting over the holiday crunch time. Sure, I might not have a ton of friends, but the idea of getting comfy and cozy in some PJs and spending the next few days watching some TV and eating junky food—even a glass of wine or two to go along with them—sounded pretty darn nice.

  As soon as I’d psyched myself up with this mental image, however, my brain decided to make a very unwanted change to it. In my little scene of me curled up on the couch, I imagined someone next to me, some as-yet-unidentified man who I knew was handsome and charming and loving, someone who even…

  I couldn’t even bring myself to say the “L” word. That was too much.

  I put the shoes and the break and everything else out of my head as I stepped into the crowded elevator, ready to focus on the day ahead. Just because it was the last day before Christmas break didn’t mean that it was time for slacking. No—I was going to kick butt and give it my all, just like I did every other day.

  I sidled my way into the elevator and did my best to ignore the fact that I was totally packed in. Once I did, of course, my eyes tracked down to the floor, moving from one pair of shoes to another. All matched, of course, making my apparently Christmas-themed mismatching even more silly looking in comparison.

  The elevator rose, stopping at each floor as fellow employees of the massive corporation I worked for stepped out to begin their days. I was up high on the thirtieth floor, almost near the top. The elevator started and stopped, started and stopped, and before too long there was only me and a few other people.

  My eyes stayed on their matching shoes, watching them as they stepped out of the elevator, the door shutting behind them.

  Finally, it was only me and one other person. My eyes were still on his shoes, but for a different reason; they were really, really, nice. I wasn’t exactly an aficionado of men’s footwear, but even I could tell that this pair—dark brown leather and polished to a gorgeous shine—were something special.

  So focused was I on the shoes, that I hardly noticed when the man spoke.

  My eyes tracked up, and I finally regarded the man’s face.

  And my heart nearly jumped into my throat.

  Not only was he impossibly handsome, but he wasn’t just any man.

  No, the gorgeous guy I was sharing the elevator with, the one looking at m
e with possibly the most gorgeous pair of green eyes I’d ever seen in my life, was none other than Adam Forde.

  Or I should say Mr. Forde. After all, that’s how I would address the CEO of the company.

  Chapter 2

  Isla

  “Good morning.”

  The man was handsome as hell, and his low, rich, honeyed voice only increased the effect.

  Seriously, I couldn’t get over how good-looking he was. Tall, with chocolate-colored hair slicked back behind his ears, his eyes piercing and green, his nose slender but strong, his mouth sensual and red.

  And it was just me and him in that elevator.

  My heart began to race. I bit down on my lower lip to keep my cool. And then I remembered the shoes.

  Oh, my God, I quickly thought while simultaneously trying to come up with something to say. The one day the CEO ends up in the same elevator with me, alone, just has to be the same day that I’m dressed like a freaking clown.

  “Good morning,” I said, my voice coming out as a croak.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, the side of his mouth curled in a small, warm smile. “My name’s Adam Forde.”

  How could I not know your name? I thought. You run this place! There’s a giant picture of you in the lobby!

  Well, what was he supposed to say? “As you know, I’m the ridiculously handsome CEO whose name you surely already know.”

  He extended his hand toward me and I took it after quickly wiping my sweaty palm on the side of my suit jacket. His touch was…magical. His hand was warm and firm and just the right amount of rough.

  After we let go he continued to regard me. Finally, after a brief moment, his eyebrows rose just a bit, as if he were waiting for the answer to a question he’d asked.

  Oh, shoot! I thought. He introduced himself. Damn, Isla, I know he’s hot, but try to remember you have a functioning brain!

  “Isla Marten,” I said. “I work in administration.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Isla,” he said, slipping one hand into the pocket of his suit jacket, one thumb hooked out in a way that was, just like everything else about him, super, super sexy. “Trying to get to know as many people as I can.”

  Oh, that’s right. I’d almost forgotten that he’d only been the CEO for a couple of months.

  “Pleasure to meet you too,” I said.

  The extent of just how pleasurable it was I kept to myself. Wisely.

  “Enjoy yourself at the Christmas party last night?” he asked.

  Wow—so this was going to be a real conversation.

  Okay, I thought. I can do this. He’s just the insanely hot CEO of your company and he wants to chat. This…this is manageable.

  Truthfully, I was shaking in my mismatched shoes.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was really great. You guys pulled out all the stops.”

  Being truthful again, I didn’t have the best time in the world. Not on any account of Adam and the rest of the company, of course. They’d rented out the ballroom of one of the skyscrapers downtown and threw a Christmas party to end all Christmas parties.

  But the cheeriness and fun had only reminded me of how alone I was. After a handful of surface-level conversations with my few work acquaintances, I ended up bellied up to the bar, sipping the same glass of champagne for the next hour. And by the time the lights dimmed and the couples began to pair off for some slow dancing to the sappy Christmas tunes, I’d decided that it was time to go.

  At least I was refreshed and ready for the day, I guess.

  “Glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to get to know all the employees as well as I would’ve liked to over the last couple of months, so I figured a party to remember would be the perfect occasion.”

  I tried to think of a response. But before I could, a quizzical expression formed on his face, one that suggested he was trying to figure something out.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, wagging his finger slowly. “Isla Marten—I know that name.”

  Now it was my turn to be confused.

  “You…you do?”

  Sure, I’d been with the company for a few years. And I’d moved up in the world of Corliss. But that didn’t mean that I’d expected to be anyone who’d be on the radar of someone like Adam. I mean, Mr. Forde.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding. “You drafted a report on the proposed buyout of Xypno Innovations last week. Someone above you thought highly enough of it to pass it along my way.”

  “Really?” I asked, trying to keep cool.

  The report was pretty standard fare. I’d worked hard on it, but hadn’t thought much of it at the time. It was just another report that I’d researched, written up, and sent to my boss.

  But it wasn’t just any report after all. No, this one had made it to the eyes of the man in charge.

  “It was excellent,” he said. “Comprehensive, insightful, with clear writing—traits that are harder to come by than one might think.”

  He offered me a small smile, one that sent a rush of hot energy through my body. The man was handsome and charming and thoughtful of his employees. It was taking all I had to not gush with thanks.

  Calm and professional, I thought.

  “In fact,” he went on. “I could use more people with your skills working with me directly.”

  And that was all I could take. The “cool” mask slipped, and I let it out.

  “I’m so glad you liked it!” I said, feeling my face light up as I spoke. “I actually ended up learning a ton about Corliss doing the report. Really interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look at a merger like that.”

  “Great to hear,” he said.

  “And let me just say, if you need anyone to work on anything like that in your department, I’m your girl.”

  To make my point, I stuck out my thumb and drove it back into my chest.

  I winced internally as soon as I’d said the words. I was acting like an overeager high school kid sucking up to the teacher.

  “I’ll…keep that in mind,” he said. “But I should let you know that Sandy, my project coordinator, is the one who handles all matters like that.”

  I felt silly again. Of course the CEO would delegate who’s writing what reports to someone beneath them. He had bigger things to worry about, like the future and direction of the company.

  At that moment the two of us turned our attention to the elevator doors, which had been open the entire time we’d been talking. Neither of us had noticed that the elevator had gone all the way up to Adam’s floor.

  “Anyway,” he said. “Meeting to get to. I should get going.”

  One more impossibly charming smile.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said. “And I’ll make sure to keep your name in mind.”

  Then he turned and was off, and I was left in the elevator kicking myself for overstepping my boundaries like that. I hoped that I hadn’t come off too poorly.

  But a thought occurred to me as I pressed the button for my floor, a small smile forming on my face as it did.

  At least he didn’t notice my shoes!

  Chapter 3

  Adam

  Isla.

  I found myself silently saying her name as I made my way to the boardroom, as if trying it on for size. The girl had certainly been eager—no doubt about that. And I could sense that she’d lost a bit of her cool during our conversation.

  But I was fine with it. I liked to see that kind of enthusiasm in my employees. Let me know that we’d hired the right people.

  And there was the matter of her being strikingly beautiful. Fair skin, delicate features, long auburn hair—she was a total knockout. Not that it mattered, however. Maybe in my mid-twenties I would’ve decided to be bold and ask her out for an after-work drink. But with my new position I had other factors to consider, such as how relationships like that between me and my subordinates were off-limits.

  Still, didn’t hurt to notice.

  I gave t
he double doors of the conference room a soft rap when I approached.

  “Come in,” spoke a stern voice from within that I recognized right away.

  I opened the doors, revealing the grand conference room. Inside was a long table, the dozen members of the board seated, their eyes on me. Behind the table was an incredible view of downtown San Francisco, the waters of the ocean glittering in the far distance beyond the skyscrapers.

  And at the head of the table sat Edward Corliss, founder of Corliss Enterprises. He was a tall, imposing man with broad shoulders and a head of short, silver hair. His watery blue eyes were situated on a lean face and fixed in such a way they seemed to suggest he was continually thinking, planning. Despite his sixty-five years he still cut an imposing physique, one flattered by his expertly tailored suits.

  More than that, he was the man who’d given me the opportunity to be CEO at Corliss. Before that I’d always been more of a lone wolf, earning my billions through a series of startups and shrewd investments. But I’d had a desire to try something different. Something bigger. Edward, as he said, saw my potential, hiring me at this tech company to give me an opportunity to be a part of an established corporation.

  “Nice of you to join us,” he said, seated in a casual but authoritative position with his legs crossed and his hands clasped together.

  “Apologies,” I said, sliding into the nearest open seat. “Got a little caught up in the elevator.”

  “No worries,” said Edward. “We were just about to begin.”

  He rose from his seat and gave the room a long sweep with his eyes, holding the board members’ attention for a solid moment. The man knew how to project power—I had to give him that. I also had a talent for it, but Edward’s skill at commanding attention and respect was one you could only truly have through decades of skill.