Tina has a tendency to go a little overboard when decorating for the holidays, but Brian decides her skills are just what he needs to get into the Christmas spirit. Can their budding relationship survive when they find themselves in a knock-down-drag-out competition to win the office’s “most outrageous holiday sweater?”

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The cart Tina was pushing collided with something, and a humph burst from the other side. The rather precariously assembled mountain of old claim files wobbled, and those on the summit slid forward. Another yelp followed their descent.

What the””?

She peered around the still-teetering towers, but saw no one.

Why had Mr. Collins piled them so high?

The sound of paper shuffling rose from the other side of the cart. Her throat constricted, and she squeezed past the cart in the narrow passageway between the office cubicles to check out which employee she’d hit.

Please let it be Mr. Collins. He deserves it. Just don’t let it be””

Her stomach twisted into a knot. Of course it was Brian Foster. Who else? The newest salesman at Judicious Insurance crouched on the floor, rubbing his thigh with one hand and holding a file folder in the other. Papers littered the area around him.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He squinted up at her. “I think so.”

Kneeling beside him, she gathered up the fallen documents and reached for the one he still held. “I’m so sorry. Mr. Collins loaded the cart. I should’ve made two trips, but we only have one cart, and I didn’t have any place to put them because my desk is already full from the end of year
re”””

“Mr. Collins?” he asked, rising to his full height. He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. “You’re in claims, right? Tina Martins?”

With a dip of her chin, she pulled her hand from his grasp and clutched the papers she still held to her chest. His hand had been warm and strong, and the power from his touch continued to surge through her body. “I’ll”¦uh”¦let me pick up this mess, and I’ll get out of your way.”

Unable to meet the man’s gaze, she bent over to retrieve the rest of the papers. He leaned over at the same time, and their heads met with a sharp crack.

Could this get any worse?

She met his gaze over the spilled papers, expecting an angry glare in return. Instead, the most beautiful pair of honey-tinted eyes gave her a wide stare.

Oh, God. I’ve given him a concussion.

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