This gleeful goad came from the little devil sitting on Amanda Creighton’s left shoulder. Of course Devilish Desiree -- the name Amanda had given the more daring part of her conscience -- was a figment of her own imagination. Still, the little female devil always seemed to pop up whenever the tiniest glimmer of a naughty thought happened to cross Amanda’s mind. With her red sparkly halter top, short mini-skirt and matching four inch heels, Desiree was ready and willing to lead Amanda straight into all sorts of temptation.

Thank God she had Angelic Angie, the prim and proper angel who sat on her right shoulder, to counter Desiree’s wicked suggestions. Even now, Angie was fighting to preserve Amanda’s integrity.

Don’t do it, Amanda, Angie said in that reproachful tone she normally used when Desiree was involved. You know it’s wrong.

Desiree rolled her eyes and crossed one long red silk stockinged leg over the other. Don’t listen to her, she whispered in Amanda’s ear. She’s such a goody two shoes, and that halo above her head is just way too straight and shiny, if you ask me. She’s the reason why you never have any fun.

Amanda leaned back in her office chair and rubbed her temples with the pad of her fingers. She found it hard to argue Desiree’s point, because when it came to any indecision Amanda might have about right or wrong, or the merest thought about doing something mischievous, Angie’s logic and rationale always won out. And that meant Amanda usually did the honorable thing, which made her way too uptight and boring, in Desiree’s estimation.

It had been that way since Amanda was twelve. Desiree and Angie had arrived shortly after her mother had died, and they’d been with her ever since, playing tug-of-war with her psyche. After the loss of her mother, and being the only child of her workaholic father, she’d spent a lot of time alone and trying to make decisions for herself -- which was what had undoubtedly prompted Desiree and Angie’s initial appearance. As a young girl, they’d kept her from making bad choices, and even succumbing to peer pressure at school.

Even now, at twenty-seven, they both still believed that they each knew what was best for her and had no qualms about stating their opinions on various matters -- from family issues, to the clothes she bought, and even the men she chose to date.

Today, it had been a brief “what if” scenario with the office’s bad boy, Christian Miller -- whom she had a major crush on -- that had prompted a visit from Desiree. The impish she-devil had been enthusiastic about encouraging the inappropriate ideas dancing in Amanda’s mind, which was quickly followed by Angie and her attempts at damage control.

With a shake of her head, Amanda picked up the neat, handwritten list of names she’d been reviewing before being interrupted by the voices in her head. When she’d volunteered to organize this year’s Secret Santa list for the executive floor’s holiday party, she figured it would be a relatively easy and simple task.

Connoisseur, a food and travel magazine that was owned by her father, was a large publishing company that was made up of many different departments and levels -- each of which were having their holiday parties on whatever day suited their group the best. The executive floor, which also included accounting, human resources, and sales, had taken a vote, and the Friday before Christmas had won out for their get together and Secret Santa exchange.

As Executive Editor of Connoisseur, and her father’s right hand woman, Amanda had developed a reputation for being well-organized, efficient, and dependable, so everyone seemed perfectly happy that she’d offered to be the keeper of the list.

For the most part, coordinating the secret santa gift exchange had been just a matter of putting all of the office employee’s names into a paper bag, then letting each person draw a piece of paper to find out who they’d be purchasing a gift for. Amanda kept a master list of who picked whom, and went ahead and randomly drew names for the employees that were out for the day. Everything had been going smoothly, until she’d opened the piece of paper she’d picked for Stacey Roberts, the office bimbo, and read the name Christian Miller, the top sales executive for the magazine.

Amanda’s pulse had raced, as it always did when it came to Christian. With his pitch black hair, dark blue eyes, and a body made for sin, he was the stuff that made up most of her deepest, most fondest fantasies. Adding to his good looks was a charming, flirtatious personality and a smile that had the ability to melt polar ice caps, and it was no wonder most of the women in the office had a secret crush on him. Herself included.

As much as she knew that Stacey would love to be paired up with Christian -- preferably horizontally if the busty blonde had her way -- Amanda couldn’t bring herself to give Stacey that kind of satisfaction, which the other woman would undoubtedly exploit to her advantage.

That’s when Amanda’s thoughts had drifted and she’d fantasized about keeping Christian for herself, and giving Stacey her office arch rival slut, Melissa Wintz, instead. The thought of pairing up those two she-cats held a whole lot of appeal and would no doubt add some fun to the gift exchange.

Come on, Amanda, Desiree cajoled. You know you want to switch those names so you can be Christian’s Secret Santa. And why not? You’ve been attracted to him for the past year, not to mention he’s gorgeous, single, and hotter than Hades.

Amanda grinned at Desiree’s amusing play on words, until Angie jumped in with her side of things.

He’s all wrong for you, she said with a disapproving shake of her head. He doesn’t do relationships and he has a reputation for being a player. Don’t you remember when he got caught in the boardroom in a very compromising position with that hussy from production?

Amanda remembered the scandalous incident very well, which had caused a flurry of office speculation and gossip to run rampant about Christian’s sexual prowess. Those juicy, titillating rumors had served to add plenty of spice to her own personal fantasies she had about the man, and also made her wish she had the nerve to be as bold and brazen as the woman he’d been with.

Unfortunately, she also recalled her father’s disappointment when he’d summoned the pair into his office the very next day to deliver a reprimand, along with a warning to keep their hands, and other body parts, to themselves during work hours. Luckily for Christian, the issue had become a moot point when the production assistant quit two weeks later.

He’s a ladies’ man and a philanderer, Angie went on with determination. He has more notches on his bedpost than you have designer shoes in your closet.

Gorgeous stilettos that rarely see the light of day, I might add, Desiree said as she admired her own red heels that did amazing things for her legs. It’s a crime not to wear and enjoy all those amazing shoes you buy.

Leave it to Angie to use her one guilty pleasure to press her point home, and Desiree to mourn the fact that Amanda’s huge shoe collection went unappreciated. Amanda definitely had a weakness for sexy shoes, with Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik topping as her favorite designers, and they were all openly displayed in her walk-in closet for her to look at, touch, and even slip on her feet occasionally.

But Desiree was right -- she didn’t wear them outside of her house. Four inch heels weren’t practical for every day wear, and those fun, sexy shoes didn’t exactly go with the business suits and modest outfits she wore at the office. At least not without attracting a whole lot of attention, including her father’s scrutiny. Amanda had long ago decided that like some women collected porcelain dolls or rare figurines that they displayed for their viewing pleasure, she did the same with designer shoes.

Your shoe fetish aside, being a womanizer isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Desiree stated, bringing the conversation back to Christian and all the reasons why Amanda ought to consider having a fling with him. And so what if he doesn’t do relationships? What more could a girl want for Christmas than a holiday dalliance with someone who is built like a God and knows what he’s doing in the sack?

Amanda winced at that last remark. Desiree was obviously referring to her last steady boyfriend, whom she’d referred to as the one minute wonder because his lack of stamina when it came down to doing the deed. Once in, once out, and he was done for the night, leaving Amanda to her own devices if she wanted her own orgasm.

But it hadn’t been just the bad sex that had brought their relationship to an end. Like most of the men who wanted to date Amanda, they were more attracted to her name, wealth, or what her very powerful publisher-father could do for them and their own careers.

Lips pursed, Angie smoothed a hand down her immaculate white gown. Christian is all wrong for you, and after that fiasco in the boardroom, your father would hardly approve of him as a suitor.

Suitor? It’s not like she’s going to marry the guy, and daddy wouldn’t ever have to find out that she’s getting some on the side from the office stud. A sly grin curved the corners of Desiree’s lips. Besides, he’s been quite respectable the past eight months or so. He’s cleaned up his act and he’s been quite conscientious and focused lately.

Only because there’s a promotion on the line, Angie argued pointedly. He has his eye on that promotion to Sales Director, and he wants to impress Amanda’s father and prove that he’s a responsible, reliable team player and not the cad he was back in the boardroom.

True, Desiree agreed as she glanced at her fire engine red painted fingernails. But he can’t remain a monk forever, and that could certainly work to Amanda’s advantage.

The banter in her head was making her crazy. “Arghhh! Stop already,” she ordered the two of them in a firm tone, grateful that her office door was closed so no one could hear this bizarre conversation she seemed to be having with herself. “I never said I wanted to have an affair with him.”

Desiree leaned close and whispered in her ear. You might not have said it out loud, but you’ve thought about it plenty, and I would know since I spend a lot of time in that head of yours.

Way too much time, Amanda was beginning to realize. And when had this discussion gotten so out of hand? She’d only pondered the idea of switching names to be Christian’s secret santa -- secret being the operative word -- and it had blown into an attack on her lack of a love life.

Amanda inhaled a deep, calming breath. “I’m not going to have a fling with him.”

The halo above Angie’s head shone brightly as she cast the red devil on Amanda’s shoulder a triumphant smile. Good girl.

Desiree shook her head in disappointment. You’re going to die without ever experiencing true passion and mind-blowing sex.

Amanda couldn’t take it anymore. “Go away, both of you,” she muttered.

But . . .

“Go. Now.” Amanda shut her eyes and forced the two trouble-makers out of her head with a deliberate mental block. When blessed quiet reigned for a good long minute, she slowly opened her eyes and thanked a higher power for the silence.

Biting her lower lip, she glanced at the gift exchange list again, this time contemplating her idea by herself and without any extraneous input from the distracting duo. All she wanted was to feel like a seductive, sexy woman and a bit of a bad girl -- and know that she was capable of attracting the interest of a man like Christian, even if it was in a secret way.

With the cover of mystery and confidentiality working in her favor, she could be daring and reckless and purchase him a gift that would seduce his mind and body. She could watch his reaction as he opened the present without fear of him ever finding out that she was the one who’d given him something so provocative. It would be like having her own private, sexual interlude with Christian, but without any emotional or physical involvement.

Being his secret santa would be safe and fun, for both of them, she thought with a smile. He’d no doubt enjoy the attention and bit of temptation that came with the present he opened, but like all of his previous relationships, she had no doubt the initial intrigue would eventually fade and he’d forget all about who might have sent him the suggestive, holiday gift. And ultimately, no one would ever have to know what she’d done.

Excitement and anticipation blossomed within her, and she had to admit that she liked the sensation that came with being impulsive and adventurous. Before she could change her mind, or Angie and Desiree could reappear with their opinion on the matter, Amanda picked up her pen and jotted Christian’s name down on the secret santa list.

Right next to her name.