Page 11 of Sincerely Not Yours

Gigi stepped close to him, looking at ease and eager—completely opposite from what he felt. “Put on your sweater.” She smiled, pointing to the monstrosity Harris forgot he was holding. “I’ll get the sleigh bells.”

She left him, walking to the back of the stage. Horrified, Harris slid the sweater on, mostly to hide his face for a few seconds. Could he stay hidden? Tucked inside the cartoon reindeer while Gigi put on a show? Knowing that wouldguaranteehe ended up on some stupid, viral Instagram reel, he yanked the scratchy sweater in place and finished fixing his collar just as Gigi returned.

“Here.” She handed him a leather strap with silver bells. “Shake the bells in rhythm with the beat after the first chorus ends.” When he didn’t reply, she tipped her head and added, “You know the song, right?”

“Yeah, I know it,” he said begrudgingly. It was the national anthem of Christmas. Everyone knew it. It was played to death between Thanksgiving and Christmas every year.

“Great.” Her bright reply confirmed nothing would keep her from enjoying this. Nodding at the announcer, Gigi grabbed a mic out of a stand.

Harris’s heart bounded as the announcer added a few more details, noting that the crowd could vote for their favorite team using a text code on their phone. He also said this waslivestreaming on Facebook, and Harris immediately wished for a trap door that would open up and drop him into the basement. Did this club even have a basement? For a second, he closed his eyes, blocking out the beaming spotlight, wanting the next few minutes to be a distant memory.

When one pianist started with the first telltale notes of the song, Harris opened his eyes, taking in the crowd. They were chatting and drinking, only half paying attention. But when Gigi sang the first few notes, the crowd quieted, turning to watch. Harris did too.

Her voice wasn’t good; it was stunning. The clear, melodic tones cut through the room, demanding attention. Harris, who’d been ready to cringe through the entire ordeal, found himself instantly captivated. He hadn’t expected this from someone who’d just moments ago had said she “was no Mariah Carey” and then dragged him on stage against his will.

In her twinkling Christmas sweater and black leggings, Gigi effortlessly worked the crowd. She strode across the stage, singing into the microphone like a pro. With each note, her eyes sparkled with joy, which spread, catching everyone in its wake. The audience quickly joined in, clapping in rhythm. When they sang along, Gigi glanced at Harris, urging him with a smile, and he remembered the strap of bells in his hand.

Still in awe, he started shaking the bells, almost mindlessly, thinking this woman had the voice of an angel. But more than that, her courage and charisma had enchanted the entire bar, as if magic dripped from her tongue. There was no way Harris could do anything of the sort. He could take control in the boardroom, but outside of that, he’d never volunteer to be in the spotlight. Yet, somehow here he was, sharing it with Gigi, his panic lessening as her joy and voice infused the room.

He kept up his part, shaking the bells through the rest of the tune, and as the end of the song neared, Gigi belted out the lastlines, her voice reaching a triumphant crescendo. Harris bent back in amazement, and the crowd roared in response. A sea of delighted faces leapt to their feet.

Gigi took a humble bow. Then she turned toward Harris, still glowing from her performance. Their eyes met to share a moment of triumph and surprise.

As the applause faded, Gigi walked over to Harris. “Great job!” she exclaimed. “We killed it!”

Harris, still processing the rollercoaster of emotions that had shot through him in the past ten minutes, managed a smile. “Youkilled it.”

“Couldn’t do it without the bells.” She grinned, giving Harris this strange sense of accomplishment. A warmth spread through his chest. He nodded, caught in the moment. Why was he drawn to this woman? He’d felt it the first time he met her, too, in the elevator. She was gorgeous, of course. Bright, inquisitive chocolate-brown eyes. Soft curves and legs that went on for days. But it was more than that. She had this bubble of magnetic energy that grabbed everyone around her, including him.

Harris shook his head, dislodging his thoughts. His logical mind grabbed hold of his emotions, reminding him of professional boundaries.

You’re her boss.

He was only in Chicago temporarily, specifically to help his brother. There was no need to consider his attraction to Gigi or what that might mean.

With a crackle of the speakers, the announcer declared Harris and Gigi the new Merry-oke leaders.

Gigi laughed and clapped her hands together. Her eyes shone, catching Harris in their wake. “Looks like we have a shot at winning this thing.”

Harris nodded. As the crowd closed in, offering congratulations and clinks of their glasses, he slipped away,going back to the table where he peeled off the sweater, along with the glimmer of attraction stirring in his gut. He was here to help his brother. Nothing else. He kept telling himself that, even as the echoes of Gigi’s voice and bright smile replayed through his mind.

Chapter Six

Gigi stared at Harris across the boardroom table, wishing she had lasers in her eyes. Tightening her grip on her pen, she imagined burning Harris with her thoughts, searing zigzags in his expensive suit and possibly torching the ends of his perfectly mussed hair.

Instead, she sighed, composing herself so the words she really wanted to say didn’t leave her mouth. She glanced around the long table occupied by the other members of the SheTime team. Then she focused on Harris. “So, you think the best decision is to cut costs wherever possible?”

“Not wherever possible.” Harris leaned on the table, linking his hands together. “Just where it makes sense. And I think it makes sense to cut cost out of the packaging and ingredients. Also, to reassess our spend on marketing and events.”

“Interesting.” Gigi eased back in her chair, steepling her hands. She tapped her fingertips together in silence, long enough to feel the energy in the room shift. One of the sales reps coughed, and then awkwardly apologized for doing so. Jeremiah, from finance, looked back and forth between Harris and Gigi as though a fire had started and someone better put it out. The others munched on snacks, tentatively chewing as they waited to see where this was going.

The team had been in the boardroom all morning, analyzing products and marketing, reviewing spend and results. Gigi was on the verge of losing her mind, but Harris seemed unfazed. Every time she challenged him, he came back with a confident and solid answer.Even though he was wrong.

“You think we’ll grow sales and market share by reducing the quality of the product we make?” She stilled her fingers.

“You think we should manufacture products that don’t meet internal profit requirements? Or support marketing that doesn’t grow our bottom line?” he countered.

She narrowed her eyes, not appreciating how he’d answered her question with more questions. “There’s a difference between cutting corners and finding smarter, more sustainable solutions. We can’t compromise the quality of our products. That’s what sets SheTime apart in the beauty space.”

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