His By Christmas. Teresa Southwick

her. If anyone knew how short life could be, it was her, and no way she was going to burn the candle at both ends for a paycheck. If he sent her packing she’d simply find another way to put together the rest of the money she needed.

      And he was supposed to be on vacation, for Pete’s sake!

      She looked at herself in the suite’s freestanding, full-length mirror. Her long hair fell past her shoulders, shiny and straight. For work she normally put it up for convenience, but she might not be working much longer. If a small part of her was using every female asset in her arsenal to get on the good side of her boss, well, so be it. That was, of course, presupposing Calhoun Hart even had a good side.

      Her silky blouse was off-white, sleeveless and tucked into linen slacks that were long enough to graze the floor even in heels. No chance of showing any bare leg. Plus lightweight enough for this tropical island climate. And professional.

      “I am woman. Hear me roar,” she said to her reflection. “Meow.”

      With nerves jumping in her stomach, she exited her room and walked, head held high, as confidently as possible into the villa’s main living area. It was early, but Cal was already up. In his khaki shorts and flowered shirt he looked like a tourist. The white cast on his left leg had her heart twisting with sympathy, proof it had not stayed strong and in solidarity with last night’s rebellion.

      “Good morning,” he said. “I ordered breakfast.”

      Her gaze drifted to the covered dishes on the coffee table. There was an impressive number of them. “I should get to work.”

      “You should eat something first. It’s the most important meal of the day.” He poured coffee from an insulated pitcher into a second mug in front of him. “It’s breakfast. Break fast. Fuel your body to maximize performance.”

      It seemed as if he was pretending their difference of opinion had never happened, and that was just fine with her.

      “I’d love some coffee. Thanks.” She sat in the club chair to his right.

      “Cream? Sugar?” He met her gaze.

      “No and no. Black is great.” She took the cup and saucer he held out.

      “I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat and ordered a little of everything.”

      “That’s getting to be a habit with you.” She was teasing. Sort of.

      But this showing his nice side was turning into a disconcerting pattern. She’d prepared herself to deal with the driven workaholic from last night, not this softie who was hard-selling a well-balanced, nutritious meal. This guy made her feel feelings she wasn’t at all comfortable with.

      “As habits go,” she said, “it’s not a bad one.”

      “Full disclosure. It’s not entirely selfless, either.” He grinned suddenly. “A well-fed employee is a productive one.”

      A smiling Cal looked younger, more carefree and less tense. And so handsome she could only stare at him. It was several moments before his words registered and the message was received. Employee. As in he was not going to terminate her. The weight of uncertainty lifted and she smiled back.

      “I will be so productive that you won’t be able to keep up with me.”

      “Is that a challenge, Miss Walker?” There was a gleam in his eyes now, a spark of competition.

      “Absolutely.”

      “Then you’re on. Eat up.”

      Since he’d ordered a little of everything, she sampled it all. Omelet, eggs Benedict, oatmeal and all the trimmings. But the fruit...mango, papaya and pineapple—yum. They ate in silence.

      “So you like Blackwater Lake?” Cal finished the last bite of food and set his empty plate on the coffee table.

      “Very much. It’s beautiful.” She met his gaze. “But I already mentioned that. There’s a serenity about it. That sounds mystical and spiritual and I don’t mean to be woo-woo weird, but peacefulness is in the air.”

      “That’s because you don’t have family there,” he said drily.

      “I wish I did. My parents, brothers and sister all live in Texas. They were not happy when I broke the news about the company headquarters moving.”

      “Would it help if I apologized to them and did a PowerPoint presentation to lay out my reasons for relocating?”

      “So it wasn’t about being closer to your brothers and sister?”

      “My parents are still in Dallas, too. So it wasn’t an easy decision.” Absently he kneaded his left knee, as if the muscles hurt. “There’s still a large dependence on fossil fuels, but renewable energy is the future. It’s my gut feeling that overseeing it from Blackwater Lake is the best way to go.”

      She wouldn’t be with Hart Energy much longer and his commitment to its future made her a little sad about that. But that was his dream and she had one of her own.

      “I can’t eat another bite.” She set her not quite empty plate on the table beside his. “And it’s time for me to get to work.”

      “I left a list of what I need on your desk.” His mouth twitched, the only sign that he was thinking about their disagreement.

      She stood and nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”

      Moving away from the power of her boss’s aura was a relief, and Justine buried herself in the familiarity of work. Reports, spreadsheets, phone calls and research meant she didn’t have to think about the way a smile transformed his face, or how his teasing made her laugh. In the last few years laughter had been a stranger in her world. Changing that started with being her own boss, not bonding with her current one.

      Four hours later, Justine was paying a price for burying herself in work. Her whole body was stiff and every muscle ached. Last night’s mutiny hadn’t been only about principle. Working long hours taxed her physically, and her leg needed regular stretching out to keep it from painful cramping.

      She straightened in her chair and carefully stood, but couldn’t suppress a wince of discomfort.

      “Are you in pain?” Cal’s voice was sharp, but that didn’t hide a note of concern.

      She’d thought he was engrossed in work and it surprised her that he’d noticed. That didn’t mean she was comfortable with the fact that he had.

      “I’m fine,” she said.

      “Don’t do that.” He looked and sounded even more annoyed, if possible. “You don’t have to be superwoman.”

      To atone for pushing back against a fourteen-hour day. He didn’t say the words, but they still hovered in the air.

      “I’m not pretending to be anything. I really am fine. It’s just that if I sit for long periods of time, my leg gets stiff and a little uncomfortable.”

      “I assumed you were kidding about competing work output.”

      “Yeah, but I also said I work hard while on the clock,” she said.

      “I appreciate the effort, but you should have said something.” Now he sounded ticked off at himself.

      “I just did. A fifteen-minute break to stretch it out will do the trick. In physical therapy after the accident, I learned techniques to take care of it. I’ll be back shortly—more alert and productive than ever. And most important, it’s relaxing. I’m used to this happening and know exactly what to do.” She half turned, intending to disappear into her room to do what she needed to in order to loosen up the muscles.

      “Don’t leave on my account,” he said. “In fact, I might need some of those techniques myself after this cast comes off.”

      Justine knew better than most that he had a point about life after his broken bone healed. Learning yoga during her