Investigating Christmas. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

he could stop being ridiculous and get on with his day. Hadn’t he been lamenting time wasters a few minutes ago? Irritated with himself, he strode forward to meet his guest.

      The familiar vanilla-laced scent stopped him as effectively as a brick wall. His heart slammed against his ribs when she looked up and he saw those big brown eyes full of nerves.

      “Lucy?” He had to be hallucinating. She’d left him a year ago, effectively disappearing overnight. One day here—and his—and the next, he been left holding a note that she’d moved to Chicago with no plans to return. He folded his arms over his chest, not giving a damn about defensive posture. She didn’t look capable of rendering destruction, but he knew better. “This is...” The multiple ways to finish that sentence became a logjam in his head.

      “A surprise, I’m sure,” she finished for him, coming to her feet.

      He had to back up a step to stay out of her personal space and to keep his hands to himself.

      “My apologies for dropping in unannounced, Rush.” Her smile flashed and disappeared from one second to the next. “I just got back in town. Can you spare a few minutes?”

      Hearing her say his name brought back images and memories best left until later. “For you, always.” He caught the subtle twist of her lips and winced. His time and attention had been the one sore spot during their relationship. They were both busy professionals and he couldn’t always insist that global markets and prestigious clients wait while he wrapped up a date.

      Things were different now, calmer and more predictable since he’d achieved his goal and positioned his company at the forefront of the electronic information security industry. Calmer, but not nearly done, he thought, as part of his brain slid back to the wasted morning meeting.

      Recognizing the doubt about his availability in Lucy’s eyes, he pulled his attention back to the present. Bending over Trisha’s keyboard, he sent his secretary a text alert to clear his calendar for the afternoon. “There.” He stood tall, smiling at Lucy. “I’m all yours for the rest of the day.” The idea of it cascaded over him in a wave of effervescent anticipation. Only Lucy had ever had this effect on him. He held open his office door, encouraging her to enter ahead of him. The soft fabric of the smart evergreen dress she wore swirled at her knees, and he enjoyed the distraction for a moment.

      When the door closed behind him, he flipped the switch that turned the clear glass panes of his office opaque, giving them privacy from anyone else on the floor. “What do you need?”

      “Oh, my,” she breathed. “Your view of the bay is stunning.” Lucy turned a slow circle in the middle of his office, a bittersweet smile wobbling on her lips as she took it all in. “The world at your feet, right?”

      “I saved the best view for myself,” he confessed.

      “As you should.” Her smile blossomed, a little less wistful. She cleared her throat. “The building, the new offices...it’s all amazing, Rush. Congratulations. You deserve it.”

      “You think so?” Pride swelled up at her praise before he could battle it back. He’d never reconciled the way she’d constantly encouraged him with the fact that she’d walked away without a single word of warning. Never one to leap without looking, her sudden departure from him as well as the city had completely baffled him.

      She nodded, interlocking her fingers at her waist. He remembered that little habit showing up whenever her self-control was about to snap. What was going on?

      He shrugged out of his sport coat and hooked it on a sleek stainless coat tree near the door. “Why don’t we sit down,” he suggested briskly. He considered rounding his desk, emphasizing his position and power in the room. Instead, he moved toward the long, elegant leather couch. How many days had he envisioned her right here beside him with a cup of coffee in the morning or a glass of wine after a long day?

      Lucy chose a chair on the other side of the art deco glass coffee table and that spark of hope that this might be a personal visit withered.

      He catalogued every nuance and change as she settled into the chair. Fit as ever, her sense of style still radiated elegance and class. Yes, her hair had grown longer over the past year. And the warmth in her big brown eyes was tempered with something he couldn’t pinpoint. She’d done her eyes with subtle color, framed by those thick, dark lashes, and she’d swept soft gloss over her rosy lips. He didn’t care for the tense lines bracketing her lovely mouth. What had happened to her since she’d left him?

      He’d kept tabs on her, always in search of a way to bring her back home to California. Not finding the right combination of timing and opportunity, he’d been forced to admit defeat and move on. He hadn’t managed to forget her, even after sinking all his energy into a year of aggressive corporate growth and dodging the grasping pursuit of equally aggressive, gold-digging women.

      He waited, offered her coffee and water. She graciously refused, but didn’t seem willing to explain what had brought her here. “I heard about your brother-in-law,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

      “Thank you,” she replied, her gaze drifting past him to the view of the bay.

      “How is Gwen holding up?”

      “Better day by day.” Lucy’s big brown eyes shimmered with tears until she blinked them away. “I think.” White teeth momentarily nipped at her full lower lip. “Moving to France helped all of us.”

      That caught him off guard. “I didn’t realize she went with you.”

      Lucy nodded. “Her son, Jackson, is eight months old. It’s amazing watching him grow.”

      The worry in her eyes launched an internal battle as his need to shield himself battled against his need to comfort her. “Strong name.” As he’d hoped, the words brought out her smile. She’d often lamented her name was a hurdle in the corporate world.

      God, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, stunned and delighted to have her in his office. Terrified he’d drop his heart into her hands and she’d reject the gift again. His palms itched to touch her, to hold her fine-boned hand in his again. How many nights had he tossed and turned, wishing for one more touch of her lips, gentle as rose petals, against his skin? Her chest lifted on a deep inhale and sent his mind on a sensual, inappropriate detour.

      “I know you’re busy,” she began, “so I’ll be brief. I could use a job, Rush. If you can find a place for me.”

      He knew the perfect place for her, though it had nothing to do with the professional answer she was seeking. Sitting forward, he propped his elbows on his knees. She knew him too well to bother hiding his excitement about bringing her on board. “A job here, with me?”

      “With Gray Box.” Her lips pursed. “France has been a great experience. Beyond beautiful, but—”

      “We have plenty of wine country here,” he interrupted. A voice in his head roared at him to shut up. He was an idiot to think she reminisced over their weekend adventures the way he did. He’d heard how quickly she’d replaced him with a new man in Chicago.

      Her lips curled into another distant smile and she smoothed her hands over her dress. “California is home,” she finished.

      “I’m glad to hear you’ve come to your senses,” he teased.

      Her serious brown gaze didn’t share his humor. “Do you have any openings?”

      He glanced past her, had to assume Trisha’s desk remained empty on the other side of the privacy-frosted glass. “I could use a personal assistant,” he said, making the decision as he spoke.

      “You’re well aware I have an MBA. Maybe I can be of more use in—”

      “Your current post is what, precisely?” Her gaze turned sharp with a hint of temper and he knew he had her just where he wanted her. Well, professionally anyway.

      “Yes, my current title is