Dying for Love

Were you courteous to someone you were about to fire? A final liquid meal before kicking them out in the cold? She failed to find any comfort in his hospitality. She eyed his broad shoulders, refusing to allow her gaze to dip lower, no matter how much it wanted to. Since when did he remember personal details about his employees, like how they drank coffee? The fact he’d taken note of her preferences was bewildering.

“I—”

“Please, have a seat. No need to stand when there are relatively comfortable chairs just waiting to be of use.”

He turned from the bar, coffee cup in hand and she headed for one of the chairs facing the massive desk dominating the space. An excellent place for intimidating employees.

“No, no. Not there.”

Her eyebrows shot up at the impatience lacing his words. She always sat in one of those chairs during a meeting with him. Just like he always sat in his elegant black chair behind the large expanse of gleaming wood, maintaining the proper distance between a denizen of the construction world and his employees. Always.

“Yes, I know. I’m excessively full of what’s proper, establishing my authority and all that crap. Come sit over here.”

The conversation area he indicated faced the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. She glanced again at the low-backed chairs in front of his polished desk. Uncertainty sat low and uncomfortable in her belly. Her stomach rolled. Shoulders back, head erect, Grace walked over and sat in a comfortable chair.

She’d always assumed the hard chairs were intentional. A subtle hint that relaxing in his presence was unacceptable.

He placed the full coffee cup and saucer on the table between them, then settled in a neighboring chair. “Is that the report?”

“Yes.” She handed the paperwork to him. “I’m sorry it’s late, Mr. Duncan.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Eyes widening, she clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from dropping open.

He tossed the report on a little table. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“No, sir.”

He nodded, staring out the windows. It was a beautiful view. Neo-classic buildings sat with cheerful disregard amongst high-rise glass structures like theirs. The oldest had been there since the city’s birth well over one hundred years ago.

The trees were still stark and barren despite the warmer weather. The river twisted like a dark ribbon through the midst of the city that had grown up around it. Hence the city’s nickname, The City of Trees.

Mr. Duncan’s dark gaze returned to her with uncomfortable intensity. She resisted the urge to squirm.

“Are you okay, sir? You don’t quite seem yourself.”

Like she knew him. She gnawed on the side of her lip, wishing she’d kept her big mouth shut. His reserve kept everyone at a distance, even higher-up executives who’d worked with him for years. She was a newbie, inexperienced in the ways of office politics and Mr. Duncan.

“Let’s just say today hasn’t turned out as expected.” A grim smile twisted his lips.

“I apologize. I had no business prying.”

Sighing, he ran a hand through his brown hair, leaving it ruffled. She’d never seen him anything but perfect. The glossy strands looked silky-soft all mussed and somehow made him more human and approachable. More masculine. Her fingers twitched with the desire to touch.

Grace threw the emergency brake on her thoughts and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. Time for a strategic retreat.

“If there’s nothing else …” She started to rise.

“You haven’t touched your coffee.”

“Right.”

Sinking back into the chair, she picked up the delicate china. The rich coffee aroma liquefied her resistance and she relaxed a little, sipping quietly. A dab of cream and a touch of sweetness. Why she was surprised to find the coffee just right, she didn’t know. Mr. Duncan did everything to perfection. It was one of the reasons his company was so successful.

She glanced up. He was watching her. Something in his eyes made her cheeks heat, but his strained expression kept her butt planted firmly in the chair. He looked grievous. Lonely?

“So.” Desperate, she searched for a safe topic of conversation. She lifted the cup to her mouth, sipped and absently licked a stray drop of coffee from the rim. “Did you grow up in Boise?”

His gaze, which had been on her lips, returned to her eyes. She had a sudden urge for lip liner and glossy lipstick. Mr. Duncan settled back. He seemed relieved, as if he’d been afraid she would abandon him.

Wow. She totally needed to get a grip.

“Yes. What about you? I know you graduated from Purdue then worked in the Chicago area for several years before moving here. Did you grow up in Lafayette?”

She blinked. Did he pay such close attention to everyone he hired? Duh. Of course he did. No reason he’d pay special attention to her.

“I grew up in Northern Indiana by Lake Michigan. I lived in Michigan City for a while, then spent all of high school with a family that lived near the border of Michigan City and LaPorte.”

“That’s right. You grew up in foster care. Not an easy childhood.”

Her eyes had to be as big as saucers. She shifted uncomfortably. “How did you know that?”

Amusement brightened his eyes. “You did consent to a full background check, Miss Debry.”

“Well, yes. But I…that is …” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know the extent of what such a check would reveal. Or that you would remember it.”

He inclined his head. “You interest me.”

Grace blinked. Interested him like an insect squashed between two slides and pressed into the plate beneath a microscope lens? “No.”

His eyebrows rose. “No?”

Her face heated. “No, it wasn’t difficult growing up in foster care.”

“Ah. Good.”

She fiddled with her cup. That was a lie, but she didn’t share her past. Besides, her mind had gone completely and utterly blank. In a gulp, she finished her coffee and gently set the cup and saucer on the low table.

Mr. Duncan met her gaze. “What brought you to Boise? It’s a long way from the Midwest.”

“I got tired of the crowds. Chicago is a beautiful city, but it’s congested and rundown. I wanted a change.”

“Why Boise?” He leaned forward. “You could have gone anywhere. You have excellent references. You’re young. The world is your oyster.”

A slight smile revealed a dimple on his left cheek. Attraction zipped through her veins without permission.

Stomach tightening, Grace licked her lips. “I Googled it. Boise sounded small enough to offer room to roam, yet large enough to offer the amenities and shopping I enjoy. Plus, the athleticism of the area appealed to me. Skiing, cycling, hiking. The Greenbelt.” She gestured toward the river. “I was able to find a great condo overlooking the Greenbelt and the Boise River, just past Katherine Albertson Park.”