Angels at Christmas: Those Christmas Angels / Where Angels Go

“No problem.” Eager to please his boss, the guard returned to his desk and reached for his phone. “I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

“Thanks,” Julie said, and swallowed a plea not to call him, after all. She stopped briefly at the company directory to find the location of Fletcher’s office. Just as she’d suspected—top floor. Rushing, she pressed the elevator button and glanced at her watch, trying to gauge how much time she had before she was found out. Once her father knew she was in the building, he’d wonder where she was—and what she was doing.

At the top floor she stepped out of the elevator and faced a large desk. An efficient-looking middle-aged woman glanced up, her expression surprised.

“May I help you?” she asked politely.

“I’m here to see Mr. Fletcher.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

This paragon who guarded the lion’s den knew exactly when Fletcher’s appointments were scheduled, and Julie wasn’t on any list.

“Oh, yes,” she muttered, and without wasting another second, Julie bolted for the huge floor-to-ceiling double doors. Without bothering to knock, she turned the knob and barreled inside.

Fletcher was on the phone. Startled, he looked up. His gaze met hers and he didn’t so much as blink. She gave him credit for that. Tall as she was, angry as she was, Julie knew she made an intimidating sight.

“I’ll need to call you back,” Fletcher said smoothly. “My office has been invaded and I have a feeling this is going to take longer than you’ll want to wait.”

“Mr. Fletcher, I’m sorry, she just … came in.” Ms. Johnson entered the office seconds after Julie. The older woman was clearly flustered; presumably nothing like this had ever happened before. “I’ve contacted security—they’re on their way up.”

“Good plan.” Fletcher rose from his seat, leaning forward on his desk, his eyes never leaving Julie.

“Should I stay with you?” his assistant asked nervously.

“I’ll be fine, Ms. Johnson.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Julie muttered.

Fletcher waved his assistant out of the room and returned his attention to Julie. “You had something you wanted to say?”

“Your settlement offer arrived!” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Why?” He cocked one brow as if to suggest it should be obvious.

“I told you I wasn’t going to sue!”

He snickered.

“Are you so cynical that you don’t trust anyone? So cynical you think you can buy your way out of everything?”

“Money is the universal language.”

Julie folded her arms. “Listen to me, Fletcher, and listen hard. I don’t want your money.” She spoke slowly and emphatically so that even a man as emotionally obtuse as this one would get the point.

He angled his head sideways and stared at the ceiling. “Where have I heard that before?” Then, as though he was bored and ready to end the conversation, he said, “You want the money. Everyone wants the money. Just sign the agreement and cash the check. You can be outraged all over again—and twenty-five thousand dollars richer.”

Julie’s mouth sagged open. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not cashing the check. I’m not signing the settlement.”

“Of course you’re not signing the settlement,” he snapped, his eyes so cold that for an instant she actually shivered.

She caught her breath and stepped back. “It isn’t just me you distrust,” she whispered. He wasn’t capable of trusting a single, solitary person. Some elemental betrayal had waylaid him in the past, and he’d never recovered, never moved beyond it. She didn’t know what had happened; in fact, she didn’t want to know. But right now they were at an impasse unless she could think of some way to settle this, some way that suited them both.

“All right,” Julie said. “Tell you what I’ll do.”

“Ah, the bargaining begins. Are you sure you don’t want your attorney here?”

“I don’t have an attorney. Now listen, because I’m only going to say this once.”

“The schoolteacher speaks.” He’d folded his arms and she relaxed hers.

“I’ll sign your stupid agreement.”

He flashed her a knowing, sarcastic grin. “I thought you’d come to your senses sooner or later.”

“With one stipulation.”

His smile vanished.

“I want a signed statement from you in which you concede that you caused the accident and—” she wagged her finger at his Cross pen “—I’d like a written apology.”

His eyes narrowed and, if possible, grew even colder. Hands pressed on the top of his desk, he leaned forward again. “I didn’t cause the accident and there’s no way I’ll apologize for something I didn’t do.”

She’d figured that would make him mad. Good. Maybe he’d understand how she felt. “Explain the damage to my bike, then,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm.

His lips thinned. “I can’t.”

“What does it matter? You get what you want and I get what I want.”

“What exactly do you want?” he demanded.

“I already told you. And I already stated that I was only saying it once.”

“Good luck, sister, because you’re not getting any apology from me.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully, and then because she enjoyed riling him, she added, “Shall I have my attorney call yours?”

“I thought you didn’t have an attorney,” he challenged as if he’d welcome the opportunity to call her a boldfaced liar.

“I don’t, at least not yet, but I imagine I won’t have any problem finding one who’d be willing to take you to court.”

“Julie …” Her father rushed into the room and stopped midway between Julie and Fletcher’s desk. He spread his arms between the two of them, trying to assess the situation.

He looked at his boss first. “Mr. Fletcher, I apologize that my daughter burst into your office.”

“Dad, you’d better hear me out before you apologize to that man.” She gestured wildly at Fletcher. “He tried to buy me off with a settlement offer!”

“I know, honey.”