Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas

She eyed the woman doubtfully, suspecting this place did not keep their receipts and canceled checks in empty Amazon.com boxes the way she did.

“After the party, the offices shut down until New Year’s. So I’d really like to get this taken care of today, clear the party off the books, if you will.”

Huh. Sounded like every business had to deal with that pesky little IRS thing, even businesses as big as this one. Which, judging by the size of this brand-new six-story office building, and the fact that Elite Construction took up every floor of it, was very big, indeed. She wondered again what Ross did here. Obviously he no longer swung a hammer—he was dressed like a corporate guy.

She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to his dream of someday buying a piece of property and building a house on it, every stone, every shutter, every plank of wood put there with his own hands. Had Ross given up his dreams? Or had they merely changed, like hers had?

As if realizing his presence was making her reluctant, Ross said, “I should go. It was great seeing you again, Lucy.”

“You, too.”

She forced a tight smile, wishing she could hit Rewind and go back a half hour to think of something else to say to this man. Something breezy and casual, something that wouldn’t have revealed how she felt about not hearing from him after that one magical holiday. Something other than, “Well, if you’d called, you’d know where I’d been for the past six years.”

Weak, girl. So weak. She could almost hear Kate’s voice scolding her for making that snotty, hurt-sounding comment. Even though, now, there would be echoes of a baby and a toddler crying in the background as they had the conversation. Kate had married Teddy and started repopulating the planet.

Lucy, meanwhile, had managed only sexual affairs after Ross. But she hadn’t come anywhere close to falling in love. Not after the one-two punch she’d taken at twenty-two. First Jude, then Ross—the latter being the one who’d truly taught her about love and loss. Her poor heart had formed an exoskeleton thicker than an insect’s. Since then, she’d made love ’em and leave ’em a way of life, only substituting the love with do.

Even Kate had been impressed.

She watched him walk away, noting that he didn’t look back. His departure should have made it easier to stick around for a few minutes to get paid. Instead it just pissed her off. Ross was always the one who got to walk away. One of these days she wanted to be the one to make the grand exit.

But grand exits didn’t buy lenses and laptops. Money did. She’d spent a lot moving her studio from New York to Chicago. Yes, she was building a reputation and business was good. This one check, though, could do some nice things for her bottom line.

If she deposited the check tonight, then by this weekend, she could be happily shopping for laptops online while everybody else in the world unwrapped ugly sweaters and ate rock-hard fruitcake. She had bookings lined up all next week—a few of them big ones that could lead to some serious money. Plus, she was hoping to hear from a children’s magazine in New York, to whom she’d submitted some work. She wanted to be ready if they called and said they wanted more.

“Okay, if you can pay me now, I’d really appreciate it,” she finally told the administrator, who’d been waiting patiently, watching Lucy watch Ross.

“Excellent, come along.”

Lucy put down her camera and lens bags, and followed the woman, who’d introduced herself as Stella when she’d called a week ago to hire her. They left the party behind, heading down a long corridor toward the executive offices. Lucy couldn’t help noticing the opulence of this area, the thick carpet sinking beneath her feet, the beautiful artwork lining the walls. Somebody had spent a lot of time decorating this place and she suspected their clients ranked among Chicago’s most wealthy.

At the back end of the executive wing was an enclosed suite, into which Stella led her. A broad receptionist’s desk stood in the middle of a waiting area, blocking access to an imposing set of double doors. Stella breezed through them, into what looked like the head honcho’s office. It was huge, a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls. The building wasn’t terribly high, but the location right on the water on the very outskirts of town meant nothing interrupted the beautiful view. The desk was as big as the kitchen in her tiny apartment, and in a partially blocked-off alcove, she saw an area for relaxation, complete with a refrigerator, TV and a fold-out couch…folded out. “Wow, is your boss a slave-driver? Do you have to be on call 24/7?”

The woman glanced around, then realized what Lucy was talking about. “That’s just for him. Our CEO is only hard on himself.”

“Does he live here or something?”

“It sometimes seems that way,” Stella said. “When we moved into this new building, he was spending so many hours here, I ordered the couch and make it up for him when I suspect he’ll pull an all-nighter.”

“That’s dedication.” On Stella’s part, and on her boss’s.

“It’s paid off. Elite is thriving when new construction is down nationwide.”

“I could tell by the party,” she admitted, knowing it must have set the company back a pretty penny. Few corporations bothered these days, and she suspected the happy atmosphere contributed to the company’s success.

Stella stepped behind the desk and picked up a pile of sealed envelopes, shuffling through a half-dozen of them before she said, “Ah, here we are!”

Lucy accepted it, tucking the very welcome check into her purse. “Thanks very much.”

“Thank you. Your photos were the hit of the party. I am actually glad the other company canceled. We’ve used them in the past and they’ve never had the response you did today. You’re wonderful with children.”

Lucy smiled, appreciating the praise. It was funny—six years ago, she probably would have been horrified at it.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure herself how it had happened. She just knew that, after two years in Paris, photographing cold-faced fashion models had lost all appeal. Same with old, lifeless buildings and stagnant landscapes.

Then Kate had started having kids. Lucy had visited for summers and holidays, becoming a devoted godmother and falling head-over-heels for those babies. She had delighted in taking their portraits, finding in children’s faces an energy and spontaneity she seldom found anywhere else.

So she’d gone back to New York. She’d set up a studio and begun exploring the amazingly creative world of little people. One thing had led to another, and then another. And soon she’d been getting calls from wealthy parents in other states, and had sold several shots to children’s catalogs and magazines.

Who’d’ve ever thought it?

Not her, that’s for sure. Nor would she ever have imagined that she’d really love what she was doing. But she did.

Life, it seemed, took some strange turns, led you in directions you’d never have imagined. It had taken her from the windy city, to the Big Apple, then to another continent. And now right back to where she’d started, in Chicago.

And back into Ross Marshall’s life.

No, don’t even go there, she reminded herself. She wasn’t back in his life. She was in the same building with him for another five minutes, max. Then she could go back to forgetting about the guy. Forgetting how good he still looked to her. How his sexy voice thrilled her senses. How his touch had sent her out of her mind.

How he’d once seemed like the guy she could love forever.

4 (#ulink_4cdc8122-2040-5346-bdb1-d9b8ff2e9431)

Then

New York, December 23, 2005

LUCY HAD TO give this very handsome stranger—Ross—credit. He didn’t stand up and walk out of the coffee shop when she admitted she’d been fantasizing about separating an ex-boyfriend from part of his anatomy. He didn’t yelp, cringe, or reflexively drop a protective hand on his lap. None of the above. Instead he simply stared for a second, then let a loud burst of laughter erupt from his mouth.

She smiled, too, especially because she hadn’t really been fantasizing about maiming Jude when this guy had walked up behind her. In fact, she’d been laughing at herself for having thought about it earlier. Somehow, her whole mood had shifted from the time she’d walked into the coffee shop until the moment this incredibly handsome man had approached her.

Incredibly. Handsome.

Around them, others in the café glanced over. Lucy wasn’t blind to the stares that lingered on him. Heaven knew, any woman with a broken-in vagina would stare. Heck, hers wasn’t broken-in and she could barely take her eyes off the guy!

He’d been super-hot from across the room. Up close, now that she could see the tiny flecks in his stunning green eyes, the dazzling white smile, the slight stubble on his cheeks, well, he went from hot and sexy to smoking and irresistible. She’d actually shivered when their hands had met, unable to think a single thought except to wonder how those strong, rough fingers would feel sliding across her skin.

Gorgeous, sexy, strong. And a sense of humor.

Why couldn’t she have met this guy on a day when she didn’t loathe every creature with a penis?

You don’t. Not every guy.

Truthfully? Not even one. She didn’t loathe Jude. She would have had to care about him to hate him, and, honestly, having really thought about it, she knew she hadn’t cared much at all.

“You’re serious?” he asked once his laughter had died down.

“Not about doing it.”