The Christmas Wedding Ring

“Destroying the office equipment doesn’t seem overly productive to me, but then, I’m just the hired help.”

Dylan leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about it.” He looked at her. “They’re making the deal too hard to resist. I can’t decide if I’m moving forward or selling my soul to the devil.”

“If they’re the devil, his prices have gone up. Most people I know would sell their souls for a lot less than several million dollars.”

Dylan had to agree. But then, many people put much too low a price on their souls. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly why they were tempting him—they wanted what he had. For them, this was a win-win situation. But what was it for him?

Evie shook her head. “You’ve got that pensive look about you. I hate it when you get like that, so I’m going to head back to the front office. If you need anything, buzz me.”

“I will, thanks.”

She closed the door behind her.

Dylan turned his chair until he was staring out the window. The rugged, dry wilderness of the California desert stretched out behind the one-story complex. His critics said that establishing his custom motorcycle design firm, Black Lightning, out in the middle of Riverside had been a huge mistake. But the land had been cheap, there was a good labor pool and Dylan had wanted plenty of open space around him. It got hot as hell in the summer and he was nearly two hours from the Los Angeles International Airport, but all that was a small price to pay for autonomy. He’d poured everything he had into the company. In less than five years, he’d proved his critics wrong. Now he was touted as a visionary in the industry—the magician who set the trends. So why was he thinking of selling out?

He already knew the reason, and it had nothing to do with magic or even the devil. He was willing to sell his company because the deal on the table was too sweet to pass up. Not only was he being offered an obscene amount of money, but he had a guaranteed position in the new firm. He would finally have the resources to do all the research he wanted. He could design to his heart’s content. All those projects that had been on the back burner could finally be explored. He would be a fool to pass up the offer.

Except for one detail. Along with the money and the new job offer came a boss to answer to. Dylan knew himself well enough to realize that would be a problem. The question was how big of one and could he live with the consequences? He would gain resources and lose control of Black Lightning. His lawyer had been on his back for weeks. After all, this was the chance of a lifetime.

But his gut kept whispering that he had to wait and think this through. After all, he’d been the one to work twenty-hour days for all those years. The innovative designs were his. He’d taken the bikes on the racing circuit, sometimes giving them to riders so that new systems could be tested under the most grueling conditions. He’d poured himself into the company. How could he sell that? It would be like selling an arm or a leg.

Money versus principles. An age-old dilemma. Philosophers had been discussing that issue back when the earth’s crust was still cooling. So which was it to be?

This would, he admitted, be a whole lot easier if he wasn’t so much of a cynic. Years ago, when he’d still been a dreamer, he would have been insulted by the implication that he could be bought. If his then lawyer had even hinted at a buyout, Dylan would have shown him the door, then fired his corporate ass. When had life ceased to be so simple?

“The hell with it,” he muttered, figuring he didn’t have to decide right now. The interested company had given him until December 23rd to set up a preliminary meeting. If he still refused by Christmas, they were withdrawing their offer. So he would wait until something changed, until he knew which side to fall on. In the meantime, there were reports to review.

He turned back to his computer, then started tapping on keys. He’d just lost himself in the quarterly statements, when Evie buzzed him on the intercom.

“You have a visitor,” she said. “Molly Anderson. She doesn’t have an appointment, Dylan, but she says you’ll remember her from several years ago.”

It took him a second, then the memories clicked in place. Little Molly, Janet’s baby sister. He did remember her, with her pale, curly hair and big eyes. She’d been a sweet kid. He recalled she’d had a crush on him. Usually that kind of stuff annoyed him, but in Molly’s case he’d been flattered. Maybe because in her case he’d known exactly what she’d wanted from him. She’d been easy to read, and had had a basically good heart. He couldn’t say that about many people these days.

“Send her in,” he said.

He rose to his feet and crossed the room. By the time Evie opened his office door, he was there to welcome Molly. He had his arm extended and his smile ready. But the woman who stepped into the office wasn’t the teenager he remembered.

She was still on the short side, maybe five foot four. Her curly hair had grown longer and she’d tamed it in a braid. Light makeup accentuated her large hazel brown eyes. He remembered she’d had bad skin as a kid, but time had changed that and now her cheeks glowed with natural color. Her smile was bright, her walk confident. A long-sleeved shirt and jeans accentuated a body that was generously curvy.

“Miss Anderson,” Evie said, and left them alone.

“Little Molly’s all grown up,” he said, amazed she was here.

The woman in front of him nodded.

“I haven’t been called that in a long time. I guess you’re surprised to see me.”

“I am. Pleasantly.” He decided a handshake wasn’t right for the situation. After all, this was Molly. He held out his arms. “For old times’ sake?”

She came the half step forward and he embraced her. She was warm and cushioned, and holding her wasn’t halfbad. But she seemed a little stiff and awkward, so he moved away and motioned for her to take a seat on the leather sofa placed in the corner of his office. Then he crossed to the wet bar by the bookcases.

“Soda? Wine?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks.”

He settled next to her and rested one booted ankle on the opposite knee. He didn’t have many unexpected visitors, and certainly not any blasts from his past. The intrusion didn’t bother him. If anything, he was curious. “What brings you out here?”

She sat with her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting together. “I’m not sure. I guess it was an impulse on my part. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s been years.”

She nodded. “Fourteen. Not that I’ve been keeping track.”

“You’ve grown up. You were always an adorable kid, but now you’re a lovely woman.” The line sounded smooth and sincere. Lines had always been easy for him.

She laughed. “And you’re still as charming as ever. The truth is, I was homely, but I’ve improved some. I’ll never be a cover model, but I’m okay with that.”

He studied her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought about Molly, or even Janet, who at one time had been the love of his life, or so it had seemed when he was twenty.

She angled toward him. “I was talking with my sister and your name came up. I wondered how you were doing and I was heading out this way, so I thought I’d stop by. Is that too weird?”

“Not at all. I’m glad you did. So tell me about Molly Anderson. You’re still using the same last name, so either you’re not married or you’re modern and independent, refusing to be shackled by society’s expectations.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Not married. Let’s see. I have a degree in accounting and I’ve been working as an accounts receivable supervisor for a telecommunications company in Mischief Bay. I have the usual habits, both good and bad. I hear you’re doing well.”

He motioned to the office. “I design motorcycles. I didn’t know I could make a living at something I love, so I’m generally happy.”

Except for right now, he conceded, but he wasn’t going to think about the decisions he had to make. Molly was an unexpected and surprisingly delightful distraction. He was suddenly pleased she’d looked him up.

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly noon. “If you have time,” he said, “I’d love to take you to lunch. There’s a great place about a mile down the road. Not much to look at, but they have the best hamburgers in the county.” He grinned. “We can catch up with each other’s lives, and I won’t even make you ride on a motorcycle to get there.”

“Sounds great,” she said.

Thirty minutes later they were in a window booth of the restaurant. Santa Claus, painted on the glass beside them, ate a cheeseburger while Rudolph looked on, licking his lips. The waitress had already brought them drinks and taken their order. Carols played softly in the background, and it was early enough in the season that they hadn’t grown annoying yet. Molly was working her way through a margarita, while Dylan sipped his beer. He didn’t usually drink in the middle of the day and he still had lots of work waiting for him back at the office, but he’d joined her when she’d ordered her drink.

As he watched Molly, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something about the way she kept glancing at him made him wonder why she’d come to see him. Her body was stiff, as if she were uncomfortable. She’d dodged all but his most basic questions, as though she didn’t want to talk about her personal life.

He felt the attention of the other patrons. The town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, if not by name then by sight. He didn’t bring many women to this place, and those he did bring were nothing like Molly. He had a definite type—leggy and brunette. He’d formed a fondness for that kind of woman when he’d dated Molly’s sister, Janet.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Molly said.

Dylan shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“You’re wondering why I’m here. I mean, I’m sure it’s nice to see me and all, but what do I want?”

Good guess on her part. Possibilities flashed through his mind. Money? A job? Sperm? The last thought almost made him smile. It didn’t matter how many years had gone by—there was no way he could imagine little Molly asking anyone for sperm.

“Actually, I do want something,” she said, and reached for her purse. She dug around inside and pulled out a small item, then tossed it on the table. “Sort of.”