Читать книгу Wicked Christmas Nights - Leslie Kelly, Cara Summers - Страница 12

Now

Chicago, December 23, 2011

THOUGH HE KNEW Stella had the checks for the subcontractors ready, Ross was hoping it would take a while for her to find Lucy’s. While there were still people in the building, it would be far too easy for her to slip away. The longer it took, the better the chances were that she wouldn’t be able to avoid him on her way out.

Yet somehow, she nearly pulled it off. He didn’t even realize she was leaving until he spotted a thick head of dark hair—topped by a merry green, feathered elf cap—getting onto the elevator. “Damn it,” he muttered.

“What?”

Seeing the surprised expression on the face of one of his project managers, who’d stopped to chat after Mr. Whitaker departed, Ross mumbled, “I’m sorry, I just remembered something I forgot to take care of.”

Like getting Lucy’s address, phone number and her promise to get together very soon so they could talk. Exactly what they’d talk about, he didn’t know. Six years seemed like a long time for a how’ve-you-been type of conversation. So maybe they’d skip how’ve-you-beens in favor of what-happens-now?

Then he remembered that Stella had hired Lucy. She had to know how to get in touch with her. Plus, Lucy had mentioned she lived here, worked here—it shouldn’t be hard to find her online.

So, yes, he could be reasonable and mature and patient about this. Could wait until after the holidays, then call her sometime in January to say hello and see if she’d like to meet.

But something—maybe the look in her eyes when she’d said he would know what she’d been up to if he’d called during the past six years—wouldn’t let him wait. He couldn’t have said it in front of anyone at the party; wasn’t sure he’d have found the words even if they’d been left alone. Still, Lucy deserved an explanation from him. Even if she thought it a lame one and decided to keep hating him, he’d feel better if he offered it.

Then he’d get to work on making her not hate him anymore.

“Thanks for the party, Mr. Marshall,” his employee said. “The kids really loved it.”

“I’m glad. Hey, you and your family have a great holiday,” Ross replied, already stepping toward the enclosed stairs that were intended for emergencies.

This was one. The elevator could have made a few stops on the way to the lobby—there were still employees on other floors, closing down for the holiday break. If he hustled, he might beat her to the bottom.

He might not be slinging a hammer and doing hard physical labor ten hours a day anymore, but Ross did keep himself busy in his off hours. So the dash down six flights of stairs didn’t really wind him. By the time he burst through the doors into the tiled lobby of the building—surprising Chip, the elderly security guard—the elevator door was just sliding open, and several people exited, some carrying boxes, bags of gifts, plates of food, files to work on at home.

One carried nothing, but wore a silly hat.

Lucy saw him and her mouth dropped. “How did you…?”

“Staircase,” he told her. “Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Did you really stalk me down six flights of stairs?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stalking? That’s a little dramatic.”

“You’re breathing hard and sweating,” she accused him, stepping close and frowning. “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t run every step of the way.”

He couldn’t contain a small grin. “Busted.”

“The question is, why?”

“Here’s a better one. Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”

“We said our goodbyes a long time ago,” she retorted.

He whistled.

“What?”

“You’re still really mad at me.”

Those slim shoulders straightened and her chin went up. “That’s ridiculous.”

Lucy was obviously trying for a withering look, but with that silly hat and the droopy feather hanging by her cheek, she only managed freaking adorable. He couldn’t resist lifting a hand and nudging the feather back into place, his fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.

She flinched as if touched with a hot iron. “Don’t.”

“Jesus, Lucy, do you hate me?” he whispered, realizing for the first time that this might not be mere bravado. Was it possible that over the past six years, while he’d been feeling miserable even as he congratulated himself on doing the right—the mature—thing, she’d been hating his guts?

“Of course I don’t hate you,” she said, sounding huffy. As if she was telling the truth, but wasn’t exactly happy about that fact.

So she wanted to hate him?

“Can we please go sit down somewhere and have a cup of coffee?”

A wistful expression crossed her face, as if she, too, were remembering their first meeting in that New York coffee shop.

“I can’t,” she murmured. “I need to get to the bank before it closes, and before the snow starts.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m driving.”

“I’ll ride with you.”

She huffed. “You’re still persistent, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s important.”

“And when did I become important to you?”

The day we met. He didn’t say the words, but he suspected she saw them in his face.

“Look, Ross, I swear, I am not holding a grudge,” she said. “So you don’t have to go out of your way to try to make up with me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I just…I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“How can you miss someone you knew for only a weekend, years ago?”

“Are you telling me you don’t feel the same way?”

If she said she didn’t, he’d make himself believe her. He’d let her go. Chalk this up to one of those life lessons where a memory of a time you’d considered perfect turned out to be something less than that to the one you’d shared it with.

Lucy didn’t respond at first. Not wanting her to breeze over this, to reply without thought, Ross lifted a hand. A few strands of her silky, dark hair had fallen against her face. He slid his fingers through it, sending heat all the way up his arm. Her eyes drifted closed, the long lashes stark against her pale skin. And he’d swear she curled her face into his hand for an instant.

Ross groaned, as helpless to resist her now as he’d been that first day, in the elevator. Ignoring the surprised stare of the guard, who was the only other person in the lobby, he bent to Lucy and brushed his lips against hers, softly, demanding nothing more than a chance.

She hesitated for the briefest moment, then melted against him. This time there was no crumpled box separating their bodies; he was thrilled to discover she still fit against him as perfectly as ever. Her soft curves welcomed his harder angles, her feet parting a little as she brushed her legs against his and arched into him.

Sweetness flared into desire, just like it had the first time they’d kissed. Ross dropped his hands to her hips and held her close. Sweeping his tongue into her mouth, he dared her to go further. She, of course, took the dare, accepting what he offered and upping the ante by lifting her arms to encircle his neck. Their tongues thrust together, hot and languorous and deep, leaving Ross to wonder how he’d ever even imagined kissing any other woman had been as good as kissing this one. Everything about her was as intoxicating to him as it had been then. Maybe more so—because Lucy was no longer the sweet-faced co-ed. She was now every inch a woman. And he’d had the intense privilege of making her that woman.

Maybe that’s what made this kiss different from their first one. Then, there’d been curiosity and wonder, riding on a wave of pure attraction.

Now they knew what they could be to each other. Knew the pleasure they were capable of creating together. Knew what it was like to be naked and hot and joined together as sanity retreated and hunger took over every waking thought. And many sleeping ones.

She lifted her leg slightly, twining it around his, and Ross echoed the tiny groan she made when she arched harder against him. There was no way she couldn’t feel his rock-hard erection, any more than he could miss the heat between the thighs that instinctively cradled him.

Six years fell away, along with time, place and any concerns about an audience. There was just this, just the two of them, exploring something that had been missing from their lives for far too long.

Though he felt lost to everything else in the world except Lucy, Ross did finally become aware of a throat-clearing—Chip?—followed by a dinging sound that indicated the arrival of the elevator. A swoosh of the door was followed by a dull roar of laughing voices; the last few partiers…i.e., his employers, were about to make their way home.

He and Lucy quickly ended the kiss and stepped apart. “Déjà vu all over again,” he muttered. Only this time, they’d been caught on the outside of the elevator.

She actually laughed a little, that sweet, warm laugh that was so distinctly hers. Over the past several years, he’d listened for that sound, always expecting to somehow hear it again, even though he’d never really let himself believe he would.

“Hopefully we’re not going to hear some old lady say the guy on six is a fart-weasel.”

“Hey, my office is on six,” he said with a chuckle, pleased to realize Lucy remembered as much about that day as he did.

A group exited the elevator. “Have a happy holiday!” said one of his workers, who walked with his pregnant wife.

Ross nodded at the couple, and at the three others who’d come down with them. “Same to you. Be careful out there—it’s supposed to be a bad one.”

Murmuring their goodbyes, the group headed for the exit. They were escorted by Chip, who turned a key to operate the intricate, electronic locks that turned this place into a fortress. With the offices closed to the public today, Chip had been kept on his toes playing doorman, letting employees in for the party, and, now that it was over, back out.

Fortunately the guard never complained. Not even about the fact that he had to work all night, during an impending blizzard, right before Christmas Eve. They might not have state secrets to be stolen, but some of their competitors would risk a lot for the chance to get at prebid documents. With millions of dollars in high-end construction projects at stake, corporate espionage had never been more of a danger. Plus, Elite had invested a hell of a lot of money in computers and equipment. Keeping security on-site 24/7 was one place where Ross had stood firm against his penny-pinching father, who loved to keep a hand in the business even though he was technically retired.

“Wait, I’m leaving, too,” Lucy said as Chip began to relock the doors.

“Lucy…”

She held up a hand and brushed past him. “Please, Ross, I really need to go.”

Hell, she sounded more determined to leave than she had before he’d kissed her. Not that he regretted it. Not one bit.

Chip glanced toward Ross, as if asking what Ross wanted him to do. He nodded once. He couldn’t keep Lucy here against her will. Nothing had changed; he’d taken his shot, and he’d lost.

But just for now.

Definitely. They’d been caught off guard, taken completely by surprise when they’d bumped into one another today. Now, though, he knew Lucy was living in Chicago. There was no longer any geographic reason for him to bow out. Nor was he young enough—angry and resentful enough—to let outside situations and demands make him walk away from her for a second time.

It was as if she’d been delivered back into his life, like the best kind of Christmas gift. The one you never expected, didn’t realize you needed, but, when you tore off the paper, suddenly understood that it was exactly what you’d been waiting for.

No, he wasn’t about to let her get away again, but he knew the old saying about picking your battles. Lucy had her guard up, she was uncomfortable here on his turf and hadn’t had a moment to evaluate what all this meant to her. So he’d give her a few days to figure things out, then try again. And the next time he asked her to hear him out, he would not take no for an answer.

“Goodbye, Ross,” she said, not even turning around to face him. Her voice was soft, low, and he suspected she was trying desperately not to reveal her emotions.

He had to let her go. Had to trust that was the right thing to do in order to get her back.

“Goodbye,” he replied. “And Lucy?”

She hesitated, then glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“Merry Christmas.”

A brief hesitation, then a tiny smile widened her perfect lips. “Bah humbug.”

And then she disappeared out into the gray twilight.

IT USUALLY TOOK twenty minutes to get to the nearest branch of her bank. But today, Lucy was dealing with Friday evening, holiday weekend, impending-blizzard traffic. So she didn’t reach the drive-thru until right before they closed at seven.

Thick flecks of white started to appear on the windshield of her Jeep as she waited in the long line of cars. New York got the white stuff by the foot, but here, the Snow Miser seemed to delight in sending wicked, bone-chilling winds along with his icy droppings. The flakes weren’t the sweet, delicate ones that gently kissed your bare face. These were big, sloppy and wet, landing like punches, instead.

Once she’d made her deposit, Lucy headed right home. Luckily she had believed the weatherman’s warnings and gone shopping yesterday. Having stocked up on chocolate, Diet Coke, and DVDs, she looked forward to a weekend inside, chomping on junk food, watching disaster movies, and shopping online.

Her trip home was difficult, even though the Jeep had 4-wheel drive. Her main concern was seeing through the swirling blanket of white in front of the windshield. Chicago was usually a bright city, even at night; yet this kind of snowstorm didn’t reflect the light the way some did. It instead sucked it in, making streetlights hard to see.

It took almost two hours. By the time she arrived at her apartment building, she was not only cold and tired, she was actually jumpy from having been so on-alert.

Once inside her place, she wrenched off her coat and headed for the bathroom. A hot bath sounded like the perfect way to de-stress. She promised herself that, once in that bath, she would not spend one minute thinking about Ross. Or about that kiss.

Why did you have to go and kiss him back?

Probably because she’d been curious, wondering if her memories had been faulty. Could their brief relationship really have been as intense as she’d told herself it was? Had every other man she’d been with really paled in comparison, or was it wishful imaginings of the one that got away?

That kiss had answered all her questions: she hadn’t imagined a damn thing.

“Stop thinking about it,” she ordered herself as she got into the tub. the hot water stung her skin at first, but she welcomed the sensation, welcomed anything that would take her mind off the man she’d been kissing just a couple of hours ago.

It didn’t work. Ross became more prominent in her thoughts. Not just the Ross of today, but the one she’d known before. The guy with whom she’d been so incredibly intimate.

The warmth, the fragrance of the bubble bath, the darkness of the room, lit only with candlelight—all seduced her. The sensation of water hitting every inch of her—between her thighs, caressing the tips of her breasts—made all her nerve endings leap up to attention.

But when it came to really turning her on, her brain did the heavy lifting. It was too easy to remember the magical feel of his hands on her body, the sweet, sexy way he kissed, the groans of pleasure he made when he came.

Her hand slid down, scraping across her slick skin, teasing the puckered tip of one breast. The contact sent warmth spiraling downward, until her sex throbbed. Her eyes closed, her head back, it was easy to think his hands were on her, his fingers delicately stroking her clit until she began to sigh.

She gave herself over to desire, and let her mind float free. Memories gave way to imagination and her body, starved of physical connection for many months—since she’d left New York—reacted appropriately. Before too long, a slow, warm orgasm slid through her. She sighed a little, quivering and savoring it. But the deliciousness went away far too quickly.

It just couldn’t compare to the real thing. To Lucy, getting off had never been the point; it had been sharing the experience that she loved. And she couldn’t deny it, even after all these years, after the silence and the regret, she wanted to share that experience with him.

She quickly finished her bath, replaying the day’s events as she washed her hair. As she thought everything over, including the way she’d tried to skulk out of the building when his back was turned, something started to nag at the back of her brain. She couldn’t put her finger on it at first, just feeling like there was something she had forgotten. Something important.

It wasn’t until she was dressed in a comfortable pair of sweats, with her hair wrapped in a towel, that she realized what it was. “Oh, no!” she yelped.

Lucy ran to the living room of her apartment, seeing her purse on the table. Alone. “You idiot!”

Because, though she hoped and prayed she’d just forgotten to bring it in from her Jeep, she seriously feared she’d left her most precious possessions at the Elite Construction office: her camera bag and her very expensive specialty lenses.

She perched on a chair, trying to picture every moment. She remembered putting her equipment down on Santa’s seat before leaving with Stella. When she’d returned, she’d seen Ross. Desperate to get away without being seen, she’d hurried onto the elevator. Without stopping to grab her camera bag and lens case.

“Damn it,” she snapped, trying to decide if this was just bad or catastrophic. She had some big jobs lined up next week. Monday’s was with a very wealthy family, who wanted to sit for a holiday portrait at their home. They were the kind of people who could really give her a leg up with the Magnificent Mile set.

Unfortunately Lucy remembered what Stella had said about the Elite office: after tonight, they’d be shutting down until January.

She glanced at the clock—almost ten. Then out the window. The snow still fell steadily, but it appeared the wind had died down some. She could actually see down to the parking lot, could make out cars slowly driving by on the main street, which had been plowed, though the lot itself hadn’t been.

If the office was downtown, or as far away as the bank, she probably wouldn’t risk it. But it was close, maybe two miles. And the security guard could still be working. There was no guarantee that would be the case on Monday, especially if the whole city was snowed in until then.

Of course, if that happened, her own portrait appointment could be canceled as well. But if it weren’t—if the weatherman had overestimated this time, and everything was fine Monday—did she really want to risk not having the equipment she needed to do the job?

Convinced, Lucy raced to her room and changed into jeans and a thick sweater. Adding boots and her warmest coat, she headed outside. The snow on her car was heavy and wet, and every minute she spent clearing it reminded her she was crazy to go chasing after a camera at the start of a blizzard.

Fortunately, as soon as she exited the parking lot and got onto the slushy road, she could tell things were better than when she’d come home an hour ago. The snow was heavier, yes, but she didn’t have to crane forward and press her nose against the windshield to see out. It appeared old man winter was giving her a break—a short, wind-free window. She only hoped it didn’t slam shut until after she got back home.

The drive that had taken her a few minutes this morning took her fifteen tonight. But when she reached the parking lot for Elite Construction and saw the security vehicle parked there, plus the warm, welcoming lights on the first floor, she was glad she’d taken the chance.

Parking, she hurried to the entrance and pounded on the door. The man inside was so startled, he nearly fell off his stool. He came closer, calling, “We’re closed!”

“I know,” she said, then pulled her hood back so he could see her face. Hopefully he’d remember her, if for no other reason than that she’d been making out with one of his coworkers a few hours ago. “Remember me? I was here earlier.”

He nodded and smiled. Pulling out a large key ring, he unlocked the door, and ushered her in. “Goodness, miss, what are you doing out on a night like this?”

“I wouldn’t be if I weren’t desperate.” She stomped her feet on a large mat. “I need to get upstairs to where the party was held. I forgot something and I have to get it tonight.”

“Must be pretty important,” he said, his gray eyebrows coming together. “It’s not a fit night out for man nor beast.”

She chuckled, recognizing the quote from a show she’d loved as a kid. “Do you think you could let me go look for my things?”

“I’ll take you up. Gotta make my rounds, anyway.”

He escorted her to the bank of elevators, and punched in a number on a keypad by the nearest one. The light above it came on, and the door slid open. Pretty high-tech stuff. Of course, she’d noticed earlier today that the new building had all the latest bells and whistles.

Arriving on the sixth floor, Lucy hurried to the area where the photo booth had been set up. It had been dismantled. Santa’s chair was gone, and so were her bag and case. “Oh, hell.”

“Some stuff was left in the break room,” he told her. “If it’s valuable, it’s possible somebody locked it up for you.”

“Could be. Stella saw me leave my camera and lenses here.”

“Let’s check her office first, then,” he said, leading her down the hallway to the executive suite. He preceded her inside, but before she even had a chance to follow, she heard him exclaim, “Oh, no, watch it, mister!”

Following his stare, she looked out the window to the street below, and saw a car spinning out of control. It skidded off the street, hydroplaning across the parking lot where the Elite Construction security truck was parked. She winced, doubting the driver could regain control.

He didn’t.

“Dang it all,” said the guard. He cast her a quick look. “Do you mind looking by yourself? I should run down and make sure that driver’s all right. If your stuff’s not here, check the break room, back down the hall, fourth door on the left.”

“Of course,” she said, then watched the elderly man hurry away. She quickly scanned the office area. No luck. She wasn’t going to go snooping through Stella’s desk drawers or file cabinet, even if they weren’t locked. Her things wouldn’t fit, anyway.

She next spent several minutes searching the break room. It was piled with boxes of decorations, and containers of unopened food. Lucy looked through every bag and box, to be sure nobody had tucked her things in there for safekeeping.

Growing frustrated—and worrying somebody might have picked up the camera and lenses and given themselves an early Christmas present—she opened a free-standing cabinet and at last, struck pay dirt. “Yes!” she exclaimed, spying the familiar bag and case.

So relieved she felt like crying, she scooped them up, hurried toward the elevator and pushed the call button. She waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing.

Apparently the guard needed to again enter the code on the keypad so she could get down. Wondering if he could still be outside after all this time, she went to the front window and looked down toward the parking lot.

What she saw surprised her. An ambulance, its lights flashing, was parked beside the two vehicles involved in the fender-bender. She hadn’t realized the crash had been so serious, but apparently the driver had been hurt. They were putting him on a gurney and wheeling him over to the ambulance.

Suddenly that gurney was pushed under a streetlight, and she had a better view of the person on it. Even through the snow and the darkness she could make out the grizzled gray hair, not to mention the uniform.

It wasn’t the driver of the other car. It was the guard.

“Oh, God!” she muttered, wondering what had happened.

He’d gone out to help the accident victim—had he slipped and fallen? Or, maybe he’d been trying to help dig the vehicle out of a snowbank. Considering his age, and knowing even the healthiest of men could be affected when they tried to shovel too-heavy snow, she prayed he hadn’t had a heart attack.

Then she began to wonder something else.

What if she was trapped in this building?

Her heart started thudding as she replayed everything in her mind. The conscientious way the man had carefully locked the door this afternoon, even though people were still leaving. And the way he’d obviously kept the elevator turned off tonight, despite knowing she was up here.

Would he really…“No,” she muttered, certain he wouldn’t have locked her in when he went to help the other driver.

There was only one way to be sure. Remembering how Ross had beat her to the lobby today, she found a door marked Stairs and headed through it. Six flights down was not fun, but it was better than sitting in somebody’s office all night.

Reaching the entrance, she held her breath and pushed the nearest door. It didn’t budge. Neither did the one beside it, or the next. She really was locked in here.

“Every building has an emergency exit,” she reminded herself. She just had to find it. How difficult could that be?

Not difficult at all.

At least, she didn’t think so…until the power went out.