All He Wants For Christmas...

CHAPTER THREE

DECEMBER twenty-third came hot and humid. By midafternoon there’d be a deluge, Ruby predicted. A blast from the sky to wash away the stench of the day. A deluge to avoid if at all possible, she decided as she set about ensuring that she’d stocked Russell’s apartment with everything the West family could possibly want or need over the Christmas break, including provisions for unexpected guests, should any drop in.

The rainclouds were still a long way off when Ruby phoned through to Russell’s apartment at midday to say she was on her way up but no one picked up, and Ruby breathed a mingled sigh of disappointment and relief.

No Damon, no temptation. This was a good thing.

Dry-cleaning over one arm, shopping bag full of sushi dangling from her fingertips and a gingerbread house balanced precariously on top of the dry-cleaning, Ruby elbowed her way through the doorway to the apartment and slipped off her shoes. No time to put her flats on because if she didn’t get rid of the gingerbread house soon she’d drop it and that really wouldn’t do.

‘Are you ever not carting things from one place to the next?’ asked a voice from behind her and Ruby jumped and the gingerbread house started to slide.

Damon caught it well before it hit the floor and Ruby’s thanks came thin and grudging, seeing as he was the one who’d startled her into dropping it in the first place. She turned to look at him, taking in his choice of clothing for the day—a white linen shirt that she hadn’t seen before, and well-fitting jeans that looked decidedly familiar. The clothes looked crisp and fresh. The body beneath them seemed a little rumpled. ‘I thought you were out.’

‘That was you on the phone five minutes ago?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sorry. I was asleep. By the time I’d found the phone and picked up, you’d put down.’

‘Jet lag?’ ‘Possibly.’

‘There are tonics for that.’ ‘It’s Hong Kong. There are tonics for everything.’

‘Just a suggestion,’ she murmured and started towards Russell’s rooms where his suits lived. When she returned and slid the sushi into the fridge, she found the gingerbread house on the kitchen bench and a tousle-haired Damon cracking open a fizzy drink that hadn’t entered the apartment by way of Ruby.

‘You’ve been shopping,’ she accused.

‘Guilty.’

‘If you want anything like that, let me know. That’s my department.’

‘Ruby, I’m quite capable of stepping out for half a dozen cans of cola. Consider it exercise and a change of scenery on my part.’

‘That’s really not how it works.’

‘No, that’s usually exactly how it works,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘Want one?’

‘Just water, please. It’s slick out. Hopefully the icing hasn’t slid off the roof of the house.’ Ruby gave the confectionary a careful once-over but all looked well with Santa’s gingerbread cottage. ‘Are we flirting yet?’

‘Just working my way up to it,’ he said with a smiling glance in her direction. ‘It’s all in the timing.’ He looked back at the cellophane wrapped gingerbread house. ‘Anyone ever tell you that you shop too much?’

‘You’re the first. Speaking of shopping, are those the jeans we bought for you yesterday?’

Damon nodded. ‘Useful, aren’t they?’

‘There goes the Christmas present,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps I forgot to mention the part where I wrap them up and put them under the tree?’

‘That can still be arranged,’ he said dryly.

‘It’s not the same. You’re meant to wait. Take possession on Christmas Day.’

‘It’s just another day, Ruby.’

‘Well, it is now. Take them off.’

Grinning, Damon set his drink down and reached for his fly. Ruby raised a delicate eyebrow but made no move to stop him. Eventually he stopped of his own accord.

‘You’re supposed to say “not here”,’ he said. ‘And then you blush.’

‘Not sure we’re living in the same universe, my friend.’

‘I’ll say. Good thing I’m adaptable.’ The trousers came off. He handed them to Ruby, who stripped his belt from the trousers and handed it back to him with considerable expertise.

‘And the rest of the clothes from yesterday,’ she said airily. ‘When you’re ready.’

‘Good thing we didn’t buy underwear,’ he murmured and set off up the hall, not an ounce of self-consciousness anywhere in sight. Just strong, athletic legs, broad, shirt-covered shoulders, and a hint of mighty fine buttock. Put today’s picture together with yesterday’s man-and-his-towel image, and a woman could be excused for losing her breath.

‘I know you’re looking,’ he said from halfway down the hall.

‘No, I’m not.’ But she said it with a smile, and she leaned over the counter the better to catch the show.

Only once he’d reached his room did Ruby drag her attention away from Damon West’s very fine form to study his can of cola and note the label. She’d add it to the drinks order and make sure a case of it arrived later this evening with the last of the Christmas Day fare.

When Damon returned he had the rest of the clothes they’d purchased yesterday in hand and a pair of vivid Hawaiian board shorts on person.

‘A leftover from your last stint as a pool boy?’ she queried delicately.

‘What? You don’t like them? They’re my favourite.’

‘Oh, Damon. That’s just …’ Words failed her. ‘Sad.’ She handed the new trousers back to him with a sigh. ‘Put them back on before your father sees you. He has a reputation to maintain.’

‘Ruby, you confuse me,’ he murmured, but he took hold of the trousers deftly enough and the edges of his lips signalled his satisfaction.

‘Player,’ she accused.

‘Despot.’

‘Yes, but I’m a benevolent one. How many of these clothes we bought you yesterday are you going to need to wear tomorrow?’

‘Only the shirt. And the jeans again. Maybe the jacket.’

Ruby sighed, temporarily defeated. Maybe she could shop with him in mind on the way home. Something with a V-neck and tiny little sleeves. Flared pants with spangles.

‘Would it have killed you to get two sets of clothes when we were shopping earlier?’

‘I wasn’t sure that shop was me.’

‘There were other shops.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he said with a shudder. ‘They were everywhere. But two clothes shops a year is my limit and we did them both yesterday.’

‘We need to build your stamina.’

‘I have stamina,’ he murmured. ‘It’s selective.’

‘Ah,’ she murmured. ‘Now we’re flirting.’ ‘Correct.’

Ruby’s gaze cut to Damon’s mouth. Flirting was meant to be light. Fun. Not deeply, emotionally satisfying.

Moments later those tempting lips got a great deal closer as Damon leaned towards her in much the same way as she had done the first time they’d met. Bench in between them but personal space still well and truly invaded. Her eyes moved up to meet Damon’s gaze and there was a promise there waiting for her, and a challenge if she dared to accept it.

‘Something you want from me, Ruby?’ he asked silkily.

‘Nope. Definitely not. Can’t think of anything. At all.’

‘Liar,’ he whispered softly.

‘Are you sure this is flirting without intent?’ she whispered back.

‘Now that you mention it, I may have acquired intent,’ he murmured.

‘That’s really not part of the plan.’

‘I know.’ He rocked forward until his lips brushed hers. ‘The plan was flawed. No pep.’

‘Don’t you have cola for that?’

‘It’s not enough.’

‘Is that a favourite saying of yours?’

‘It is of late.’ He touched his lips to hers again and his big body grew very still. Warm lips against her own and a bench in between them as he waited for her response.

Time seemed to stop as Ruby battled for control of her wayward reaction to Damon West. Not flirty and easy but complex and needy. So much need in her to taste the essence of this man.

Tentatively, she set the tip of her tongue to one corner of his lips and tested the seam. In. He let her in, and he tasted of sweetness and his tongue knew how to tease, drawing her deeper into passionate play, and he led and she followed, and then she led and he let her.

Lightness of touch and an homage to languor and beneath it all a deep well of scorching heat. Ruby backed out of the kiss reluctantly, before it consumed her, and Damon moaned his protest and took one last fast taste before letting her pull back.

‘God, we’d be good in bed together,’ he rumbled and turned away and headed for the fridge.

Ruby closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer. Dear God, not this one. Please, not this one, for his capacity to enchant was too high, and the likelihood of him giving much of himself seemed alarmingly low.

When Damon returned from his foray in the fridge, he had a bowl of ice cubes and a tin of caviar. The ice-bowl went between them on the counter and the caviar got upended on top of it. Next, he opened a packet of breadsticks and set it next to the rest.

‘Eat,’ he said. ‘And remind me again why you’re not going to sleep with me, apart from the fact that you work for my father, need to keep your job and consider me a habitual liar. I don’t know about you, but it doesn’t seem enough.’

Rather than answer, Ruby sampled the food on offer. A pause where pause was needed. An ice cube topped with caviar, and a cool and salty slide. She crunched down on the ice and let the textures mingle. ‘Mmm.’ Good manners prevented speech, so another mmm would have to be enough.

‘Good, isn’t it? Much like we’d be.’ Sighing, Damon picked up a breadstick, loaded it with eggs and held it to her lips. ‘The caviar usually runs out before the ice does. Say aah.’

‘Ahumm.’ The breadstick went in loaded and came out clean. A husky oath filled the air.

Damon’s.

‘Give me a reason not to, Ruby,’ and his voice came low and guttural and slid down her spine like a lover’s hand. ‘Give me a reason to back off, or I swear I’ll be inside of you before the day is through.’

Ruby swallowed hard and attempted to marshal her thoughts. ‘I work for your father,’ she said weakly.

‘Not good enough.’

‘I’ll lose my job.’

‘Says who?’

‘I don’t know you.’

‘Would you like to?’

‘Would you let me?’ Finally an objection she could follow through on. ‘Can you answer even the most casual of questions honestly?’ ‘I can try.’

‘All right. Where were you this time last week? What were you doing? Just the briefest details of your day—that’s all I’m asking for.’

She saw him shut down. Watched his eyes as he sifted back through time, closing compartments as he went. Not that. Not that. Can’t tell her that; and his reasons for not telling her were his own. He didn’t even offer up an excuse.

‘Okay, different question,’ she said. ‘Where will you be in a week’s time? Snapshot that day.’

But he couldn’t seem to do that either. ‘Most people would be able to answer those questions, Damon,’ she said quietly. ‘But then, you’re not most people, are you? I may have been wrong about you being after my father, but I wasn’t wrong about the rest of it. About the way you keep the details of your life to yourself. About there being so much of you that you cannot, or will not, share. Not with strangers. Not with anyone.’ Finally he swore. One word.

Not something they’d be doing anytime soon.

‘Glad we cleared that up,’ she said carefully, no flirting in her now, just a pitiful and aching need for something that had never been on offer. ‘I need honesty from a lover, Damon. I need to taste the truth in you, even if all we’d be doing is having mindless, no-strings-attached sex. It’s a requirement of mine.’ She dredged up a smile from somewhere.

‘Make an exception,’ he cajoled gruffly. ‘For me.’ Nothing like the penetrating gaze of a powerfully persuasive man to make a woman’s mind waver. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Ruby. I swear I will not lie to you. Ever. I’ll just …’

‘Not answer,’ she finished for him softly. ‘I know how it works, Damon. And for what it’s worth you tempt me. So much. But what you’re offering … it’s not enough.’

Damon stayed broodingly silent.

‘I should go,’ she said awkwardly, and then as reality intruded, ‘I need to do the birds first.’

‘I’ll do them.’

‘Thank you.’ Ruby made it to the door and into her shoes before job necessities made her turn to Damon once more. ‘I’ve arranged to collect Poppy from the airport at three and bring her here.’

‘I’ll get her.’

‘Lena gets in at six.’

‘I’ll get her too.’

This time Ruby managed to make it through the doorway, shutting the apartment door behind her with a quiet click. She drew a shuddering breath and closed her eyes briefly, before putting one foot determinedly in front of the other as she headed for the lift.

He wanted too much from her. Too much for too little.

There was nothing left to say.

CHAPTER FOUR

HEATSTROKE and insanity. That was what Ruby attributed those scorching kisses to. It was hot. She was insane. Simple.

Exactly what Damon West was, apart from obsessively secretive, was still open to interpretation.

Nothing but a memory, she told herself sternly. That was what she needed him to be. A vivid and beautiful memory that a woman could look to every so often. A memory to accompany a wistful sigh, a tiny half-smile and a harmless game of what-if.

What if he had been that little bit more open with her?

What if she’d made an exception for him?

Ruby had the feeling that, in the years to come, quite a nice little fantasy would follow on from those particular thoughts. Some of the pleasure and none of the pain. Bargain.

But there was no bargain to be had in her encounter with him today. Just heaviness and no small measure of regret.

With the day split wide-open and no work to fill it with, Ruby headed back to the office. To the desk she didn’t deserve and the job that took her two hours a day to do, when she was being paid for eight.

‘Is Russell in?’ she asked Bea, Russell’s proper PA—the one with her finger on the pulse of his business commitments, not his social ones.

Bea nodded, and briefly lifted her gaze from the computer screen to favour Ruby with a laserlike stare. Bea was—without a doubt—ten times more imposing than Russell could ever hope to be. Not that anyone mentioned it.

‘Is he free?’

Another nod and a half-smile this time. ‘Go on in.’

Russell West did not cut a particularly fatherly figure, never mind that his hair was grey and the creases on his face had been there a while. He did cut an authoritative figure. ‘Russell, may I have a moment?’

‘What can I do for you, Ruby?’

‘You can accept my resignation.’ One didn’t beat around the bush with Russell West. Time was money. A great deal of money. ‘I’d like to finish up in the New Year, once we get your major social commitments out of the way.’

‘You mean the Chinese New Year?’

‘Nice try. I mean mid-January.’

‘Why?’ Russell leaned back in his chair, trusting his imposing office surroundings to work to his advantage, which they probably would have had she not been in and out of offices just as grand as this one all her life.

‘Bottom line? The job’s not big enough. I feel like I’m taking money for nothing.’

‘The company’s profit margin has gone up thirty-six per cent since you signed on, Ruby. That’s hardly nothing.’

‘Your social networking strategy needed some work, that’s all. But that was always going to be more of a consultant’s gig than an ongoing role. My work here is done. Nowadays, I’m just filling in time.’

‘You’re welcome to stay on, Ruby. You know that.’

‘I do know that.’ She smiled fondly at the older man. ‘And I can’t thank you enough for giving me work when I needed it. When no one else would. But I want to see if there’s still room for me in the world of law. Even if I have to work gratis for a while until I get the necessary accreditation and experience to go into a particular field. There’s family law. International law. Defence law. Fields where my father’s supposed transgressions won’t—or shouldn’t—reflect back on me. After that, I’ll look towards establishing my own business. It’s a solid plan, don’t you think?’

‘Well, it’s a solid thought,’ he said dryly. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it a plan. Generally a plan requires details.’

‘I’m working on it,’ she said simply.

‘Do you need start-up capital?’

‘Are you offering it?’

Russell steepled his hands, and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Yes.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because of your former friendship with my father?’

‘Because I have every confidence in Ruby Maguire’s ability to succeed.’

‘Oh.’ Suddenly Ruby’s big-girl voice deserted her. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘I prefer to use the word astute. Okay, Ruby, resignation accepted. Let Bea know when you want to finish up. And, Ruby, I realise it’s late notice but I do hope you’ll join me and my family for a meal over this Christmas break. Say, tomorrow night or even Christmas Day if you prefer?’

‘Russell, thank you, but—’

‘Christmas is a time for family, I agree,’ he interrupted gruffly. ‘But when family isn’t around you make do. You’ve already met Damon, and I’ve no doubt the girls will enjoy your company. Try making do with us.’

‘I—’

‘Make it Christmas Eve? That way you can join us at the restaurant. You booked for five people, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘We’ll swing by your apartment and pick you up at quarter to seven.’ ‘No, I—’

But Russell and steamroller tactics were old friends. ‘Excellent,’ he said and offered up a small smile. ‘Join us, Ruby. There’s plenty of room at our table. We have family missing this year too.’

Damon met Poppy at the arrival gate and together they hit an airport bar and settled down to wait for Lena. No point dropping Poppy off at the apartment, according to Poppy, and, seeing as it was Poppy’s jet lag they were juggling, Damon went with whatever made his sister happy. A bottle of mineral water and an order of mini spring rolls would hold them. A chance to talk to Poppy alone wouldn’t hurt either.

‘Have you heard from Jared?’ she wanted to know as they settled into the comfiest seats they could find, and Damon watched a little bit of the light go out of his sister’s eyes when he answered no.

‘Do you know where he is?’ she said next. Different question altogether.

‘Not yet, but I think Lena was right and that Jared’s working a job for someone in ASIS. I found a three-month-old file that has Jared’s employee number embedded in it but other than that it’s fully encrypted. It needs translating. Or decoding. Possibly both. Want to give it a shot?’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s probably not a piece of paper you want to go waving around the corridors of Academia.’

‘I gathered that,’ she said lightly. ‘It’s probably not something you’d want to trust anyone with.’

Poppy propped her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. ‘You really don’t want to give it to me, do you?’

‘I really don’t.’ It went against every instinct Damon possessed to drag Poppy into his world of subterfuge and secrets. ‘And don’t trust computers. Even yours.’

‘Are you always this paranoid?’

‘I’m entitled.’ Damon sipped his wine and considered his words. ‘This one’s playing out a little too close to home for comfort, Poppy. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. We don’t know what Jared’s got himself into, or who’s running him. Time to be careful.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ said Poppy quietly.

By the time Lena’s plane touched down humour had been restored and Damon and Poppy had vacated the bar in favour of waiting for Lena at the arrival gates.

When Lena did finally emerge, she did it from a customs side door, meaning that customs had processed her separately, and she walked with the aid of a stick and the speed of a ninety-year-old. Her once gamine face now looked gaunt and the glaze in her eyes told him that pain ruled her these days. An airport employee walked beside her, towing a suitcase, and the relief on his face as Lena spotted them and waved was palpable.

So much for the full recovery Lena had been spouting about over the phone for the past two weeks.

‘Miss West preferred not to avail herself of our wheelchair services,’ said the airport employee, and with an almost-salute and a harried smile he handed the luggage off to Damon and disappeared back the way he’d come.

‘Told you I could walk,’ said Lena into the silence that followed, and Damon drew her silently into his arms for a hug, horrified anew by his sister’s frailty and the quiet terror he saw in Poppy’s eyes as she stared at her sister.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Lena as Damon released her. ‘Both of you. It’s so good to see you.’

More ‘you look wonderfuls’ and none of them true, followed by ‘how was your flight?’ and then came the question Damon really didn’t want to answer. ‘Have you heard from Jared?’

‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing.’

‘Did you look into finding him?’

‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, and with a warning glance at Poppy. ‘Nothing yet.’

Poppy picked up on his silent cue and didn’t add to the conversation, but he could tell by her frown that they’d be discussing what to tell Lena and what not to tell her later. Nothing being Damon’s preference by far.

‘I’ll bring the car around,’ he said and nodded towards the nearest door and fled with the luggage before either of his sisters could stop him. He didn’t cope well with the battering Lena had taken. He couldn’t look at her without remembering just how close they’d come to losing her, and if he knew his response was childish and unhelpful, well … Jared’s had been worse.

Jared had damn near lost his mind when the doctor had told them that if Lena lived, chances were she wouldn’t be able to walk.

Lena had been under Jared’s command when she’d been injured—a simple recon of a suspected biological weapons lab in East Timor had gone badly wrong. The last thing Lena remembered was heavy crossfire, sticky blood, and lying in the dirt and looking up at the sky. God only knew what Jared remembered about the way things had gone down, or what he held himself responsible for.

Jared had haunted the hospital until Lena had regained consciousness. He’d told Lena that the mission had been compromised from the start and that he had some business to attend to. He’d told her he’d be back as soon as he could.

That had been six months ago.

Damn right ‘Have you heard from Jared?’ was the first question everyone in this family asked.

Supper that evening had a festive note to it, thanks in no small measure to Ruby Maguire’s pampering.

A tree had appeared in the atrium. A fibre-optic plastic fantastic, with a scattering of perfectly wrapped presents beneath—including one for him from his father that Damon knew full well meant that Ruby had shopped again for him on his father’s behalf.

The tree should have looked gaudy but dim the regular lights and set it to shining and it looked magical instead. Fine wine filled the wine chiller and the light supper fare Russell pulled from the fridge found immediate favour with the girls.

‘Dad, is there something you’re not telling us?’ asked Lena from her perch on the sofa as Poppy beat an unhurried path to the bar, poured two glasses of wine and took one over to Lena with low-key grace and unobtrusiveness. ‘Supper is perfect, Poppy’s just handed me a glass of my favourite white, there are fresh flowers everywhere, and are those fairy lights out on the terrace? They are, aren’t they? I’m sensing a woman’s touch. And not just a housekeeper.’