Nate shifted so that his shoulder brushed against hers, and he lowered his mouth closer to her ear.

“Since that kiss we shared under the mistletoe, I haven’t been able to go much longer than that without thinking about you. And when I think about that kiss, I remember how good your body felt against mine, and how surprised—and incredibly turned on—I was by the passion of your response.”

“You’re right,” Allison said. “Our memories are different. But considering that we’re going to be working closely together, I think it would be best if we both just forgot about that kiss.”

“I already know that I can’t.”

“Maybe you just need to try a little harder.”

“Are you saying that you have forgotten?”

“I’m saying that I’m not going to let anything interfere with our working relationship.”

“I know how to separate business from pleasure,” he assured her.

“Let’s keep the focus on business,” she suggested.

“That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”

“I like my job and I want to keep my job. Which means I’m definitely not going to sleep with my boss.”

His lips curved. “I’m not your boss yet.”

Those Engaging Garretts! The Carolina Cousins

The Daddy Wish

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up to date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, brendaharlen.com.

Writing is often a solitary venture … but not this time!

During the writing of much of this book, I was blessed with the company of an incredible group of women, and I would like to dedicate this story to the CBs who were an integral part of the process: CMS, JenB, RSS, GP and Theresa, with an extra special thank you to JenB and “Mr JenB” for their generosity and hospitality.

(xo “35”)

This story is also dedicated to Becky with thanks for the tour, the stories, and answers to my endless questions. All the good stuff is hers—any mistakes made or liberties taken are my own.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

The Garrett Furniture Christmas party was held at the Courtland Hotel in downtown Charisma, as it had been for each of the past six years that Allison Caldwell had worked for the company. The main ballroom was decorated for the occasion with miles of pine garland, dozens of potted evergreens twinkling with lights and white poinsettias at the center of every table. The meal was a traditional roast turkey dinner served family style, with stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, buttered corn, baby carrots, green beans and cranberry sauce.

The Garretts always treated their staff well—from holiday parties to summer picnics, from comprehensive benefit packages to generous vacation allowances—and Allison would always be grateful that a three-week temp position had paved the way to her becoming the executive assistant to the CFO. Tonight, she was seated at a table with three coworkers from the finance department and their respective spouses, and throughout the meal, conversation flowed as freely as the wine. No one seemed to notice or care that she was on her own. No one except Allison.

She’d been married once—for all of two minutes. Actually, it had been two and a half years, but that two-and-a-half-year marriage had ended six years earlier. Since the divorce, she’d become accustomed to attending social events on her own, and she usually preferred it that way.

But on this night, only twelve days before Christmas, as she watched various couples snuggle up to each other in the corners or move together on the dance floor, she was suddenly and painfully aware of her solitary status. Aware that she would be going home to a dark and empty apartment because Dylan was spending the weekend with his dad’s new family. Her eight-year-old son was the light of her life, the reason for everything she did, and she missed him unbearably when he was gone.

A surreptitious glance at her watch confirmed that it was almost eleven o’clock—still early for the die-hard partyers but an acceptable time for her to head out. She wished her boss and his wife a merry Christmas, then made her way to the cloakroom to get her coat.

She paused in the wide arched entranceway when she heard voices emanating from within. It took only a few seconds for her to realize there was only one voice—and that it was a familiar one. Nathan Garrett, the CFO’s nephew and heir apparent, who would be her boss one day, was talking to someone on the cell phone that was pressed up against his ear. Glancing up, he flashed her the quick, easy smile that never failed to make all of her womanly parts tingle.

All of the Garretts—men, women and children—were beautiful people, and Nathan was no exception. He stood about six-two, with a lean but powerful build that was showcased nicely in formal business attire. His hair was dark, his eyes were an amazing gray that—depending on his mood—looked like smoke or steel, and dimples flashed when he smiled. It was those dimples that got to her, every time.

Not that she’d ever let him know it. Because the man was a major player, and Allison had learned her lesson about players a long time ago.

He disconnected his call and dropped the phone into his jacket pocket.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said.

“A beautiful woman is never an intrusion,” he assured her.

She stepped into the room and began looking for her coat, silently berating herself for the warm flush that colored her cheeks. She didn’t respond, because what could she say in response to flirtatious words that came as naturally to him as breathing? And how pathetic was it that she could recognize the fact and still not be able to control the tingle?

“You’re not planning to leave already?”

She’d assumed he’d gone and was startled to hear the question, and his voice, so close to her ear.

“It’s a great party,” she said. “But—”

“So stay and enjoy it,” he interrupted.

“I can’t. I’ve got a busy weekend.” She told herself that wasn’t really a lie, because she did have to get Dylan’s Christmas presents wrapped, and that was a task easier done when her son wasn’t around.

Finally spotting her coat, she tugged it off its hanger.

“Well, you can’t go just yet,” he insisted.

“Why not?”

He stepped closer, so close that their bodies were almost touching. She wanted to step back, to give herself space to breathe, but the rack of coats at her back prevented her from doing so.

Nate lifted a hand and gestured to the arched entranceway. “Because you stepped under the mistletoe.”

She frowned at the sprig of green leaves and white berries and tried to ignore the wild pounding of her heart inside her chest. “Why would someone put mistletoe in a cloakroom?”

“I have no idea.” He crooked a finger beneath her chin to tip her head up. “But tradition demands that a woman passing under mistletoe must be kissed—and I’m a traditional kind of guy.”

She couldn’t think, she didn’t know how to respond to that, and before her brain could scramble to find any words at all, his lips were on hers.

And...oh...wow.

The man definitely knew how to kiss.

Of course, she would have been disappointed to learn otherwise. After all, he had a reputation for seducing women with a word, bringing them to orgasm with a smile and breaking their hearts with a wave goodbye. She’d always assumed those rumors were at least slightly exaggerated, but as his mouth moved over hers, promising all kinds of wicked, sensual pleasures, she was forced to acknowledge that she might have been wrong.

A slow, lazy sweep of his tongue over her lower lip nearly made her whimper. The sensual caress did make her lips part, not just granting him entry but welcoming him inside.

His free hand slid around her back, gently urging her closer. She didn’t—couldn’t—resist. The coat slipped from her fingers and dropped to her feet, forgotten. There was so much heat coursing through her system, she might never need a coat again. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders and she held on, as if he were her anchor in the storm of sensations that battered at her system, pounding self-preservation and common sense into submission.

His tongue danced with hers, a slow and seductive rhythm that teased and enticed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she should be disappointed to realize that she was no different from any other woman who had succumbed to his charms. But in the moment, in his arms, she really didn’t care.

While her body might urge her to let one kiss lead to a mutually satisfying conclusion, she still had enough working brain cells to acknowledge that tangling the sheets with a man who would one day be her boss could be a very big mistake. She eased away from him.

“That’s some powerful mistletoe,” she said, trying to make light of the intensity of her response.

“I don’t think we can blame that on the mistletoe.” He bent down to retrieve her coat, then helped her into it. “I’m leaving in the morning to go skiing with some friends, but I’ll see you when I get back.”

He smiled again, but she ignored the tingles, reminding herself that her job was too important for her to jeopardize for the pleasure of a few hours in his bed. So she only responded with, “My ride should be here by now.”

He walked out with her, and she stopped beside the cab that was idling at the curb. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Garrett.”

He reached past her for the door handle, but didn’t immediately open it. “Don’t you think, after that kiss, you could drop the formality and call me Nate?”

No, she couldn’t. Because calling him by his given name implied a familiarity she wasn’t ready for. “Have a safe trip, Mr. Garrett.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling as he opened the door. “I’ll talk to you soon, Allison.”

She slid into the backseat and gave the driver her address.

He stood on the curb, watching as the cab drove away, but she didn’t let herself look back.

Chapter One

Allison wasn’t usually the type to spend too much time fussing over her appearance. She never left her apartment looking less than professional—that was a matter of pride—but she didn’t usually bother with more than a cursory brush with the mascara wand to darken her fair lashes and a quick swipe of gloss to moisturize her lips.

On the first morning after the holidays, when she found herself digging into her makeup bag for rarely used eye shadow and lipstick, she told herself that she simply wanted a new image for the new year. That the extra care she was taking with her appearance was in no way linked to the possibility that she might cross paths with Nathan Garrett at the office today.

Finally satisfied with the results of her efforts, she poked her head into her son’s bedroom. “Come on, Dylan. You don’t want to be late on your first day back.”

“Yeah, I do,” he told her. “School sucks.”

She held back a sigh. It worried her that he had such a negative attitude toward school when he was only in third grade, but she’d long ago given up trying to change his opinion and focused her efforts on getting him to class on time. “Okay, but I don’t want to be late on my first day back.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “How come you’re all dressed up?”

“What do you mean? I wear this suit to work all the time.”

“But you don’t wear all that gunk on your face.”

She had no ready response to that. If the “slight” improvement she’d been aiming for was obvious enough that her eight-year-old son noticed, she’d definitely gone overboard.

“And your hair’s different,” he said.

“Go eat your cereal, then brush your teeth,” she told him.

It had taken her almost twenty minutes to do her makeup and hair, and less than five to wipe the color off her face and tuck her hair into its usual loose knot at the back of her head.

Dylan didn’t comment on the changes, which she interpreted to mean that she now looked as she usually did. She certainly wasn’t going to turn any heads when she walked into the office, and maybe that was for the best. Far too many women tripped over themselves trying to catch Nathan Garrett’s eye, and she’d always taken pride in the fact that she wasn’t one of them.

After dropping her son off at school, she drove across town to the offices of Garrett Furniture, trying not to think about what had happened at the company Christmas party.

Of course, her efforts were futile. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen or heard from Nathan in the twenty-three days that had passed since they’d connected under the mistletoe—she hadn’t stopped thinking about him or THE KISS.

Which was ridiculous, because he really wasn’t her type. Not that she had a type—she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a date. But if she did have a type, it would not be a too rich, too sexy, too good-looking and far too self-assured man who had a reputation for enjoying women of all types.

She decided it was a good thing that she’d wiped off her makeup and tied back her hair. The last thing she needed was for Nathan Garrett—or anyone else in the office—to think that she was interested in him.

Maybe her response wasn’t about the particular man so much as the fact that she hadn’t been kissed (even in lowercase letters) in a very long time. Maybe that was the real reason he’d stirred up desires so long dormant, she hadn’t been certain she was capable of feeling them anymore. Maybe she didn’t want her boss’s nephew so much as she wanted to connect with someone. Anyone.

As a single mother, she didn’t have time to be lonely—except for every other weekend when Dylan was with his dad, and Dylan had been with his dad the night of the Christmas party. She never would have stayed out so late, or let herself drink so much, if her son had been waiting for her at home. Not that she’d had so much to drink—probably not more than three glasses of wine. But she’d decided that being under the influence of alcohol was a convenient explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior.

And now she was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on the most popular boy in class—trying to pretty herself up to get his attention. It was pathetic, especially when she wasn’t even sure that she liked the guy all that much.

Not that she disliked him.

Allison blew out a frustrated breath. This was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous—spending far too much time obsessing over THE KISS and in danger of starting to think about Nathan Garrett as THE MAN. He was simply a man—no more and no less. Even if he was a man who could kiss far better than any other man in her experience.

She pulled into her usual parking spot and turned off the ignition. After the holiday, she was eager to get back into the familiar routines of work again, but she stopped by the break room first to grab a cup of coffee. While there, she wished a happy New Year to Melanie Hedley, who was doing the same.

“How was your holiday?” Melanie asked.

“Quiet,” Allison said. “Yours?”

“Amazing.” The other woman fairly gushed the word. “I went to Vail before Christmas and stayed at this fabulous condo resort that had fireplaces in every bedroom and hot tubs on all the decks. And Nate and I discovered the most incredible little café tucked away in the foothills.”

Allison sloshed coffee over the back of her hand and sucked in a sharp breath as the hot liquid scalded her skin. “That does sound...amazing,” she said, grabbing a paper napkin to wipe the spilled coffee off her hand.

“Lanie—” Enrico Sanchez poked his head into the room “—we need you on that conference call.”

“Oh, right.” Melanie smiled at her. “We’ll catch up more later.”

Allison added a splash of cream to her cup, stirring mechanically while all the excited anticipation that had fueled her buoyant mood only a few minutes earlier fizzled out like air from a balloon.

She wasn’t unaware of Nate’s reputation, but it still hurt to realize that, only a few days after he’d kissed her, he’d been dining with Melanie in Colorado. It shouldn’t. She had no right to be upset or disappointed or anything. He’d certainly never made her any promises, and she wouldn’t have believed him if he had.

So why had she let her own imagination paint unrealistic dreams? Why had she ever let herself believe that THE KISS had been anything more than a kiss?

She hated being taken for a fool. Worse, she hated being a fool. She sat down at her desk and turned on her computer, determined to put all thoughts of the man from her mind once and for all.

John Garrett walked in while she was still reviewing email messages that had come through over the holidays. He was a good boss and a genuinely wonderful man, and she greeted him with a sincere smile.

The smile froze on her lips when he said, “I’m glad you’re here—I need to talk to you about Nathan.”

* * *

Allison took her iPad into John Garrett’s office.

Though he’d said he wanted to talk to her about Nathan, she didn’t think there was any way he could know what had happened at the Christmas party. But HR frowned upon personal relationships in the workplace, and her heart was hammering against her ribs as she perched on the edge of the chair facing his desk.

The CFO looked uncharacteristically burdened and weary. She could practically feel the knots forming in her belly—twisting and tightening—as it occurred to her that she might very well be on the verge of losing her job because she’d had too much to drink and had foolishly and impulsively let herself get caught under the mistletoe by her boss’s heir apparent.

“You’re no doubt aware that Nathan has been chosen to take over as CFO when I retire,” John continued.

She exhaled slowly, reassured by his opening that whatever this was about, it wasn’t about the kiss. (The brief exchange with Melanie in the staff room had succeeded in relegating the event to lowercase status.) Her relief was so profound, it took several seconds longer than it should have for the rest of his statement to sink in.

Retirement? Why was he mentioning it now?

“But that’s not until June,” she noted. And only then if he didn’t decide to postpone it again, as he’d done twice already.

“Actually, I’m going to be finished here as of the end of January.”

“What? Why?”

“I had a little bit of a health scare over the holidays,” he admitted.

She was instantly and sincerely concerned. John Garrett might be her boss, but over the six years that they’d worked together, he’d also become a friend and something of a father figure to her. “What happened? Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“It was just a minor blip with my heart—nothing too serious.”

The fact that he was sitting behind his desk and not in a hospital bed confirmed that it wasn’t too serious, but she knew him well enough to suspect that he was downplaying the “minor” part.

But what did this mean for her? Would she be let go? Was John telling her now as a way of giving her notice that she would be out of a job at the end of the month?

“Nathan’s worked hard for the company for a lot of years,” he continued. “He’s not getting this promotion just because his name is Garrett but because he’s earned it.”

She nodded, her heart sinking as she considered the repercussions of his announcement. She was confident that she could find another job; she knew John would give her a glowing recommendation. But she wasn’t nearly as confident that she would find another job with the comprehensive health-care benefits she needed for the ongoing treatment of her son’s asthma.

“That being said, I wanted to be certain that you don’t have any concerns about working with him.”

“Working with him?” she echoed.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, of course not,” she hastily assured him, because she wouldn’t let it be a problem. Because he was offering her the chance to keep her job—and her benefits—and she would make it work.

As for the mind-numbing, bone-melting kiss she’d shared with her soon-to-be boss...what kiss?

“I just assumed he’d want to choose his own executive assistant,” she said, still not entirely sure Nathan wouldn’t do exactly that.

“We’ve already discussed it,” John said. “He wants you.”

She knew he only meant that his nephew wanted her to work for him, but that knowledge didn’t prevent her cheeks from flushing in response to his words.

“Now that that’s settled, I need you to book a flight to St. Louis for next Thursday,” he told her. “There are some minor discrepancies in their numbers that need to be looked at.”

Which could probably be done via email, but John had always preferred a hands-on approach.

“Considering the ‘minor blip’ with your heart, I’m surprised your doctors have given you the okay to fly.”

“They haven’t,” he admitted. “So you’ll be going with Nathan.”

Allison had to bite her tongue to hold back her instinctive protest as she rose from her chair. It wasn’t unusual for John to request that she accompany him on his business trips, but going anywhere with the man who’d kissed her more thoroughly than anyone else in recent memory—maybe ever—filled her with apprehension.

Thankfully, St. Louis was only a two-hour flight from Raleigh, which meant that the trip would be completed in one day. It would be a long day—with a departure at 8:35 a.m. and a return fourteen hours later—but only one day. The trips that the CFO made to review the books of the Gallery stores—more upscale showrooms that carried exclusive, higher-end inventory—located in Austin, Denver, San Francisco, Saint Paul, New York, Philadelphia and Miami, required more time and attention, sometimes necessitating a two or three-night stay.

As Allison returned to her desk, she could only hope that Nathan would decide he didn’t need his executive assistant to accompany him on those, because she didn’t trust herself to spend that much time in close proximity to the man. Sex had never been casual to her. Even when she was in college, she’d never hooked up with a guy just for a good time. And she’d tried to steer clear of the guys who were reputed to sleep with different girls every weekend. No doubt, Nathan Garrett had been one of those guys.

She’d heard rumors of his extracurricular activities, and while the whispered details might vary, the overall consensus was that the current VP of Finance definitely knew how to pleasure a woman.

Which was definitely not something she should be thinking about right now—especially when the man himself was standing in front of her desk.

He was the only man she’d ever met who managed to make her feel all weak-kneed and tongue-tied in his presence. She hadn’t worked at Garrett Furniture long before she’d recognized that the family had won some kind of genetic sweepstakes. The three brothers who ran the company were of her parents’ generation but still undeniably handsome, and all of their children—most of whom were employed at the company in one capacity or another—were unbelievably attractive.

It had been an impartial observation—nothing more. She’d been too busy trying to settle into her new job, put her life back together and be a good mother to her toddler son to be attracted to anyone. And then, in her second year of employment in John Garrett’s office, his nephew Nathan moved back to Charisma.

By then, Allison’s wounded heart had healed and her long-dormant hormones were ready to be awakened again. And they had jolted to full awareness when Nathan walked into the office and found her struggling to fix a paper jam in the photocopier.

He’d come over to help, and just his proximity was enough to make her skin prickle. When he’d reached around her, his chest had bumped her shoulder, and the incidental contact had made her nipples tingle and tighten. He’d dislodged the paper, she’d stammered out a breathless “thank you” and then he’d gone in to see his uncle.

Four years later, she still wasn’t immune to him. She’d learned to hold her own in conversations with him, but she hadn’t learned to control her body’s involuntary response to his nearness. Even now, even with him standing on the other side of her desk, her blood was pulsing in her veins.

She forced a smile and desperately hoped that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Good morning, Mr. Garrett.”

His answering smile didn’t seem forced. It was effortless and easy and so potent; she was grateful that she was sitting down because it practically melted her bones. “Good morning, Allison.”

She forced herself to glance away, down at the calendar on her desk. “Your uncle is free, if you want to go in.”

“I will,” he said, but eased a hip onto the edge of her desk. “But first I wanted to apologize for not calling you when I got back from my ski trip.”

“Oh, well.” She kept her gaze focused on the papers on her desk, because his proximity was wreaking enough havoc on her hormones without looking at him and remembering how his mouth—somehow both soft and strong, and utterly delicious—had mastered hers, or how those wickedly talented hands had moved so smoothly and confidently over her body. “I know the holidays are a busy time for everyone.”

“And then Uncle John had his heart attack the day after Christmas.” She glanced up and could tell, by the seriousness of his tone and the bleakness in his eyes, that he was still worried about his uncle.

“So it was more than a minor blip,” she remarked.

“Is that what he told you?”

She nodded.

“The doctors did say it was minor, but it was definitely a heart attack.”

“That must have come as a shock to all of you,” she said.

He nodded. “Aside from smoking the occasional cigar, he didn’t have any of the usual risk factors, but the doctors strongly urged him to make some lifestyle changes.”

“He’s already asked me to look into that cruise he’s been promising your aunt for the past few years.”

“Retirement is going to be a big adjustment for him, so it will be good for him to have something to look forward to.”

“It’s going to be a big adjustment for the whole office,” Allison agreed.

“And not exactly the adjustment I was hoping to make in our relationship,” Nate said.

Our relationship.

She wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but her heart gave a funny little jump anyway—before she ruthlessly strapped it down. “Mr. Garrett—”

“Really?” His brows rose and his lips curved in a slow, sexy smile that made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet. “Are you really going to ‘Mr. Garrett’ me after the—”

“There you are, Nate.”

She exhaled gratefully when John poked his head out of his office and interrupted his nephew. Because whatever he’d been about to say, she didn’t want to hear it.

Nathan held her gaze for another moment before he turned his attention to his uncle. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Normally I wouldn’t mind,” John told him. “But we’ve got a lot of ground to cover in the next twenty-five days.”

Nate nodded. “I’ll look forward to catching up with you later,” he said to Allison, already moving toward the CFO’s office.

She didn’t bother to respond, because as far as she was concerned, there wasn’t anything to catch up on.

Whatever might have started between her and her soon-to-be boss under the mistletoe was over when he flew off to Vail with Melanie Hedley the next day. And that was for the best. Not only because she didn’t want to make a fool of herself—again—where Nathan Garrett was concerned, but because any fantasy she might have had about getting naked with the VP of Finance was inappropriate enough, but the same fantasy with the company CFO could be fatal to her employment.

And that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

* * *

“How was your first day back?” Allison asked when she picked her son up from his after-school program.

Dylan made a face as he buckled up in the backseat.

“Do you have any homework?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta write a stupid journal entry about my holiday.”

“Why do you think it’s stupid?”

“Because it’s the same thing Miss Cabrera made us do last year. And because I didn’t do anything really exciting. Not like Marcus, who went to Disney World. Or Cassie, who got a puppy.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, but she was as disappointed for him as he obviously was. Unfortunately, peak-season trips weren’t anywhere in her budget, and pets—especially dogs—weren’t allowed by the condominium corporation. “But we had a nice holiday, anyway, didn’t we?” she prompted.

“I guess.”

“What was your favorite part?” she asked, hoping to help him focus on the highlights.

“Not being at school.”

She held back a sigh. Her son’s extreme shyness made it difficult for him to make friends, but she didn’t understand how he could prefer to be alone playing video games rather than interacting with other kids his own age. At the first parent-teacher meeting of the year, Miss Aberdeen had suggested that he was bored because the work was too easy for him, but when she offered to give him more advanced assignments, Dylan had been appalled by the prospect of being singled out. So he continued to do the same work as his classmates and continued to be bored at school. “What was your favorite part aside from not being at school?” she prompted.

“I had fun at the cartooning class at the art gallery,” he finally said.

“So why don’t you draw a comic strip about your holiday?”

His brow furrowed as he considered this suggestion. “Do you think that would be okay?”

“I think Miss Aberdeen would love it.”

So once they got home, Dylan sat at the table, carefully drawing the boxes for his comic strip while she made spaghetti with meat sauce for dinner. As she stirred the sauce, she kept an eye on her son, pleased by the intense concentration on his face as he worked.

If she’d told him he had to write a paragraph, he would have scribbled the first thing that came to mind and been done with it. But he was obviously having fun with the cartooning, and she was pleased that he didn’t just want to draw a comic strip but wanted to draw a good one.

When the outlining was done, he opened his package of colored pencils, and she felt a wave of nostalgia as she remembered when he used to sit at that same table with a box of fat crayons and scribble all over the pictures in a book. He’d been a fan of single-color pictures and would cover the page with blue or green or red or brown, but rarely would he use a variety of colors.

She’d always loved him with her whole heart, but she couldn’t deny that there were times when she missed her little boy. The one who would crawl into her lap for a story at bedtime, who looked to her as the authority of all things and whose boo-boos could be made better with a hug and a kiss. He was so independent now—in his thoughts and his actions. Her little boy was growing up, and he didn’t need her in all the ways that he used to.

She was proud of the person he was becoming, and more than a little uncertain about her own future. Being a mother had been such a huge part of her identity for so long, she’d almost forgotten that there were other parts. Being with Nathan Garrett made her remember those parts. He made her think and feel and want like a woman, and she wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

Chapter Two

Allison was avoiding him.

It was a fact that baffled Nate more than anything, but he couldn’t deny it was true.

Over the next few days, their paths continued to cross in the office. But every time he walked past her desk on the way to see his uncle, she seemed to be on the phone. And every time he walked out again, she scurried away from her desk to retrieve something from the printer or the photocopier or to water the plants on the window ledge.

At first he was amused by her obvious efforts to avoid any continuation of the conversation that had been aborted on their first day back after the holiday, but his amusement soon gave way to exasperation. As a Garrett and VP of Finance in the company, he was accustomed to being treated with respect, even deference.

He was not accustomed to being ignored. Especially not by a woman who had been sighing with pleasure in his arms only a few weeks earlier.

She was acting as if the kiss they’d shared had never happened, and maybe she wished it hadn’t. But he could still remember the taste of her lips, somehow tangy and sweet and incredibly responsive; he could still remember the heady joy of her slender curves pressed against him; and he could still remember wishing that he didn’t have to be on a plane at six fifteen the next morning, because he could think of all kinds of wicked and wonderful things they might do if they spent the night—and maybe several more—together.

For just a minute, maybe two, he’d considered forgetting about the trip with his buddies. Because the warm softness of Allison’s body was a hell of a lot more tempting than the promise of fresh powder on the black diamond trails.

But then she’d pulled away. When she looked at him, he saw in her melted chocolate–colored eyes a reflection of the same desire that was churning through his veins, but there was something else there, too. Surprise, which he could definitely relate to, not having expected a minor spark of chemistry to ignite such a blaze of passion, and maybe even a hint of confusion, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to what was suddenly between them—yet another emotion he could relate to.

Even after more than three weeks, he couldn’t forget about that kiss and he couldn’t stop wanting her. And he wasn’t prepared to pretend that nothing had happened. Had he taken advantage of the situation? Undoubtedly. But he hadn’t taken advantage of her. In fact, she’d met him more than halfway.

And when he got out of his Friday afternoon meeting with his uncle, Nate was going to hang around her desk until Allison had no choice but to acknowledge him. Except that it was after six o’clock when he finally left the CFO’s office, and she was already gone.

He caught up with his older brother instead.

“Don’t you have a wife and a daughter waiting for you at home?” Nate asked, surprised to find him fiddling with design plans on a tablet.

Andrew shook his head. “They’ve decided that the first Friday of every month is girls’ night out. Tonight the plan was for pedicures, dinner and a movie. And they dragged Mom along, too.”

“I doubt much dragging was required,” Nate commented, well aware of how much Jane Garrett doted on all of her family—and especially her grandchildren.

“Probably not,” his brother allowed. “But since no one’s at home, I decided to take the time to polish up the details on the new occasional tables that should hit the market before next Christmas.”

“You do realize it’s the ninth of January?”

“Product development takes time and attention to detail,” Andrew reminded him.

Nate shrugged. “Right now, I’m more interested in dinner. Did you want to grab a burger and a beer at the Bar Down?”

Andrew saved his progress and shut down the tablet.

* * *

“So you know why I was working late on a Friday night,” Andrew said, when they were settled into a booth and waiting for their food. “But why were you hanging around the office?”

“I had a meeting with Uncle John that went late.”

“I imagine you’ll have a lot of those meetings over the next few weeks.”

Nate nodded. “He’s been in charge for a long time— I know it’s not going to be easy for him to let go.”

Their uncle had been talking, mostly in vague terms, about retirement for a couple of years now. Now Nate would be sitting behind the big desk in the CFO’s office by the end of the month. And from behind that desk, he would have a prime view of the CFO’s undeniably sexy executive assistant.

“So why don’t you seem thrilled that your promotion is coming through sooner than you’d anticipated?”

“I’m happy about the promotion,” Nate said. “I just wish it wasn’t happening for the reasons it is.” Although he’d frequently lamented the fact that his uncle kept pushing back his retirement, he never wanted it to be forced upon him.

“Now he can finally take Aunt Ellen on that cruise he’s been promising since their fortieth anniversary.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost four years.” Andrew sipped his beer. “But somehow I don’t think you’re thinking about their vacation plans.”

“I was just wondering why Uncle John was so insistent that Allison Caldwell stay on as my executive assistant.”

“Probably because she’s been doing the job for more than six years and knows the ins and outs of the office better than anyone else,” his brother pointed out. “Do you have a problem with Allison?”

“No,” he said quickly.

Maybe too quickly.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you haven’t slept with her.”

“I haven’t slept with her.” Nate thanked the waitress who set his plate in front of him and immediately picked up his burger, grateful for the interruption as much as the food.

“Keep it that way,” Andrew advised when the server was gone. “She’s a valuable employee of the company.”

“I’m aware of the code of conduct in the employee handbook,” Nate reminded his brother. “I helped write it.”

“Along with Sabrina Barton from Human Resources.”

Nate bit into his burger.

“Tell me,” Andrew said, dipping his spoon into his Guinness stew. “Did you sleep with her before or after the handbook went to the printer?”

“It was a brief fling more than three years ago, after she gave notice that she was leaving the company,” he pointed out. “And she threw herself at me.”

“The curse of being a Garrett,” his brother acknowledged sarcastically. “But you could exercise some discretion and not catch every woman who throws herself at you.”

“It’s basic supply and demand—and with the number of single Garrett men rapidly dwindling, the unmarried ones are in greater demand.” And he very much enjoyed being in demand.

Andrew shook his head as he scooped up more stew. Nate focused on his own plate, and conversation shifted to the hockey game playing out on the wide TV screen over the bar.

The waitress had cleared their empty plates and offered refills of their drinks. They both opted for coffee.

Andrew’s cup was halfway to his lips when his cell phone chimed. He read the message on the display, then looked up.

“Problem?” Nate asked.

His brother glanced past him and smiled. “Not at all.”

Over his shoulder, Nate saw that Andrew wasn’t looking at something but someone. Rachel Ellis—now Rachel Garrett—his wife of four months.

She slid onto the bench seat beside her husband and brushed her lips over his. “Hi,” she said, her tone soft and intimate.

“Hi, yourself,” he said. “How was girls’ night?”

“Fabulous.” She snuggled close. “We got our toenails painted, then had dinner at Valentino’s—with triple-chocolate truffle cake for dessert. But there weren’t any good movies playing, so Maura went to your parents’ house for a sleepover.”

Andrew gestured for the waitress to bring the bill.

Nate sighed. “Whatever happened to bros before—” he caught Rachel’s narrowed gaze and chose his words carefully “—sisters-in-law?”

“I’d say sorry, bro, but I’m not,” Andrew told him.

“I know you’re not.”

And Nate was happy for his brother. Before he met Rachel, Andrew had spent a lot of years grieving the loss of his first wife and trying to raise his daughter on his own. With Rachel, Andrew and Maura were a family again.

“Why are you hanging out with your brother tonight instead of seducing a beautiful woman?” Rachel asked him.

“I’ve given up any hope of finding a woman as beautiful as you,” Nate replied smoothly.

“Which is the same thing you’d say if Kenna was here instead of me,” Rachel guessed.

“Because both of my brothers have impeccable taste.”

Andrew signed the credit card receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“What happened to the girl you were with at the Christmas party?”

The mischievous glint in his sister-in-law’s eyes made him suspect that she wasn’t just fishing for information but had actually seen something that night. “I wasn’t with anyone.”

“I know you didn’t take a date,” Rachel acknowledged. “But I definitely saw you come out of the cloakroom with someone.”

Nate sipped his coffee and pretended not to know who she was talking about.

Huffing out a breath, she turned to Andrew. “You must have seen her. Pretty blonde in a green dress.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t notice anyone but you.”

“That’s so sappy,” she said, but she was smiling.

“And true,” her husband assured her.

Nate rolled his eyes. “Don’t you guys have an empty house waiting for you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Andrew said.

“He’s changing the subject,” Rachel pointed out. “Because he doesn’t want you to figure out who she was.”

“I didn’t leave with anyone that night,” Nate said. “I had a six a.m. flight the next morning.”

“I didn’t say you left with her,” she said. “Just that you were in the cloakroom with her.”

“Maybe we both went to get our coats at the same time?” he suggested.

Rachel shook her head, unconvinced, but she let her husband nudge her out of the booth. “If your memory clears, you should bring her to dinner Sunday night.”

Nate knew that wasn’t going to happen. Stealing a kiss from a coworker at the company Christmas party was one thing—inviting his executive assistant to his parents’ house to meet the family was something else entirely.

* * *

Friday nights always loomed long and empty ahead of Allison after she gave Dylan a hug and a kiss goodbye and sent him off to his dad’s house for the weekend.

She tried not to resent the fact that Jefferson and his new wife had a three-bedroom raised ranch on a cute little court in Charisma’s Westdale neighborhood. She’d always wanted her son to have a backyard in which he could run and play, and now he did. She just wished it was something she’d been able to give to him every day and not every other weekend when he was with his father.

But she was grateful that they had a nice two-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of a well-maintained building with a park across the street. The rent wasn’t cheap, but after she paid the bills each month, she was able to put aside a small amount of money into a vacation fund. Last summer, they’d gone to Washington, DC. This year, she intended to take him camping—to give her city boy a taste of the outdoors. She had some concerns as to whether or not he’d be able to survive a whole week without television or video games, but she wanted to try.

However, it was only January now, which meant she didn’t have to determine their summer plans just yet. In the interim, she should cherish this time on her own: forty-eight hours in which to do whatever she wanted. She could lounge around in her pj’s and eat popcorn for dinner while she watched TV if she wanted. She didn’t have to prepare meals for anyone else or pick up dirty socks that missed the hamper in the bathroom or pull up the covers on a bed that had been left unmade.

But the sad reality was that she had no life outside of work and her son. She could go to the bookstore and lose herself in a good story for a few hours, but lately even her favorite romance novels had left her feeling more depressed than inspired.

She wanted to believe in love and happy-ever-after, but real life hadn’t given her much hope in that direction. And if she let herself give in to her desire for Nathan Garrett, she was more likely to end up unemployed than marrying the boss, and she had no intention of jeopardizing her job for a hot fling with a man who probably wouldn’t remember her name the next day.

Instead, she called her friend Chelsea, thinking that they might be able to catch a movie. As it turned out, her friend was working, but she convinced Allison to come in to the Bar Down for a bite to eat. The sports bar was usually hopping on weekends, so she didn’t think they’d have much time to talk, but her growling stomach and the promise of spinach dip were a stronger lure even than her friend’s company.

To her surprise, there were only a handful of tables in use, and more of the seats at the bar were vacant than occupied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so quiet in here on a Friday night,” Allison remarked.

Chelsea set a glass of pinot noir on a paper coaster in front of her friend. “It might pick up a little bit later, but the first weekend after the holidays is always slow. Most people are dragging after their first week back at work—or too worried about paying their credit card bills—to want to go out.”

“I can understand that,” Allison acknowledged.

“And I’m guessing the only reason you’re here is that it’s Dylan’s weekend with his dad.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve got a thousand things to do at home—with a thousand loads of laundry being at the top of the list—but it just felt too quiet tonight.”

“Did you come in here to see me or in search of some male companionship?”

Allison’s eye roll was the only response she was going to give to that question.

Her friend sighed. “When was the last time you went out on a date—the night Dylan was conceived?”

“I date,” she said.

Chelsea’s brows lifted.

“I do. I even let you set me up on that blind date with your cousin Ivan not too long ago.”

“Evan,” her friend corrected. “And that was more than three years ago.”

“It was not.”

“It was,” Chelsea insisted. “Because he didn’t meet Wendy until a few months after that, and they just celebrated their second wedding anniversary.”

“Oh.” She picked up her glass, sipped. “It really didn’t seem like it was that long ago.”

“You’re a fabulous mother, but you’re also a young and sexy woman hiding behind your responsibilities to your son. There should be more to your life.”

“I don’t have time for anything more.”

“You have to make time,” her friend insisted. “To get out and meet new people.”

“Why can’t I just hang out with the people I already know?”

Chelsea sighed. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex? No—” She shook her head. “Forget that. How long has it been since you’ve even kissed a guy?”

Sex was, admittedly, a distant and foggy memory. But every detail of that kiss under the mistletoe was still seared into her brain despite all of her efforts to forget about it, tempting her with the unspoken promise of so much more.

“Oh. My. God.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been holding out on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mentioned the word kiss and your eyes got this totally dreamy look and your cheeks actually flushed.”

Allison’s cheeks burned hotter. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” her friend decided. “When? Where? And who?”

Because she knew Chelsea wouldn’t be dissuaded, she answered her questions in order. “Before Christmas, at a party. It was just one kiss, and no way am I telling you who.”

“Before Christmas? And I’m only hearing about this now?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Which was a big fat lie, but she mentally crossed her fingers in the hope that her friend might believe it.

“Just one kiss?”

She nodded.

“Honey, if you’re still blushing over one kiss more than three weeks later, it isn’t just a big deal, it must have been one helluva kiss.”

“I haven’t been kissed like that in...” Allison tried to think back to a time when another man had touched her the way Nathan had touched her, kissed her as if he wanted nothing more than to go on kissing her, and her mind came up blank “...ever.”

“Ty—” Chelsea called out to the man working the other end of the bar. “Can you cover for me for a few minutes?”

He winked at her. “Your wish is my command.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes as she came around to the other side of the bar and slid onto the empty stool beside her friend, so they could talk without their conversation being overheard.

“Tell me about your holidays,” Allison suggested, hoping to redirect her friend’s focus.

Chelsea shook her head. “Uh-uh. This is about you, not me.”

“But your life is so much interesting.”

“Not this time.”

Allison traced the base of her wineglass with a fingertip. “It really was just one kiss, and it’s not going any further than that.”

“Why not?” her friend demanded.

“Because it was the office Christmas party.”

“It was someone you work with?”

She nodded.

“How closely?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

“Too closely.”

Chelsea sighed. “Can’t you give me at least a hint?”

She wished she could. In fact, she wished she could tell her friend everything. But Chelsea was a die-hard romantic, and the last thing Allison wanted or needed was any encouragement. Because even knowing all of the reasons that getting involved with Nathan Garrett would be a mistake, even knowing he’d been with Melanie Hedley in Colorado, she couldn’t help wishing he would kiss her again.

“No, because you’ll encourage me to do something crazy, and anything more than that one kiss would be totally crazy.”

“He really has you flustered,” Chelsea mused.

“It looks like Ty could use a hand behind the bar.”

“He’s fine.” Then her attention shifted, and her lips curved. “Although maybe I should vacate this stool for a customer—because there’s one headed in this direction who should be able to make you forget the mystery kisser and probably your own name.”

Allison turned her head to follow her friend’s gaze and sucked in a breath when her eyes locked with Nathan Garrett’s cool gray ones.

She immediately turned back to Chelsea. “Are you crazy? He’s practically my boss.”

She didn’t know if it was the words or the heat that she could feel infusing her cheeks, but somehow her response magically tied all of the loose threads together for her friend.

“It was him,” Chelsea stated. “You kissed Nathan Garrett.”

“He kissed me,” she clarified. “And it was only because of the mistletoe.”

“If he’d kissed me, I wouldn’t have let it end there.”

“You mean he hasn’t kissed you?”

Her friend’s brows lifted. “I know he has a reputation, but it isn’t all bad. In fact—” she grinned “—most of it is very good. And if he’s half as good a kisser as his brother Daniel, I can understand why your pulse is still racing.”

“My pulse isn’t still racing,” she denied.

Chelsea just smiled, rising from her stool as the soon-to-be CFO slid onto the vacant seat on Allison’s opposite side.

“What can I get for you, Nate?” Chelsea asked, returning to her position behind the bar.

“I’ll have a Pepsi.”

“Straight up or on the rocks?”

He smiled. “On the rocks.”

The bartender stepped away to pour his soda, and Nate turned to Allison. “You skipped out early today.”

She shook her head. “I only take a half-hour lunch each day so I can finish at four on Fridays.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Is that going to be a problem, Mr. Garrett?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Allison picked up her wine, set it down again. Dammit—Chelsea was right. Her pulse was racing and her knees were weak, and there was no way she could sit here beside him, sharing a drink and conversation and not think about the fact that her tongue had tangled with his.

“I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“You haven’t finished your wine,” he pointed out.

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Stay,” he said.

She lifted her brows. “I don’t take orders from you outside of the office, Mr. Garrett.”

“Sorry—your insistence on calling me ‘Mr. Garrett’ made me forget that we weren’t at the office,” he told her. “Please, will you keep me company for a little while?”

“I’m sure there are any number of other women here who will happily keep you company when I’m gone.”

“I don’t want anyone else’s company,” he told her.

“Mr. Garrett—”

“Nate.”

She sighed. “Why?”

“Because it’s my name.”

“I meant, why do you want my company?”

“Because I like you,” he said simply.

“You don’t even know me.”

His gaze skimmed down to her mouth, lingered, and she knew he was thinking about the kiss they’d shared. The kiss she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

“So give me a chance to get to know you,” he suggested.

“You’ll have that chance when you’re in the CFO’s office.”

She frowned at the plate of pita bread and spinach dip that Chelsea slid onto the bar in front of her. “I didn’t order this.”

“But you want it,” her friend said, and the wink that followed suggested she was referring to more than the appetizer.

“Actually, I want my bill. It’s getting late and...” But her friend had already turned away.

She was tempted to walk out and leave Chelsea to pick up the tab, but the small salad she’d made for her own dinner after Dylan had gone was a distant memory and she had no willpower when it came to the Bar Down’s three-cheese spinach dip.

Allison blew out a breath and picked up a grilled pita triangle. “The service here sucks.”

“I’ve always found that the company of a beautiful woman makes up for many deficiencies.”

It was, she was sure, just one of a thousand similar lines that tripped easily off of his tongue. And while she wanted to believe that she was immune to such an obvious flirtatious ploy, the heat pulsing through her veins proved otherwise.

Then he smiled—that slow, sexy smile that never failed to make her skin tingle. It had been a long time since she’d been an active participant in the games men and women played—so long, in fact, that she wasn’t sure she even knew the rules anymore.

What she did know was that Nathan Garrett was way out of her league.

Chapter Three

Nate didn’t usually have any trouble reading a woman’s signals, but while Allison’s words were denying any interest, the visible racing of her pulse beneath her ear said something completely different.

She didn’t want to want him, but she did. That wasn’t arrogance but fact, and one that was supported by the memory of the kiss they’d shared. A kiss that, for some inexplicable reason, she was pretending had never happened. He was tempted to ask her why, but he decided it wasn’t the time or the place. Because he knew if he pushed, she’d just walk away—and he didn’t want her to walk away.

So he picked up his glass and gestured to the plate in front of her. “Are you going to share that?”

She took her time chewing, as if thinking about his request. Then she shrugged and nudged the plate so that it was between them.

He’d eaten dinner with his brother, but she didn’t know that, so he selected a piece of bread and dunked it. He was usually a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, but the grilled bread in the warm cheesy spinach dip was surprisingly tasty. “This is good,” he said.

“And addictive,” Allison agreed, popping another piece into her mouth. “Which is why I rarely come here.”

“Not because of the poor service?”

Her lips curved, just a little. “That, too.”

Her smile, reluctant though it was, stirred something low in his belly.

She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, her sexiness tempered by sweet. Definitely attractive, just not his type. Or so he’d always thought. He’d had countless conversations with her, sat in numerous meetings beside her, and never felt anything more than mild interest.

Until the Christmas party.

When Allison walked into the ballroom that night, it was as if a switch had flicked inside him, causing awareness to course through his blood like a high-voltage electrical current. And he didn’t even know why. Sure, she looked different—but not drastically different.

Her hair, always tied in a knot at the back of her head at the office, was similarly styled, but the effect was softer somehow, with a few strands escaping to frame her face, emphasizing her delicate bone structure and creamy skin. Her eyes seemed bigger and darker, and her lips were glossy and pink, and deliciously tempting.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her in a dress before. Certainly he’d never seen her in a dark green off-the-shoulder style that hugged her slender torso and flared out into a flirty little skirt that skimmed a few inches above her knees. Or in three-inch heels that emphasized shapely legs and actually made his mouth water.

She sat with a group of coworkers from the finance department for the meal, and he found himself sneaking glances in her direction—trying to figure out why he was so suddenly and inexplicably captivated by a woman he’d known for four years. He saw her dancing a couple of times early in the evening. She seemed to be pretty tight with Skylar Lockwood, his cousin’s office administrator, and they looked to be enjoying themselves. The music was mostly fast and upbeat, with the occasional slow song thrown in to give the dancers a chance to catch their collective breath.

During one of those times, he watched his dad lead his mom to the dance floor. Even after more than forty years of marriage, they had eyes only for each other, and the obvious closeness and affection between them warmed something inside him. He’d never wanted what they had—and what each of his brothers had found with their respective spouses. And yet, he’d recently found himself considering that he might be ready for something more than the admittedly shallow relationships that had been the norm in his life for so long. Not that he was looking to put a ring on any woman’s finger, but maybe a toothbrush in her bathroom wouldn’t be so bad.

The vibration of his phone against his hip had him moving out of the ballroom to respond to the call. The name on the display gave him pause. Mallory was definitely not a woman with whom he would ever have something more, although there had been a time when he’d believed otherwise. Then he’d found out that his flight attendant girlfriend had also been dating a pilot she worked with, an Australian entrepreneur and a French banker during the time they were together.

More than a year after their final breakup, he had to wonder why she was reaching out to him now. And because he was curious, he answered the call. The connection wasn’t great, so he moved into the cloakroom—where it was a little bit quieter and more private—to talk to her. While her claims of missing him had soothed his bruised ego, he wasn’t at all tempted by her explicit offer to reconnect when she passed through town again.

He’d just tucked the phone back into his pocket when Allison had come in to get her coat. And in that moment, he completely forgot about Mallory and every other woman he’d ever dated. In that moment, he wanted only Allison.

And when he noticed that someone had pinned a sprig of mistletoe in the center of the arched entranceway, he couldn’t resist using it to his advantage.

“Refill?”

The question jarred him back to the present. He glanced up at Chelsea, who was pointing to his empty glass.

“Sure.”

The bartender nodded, then shifted her attention to Allison. “One more?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m going to head home.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone,” she said firmly, definitively.

“But it’s late,” Chelsea protested, looking pointedly in Nate’s direction.

“I live down the street,” Allison reminded her.

“Down a dark street.”

She shook her head. “Could I have my bill, please?”

Her friend looked at Nate again before she moved to the cash register to calculate the tab.

He knew how to take a hint—and he appreciated the opportunity the bartender had given to him. “I can give you a lift home,” he told Allison.

“I really do live just down the street—it’s not even far enough to drive.”

“Then I’ll walk with you,” he said.

“I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But it’s not necessary.”

“Chelsea thinks it is.”

“I don’t think that’s what Chelsea’s thinking,” she admitted to him.

His brows lifted at that; Allison just shook her head.

When Chelsea returned with the bill, Nate passed her his credit card. “Add my drink and put it on that.”

“I can pay my own bill,” Allison protested, but her friend had already walked away again.

“You shared your spinach dip with me,” Nate reminded her.

“I wouldn’t have eaten the whole thing by myself—or shouldn’t have, anyway.” But when he signed his name to the credit card receipt Chelsea put in front of him, she accepted that it was an argument that she wasn’t going to win. “Thank you, Mr. Garrett.”

“Nate,” he reminded her.

She slid off of her stool and picked up her coat. He rose to his feet, intending to walk her to her door.

“I’m just going to the ladies’ room,” she told him.

“Oh.” He sat down again, and watched out of the corner of his eye as she headed toward the alcove with the restrooms.

Chelsea finished serving another patron at the bar, then came back to him, shaking her head. “You’re too accustomed to women falling at your feet, aren’t you?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you just let Allison slip out the door.”

“She just went to the ladies’ room.”

“With her coat?”

He swore under his breath as he reached for his own.

Chelsea put her hand on his arm, shaking her head. “If you chase after her now, you’re not only going to look pathetic, you’re going to scare her away.”

He scowled at that.

“I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to walk her home,” she continued. “But maybe you’re not as interested as I thought.”

“Just because you once dated my brother for a few weeks doesn’t give you the right to pry into my personal life.”

“No,” she agreed. “But the fact that I’m Allison’s best friend gives me the right to pry into hers.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to her?”

“I tried,” she admitted. “But she doesn’t kiss and tell.”

However, the twinkle in her eye in conjunction with her word choice suggested that she knew more than she was letting on.

“Neither do I,” he said.

“So don’t talk,” she said. “Just listen.”

He picked up his soda and sipped.

“She doesn’t date—or hardly ever, and she definitely doesn’t sleep around. So if you’re not looking for anything more than a good time, you should look elsewhere.”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he admitted.

“Then you better figure it out. And if you decide you want Allison, be prepared for the obstacles she’ll put in your path every step of the way.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge or a warning?”

“That depends entirely on you,” Chelsea said.

Nate considered what she’d said as he walked out of the bar. She was right—he could take her words as a warning and decide to forget about the sexy executive assistant, and that was probably the smart thing to do. On the other hand, he was more intrigued by Allison Caldwell than he’d been by any other woman in a very long time—and he never turned away from a challenge.

* * *

“Come on, Dylan. Your breakfast is on the table.”

It was the third time she’d called to him, and finally he wandered out of his bedroom, still in his pajamas, his hair sticking up in various directions. She looked at her sleepy-eyed son and felt the familiar rush of affection.

She hadn’t thought too much about getting married or having a baby before she found herself pregnant at twenty-one, but she’d never believed her son was anything but a gift. He wasn’t always an easy child—there were times when he challenged and frustrated and infuriated her, but she loved him with every ounce of her being.

As he passed her on the way to the table, she gave him a quick hug and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’,” was his sleepy reply. He settled into his usual chair at the table and scowled at the box of cereal on the table. “Can’t I have waffles?”

“Not this morning,” she told him.

His scowl deepened as he poured the Fruity O’s into his bowl, then added milk. “Can I have pizza in my lunch?”

“We don’t have any pizza.” She cut the sandwich she’d made in half diagonally and put it in a snap-lock container.

He responded with something that sounded like, “Idon’wannasan’ich,” but the words were garbled through a mouthful of cereal.

“It’s ham and cheese,” she told him. “Your favorite.”

“M’favrit’spza.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed. “My favorite’s pizza.”

“We don’t have any pizza,” she said again, adding grapes and cookies to his lunch box.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?”

“You’re going to be at your dad’s for dinner,” she reminded him.

He shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’sThursdy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Joslynsgot—”

“Chew and swallow, please.”

He did so. “Jocelyn’s got piano and Jillian’s got dance.”

“Lucky for them.”

“Not for me,” he grumbled. “’Cause I get dragged everywhere with them.”

She wasn’t without sympathy. She could only imagine how painful it was for an almost-nine-year-old boy to sit around while his younger sisters were involved in their own activities.

“Take your 3DS,” she suggested, expecting him to jump at the offer.

“We’re not s’posed to have ’lectronics at school,” he told her.

She held back a sigh as she zipped up his lunch box and slid it into the front pocket of his backpack, double-checking to ensure that his rescue inhaler was where it was supposed to be. “Keep it in your locker.”

He shoved more Fruity O’s into his mouth, but he chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Where’s St. Louis, anyway?”

She opened the atlas she kept on hand to assist with his geography homework and pointed out Missouri. “Right there.”

He studied the map. “It’s a lot farther than Washington.”

She knew he meant Washington, DC, which they’d visited the previous summer. “Yes, it is,” she confirmed.

“Why do you hafta go there?”

“It’s a business trip,” she said, trying not to sound impatient as she glanced—again—at the clock.

“When are you gonna be home?”

“Tonight,” she said. “And I’ll pick you up straight from the airport.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He pushed back his chair and started to carry his empty bowl and juice cup to the dishwasher. She was trying to teach him to pick up after himself—an uphill battle, to be sure—but she decided that today wasn’t a day for lessons. Not if she wanted to get Dylan to school and herself to the airport on time.

“I’ll do that.” She took the dishes from him. “You go brush your teeth and get dressed.”

Thankfully, he didn’t drag his heels too much while doing so, and they were only three minutes behind schedule when they walked out the door. If the traffic lights cooperated, she might be able to make up that time on the way. But before Dylan climbed into the backseat of her car, she took the time to give him a hug and a kiss, because she knew he wouldn’t accept any outward displays of affection when she dropped him off in front of the school.

He didn’t say too much on the drive, and she knew that his mind was already shifting its focus to the day ahead. She was pleased that he did well in school, and frustrated by the realization that his success hadn’t led to enjoyment. She thought he might like it more—or at least hate it less—if he made some friends, but he didn’t choose to interact with many of the other students, except if the teacher forced them to work in groups, and even then, he didn’t say much as he quietly did the work that was assigned.

She pulled up in front of the school as the bell rang and watched as he walked up the front steps to the main doors. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d refused to let go of her hand on his first day in kindergarten. The years had gone so fast, and so much had changed since then. Now he was in third grade, and she was lucky if he bothered to wave goodbye when she dropped him off.

He did today, lifting his hand as he glanced over his shoulder before he pulled open the door and disappeared inside, and the casual gesture tugged at her heart.

Then she pulled away from the school and turned toward the airport.

* * *

The acting CFO was already at the gate when Allison arrived.

Nate offered her a smile and a large coffee. “Cream only.”

She didn’t ask how he knew, she just accepted it gratefully. “Thanks.”

As she sipped her coffee, she tried to focus on what she’d told her son—that this was a business trip, not unlike so many other business trips she’d made with John Garrett in the past. Except that this time she was traveling with her boss’s nephew, and the memory of that one stolen kiss was still far too vivid in her mind.

When they boarded the plane, she was grateful that flying business class meant they wouldn’t be sitting as close together as they would if they were in coach. Although Nathan didn’t have the same girth across his belly as his uncle, he was a couple inches taller, his shoulders were broader and his legs were longer.

He paused at the aisle to let her precede him.

“You don’t want the window seat?”

“No, I like the aisle.”

“Oh. Okay.” She slipped past him and into her seat.

He settled beside her and buckled his belt.

His choice of aisle over window wasn’t a big deal, except that she couldn’t help feeling as if she was trapped between the wall and Nate’s body. Nate’s long, lean and delicious-smelling body.

She tried to ignore his proximity, but every time she drew in a breath, she inhaled his scent and felt a little quiver low in her belly.

Seriously, the man was dangerous to her peace of mind.

While everyone else was boarding, she kept her attention focused on her tablet, checking her calendar for the dates and times of meetings in the next couple of weeks. Nate, she noted, was reading a newspaper, but he tucked it away when the flight attendant began to review the safety procedures of the aircraft.

Most of the passengers in business class were frequent fliers who probably knew the spiel as well as the staff, and she didn’t doubt that he was one of them, but he gave the flight attendant his attention anyway. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the safety procedures and everything to do with her big...smile.

When the presentation was finished, he turned to Allison. “Are we being picked up at the airport?”

She shook her head. “John always preferred to have a rental car rather than be at the mercy of someone else’s schedule. I didn’t think to ask what arrangements you wanted made.”

“I would have told you to make the usual arrangements,” he said, and smiled.

And damn if that smile didn’t make her toes want to curl.

In an effort to refocus her thoughts, she said, “Did you want to review any of your uncle’s notes before the meeting?”

“I did that last night.”

“Do you have any questions?”

He shifted in his seat, so that he was facing her more fully. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you pretending that nothing happened at the Christmas party?”

She felt color climb up her neck and into her cheeks. So much for her determination to stay focused on business. “I meant—do you have any questions about the meeting?”

“No,” he said. “But I want to know why you’re pretending the kiss we shared never happened.”

Since he obviously wasn’t going to let her ignore his question, she decided to answer it succinctly and dismissively. “Not making a big deal out of it isn’t the same as pretending it never happened.”

“So you do remember it?”

She scrolled through the notes on her tablet. “I remember that it was late, there was mistletoe, we both had a little too much to drink and got caught up in the spirit of the holiday.”

“Do you want to know how I remember it?”

“I’m actually a little surprised that you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I would have thought your sojourn with Melanie would have eradicated one meaningless little kiss from your mind,” she said.

“Let’s put aside the inaccuracy of your description until after you explain who the hell Melanie is.”

“Melanie Hedley,” she said.

“The name sounds vaguely familiar,” he admitted.

“Perky blonde, works in marketing.”

His confusion finally cleared. “You mean Lanie?”

“Yeah, I guess I have heard some people call her Lanie.”

“And the sojourn?” he prompted.

“Your ski trip.”

He shook his head definitively. “I didn’t go with Lanie.”

“And yet she couldn’t stop talking about the wonderful lunch you had at a fabulous little café by your hotel.”

“We did have lunch together one day,” he admitted. “I ran into her in the lobby of the hotel when I was heading out to grab a bite and invited her to join me. It wasn’t anything more than that.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she told him.

“Apparently I do,” he said. Because he could tell by the tone of her voice that she’d arrived at her own—and obviously erroneous—conclusions. “Do you really think I was sleeping with another woman the night after I kissed you?”

“I really didn’t give it much thought at all,” she said, shifting her gaze to the clouds outside the window.

If he hadn’t already suspected that she was lying, her refusal to even look at him would have triggered his suspicion. “Yes, I went away with some friends. And yes, I received a couple of offers to hook up while I was there.

“But I didn’t consider any of them for more than two seconds—” he shifted so that his shoulder brushed against hers, and lowered his mouth closer to her ear “—because since that kiss we shared under the mistletoe, I haven’t been able to go much longer than that without thinking about you.

“And when I think about that kiss, I remember how good your body felt against mine, and how surprised—and incredibly turned on—I was by the passion of your response.”

“You’re right,” she said shortly. “Our memories are different. But considering that we’re going to be working closely together, I think it would be best if we both just forgot about that kiss.”

“I already know that I can’t,” he told her.

“Maybe you just need to try a little harder.”

“Are you saying that you have forgotten?”

“I’m saying that I’m not going to let anything interfere with our working relationship.”

“I know how to separate business from pleasure,” he assured her.

“Let’s keep the focus on business,” she suggested.

“That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”

“I like my job and I want to keep my job,” she told him. “Which means I’m definitely not going to sleep with my boss.”

His lips curved. “I’m not your boss yet.”

She lifted a brow. “Your point?”

“We could use the next few weeks to get this...attraction...out of our systems, so that it won’t be an impediment to our working together.”

“Thank you for that uniquely intriguing offer,” she said primly, “but no.”

* * *

Despite his blatant flirtation on the plane, when they got to the St. Louis store and started to review the books, Nathan proved that he did know how to separate business from pleasure.

Allison was impressed by his knowledge of the company’s history and employees and the diligence of his work. She hadn’t assumed he was moving into the CFO’s office because his name was Garrett, but she had suspected the familial connection had paved the way. Watching him work, she realized that had been her error. Nate was going to be the new CFO because he was the most qualified person for the job.

Still, it took several hours before the discrepancy was found. Working together to match invoices to payment receipts, it became apparent to both Nate and Allison that some numbers had been transposed when the deposit was made. Instead of $53,642 being deposited, the amount was noted as $35,264—a deficit of $18,378. But what seemed like a simple accounting error was further complicated by the facts that the payment had been made in cash (apparently office furniture for an upstart law firm that didn’t yet have a checking account) and no one seemed to know where the $18,378 had gone—or they weren’t admitting it if they did.

To a company that did hundreds of millions of dollars in business annually, the amount was hardly significant. But the misplacement of any funds, whether careless or deliberate, was unacceptable from an accounting perspective. The head of the store’s finance department agreed and promised to locate the missing money before the end of the week.

“I’m surprised you’re going to leave it for Bob to deal with,” Allison said when they’d left the man’s office.

“They’re his people,” Nate said. “And I have no doubt he already knows who is responsible for making that eighteen thousand dollars disappear.”

“So you don’t think it was a mistake?”

“I would have believed the transposing of the digits was a mistake if the correct amount had actually been deposited—the fact that it wasn’t proves otherwise.”

“You don’t want to know who did it?”

“I will know,” he said confidently. “But I don’t need to know today.”

“In that case—” she glanced at her watch as they made their way toward the exit “—we should be able to get to the airport in time to catch an earlier flight back to Raleigh.”

“That would be good.” He stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the message he read. “But I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently a storm has moved into this area. I just got a notification from the airline that our flight has been delayed.”

She pulled out her phone and found that she’d received the same message. “There has to be a mistake—the forecast was clear.”

“Then the forecast was wrong.”

She halted beside him at the glass doors and blinked, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Or rather not seeing, since the blowing snow made it impossible to see anything past it.

Nate was focused on his phone, checking for updates from the airline. “All flights are canceled for the next twelve hours.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” She couldn’t help but think of the promise she’d made to Dylan that morning.

“Find a hotel,” he said easily. “Hopefully one that isn’t too far away from where we are right now.”

“A hotel?” she echoed.

“Unless you want to bunk down here?”

“Of course not.” What she wanted was to be back in Charisma, in her own apartment with her son—not stranded in St. Louis, and especially not with a man who made her feel nothing but heat despite the obviously frigid temperatures outside.

“There’s a Courtland not too far from here,” he said. “Let me just give them a call and see if we can get a room.”

“Two rooms.”

But the room situation wasn’t really her biggest concern—nor was the fact that she hadn’t packed an overnight bag. She was more worried about the fact that she hadn’t packed anything for Dylan. Of course, her ex-husband knew that Mrs. Hanson, the widow who lived across the hall from Allison and Dylan, had a spare key and could let him in to get whatever he needed. She just wasn’t sure that Jeff would know what their son needed.

Did he know that Dylan had specific pajamas that he liked to wear when he stayed at his dad’s house? Would he remember to pack Bear, the little boy’s ancient and much-loved teddy bear? Would he make sure that Dylan did his homework? Would he remember to pack his lunch for the next day? She worried about all of those details while Nathan made a phone call to secure their hotel rooms.

Less than five minutes later, they battled the blowing snow and howling wind toward their rental car in the parking lot. Despite the wild weather, Nate went around to the passenger side to open the door for her, an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture that reminded her there was more to the man than his reputation implied.

She slid into her seat and buckled up, aware that the roads were going to be icy and slick—and still not nearly as dangerous as spending the night in a hotel with Nathan Garrett.

Chapter Four

It took nearly twenty-five minutes to travel the six miles between the store and the hotel.

And for every single one of those minutes, Allison was grateful that Nate was behind the wheel. She considered herself a good driver, but she had little experience driving on snow-covered roads and absolutely no experience navigating unfamiliar streets in whiteout conditions.

As Nathan eased to a stop at a red light, he glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You’re clutching your bag so tight your knuckles are white and you haven’t said a word since we pulled out of the parking lot.”

“I wanted you to be able to focus on the roads.”

“I’ve driven in worse,” he assured her.

“Really?”

“I went to New York University,” he said.

“You have to be crazy to drive in New York City on a good day.”

“A little bit,” he agreed, easing into the intersection when the light turned green.

“There’s the hotel,” Allison said, recognizing the distinctly scripted C that was the Courtland trademark.

He pulled into the underground parking garage and found a vacant spot. “At least we won’t have to brush snow off in the morning.”

“I’m hoping it will all be melted by the morning.”

“That’s definitely wishful thinking,” he told her. “But as long as the storm has passed, we’ll get home tomorrow.”

She nodded and followed him to the elevator.

“Ever checked into a hotel without a suitcase before?” he asked her.

“No,” she said, just a little primly.

He waggled his eyebrows. “Does it make you feel like you’re on your way to an illicit rendezvous?”

“No,” she said again, because that was something she definitely did not want to be thinking about. “I don’t do things like that.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

He flashed that tingle-inducing smile. “Too bad.”

When the elevator opened up on the main level of the hotel, he went directly to the check-in desk and spoke to the woman behind the counter. The name on her tag was Sheila, and she smiled warmly at Nate.

Part of the customer service or proof of the effect that he had on all females? And why should she care? He could flirt with the desk clerk and every other female in a ten-block radius, if he wanted—and he probably did. She just wanted to get to her room to make a phone call.

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