This superrich tech tycoon will do anything to keep the love of his life and her family safe this Christmas.

When the woman who left him comes back desperate for help, sexy billionaire Rush Grayson is thrilled. He still wants and needs Lucy Gaines, but Lucy only needs his professional help—to rescue her abducted sister and nephew. The strong-willed independent woman thinks she’s over Rush. She’d never be foolish enough to fall for a man incapable of love.

But as Rush and Lucy begin a harrowing race against time to free her family, the fire between them blazes. Now they must use Rush’s brilliant invention to outwit the ruthless kidnapper, or neither will live to see a Christmas family reunion…

Colby Agency: Family Secrets

“Let me go, Rush. Let me go back to France and save Gwen and Jackson.”

He crossed the office to sit beside her once more. “I have friends all over the world, Lucy. We can track down where he’s holding your sister and the baby. Let me make some calls.”

“No! You can’t alert anyone or he’ll kill them. He gave me a week and it’s going by too fast. The man following me might already suspect I caved and told you. It has to be his way.”

“We’ll find a better option,” he promised.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision again. “I’m not taking you down with me. Destroy the ghost files,” she pleaded. “Wipe out all records of Garmeaux. Forget I was here.”

“I can’t do that.” His voice turned hard again. “I won’t do that.”

She opened her mouth to say more and he smothered the words with a kiss. What might have originated as a kiss of comfort ignited like a match struck, blazing across her senses.

Investigating Christmas

Debra Webb and Regan Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until after she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. Since then the USA TODAY bestselling author has penned more than one hundred novels, including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series.

REGAN BLACK, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.

MILLS & BOON

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Lucille Gaines—Lucy has recently moved to France for a new job as a personal assistant to a wealthy recluse. After a difficult year, she’s bringing her sister and nephew along to give them all the fresh start they need.

Rush Grayson—Rush pulled himself out of a bleak childhood and a stint in juvenile detention for hacking into secure sites to create and position his company, Gray Box, at the top of the information-security industry.

Dieter Kathrein—The elderly billionaire lives a reclusive life in France. With Lucy as his new assistant living and working on one of his estates, he hopes to maintain his privacy amid a formidable electronic age.

Mathieu Garmeaux—A reporter based in Paris who has turned up what could be the story of his career.

Sam Bellemere—Rush’s business and development partner, he serves as head of security for Gray Box, keeping an eye out for any attempts to break their system.

For Debra, the best mentor, writing partner

and friend in the world! It’s a joy to be

on this marvelous adventure with you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Cast of Characters

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

France, North of Paris

Tuesday, December 15, 5:40 p.m.

Lucy Gaines swapped her heels for flats for the short walk home from her new job. Her employer’s butler watched patiently, opening the door when her heels were tucked into her tote.

“Have a lovely evening, Miss Gaines,” he said in precise, formal French.

“Merci,” she replied, crossing the threshold. Outside, she paused on the top step and breathed in the crisp evening air as the butler closed the magnificent oak door with a near-silent whoosh. Every day she marveled that she worked here, lived here.

December in France. It seemed her new reality might never sink in completely. Just over a month ago she’d been staring down the dark emotional tunnel of a melancholy holiday season in Chicago. Her life had once more taken a U-turn and this time she couldn’t be happier. Practically skipping down the steps, she tugged at the collar of her wool coat, keeping the dropping temperature at bay although the brisk winter air here was balmy compared to the bite of the Windy City this time of year.

She lived and worked in a dream world. Chantilly and Paris were only a short drive away from this sleepy, rural neighborhood that barely qualified as a town. Commune, she corrected herself with the French term. Growing up, she and her sister, Gwen, had dreamed of trekking through Europe after college, immersing themselves in history, culture and new discoveries with each day. They’d made it, though the timing and circuitous route of ups and downs had been grueling for both of them.

Technically, Lucy’s MBA from Stanford University made her overqualified for a position as a personal assistant. But Dieter Kathrein was no ordinary entrepreneur. A French billionaire known for his business acumen and reluctance to socialize, he’d promised her an experience and connections that would make even the interview worth her time.

Odd how she’d thought he was overselling it then, only to discover he’d left several perks off the original attractive list. Being able to walk to and from work was merely the start. Mr. Kathrein had shown an unexpected degree of generosity when he added a car and driver along with a rent-free cottage to her benefits package. With those worrisome personal details handled, the scales had tipped in favor of her accepting the position.

Obviously pleased to have her on board, his sharp gaze had turned misty under his bushy white eyebrows as he shared his family’s rich history in this pocket of France. Lucy had been sucked in immediately, thoroughly captivated by the sad and brave story of Dieter’s parents, killed while assisting the French Resistance against the Nazis. The sole survivor, barely out of his teens, he’d pledged his life to preserving the family legacy and ensuring the security of future Kathrein generations.

He’s certainly done that, Lucy thought, soaking up the views and serene environment. Day in and day out, everything she could see belonged to the Kathrein estate. He and his wife must have been delighted to raise their two daughters in such an idyllic area—the perfect balance between the past and present, vibrant cities and quiet countrysides, staggering history and a lovely, hope-filled future.

She marveled that the man whose extreme preference for privacy and solitude had so graciously shared a corner of this sublime region with her and her remaining family. At the time he’d said, in his cultured French accent, “Family is the only reason to do anything in this world.” She couldn’t agree with him more.

Following her interview, once she’d signed the contracts, Dieter had entrusted her to the estate manager, who’d given her a full tour, culminating with a walk-through of the cottage. Considering the regal elegance of Dieter’s sprawling residence she shouldn’t have been so stunned by his definition of cottage. The four-bedroom manor house had two parlors, a dining room, a renovated kitchen and a sunroom downstairs—all fully furnished. The modern updates throughout the house had been expertly crafted to blend seamlessly with the original, old-world charm. She’d fallen in love with the space immediately, knowing this would be the fresh start she needed.

When she rounded the bend of the lane, the front door of the house came into view and Lucy’s shoulders relaxed as the last of the day’s challenges fell away. At ninety-six, and firmly set in his ways, her elderly boss could be more than a little difficult at times. Those speed bumps would smooth out in the weeks ahead. This wasn’t her first experience with an eccentric boss who expected people and details to fall into place. For her part, she knew it was simply a matter of acclimating to his personality, communication style and priorities. The holiday season, with the influx of family and happy traditions, would help them both bridge that gap.

For now, work was behind her and she’d be home momentarily. Home in France! The lovely thought brought a smile to her lips. In a minute or two, she’d be able to see the progress Gwen had made with the Christmas tree today and then she’d tickle a smile out of her nephew, Jackson. Only eight months old and already the little guy was an incurable flirt. On a second wind infused with happiness, she picked up the pace and hurried along the lane.

This wasn’t how she’d pictured her life would be at twenty-six, but she thought the three of them were settling into a pleasant and hopeful routine as a family. Despite the headache of the overseas move—no one hated flying more than Lucy—Gwen seemed to smile more often, the grief fading from her eyes with each new day. Lucy celebrated every small, positive change in Gwen after the heartbreaking and unexpected loss of her husband only two months after Jackson’s arrival in the world.

Having her sister and nephew around gave Lucy a much-needed anchor as she learned her new job and let go of her own heartbreak. Her loss had been mild in light of Gwen’s tragedy, but moving from California to France, embracing a new career and direction in life, had helped them both.

“I’m home,” Lucy called out as she walked through the front door. She set down her briefcase and purse to shrug out of her coat, hanging it on the antique hall tree. The house was quiet and she didn’t hear any of the typical noises or catch any savory aromas from the kitchen. Maybe Gwen and Jackson were playing in the garden out back.

Lucy dropped off her purse and briefcase in the smaller parlor room at the front of the house they’d repurposed as her home office.

Kathrein had requested she keep flexible hours regardless of where she chose to live, since he had an unpredictable sleep pattern. Lucy had yet to seek out a social life, so it didn’t bother her to be available whenever her boss woke with a concern or fresh idea.

“Where’s my favorite little man?” Lucy singsonged as she walked down the dim hallway. Her shoe caught in something and she bent for a closer look. One of Jackson’s cotton blankets, she noticed, picking it up. How strange. Gwen, older by four years, had always been a bit compulsive about keeping things neat and tidy.

Lucy slid back the pocket door and stepped into the larger parlor they used as a family room. Her mind went blank. She couldn’t make any sense of what she was seeing.

It looked as if a tornado had ripped right through the room, overturning furniture and twisting everything in its path. The fresh Christmas tree Dieter had had delivered to the house just days before was toppled over. The pine scent rising from broken branches and crushed green needles weighted the air in the room, making her queasy. The antique glass ornaments they’d inherited from their grandmother were scattered and crushed, strewn along the floor like sparkling, hazardous confetti.

No. No. The word echoed through Lucy’s mind. This disaster didn’t make any sense. Gwen would never make this kind of mess or leave it for someone else to find. Where are they? Lucy’s heart stalled out in her chest.

“Gwen.” What she’d intended as a shout came out as a rasp. She cleared the terror from her throat and tried again. “Gwen!” She raced to the kitchen. The destruction wasn’t as bad here, though the chairs were out of place and Jackson’s stroller was missing.

Maybe they’d missed the terror. Gwen often took Jackson out for a walk before dinner. Lucy clung to that hope right up until she noticed the cracked wood frame around the back door latch. Fumbling with her phone, she dialed Gwen’s cell phone number. No answer. She ended the call before the voice mail greeting finished. Tears threatened to spill over as Lucy raced upstairs, hoping the baby would be in his crib, safe and oblivious to the destruction downstairs. Jackson wasn’t there.

Her legs weak and shaking, she returned to the kitchen and leaned against the countertop, struggling to breathe. The signs were all too clear. Something awful had happened to her sister and nephew. She couldn’t make her heart accept it. Picking her way through the house again, she searched for a note, missing valuables, anything to put this chaos into context.

She stood there, helpless and scolding herself. Calling 911 wouldn’t help, and she didn’t know the local equivalent to reach the police.

Who could possibly gain from targeting a widow and infant? Lucy didn’t have enemies and very few friends were aware of her overseas move. She and Gwen had decided to save the announcement for the annual Christmas letter, a cheerful high point to counter the sadness of the past year. She dialed Gwen’s number again and left a pitiful voice message this time, pleading for a reply.

Devastated, Lucy fell to her knees, the baby blanket she’d found in the hallway clutched to her chest. Her sobs tangled with fear and desperation. Who would do this? Crime in this area was practically nonexistent. Everyone they’d met in this quiet, isolated part of France had been friendly.

Too isolated to be random, a small voice in her head declared. Dieter Kathrein might be a recluse, but he was also a legend. The estate was well-known and he had enough staff to make it obvious when he was in residence. At his age, with his massive business success, he’d racked up a few enemies along the way. The attack could be retaliatory and Gwen and Jackson were taken by mistake.

Her boss could help. He would know who to call and he had nearly limitless resources. He’d help her navigate the system, help her through the next steps. His money and influence would make recovering Gwen and Jackson a priority for the authorities. On a surge of hope, Lucy went into her office, where she wouldn’t have to look at the wreckage while she spoke with him.

She jumped a little when her cell phone rang in her hand. Gwen’s number showed on the screen and Lucy’s body sagged with relief. “Gwen! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Lucy, we aren’t hurt but you need to listen very carefully.”

Gwen’s voice, normally calm and strong, trembled with fear. The sound dragged Lucy back to that terrible day when her sister had called to say her husband had died. Gwen’s sorrowful tears and inconsolable shock on that day still haunted Lucy. “Where are you?” she asked again.

“In—” Her sister’s reply ended on a startled gasp.

“Lucille.” Dieter Kathrein’s curt tone confused and startled her all over again. “This call shall suffice as proof of life.”

“Mr. Kathrein?” She’d left his offices less than an hour ago. Had the kidnappers grabbed Gwen and the baby and then attacked his house, as well? Whoever planned this knew how to cull the weak, seizing the elderly, a young mother and a helpless baby. “Are you injured?”

“I am well.” He didn’t sound the least bit rattled by the circumstances. In fact, this was the tone he used in his business conversations. “We are negotiating new terms.”

“Pardon me, sir?”

His English was flawless, though gently rounded by a French accent when he was stressed or tired. Then the accent grew heavier and something else seeped in, drenching the words with a harsh elegance that was tougher to understand.

“Negotiating.” He enunciated each syllable and added something at the end that sounded closer to German, which only confounded Lucy. “Your sister and her son are with me. They are safe. They will remain safe as long as you do as I say, young lady.”

“You have Gwen and Jackson?” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to wrap her mind around it but couldn’t. Behind her closed eyelids she saw the mangled parlor, the broken bits of the few treasures they’d brought to France. “Why?” How, when and where all needed answering, as well, but she limited herself to one question at a time.

“They are leverage to ensure your cooperation,” he stated, as if it should have been obvious. “You love your family, correct?”

“More than anything,” she whispered. He knew how much those two people meant to her. Gwen and Jackson were all she had left. She and Gwen had lost their parents in a plane crash during Lucy’s second year of undergrad. Gwen had been the steady, reassuring voice of reason when grief would have derailed Lucy’s goals. She swore. “How could you do this?”

“As I thought. Look in your desk drawer. The top one. There is an envelope.”

Thoroughly devastated, she did as he directed, withdrawing a plain white envelope. Only the weight of the paper gave away the means and quality of the man behind this treacherous attack.

“Did you find it?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she replied, lowering her voice. Countering belligerence with a calm and composed response was a trick she’d learned in her MBA program. In her early days with Kathrein it had been surprisingly effective at defusing him when he grew agitated over something.

“Everything you need is in the envelope. A man seeking to ruin my grandson’s political plans went digging through my background. My past is irrelevant! Nosy reporters,” Kathrein ranted. “It is no more than slanted, ancient history and vicious rumors. My Daniel is a good boy. He will not pay for the mistakes of my youth. Family is everything, yes?”

“Yes,” she agreed. Apparently one member of his family—his only grandson and heir—was worth her entire remaining family combined. The envelope crinkled as her hands fisted, wishing she could wring his leathery, wrinkled neck. Her pulse hammered behind her temples. She had to think, to find a way around this. What kind of threat, what ancient secrets from his past had pushed the wealthy recluse to these drastic measures?

“The man stored electronic copies of these damaging rumors in a Gray Box,” Kathrein said.

Gray Box. Memories that Lucy would rather have continued to forget emerged, vying for precedence in her troubled thoughts.

“As outlined in your instructions,” he went on, “you will retrieve every document and then destroy everything in the cloud, removing all traces of the electronic records.”

Break into a secure Gray Box? Kathrein had no idea what he was asking. Rush Grayson, the brilliant creator of that particular secure cloud storage service, had contracts with the United States military and intelligence agencies. His proprietary Gray Box encryption was that reliable and impossible to hack. To date, there had never been a successful breach. “What you’re asking is impossible, Mr. Kathrein.”

“You’d best hope not, Lucille. Since the man I contracted was not successful with the password and such, I presume it will require a more feminine ingenuity,” he suggested.

Her mind caught on his words and suddenly his determination to bring her to France, to give her anything and everything she needed to make the transition became clear. She was as much a pawn as her sister and nephew, caught in a life and death game of speed chess. Dieter Kathrein didn’t need a personal assistant as much as he’d anticipated a need for her to pry open software. He’d selected Lucy based on her past.

Oh, dear God.

“If you contact the police or anyone else I will terminate your family,” he said. “If you fail I will terminate your family.”

Renewed fear tightened her chest. “Mr.—”

“You have one week.”

Her heart stumbled. Seven days to break into a Gray Box? He might give her a year and she wouldn’t be able to deliver. No matter what she’d learned during her time with the company founder, she didn’t have any confidence she could accomplish the task in the next decade. “Sir, I’m begging you to reconsider.”

“Begging does not an ounce of good. Results matter to me. You know this. Retrieve the information or you will never see your family alive again.”

If someone on Kathrein’s extensive staff had already tried and failed to crack the secure storage site, she couldn’t possibly hope to succeed long distance. The inevitable scenarios played like a house of horrors tour in her mind. “Wait! Please, I need more than a week.” Lucy floundered for a believable excuse. “I’ll have to return to the States.” For the first time in years, the plane trip would be the least of her challenges.

“One week, Lucille. Not a single hour more.”

“Don’t hurt them,” she pleaded. Silence was the reply. He’d ended the call. She reflexively redialed Gwen’s number. No answer. Tears rolled down her cheeks. How could he threaten Jackson? Just last week, he’d stooped over the stroller and smiled warmly at the baby during one of Gwen’s walks around the estate. Kathrein must have lost his mind. Clearly a crazy man held the lives of her sister and nephew in his arthritic hand. Damn it. No matter what her insane boss believed, cracking a Gray Box was not possible.

She upended the envelope and poked through the contents. Along with a substantial amount of cash, presumably to assist with her travel expenses, Kathrein had provided detailed background on investigative journalist Mathieu Garmeaux. How had this one man gathered secrets damaging enough to push Kathrein to such an extreme and irrational response?

Kathrein probably assumed Lucy could magically derive the man’s username and password from the background. Not likely. She dashed away her tears with the back of her hand, forcing herself to concentrate on solutions rather than the cold dread sinking into her bones. If Garmeaux would be reasonable, if she could convince him to help her, maybe she could avoid a pointless attack on a secure Gray Box and she could get her family back by morning.

Nothing lost by asking, she decided. She booted up her laptop and did a preliminary search for the man based on the background provided. First she’d send an email and follow that with a phone call. Or not. Her stomach sank at the first search result.

Mathieu Garmeaux, based in Paris, had died two weeks ago, the victim of a traffic accident just a few blocks from his apartment.

Dear God. Lucy dropped her head into her hands and flexed her fingertips hard into her scalp, tugging on her hair as the dates lined up in her mind. She’d been with Mr. Kathrein in Paris at the time. In light of the kidnapping it seemed far more likely that the journalist’s motorcycle had lost the fight with a panel truck on purpose. If Kathrein had had Garmeaux killed, what wouldn’t he do to gain control of the documents?

A shudder racked her shoulders as she brought up an airline website and booked the next available flight to San Francisco. Gwen and Jackson were counting on her and, like Mr. Kathrein, she would do anything to save her family. Oh, she hated having even that much in common with the wretched old man. Air travel and returning to Rush Grayson’s territory were small costs compared to the priceless value of the people who mattered most to her.

Her ticket booked, she tried not to think of anything but the next step and failed miserably. Knowing she’d be facing the man who’d broken her heart last year had her agonizing over every item of clothing as she packed. Circumstances aside, deceiving Rush went against her nature. Though he’d hurt her, she’d never wanted to hurt him. Saving Gwen and Jackson meant damaging the Gray Box reputation, and that left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Can’t be helped,” she said aloud. Zipping her luggage closed, she called for the car and driver to take her to the airport. As the estate faded into the distance behind the car, Lucy’s thoughts bounced from past to present and leapfrogged into the near and distant future.

Starting with a business introduction and a surprising mutual respect, she and Rush had developed a friendship that had become so much more. Chills raced along her skin at the memories she couldn’t suppress. She’d been foolish enough to fall in love and he’d been smart enough to adhere to his personal boundaries.

Despite the knowledge that their business interests and efforts had served them both well, she didn’t entertain any illusion that he’d be particularly happy to see her on a personal level. What Kathrein required of her would push the mutual professional respect across a bed of hot coals.

If by some miracle she succeeded in her task, her foolish heart’s persistent, feathery hope to someday reconcile with Rush would be blown out of reach forever.

Chapter Two

San Francisco, California

Wednesday, December 16, 11:45 a.m.

Rush Grayson returned to his new company headquarters in the Financial District absolutely frustrated. He’d walked out on the morning meeting after more than an hour of zero progress. Time was precious and he refused to waste it. If the prospective client didn’t experience an attitude adjustment soon, they could find a different security solution for their data. It wouldn’t be as effective as the system he’d designed, but that wasn’t his problem.

He’d learned the hard way to walk away and let go. His desire to help others didn’t mean they wanted his help. He had to remember Gray Box was no longer at the point where one contract would make or break the company.

He took the express elevator up to the executive office suite and the stress fell away when the doors parted and he entered his domain. His journey to the top hadn’t always been pretty, but he’d made sure the gorgeous view he enjoyed now rewarded him every day.

“Good morning, Melva.” He paused at the receptionist’s desk to pick up his messages. With a little more life experience than Rush or any of the other executives on the floor, the woman had been a godsend, keeping them all grounded with the discreet, calm professionalism he wanted to project to clients and competitors alike.

“How was the meeting?” she asked, peering at him over her bold, red cheaters.

“I lost patience and walked out.” He shrugged. “How has the day been treating you?”

“Glorious, thank you.” She flicked a hand at the stunning, panoramic views of San Francisco beyond the glass walls surrounding the space. “Your messages.” She slid a stack of small paper squares across the marble counter.

Rush grinned. Although everything within Gray Box systems was completely electronic now, she insisted on backing up phone message emails with her old-school habit. He loved it.

“You have a visitor waiting in your office.” Melva’s practiced smile turned warm, almost affectionate.

The expression stopped Rush short. Melva had used that particular soft smile with only one person and that person was now rusticating in France, working for a musty old man with almost as much money as Rush. He turned slowly toward his office suite, which occupied one full corner of the floor, noticing the brunette seated in the waiting area near his assistant’s desk.

“Where is Trisha?”

Melva’s lips flatlined with disapproval at the mention of his assistant’s name. She’d never warmed to his current girlfriend. It didn’t help that since he and Trisha had been involved personally, he had yet to find a more suitable place for her within the company. “It appears she is away from her desk,” Melva stated.

His gaze swept over the other glass-walled offices and conference rooms. “I can see that.” Just as he could see the long, glossy sweep of his unexpected guest’s hair falling straight and sleek well past her shoulders. His pulse kicked, though he knew it couldn’t be the woman he most wanted to see. Despite Melva’s warmth, he knew that very special brunette was in France. Still, his body moved automatically, propelling him closer as if hope alone would change the stark reality.

He wanted to stride on into his office like a consummate professional, giving his assistant room to do her job and make introductions, but Trisha wasn’t anywhere on the floor. He could go back downstairs and catch the private elevator that opened into the hallway behind his posh office. That would create an entrance worthy of the primary developer and top dog at Gray Box.

Or he could stop being ridiculous and get on with his day. Hadn’t he been lamenting time wasters a few minutes ago? Irritated with himself, he strode forward to meet his guest.

The familiar vanilla-laced scent stopped him as effectively as a brick wall. His heart slammed against his ribs when she looked up and he saw those big brown eyes full of nerves.

“Lucy?” He had to be hallucinating. She’d left him a year ago, effectively disappearing overnight. One day here—and his—and the next, he been left holding a note that she’d moved to Chicago with no plans to return. He folded his arms over his chest, not giving a damn about defensive posture. She didn’t look capable of rendering destruction, but he knew better. “This is...” The multiple ways to finish that sentence became a logjam in his head.

“A surprise, I’m sure,” she finished for him, coming to her feet.

He had to back up a step to stay out of her personal space and to keep his hands to himself.

“My apologies for dropping in unannounced, Rush.” Her smile flashed and disappeared from one second to the next. “I just got back in town. Can you spare a few minutes?”

Hearing her say his name brought back images and memories best left until later. “For you, always.” He caught the subtle twist of her lips and winced. His time and attention had been the one sore spot during their relationship. They were both busy professionals and he couldn’t always insist that global markets and prestigious clients wait while he wrapped up a date.

Things were different now, calmer and more predictable since he’d achieved his goal and positioned his company at the forefront of the electronic information security industry. Calmer, but not nearly done, he thought, as part of his brain slid back to the wasted morning meeting.

Recognizing the doubt about his availability in Lucy’s eyes, he pulled his attention back to the present. Bending over Trisha’s keyboard, he sent his secretary a text alert to clear his calendar for the afternoon. “There.” He stood tall, smiling at Lucy. “I’m all yours for the rest of the day.” The idea of it cascaded over him in a wave of effervescent anticipation. Only Lucy had ever had this effect on him. He held open his office door, encouraging her to enter ahead of him. The soft fabric of the smart evergreen dress she wore swirled at her knees, and he enjoyed the distraction for a moment.

When the door closed behind him, he flipped the switch that turned the clear glass panes of his office opaque, giving them privacy from anyone else on the floor. “What do you need?”

“Oh, my,” she breathed. “Your view of the bay is stunning.” Lucy turned a slow circle in the middle of his office, a bittersweet smile wobbling on her lips as she took it all in. “The world at your feet, right?”

“I saved the best view for myself,” he confessed.

“As you should.” Her smile blossomed, a little less wistful. She cleared her throat. “The building, the new offices...it’s all amazing, Rush. Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“You think so?” Pride swelled up at her praise before he could battle it back. He’d never reconciled the way she’d constantly encouraged him with the fact that she’d walked away without a single word of warning. Never one to leap without looking, her sudden departure from him as well as the city had completely baffled him.

She nodded, interlocking her fingers at her waist. He remembered that little habit showing up whenever her self-control was about to snap. What was going on?

He shrugged out of his sport coat and hooked it on a sleek stainless coat tree near the door. “Why don’t we sit down,” he suggested briskly. He considered rounding his desk, emphasizing his position and power in the room. Instead, he moved toward the long, elegant leather couch. How many days had he envisioned her right here beside him with a cup of coffee in the morning or a glass of wine after a long day?

Lucy chose a chair on the other side of the art deco glass coffee table and that spark of hope that this might be a personal visit withered.

He catalogued every nuance and change as she settled into the chair. Fit as ever, her sense of style still radiated elegance and class. Yes, her hair had grown longer over the past year. And the warmth in her big brown eyes was tempered with something he couldn’t pinpoint. She’d done her eyes with subtle color, framed by those thick, dark lashes, and she’d swept soft gloss over her rosy lips. He didn’t care for the tense lines bracketing her lovely mouth. What had happened to her since she’d left him?

He’d kept tabs on her, always in search of a way to bring her back home to California. Not finding the right combination of timing and opportunity, he’d been forced to admit defeat and move on. He hadn’t managed to forget her, even after sinking all his energy into a year of aggressive corporate growth and dodging the grasping pursuit of equally aggressive, gold-digging women.

He waited, offered her coffee and water. She graciously refused, but didn’t seem willing to explain what had brought her here. “I heard about your brother-in-law,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her gaze drifting past him to the view of the bay.

“How is Gwen holding up?”

“Better day by day.” Lucy’s big brown eyes shimmered with tears until she blinked them away. “I think.” White teeth momentarily nipped at her full lower lip. “Moving to France helped all of us.”

That caught him off guard. “I didn’t realize she went with you.”

Lucy nodded. “Her son, Jackson, is eight months old. It’s amazing watching him grow.”

The worry in her eyes launched an internal battle as his need to shield himself battled against his need to comfort her. “Strong name.” As he’d hoped, the words brought out her smile. She’d often lamented her name was a hurdle in the corporate world.

God, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, stunned and delighted to have her in his office. Terrified he’d drop his heart into her hands and she’d reject the gift again. His palms itched to touch her, to hold her fine-boned hand in his again. How many nights had he tossed and turned, wishing for one more touch of her lips, gentle as rose petals, against his skin? Her chest lifted on a deep inhale and sent his mind on a sensual, inappropriate detour.

“I know you’re busy,” she began, “so I’ll be brief. I could use a job, Rush. If you can find a place for me.”

He knew the perfect place for her, though it had nothing to do with the professional answer she was seeking. Sitting forward, he propped his elbows on his knees. She knew him too well to bother hiding his excitement about bringing her on board. “A job here, with me?”

“With Gray Box.” Her lips pursed. “France has been a great experience. Beyond beautiful, but—”

“We have plenty of wine country here,” he interrupted. A voice in his head roared at him to shut up. He was an idiot to think she reminisced over their weekend adventures the way he did. He’d heard how quickly she’d replaced him with a new man in Chicago.

Her lips curled into another distant smile and she smoothed her hands over her dress. “California is home,” she finished.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve come to your senses,” he teased.

Her serious brown gaze didn’t share his humor. “Do you have any openings?”

He glanced past her, had to assume Trisha’s desk remained empty on the other side of the privacy-frosted glass. “I could use a personal assistant,” he said, making the decision as he spoke.

“You’re well aware I have an MBA. Maybe I can be of more use in—”

“Your current post is what, precisely?” Her gaze turned sharp with a hint of temper and he knew he had her just where he wanted her. Well, professionally anyway.

“Yes, my current title is personal assistant,” she allowed. She crossed her legs at the ankle, distracting him again with far more intimate memories. “When I took the post with Dieter Kathrein everyone involved knew I was overqualified.”

“I can assure you as my personal assistant you’ll have more challenges.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Lucy tilted her head toward the desk on the other side of his office. “What about your current assistant?”

“She’s not the dedicated PA I need,” he countered. “Trisha manages my calendar and answers the phone right now, but it’s a stopgap measure. She doesn’t have your business acumen and I don’t have time for her to develop it.” The ease of his admission didn’t surprise him. He’d always been able to talk with Lucy about anything.

Her dark eyebrows arched and her lips parted for a moment, then she clamped her mouth shut. “I see. Tell me more.”

“We’ve been searching for a better fit for her within the company,” he added. “What were your duties with Kathrein?”

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Beyond telling you I managed his calendar, the rest of my responsibilities are confidential.”

“Right. Of course.” He waved that off as unimportant and quickly outlined his professional expectations. A savvy, analytical mind like Lucy’s could help him keep Gray Box at the top and develop new ideas and market applications. She would be the perfect liaison between him and clients who waffled around wasting his time, too. “What do you think?”

“Salary and benefits?”

“Name it, whatever you need. I’ll make sure it’s all written into the contract.” He twisted, pointed out a building across the street. “You can even have the corporate suite at the hotel until you find a place to live.”

“That’s very generous. Thank you.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she accepted the ridiculous offer.

“You’re worried about me, aren’t you?” He sat back, stretched his arms across the back of the couch. “About our history?”

“No,” she said, her denial a little weak. “I came to you as a colleague and friend. We both have new interests, now. You can reassure Trisha or whomever you’re seeing that I won’t interfere with your personal life.”

He didn’t appreciate that promise or the vague reprimand. Lucy had been his only “interest” for over a year. She still was, if he was brutally honest about it. The women who’d followed her had floated through his life without any real substance or impact. Contrary to rumors, he didn’t date in the traditional sense of connecting to someone. Trisha was the latest in a line of women willing to spend time as his public companion in exchange for his opening a few professional doors for her.

“I won’t lie, Lucy. I’ve missed you. If you want to reconnect personally, I’m all for it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Rush.”

He flared his hands, let them fall. “Call it full disclosure. When it comes to you and me, the ball is in your court. If you’re here for purely professional reasons, I respect that.”

“I am.” She swallowed. “Thank you for the job. You won’t regret it.”

He already did. Lucy Gaines had been everything he’d wanted from a woman in both his personal and professional worlds. Smart and kind, lovely and compassionate, they’d shared interests from wine country to stock market trends to pitching in with local charities.

“Let’s get out of here.” If they stayed in this office, he’d be tempted to unload every stray business idea he’d wanted to discuss with her over the past year. Not only would that border on employee abuse, it would leave him wide open and vulnerable. He wanted her, he intended to have her, but only when he knew she’d stick around. Standing, he urged her to her feet as well. “I’ll show you what’s changed since you left.” Reflexively he checked his watch.

“Only everything,” she said with a short laugh. “Don’t wreck your entire day for me. I’m sure Melva can fill me in and give me instructions about the hotel suite.”

He picked up on the edge creeping into her voice. How could he convince her he wanted to give her every minute today? “Melva is absolutely capable,” he agreed. “We can skip the full tour if you’re tired from the trip.” He wasn’t sure why he was pressing her, only that he wasn’t ready to let her out of his sight. She was everything he remembered and more, but he got the feeling she was hiding something about her time with Kathrein. He didn’t stand a chance of figuring it out if he left her alone.

“I feel fine, Rush,” she said, her smile tight. “We’ve agreed to terms. You don’t have to entertain me.”

“Ouch.” He laid a hand over his heart, feigning pain. “I’m going to play tour guide anyway. There’s no one better than me to bring you back up to speed, on Gray Box specifically and the Bay Area in general.”

She shook her head, but not before he noticed the little lift at the corner of her mouth. His arrogance had often amused her. He switched off the privacy glass and caught sight of Trisha at Melva’s reception desk. An even better reason to leave the office behind for the afternoon, he decided. While he’d been honest about searching for a better post for Trisha, he hadn’t focused on the issue. Now he had an excellent reason to move forward on that adjustment immediately.

“You know,” he said, turning his back on the rest of the executive floor, “I should start the tour right here.” He gestured toward the door in the opposite wall, tucked behind a floor-to-ceiling display case filled with books and myriad industry awards. “My indispensable PA should know my secret escape route.” He led her out of the office and into a narrow service hallway. “Private bathroom,” he said, pointing out another door. “There’s a bedroom as well.”

“A bedroom? Good grief, Rush. It’s a wonder you haven’t been sued for harassment.”

Well, that stung. The gossip rags and paparazzi greatly exaggerated his personal exploits whenever he chose to spend time around town with models or actresses. “It’s not a space I share,” he replied through clenched teeth. When and why had her opinion of him plummeted so drastically? “You know how things go during research or a product launch, or—”

“When you’re closing a major deal,” she finished for him. “I remember.”

He swallowed the urge to point out if he wasn’t constantly focused on building up the business, Gray Box wouldn’t be such a convenient fallback option for her. Except a woman with Lucy’s skills and credentials could name her salary and benefits, and choose from numerous offers. Knowing that, knowing how talented she was, it was tough to accept she’d returned to him without any intent to rekindle their personal relationship. He couldn’t decide if his decision to hire her made him an easy mark, sentimental or selfish. Time would tell.

“This is my private elevator.” He reached out and punched the button. “Most of the time I use the public one or the express, but occasionally this is necessary.”

One side of her mouth curled in a half smile. “You pulled out all the stops here,” she said.

If she’d seen his heart on his sleeve as he eagerly shared this with her, she didn’t give him any reaction. “The office isn’t just about the show of power, though it helps.” The doors parted and he ushered her inside. Her fragrance, the dark sensual notes smoothed with a whisper of vanilla, filled the small space. He hoped the scent lingered a while so he could breathe her in at will. He punched the button for three floors down, pulling himself together. That spark they’d once shared seemed to be missing now and it wasn’t her problem that he hadn’t been able to get over her.

“This must make it easier to avoid distractions,” she murmured.

“Exactly.” So she remembered how people cornered him in elevators, pitching ideas and résumés.

“As your PA, is it my job to fend them off now?” Her gaze narrowed and she pretended to glare at potential intruders lurking in the corners.

“No.” He laughed a little and then reconsidered. Though she stood several inches shorter, even in the heels, she could be formidable. “Well, maybe.”

The doors parted and he escorted her to the human resources department. After making introductions, the department manager sat down with both of them, drawing up the details they’d agreed upon for Lucy’s employment. Once the legalities were out of the way, Rush insisted on taking her down to the waterfront for a late lunch.

“You don’t have to convince me to stay,” she repeated when they were seated at a table with a stunning view. “I’ve signed the contract.”

“This is my new favorite place,” he said. He’d wanted to bring her here since it opened. “The food is better than the view.”

She tilted her head, clearly surprised by his gushing endorsement. When her gaze followed his to the bay, he heard her sigh a little. “I didn’t expect to miss it so much.”

He was determined to bridge the gap, to earn the trust of the one woman he’d always been able to confide in. “What really brings you back here?”

Her eyes went wide and her chin dropped a little. “I was homesick.”

He wasn’t accepting that anymore. “A year ago it appeared Chicago was home,” he countered. He paused while they gave the waitress their drink order. “Then you moved the family to France.” What had happened over there?

She studied him a long moment. “Are you having second thoughts already?”

“No way.” He shrugged. “I’m the luckiest CEO in the city. You could write your own ticket anywhere.” In the back of his mind, he couldn’t make it all add up. Better just to ask. “I’d like to know why me and why now?” He couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed him to leap out in front of her and fight off an invisible enemy.

He’d be an idiot if he hadn’t already considered and discarded the idea of corporate espionage. Lucy didn’t play unethical games. While following her career meant he had a basic knowledge of Kathrein’s business interests, the older man hadn’t shown any intention of seriously competing with Gray Box.

“Kathrein didn’t send me here to spy on you.” Her words proved how well they knew each other. “If he had made such a suggestion, I would have refused.”

“I know.” He recognized the steel in her gaze, respected it. He could take her “homesick” answer at face value or ruin lunch with an argument. Taking the high road, he turned the conversation to other topics. He would wait her out. They were too alike, had been too close, for her to keep any secrets from him for long.

The waitress came by with drinks and he ordered the lunch special for both of them, with Lucy’s approval. “When we’re done here, we can go on to the suite. It should be big enough for you and your family in the short term.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she interjected. “Gwen and Jackson are staying in France through the holidays. That gives me time to find a place.”

“Really?” That set off alarm bells. Unlike him, Lucy had been raised in a close-knit family. She and Gwen had only grown more inseparable when they lost their parents. “Will you go back to be with them over Christmas?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She gazed out over the water, apparently captivated by the traffic on the bridge.

“Talk to me, Lucy.” Something was way off. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “What happened in France?”

She closed her eyes and gave her head a quick shake. “Nothing. Nothing,” she repeated. Opening her eyes, she gave him a hard, forced smile. “Gwen and I decorated the most amazing Christmas tree last weekend. Her eye for design is remarkable, despite putting all the fragile ornaments near the top, out of Jackson’s reach. He’s crawling now, pulling himself up every chance he gets and he’s very curious.”

“So why wouldn’t you go back for Christmas?”

“The flights,” she said. “And I wasn’t sure how things would go here, if I’d have the time off.”

“We’ll be closed the entire week.” He paused as the waitress delivered two plates piled high with aromatic rice noodles, shrimp, and colorful shredded cabbage and vegetables. While they ate, he steered the conversation toward the charitable effort she’d insisted he dive into before she vacated his life. Using the wealth of brain power at Gray Box, he coordinated tutors for kids in need—those falling behind in school and those eager for a chance to leap ahead.

“Wow. You’ve made serious progress.” This time her smile and eyes showed equal enthusiasm.

She could soak up the views until her homesickness faded while he enjoyed the even lovelier view of her. The deep, soulful eyes, those high cheekbones and that tender mouth were igniting fires in him that only she could tend. “We’ll launch a new tech-focused camp next summer. I’ll start scouting ideal sites soon.” That would be the perfect assignment for Trisha, he realized. She knew the city well, enjoyed being out and being seen, and it would keep her away from the executive floor. Pleased with himself, he apologized to Lucy and sent quick text messages to Trisha and his HR department.

“Forgive me,” he said, catching the small frown on Lucy’s face. “I just thought of something that would move the process along.”

She waved it away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Appreciate that.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket. Good grief, he’d missed her low-maintenance acceptance of his nature balanced by her high-energy ambition to reach her goals. Why had she walked out on the amazing chemistry they’d shared?

The question was right there on the tip of his tongue and he had to bite it back repeatedly as they left the restaurant for a walk through the marketplace and then on to explore a few other nearby changes in the city. He kept his hands in his pockets, away from her, reminding himself today they were two old friends catching up. Having cleared his calendar for the afternoon, he wanted to make the most of this precious time with her.

She’d helped him push harder toward his goals even as she wrapped up her graduate work. The day she’d presented her thesis, he’d been in the back row of the auditorium, silently cheering her on to victory. They’d celebrated that night and memories of getting creative with the second bottle of champagne in the bedroom still powered his fantasies a year later.

He’d missed her so damn much. Not just the sex, though that had been amazing, but simple conversations, her quiet appreciation of the small things people overlooked as they pushed to get ahead. Lucy had a gift for seeing through the puzzling motivations of people behind the deal and it still annoyed him that he’d taken that gift—among her other talents—for granted.

Regardless of her true reasons for coming home, Rush vowed that this time around he wouldn’t let her slip through his fingers.

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