Midnight Under the Mistletoe (3 page)

“Okay, I’ll rephrase my question,” he said. “Where’s your
favorite place outside of Texas?”

She lowered her fork. “I’ve never been outside of Texas.”

One dark eyebrow arched as surprise flashed briefly in his blue
eyes. “Never been outside of Texas,” he repeated, studying her as if she had
announced she had another set of ears beneath her red hair.

“No, I’m happy here.”

“You might be missing something,” he said, still scrutinizing
her with open curiosity.

“I don’t think so, therefore, that’s really all that matters,
right?” she asked, certain after today he would have satisfied his curiosity
about her and lunch with the boss would cease.

“You’re missing some wonderful places and you don’t even know
it.”

She smiled at him again, thinking he might be missing some
wonderful family companionship and didn’t even know it. “As long as I’m content,
it doesn’t matter.”

“So tell me about this family of yours and what they all
do.”

“My family lives near me in Dallas. Dad is an accountant and my
mom is a secretary. My younger brother works part-time and is in school at the
University of North Texas. I’ve taken classes to become a teacher. This semester
I didn’t enroll, but I hope to start back soon.”

“How far along are you?”

“I have a little more than half the credits I need. Back to my
family—in addition to my siblings, I have five small nieces and three nephews.
We have assorted other relatives, grandparents, aunts and uncles, who live in
the same general area.”

“Big family.”

“My siblings and I visit my parents on weekends,” she said. “So
do my aunts and uncles. There are anywhere from twenty to thirty or forty of us
when we all get together.”

He paused as he started to drink his water, giving her a polite
smile as if she said they spent every weekend at the park so they could play on
the slides and swings.

“My family is definitely not that together,” he said. “We go
our separate ways. Dad’s deceased and Mom disappeared from our lives when we
were young.”

“We have different lifestyles,” she said, thinking this was a
man she couldn’t possibly ever be close to even if circumstances had been
different. His world and hers were poles apart. Their families were so
different—hers a huge part of her life, his nearly nonexistent, what with his
father being deceased and his mother walking out years earlier. Those events had
to influence him and make him the man he was today. This job would be brief and
then she probably would never see him again. “The quesadilla is delicious,” she
said.

“I told you Rosie is a good cook. So, is there any special
person in your life right now? I assume no one objected to you taking this
job.”

“Not at all and there’s no special person at the moment. As
long as I can go home for the weekends and holidays, I’m fine.”

“I’m not sure I’ve been involved—friends or otherwise—with
someone as tied into home and family.”

“I’m your secretary—that’s different from your women
friends.”

“We can be friends,” he said, looking amused, and a tingle ran
across her nerves. In tiny subtle ways he was changing their relationship from
professional to personal, something she did not want. With every discovery about
him, she saw what opposites they were. This was not a man who would ever fit
into her world or her life other than on a physical level. She definitely did
not fit into his.

Surprised that he was even interested, she had to wonder. She
had never heard a word of gossip about him even remotely trying to have an
outside relationship with an employee. Far from it—occasional remarks were made
to new single women to forget about impressing the boss—if they even got to know
him—except through efficient work.

“We can be friends to a degree in a professional manner,” she
said, wondering if she sounded prim.

“Emma, we’re going to be under the same roof, working together
for weeks. Relax. This isn’t the office and it’s not that formal. If I have
something critical, a letter I just have to get out, an appointment that has to
be made by a certain time, I’ll tell you.”

“Fair enough,” she said, feeling as if their relationship just
made another subtle shift. Or was it her imagination because she found him so
physically attractive? “So you don’t gather often with the family, you travel a
lot—what else do you do?”

“Most of the time for the past few years my life has been tied
up in my work. I have a yacht, but I’m seldom on it. I ski. I have a villa in
Italy. I have a condo in New York, one in Chicago and I spend the most time
between Paris and Chicago where we have offices. I like cities.”

She placed her fork across her plate and stood. “That was a
delicious lunch. If you’ll excuse me, I should get back to the letters.”

“Sit and relax, Emma. Those letters aren’t urgent and they’ll
be there after lunch. I’m enjoying talking to you. There’s no rush. And I
suspect some tidbit will appear for dessert.”

Surprised, she sat again. “I’m not in the habit of arguing with
my supervisor. I don’t think I can possibly eat dessert. This was more lunch
than I usually have.”

“Indulge yourself while you can,” he said. Pushing his plate
forward, he placed his arms on the table and leaned closer. “Emma, this is
lunch. We’re not at work. Forget the supervisor-secretary relationship, which
doesn’t have to exist 24/7. This is just two people having lunch together,” he
drawled in that husky voice that was soft as fur. Vivid blue eyes held her
attention while his words poured over her and the moment shifted, holding a cozy
intimacy. “Beautiful green eyes, great red hair—they sort of lend themselves to
forgetting all about business,” he said softly.

“We’re about to cross a line we shouldn’t cross,” she whispered
while her heart hammered.

“We crossed that line when you came in the door,” he
replied.

Two

H
er heart thudded because his words changed
their relationship. She realized her reply would set the standard. For a
fleeting second, how tempted she was to flirt back, to give him a seductive
reply that was on the tip of her tongue. For the moment, she wished he were
someone else and not her boss.

Following the path of wisdom, practicality and caution, she
smiled and chuckled, shaking her head and trying to diffuse the electrifying
tension that had sprung between them. “I don’t think so,” she replied lightly.
“We can’t. I’m here for a secretarial job, which sets definite limits. I’m not
crossing that line. If that’s part of my work—then tell me now.”

“Definitely not part of the job,” he said, leaning back and
studying her with a faint smile and amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “As rare
for me as for you in an employer-employee situation. But we’re not going to be
able to shut it off that easily. As a matter of fact, I think the chemistry is
in spite of both of us, not because of either of us wanting it to happen. That’s
a big difference and rather fascinating.”

“We’ll not pursue it,” she persisted. Rosie appeared with a
tray that held four choices of desserts. “What would you like, Miss Hillman?”
she asked.

“Please just call me Emma,” she said, looking at luscious
desserts. She was no longer hungry, yet Rosie stood with a broad smile and Emma
knew how her own mother liked for everyone to take some of her desserts, so she
selected a small slice of chocolate cheesecake.

Zach took a monstrous concoction of vanilla ice cream and
brownies topped with fudge sauce with a sprinkling of fresh raspberries.

“You must work out big-time to turn that into muscle,” she
observed and the moment the words were spoken, she wished she could take them
back because she had just tossed the conversation back to the personal. “This is
so much food. What does Rosie do with leftovers? Save them for dinner?” Emma
interjected, trying to get the conversation on a different note as rapidly as
possible.

He flashed a slight smile as he shook his head. “I work out and
my injured foot has thrown me off schedule. As for the leftovers—there are a lot
of people on this ranch. She’ll pass them on after lunch and they’ll be gone by
midafternoon. You think all those hungry cowboys won’t light into her cooking?
They’ll devour it.”

She smiled, glad the moment had been diffused and they were
back on a harmless topic. “This is delicious,” she said as she ate a bite. She
looked up to meet his steady gaze that fluttered her insides.

“She’ll be glad to know you liked it. Rosie’s been cooking for
us since I was a little kid.”

She smiled and they enjoyed their desserts, then she said, “Do
you mind if I put a few family pictures on my desk?”

“Emma, within reason, put whatever you want on your desk or
around your desk or in your room upstairs. I don’t care what you do unless you
want to paint something or make a permanent change.”

“Of course not. Thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think this
time I will get back to work,” she said, folding her napkin and standing. When
she picked up her plate, he touched her wrist lightly.

“Leave the dishes or you’ll get a Rosie lecture. She’s in
charge here and she wants to do things herself and her way,” he said, releasing
her wrist as he stood and walked around the table.

Smiling, she set her plate down. “I know how my mother and one
of my sisters are. Sometimes they just want all of us out of the kitchen.”

“You’re so tied into your family. Are you going to be able to
stay away from Dallas for the length of this job?”

“I gave that some serious thought, but this isn’t permanent and
as far as I can see, this assignment is a great opportunity because it’s a hike
in pay, even temporarily, and I’m saving money to finish my education. And I did
ask for the weekends off to go home.”

“We both hope it works out. So far, so good. I’ll admit, I
didn’t expect you to last the morning, because several before you didn’t. I’ve
been pleasantly surprised.”

“Glad to hear I’m up to snuff. So far so good in working for
you,” she replied with a smile.

One dark eyebrow arched quizzically as he looked down at her.
“You expected an ogre. Aah—let me guess—rumors from your predecessors.”

Still smiling, she nodded. They entered the office and she left
to return to the correspondence and filing. Within the hour she noticed he had
stopped heaping work for her and she could see where she would catch up with all
he had given her.

No matter how lost she got in the assignments, she couldn’t
shake her awareness of him. Carrying papers to his desk, she often met his gaze
while he talked on the phone. Each time it was the same as a physical contact
with a sizzle.

Common sense warned this job would not be as simple and
straightforward as she had envisioned. When he talked on the phone, his voice
was usually low enough that she couldn’t hear much of what he was saying and she
made no effort to try to hear. She caught snatches of words, enough to know he
was discussing problems involving his work.

As she placed a letter in the box for mail, Zach got off his
phone. “Emma, take a break. The afternoon is more than half gone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Take a break—walk around the place, go outside, go to the
kitchen and get a snack—whatever you want to do. Don’t argue or I’ll come get
you and we’ll go for a stroll. As much as I can stroll right now.”

She laughed. “What a threat,” she said, placing mail in the box
and hurrying out of the room as she received a grin from him. She hoped he
didn’t guess moments like that played havoc with her insides. How tempting to
head back to work just to get him to spend the next few minutes with her.

She stood in the wide, empty hall and wondered what to do,
finally going toward the kitchen to get a cup of tea. She suspected there was a
very well-stocked pantry.

“Afternoon, Emma,” Rosie greeted her.

“It smells wonderful in here.”

“Roast for dinner. Can I get you something?”

“Yes, thank you. If possible, I’d like a cup of hot tea.”

“Of course,” Rosie replied. “Looks as if you might be the one
who stays.”

“I hope so.”

Rosie chuckled. “Those others looked frazzled and unhappy from
the first morning. I would have sent one packing faster than Zach did. Have a
seat and I’ll brew your tea—or if you want a breath of fresh air, go outside and
I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, Rosie.”

“You can take it back to your desk if you want. Zach isn’t
particular about food in the office if you don’t leave crumbs or make a big
mess.”

“I won’t,” Emma replied, smiling. “I’ll wait outside,” she
added, stepping out onto the patio and strolling to the pool to look at the
crystal water that was almost the same blue as Zach’s eyes.

When she finished her tea, she went to her room to retrieve a
small box of family pictures. She had already distributed some pictures in the
bedroom. When instructed to arrive with her things packed she had brought what
she really wanted with her. She stopped to look around again, still amazed at
the size and beauty of where she would stay.

When she returned to her desk, Zach was on the phone and she
had more work waiting. After placing her pictures on her desk and table, she
focused on correspondence, so lost in concentration she was startled when Zach
spoke to her.

“It’s half past five. Just because the work is here in the
house, you don’t need to stay all hours. We’ll close the office now. I eat a
late dinner, but you can eat whenever you want—Rosie will be in the kitchen
until eight. After that she’ll have cold or easily heated choices on a
chalkboard menu.”

“Thanks,” she said, wondering if she had eaten her last meal
with the boss. If she had, it would be the wisest thing to happen. At the same
time, she couldn’t prevent her slight disappointment.

“You’ve done good work today, Emma. I hope you like the
job.”

She wanted to laugh and say that he sounded surprised. Instead,
she merely nodded. “Thank you. I think this will be good.”

He gave her a long look that killed the impersonal moments that
had just passed. Once again her nerves tingled, invisible sparks danced in the
air and she could feel heat rising. In spite of logic, she didn’t want him to
go.

Turning away, he walked out of the room without saying anything
further. She stared at the empty doorway. The chemistry had not changed. He
seemed to fight it as much as she, which was a relief and made the situation
easier.

* * *

Zach continued to pile on a lot of work. While there
wasn’t as much as that first morning, letters to write, papers to proof,
appointments to set, phone calls and various tasks streamed to her desk. Time
passed swiftly as she worked diligently and kept up with what he sent to her.
There were no more lunches together. Sometimes he worked straight through and
then stopped about four. Sometimes he ate at his desk. He continued to make an
effort to keep their relationship impersonal, which suited her completely. No
matter how cool he was, there still was no way to stop that acute consciousness
she had of him as an appealing male.

Thursday the work he gave her in the morning was done by noon.
When she returned after lunch he sat by a large cardboard box filled with
papers.

“Want to tackle some of the old letters and memorabilia?”

“Sure,” she replied, watching him pull another chair near his.
“That’s a lot of letters.”

“Many were written by my great-great-grandfather to his sister,
his brother, later his wife. They were all saved and somehow ended up back with
our family. Probably some relative didn’t want them and another one took
them.”

“Zach, that’s wonderful. I’d think you’d want to read each of
these yourself.”

“Hardly. They are letters from an old codger who settled out
here and struggled to carve out a life on the plains. He was probably a tough
old bird and about as lovable as a prickly porcupine. I think you are
romanticizing him. Sit here beside me so whenever you have a question you can
ask me. Want anything to drink before we start?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” As she crossed the room, his gaze
raked briefly over her, making every inch tingle. She became aware of the navy
sweater and matching slacks she had pulled on this morning, her hair in a
ponytail.

Catching a whiff of his enticing aftershave, she sat beside
him.

“The big basket is for letters and papers that go to the
shredder,” he instructed. Sitting only inches from him, she was lost in his blue
eyes and could barely focus on what he told her. She was even closer than she
had been that first morning and it was distracting beyond measure.

“As far as I’m concerned, I think it would do the family a
favor to shred all papers that don’t contain pertinent information that would
affect our lives today,” he said. His voice deepened a notch and he slowed his
speech. Was their proximity having an effect on him, too?

Lost in depths of blue, she was mesmerized. Her breath caught
and held. He leaned a fraction closer. Her heart raced. With an effort she
looked away, trying to get back to their normal relationship. Leaning away from
him, she touched the yellowed envelopes in the large box as she tried to get
back to his instructions.

“If there is anything about money, boundary rights, water
rights, that sort of thing, then place the paper in the box marked Consider and
I will read it. If you find maps, drawings, etc., then place them in
Miscellaneous.”

As what he had told her to do sank in, she frowned. She picked
up a tattered, yellow envelope with flowing writing across the front. “This was
in the 1800s. Look at the address on it. It’s just a name and the county. You
want to shred it?”

“If it doesn’t have anything pertinent to the matters I
listed—rights, boundaries, money. Something significant.”

“The letter is significant if it has nothing like that in it.
Isn’t it written by one of your ancestors?”

“Probably my great-great-grandfather. Maybe further back than
that by one generation.”

“You can’t shred it. It’s wonderful to have all these letters
from your ancestors and know what they were like,” she said, staring at him and
wondering how he could care so little about his own family history. “How can you
feel that way about them?”

With a smile he shook his head. “It’s past and over.”

“You have an architectural firm, so you must like old
buildings.”

“Old buildings are more reliable than people. People change
constantly and you can’t always count on them. An old building—if it’s built
right—might last through centuries and you can definitely rely on it.”

She stared at him, wondering who had let him down so badly that
he would view people as unreliable. Had it started when his mother had walked
out on the family? Three young boys. Emma shivered, unable to imagine a mother
leaving her young sons. Maybe that was why Zach kept his feelings bottled up.
“This is your tie to your past. And your ancestors were reliable or you wouldn’t
even be here now.”

“Okay, so read through the letters. If they’re not significant
in the manner I’ve told you, toss them in this basket. Give me two or three of
the most interesting and I’ll read them and see if I can discover why I should
keep them. I think when you get into it, you’ll change your mind. I don’t want
to save letters that tell how the sod roof leaks or the butter churn broke or a
wagon needs a new axle.”

“I think all those things would be interesting.” She tilted her
head to study him. “Family really isn’t important to you, is it?”

Shaking his head again, he continued to smile. “Sure it is. I’m
close with my brothers. That doesn’t mean I want a bunch of old letters none of
us will look at twice. They’re musty, rotting and of no value.” He leaned
closer, so close she blinked and forgot the letters. He was only inches away and
his mouth was inviting, conjuring up her curiosity about how he kissed.