A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер
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you want my opinion for that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m flattered. Look, that’s the second time in two days you’ve flattered me. You’re losing your edge.”
“You can unbuckle now,” he said, a command, not a request. Why did it make her go all shivery?
“Okay,” she said, undoing the buckle because she wanted to, not because he’d told her to.
She leaned back in her seat, and the stewardess appeared with a red-and-white mug, and a small plate with a scone. She also had Scotch for Luc.
“Wow. That’s roguish of you. It’s early.”
“It’s evening in Paris.”
“And we’re in New York.”
“I’m still on Paris time.”
“Have you been back to Paris in four years?”
He smiled and she gave herself a mental back pat.
“No.” Then he unrepentantly lifted his glass to his lips and took a drink.
She admired him for it, if she was completely honest. He was a master at not giving a damn about what other people thought, or what the rules or conventions were. And to someone who was so bound to those same things, it was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
She wished she could be like that for one fleeting moment. That she could say to hell with convention and reason. To hell with Clint and their past. To hell with what he was asking her to do. And with what her family might think.
But that wasn’t her.
“I’ll just stick with my latte.”
He held his drink out. “You don’t care to make it more interesting?”
“A full-fat latte is interesting enough,” she said. “Trust me. Why are we leaving so early?”
“We have a breakfast meeting with Fleischer.”
“A breakfast meeting?”
“Yes, after which we will spend our time enjoying the resort. I think he’s hoping to drive the price up.”
“By showing you a nice relaxing time? Doesn’t he know you’d rather chew glass? Oh, no, he’s probably going to foist holiday cheer on you!”
“Luckily,” Luc said, leaning back, one long leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee, “I am immune. You, on the other hand, had better be careful.”
“I’m already radiant with cheer,” she said, smiling and fluttering her lashes at him. This, at least, felt normal. She’d forget all that other crap for now. No one ever teased Luc, she’d noticed that when she’d first come to work with him. But she did. She treated him like she did everyone else, well, with some added respect because he signed her paychecks, but her parents had always taught her that race, gender, class or general uptightness were never a reason to treat anyone differently.
So, in spite of the fact that he was as rich as God and scary as all get-out, she treated Luc like she did everyone. And weirdly, he seemed to like it. At least, she still had a job. So at the minimum he tolerated it.
Which she would accept.
“You do sort of radiate,” he said, taking another drink of Scotch.
“Why don’t I feel complimented?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I need you to check on some properties while I deal with some final schematics approvals for the new build. And no singing.”
“No singing?”
“Drink your latte.”
“But I want to sing.” She didn’t really.
“No,” he said, taking another sip of his Scotch as he took his laptop out of the bag that was positioned next to him, “singing.”
She pulled a face and took her computer out, too. “I can sing in my mind.”
“No, you can’t.”
“You don’t own my thoughts, Luc Chevalier,” she said, opening up her laptop and typing in her password.
“No, I meant you’re incapable of singing in your head. You will be belting out something ridiculous in about five minutes. It’s best if we put a moratorium on music.”
“I can so sing in my head.” She had a feeling she wouldn’t, though. Not with her thoughts as crammed with gloom as they were.
They both put their heads down and started working. And it didn’t take long for her to fill the empty space left by reading boring work reports with a Christmas carol. A few moments later Amelia felt her lips start moving and then …
“‘God rest ye merry …’” She looked up, at Luc’s dark, judgy gaze. She cleared her throat and looked back down. “Bah humbug, Mr. Scrooge.”
But she didn’t sing again. She worked. And she kept on that way until the plane landed in Denver.
“That landing was terrible,” Amelia said as they got into the limo that was waiting for them in front.
“It always is here,” he said. “It’s all the mountains.”
“Damn mountains,” she muttered, putting her purse in her lap and curling up against the door, more for a little distance from Luc than from genuine trauma over their rough landing.
Luc reached over, his finger brushing her cheek. A bolt of heat crackled across her skin and went down deep. “Are you all right?” he asked, his deep voice traveling along the path forged by the fire that had gone before it.
It was a one-two punch. His touch and his voice. If he added something else to the mix she was toast. She moved more tightly into the cold plastic embrace of the door handle.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I get a little nauseous on rough touchdowns like that, but honestly, it’s nothing to be concerned about because … Since when are you ever concerned?”
“Since you look like you’re about to vomit on the leather seats.”
“So touching.”
She whipped her phone out of her purse and opened up one of her flash sale shopping apps, scrolling through the daily deals.
“See? You do shop at work.”
“It’s early!” she protested. “And we went back in time.”
“You’re still on the clock until five.”
“You’re harsh,” she said, touching a picture of a pair of candy-apple-red shoes.
“You have shoes that look just like that,” he said.
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t!”
“You wore them yesterday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Those are cranberry. These are more of a true red.”
“And today you have on Muk Luks.”
She looked down at her knee-high furry boots, with the leather laces and fuzzy balls. “Yes. I do. It’s cold here out west. It’s snowing.”
“Which is what you want with a ski resort,” he said. “At least we have that.”
“Yeah, otherwise it’s just a bunch of rich idiots scooting down a mud hill.”
“Yes, well, you don’t want that.”
“Mmm.”
The limo wound up the side of a mountain, on a freshly plowed two-lane road lined with snow-covered evergreens.
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