Once Upon a Valentine. Allison Leigh
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him and filled her travel mug with water from the dispenser sitting next to a built-in gas range. “Hardly a surprise when he seems to spend more time here than he does at his own office. Nearly every time I come by, he’s here.”
Pax saw the way Cornelia pressed her lips together and looked away, trying not to laugh.
Fortunately, Shea didn’t notice.
Her honey-gold hair was loose, streaming nearly to her waist. Her short jacket was the same chocolate color as his dog, Hooch. She often wore jeans and boots, but today she was wearing flat-heeled loafers, brown tights and a pleated orange skirt that ended just above her shapely knees.
When she straightened, he quickly looked up from her legs, and her wide eyes collided with his.
She had dark circles under eyes as if she were short of sleep, but she was still the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. “No coffee today?”
“Not today.” Her lashes dropped and she looked toward Cornelia. “I’ll get that background report to you right away.”
Cornelia smiled, her expression under control again. “I appreciate you putting a rush on this one. Phil found her for us, and we’re just waiting on your report to pair her with a mentor.” Her gaze took in Pax. “If she turns out to be our next client, I have an ideal match in mind. My son-in-law Gabe is in construction and one of his partners has been looking for a new challenge. I think her business plan might be right up his alley.”
Shea nodded, her eyes still avoiding Pax’s. She patted the oversized purse hanging from her shoulder and he guessed she probably had an email or a letter regarding Cornelia’s latest project inside. “I’ll get on it tonight.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Cornelia tsked. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You should be out enjoying the evening. Your research can wait until morning.”
“I don’t have any plans.” Shea didn’t seem upset at that fact, either. “I’ll leave Valentine’s Day for the people who believe in all that—” she waved her hand slightly “—stuff.”
“Like my so-subtle Harrison?” Cornelia smiled. “He’s taken Valentine’s Day to a new level, as we all can see. The man has no sense of moderation.” She patted Shea’s shoulder and turned toward the doorway. “Take one of the bouquets on your way out,” she invited. “You, too, Pax. You can give it to Ruth or something.” She sailed out of the break room.
Shea’s gaze flicked up to his, then away again. She moistened her lips. Looked as if she were going to say something, only to shake her head once and tuck her hair behind her ear. “Enjoy the coffee,” she muttered and followed Cornelia out of the room.
Pax grimaced, left the coffee mug on the granite counter and went after her. “Shea. Wait.”
She stopped, spinning on her heel in the center of the marble foyer. “Pax, don’t. Please. I don’t have the energy right now.”
“Energy for what? I just wanted to say Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Her lips twisted. “Right.” She reached out and touched the rose Phil had stuck in his shirt. “Never figured you for the type who’d get excited over a Hallmark holiday.”
He wondered what she’d have to say when she got home and saw the delivery he’d arranged for her. “Valentine’s Day predates greeting card companies. What’s got you so tired? Your editor over at the Tub putting you on more stories or something?”
“Always plenty of silly stories and gossip.” Her foot edged toward the doorway as if she couldn’t wait to escape. “I’ve just been busy.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
There was no mistaking her surprise. “No!” Her gaze darted toward the empty staircase. “No,” she said more calmly. “I’ve told you before. I’m not interested in dating anyone.”
Pax didn’t particularly care if they were overheard by Cornelia or one of her employees. It wasn’t like it’d be news to them that he was pursuing Shea. “So I shouldn’t take it personally that you’ve been avoiding me even more than usual.”
She looked pained. “I’m not...avoiding you.”
He had ample evidence otherwise, but debating with her was pointless. “I know you decided somewhere along the way that I’m a player. That I’m not really serious where you—or anyone else—are concerned. But I’m still curious why you’re so opposed to—”
“—sexual hookups?” She looked around the foyer that was literally coming up roses. “Please don’t say romance.”
“I was going to say relationships,” he corrected blandly.
“We have a relationship—journalist and frequent subject.” She looked ready to say more, but all she did was rock on her heels a few times and tuck her hands inside the pockets of her short jacket. He couldn’t see any evidence that she wore a blouse beneath it, which had him fondly recalling the lacy bra she’d worn the night of the ice storm.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes. Her image still filled his head right along with her soft, slightly powdery scent. “Relationships with anyone outside of your work,” he clarified.
She was silent for so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. “Because there’s no point,” she finally said. “They never work out.”
He opened his eyes, studying her for a moment. Wondering. And suddenly wanting more things than he wanted to admit. “You remind me of Erik.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Your partner?” She stretched her arm above her head until it was straight. “About this tall. Dark hair. Gray eyes. Male. I remind you of him?”
Shea was short, blonde and beautifully female. “Until Erik met Rory in December, he was pretty jaded about relationships. Earned it from a bad marriage. You have one of those in your past, too?”
She didn’t look away from him, but it seemed like a curtain dropped down inside her eyes, hiding her thoughts. “Never been married,” she said evenly.
But there had been someone. Or something. He’d bet on it. “I’ve never been married, either.”
“I’ve interviewed you eight times. The subject has been covered to death.”
He grinned, wanting to lighten the tension in her expression. “So. You’ve been counting.”
She rolled her eyes, though he noticed the twitch of her lips. Which she swiftly controlled, naturally, being the jaded, tough nut that she claimed to be. Then she exhaled. “Pax, I—” She broke off when the front door opened and Belle St. John, one of Cornelia’s newer employees, came in, pushing a cart with several bulging bags of mail on it.
Pax had seen the sight more than once now, so he was no longer surprised by the quantity of mail sent to FGI’s post office box.
“Crazy, isn’t it,” Shea murmured while Belle rolled the cart through the arching doorway beneath the split staircases and into the conference room. “I wrote one article back in October where Joanna Spinelli called Cornelia her fairy godmother for helping finance her break into fashion designing. And out of the clear blue sky, people thinking they deserved a handout began coming out of the woodwork asking her for money. And not just for starting up legitimate businesses, either.”
Pax had read every one of Shea’s articles in The Seattle Washtub since they’d met, even the ones that were nothing more than who was doing what around town, and he remembered exactly the article in question. “Cornelia hadn’t even started up FGI at that point, had she?”
Shea shook her head and her hair slid over her shoulders, making his fingers tingle. He knew exactly how silky her hair was. How it felt sliding through his fingers. Draping over his chest.
She was still talking,