“What happens when the legacy wants to be its own person?”
“Are you talking about me or you?” He glanced sideways at her.
A smile twitched on her face, almost breaking through her tension. “You tell me. Am I talking about you?”
Some days, he wondered. Scratch that—most days, he wondered. He took over the business, because it was what he was supposed to do. There were a lot of days he questioned his career choice, especially when he saw how people like Mercy did things. That wasn’t a discussion he was prepared to have, with her or anyone. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay now. Thanks for covering for me.” She jammed her hands in her pockets, shifting her weight until her arm rested against his. It was so comfortable and casual. Something he hadn’t done in years, but it felt right now. “I probably should have stood up for myself, but… You know,” She said.
“Twelve years, no contact. You’ve had a hell of a week, and it’s only Tuesday? Yeah, I know.” He nodded at her laptop. “Are you getting any work done?”
“I got some in. But it’s so gorgeous out here today, I thought I’d enjoy it.”
And it was. Perfect ski weather. Powder on the slopes less than a week old, and bright sunshine melting the snow from every other place. “You didn’t expect to collide with your past, though.” For the second time, he wondered if he was talking about her or himself.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, before pulling away, taking two steps forward, and spinning to face him. “I never do.”
Her haunted look had evaporated, replaced with bright eyes and cheeks pink from the cold. It wasn’t the seduction he saw the other night. This was brighter. More innocent. And just as enticing. He shook the thought aside, but that didn’t stop fire from racing through his veins with half-suppressed fantasies.
What were the odds they could hook up one more time, while she was in town? He wanted one more taste. Would she be interested?
Chapter Eight
It wasn’t that Mercy’s father was abusive. He was religiously conservative. Far end of the spectrum. She’d struggled through years of psychological torment in his house, when she realized her beliefs didn’t match his. Her mother passed away when she was thirteen, and her father grew even more restrictive after.
Called her stupid when she asked about why he taught her certain things. Threatened her with damnation when she realized she wasn’t happy with some of his rules. Told she could rot in hell for the rest of eternity, and he’d would bring the marshmallows, when she walked out of the house at eighteen.
She didn’t hold any ill will toward her family. She got over that a long time ago. That didn’t mean she was ready to face her dad, without a little advance warning and mental preparation. She owed Ian a lot, for stepping up when she froze, and for helping pull her out of her daze and into the bright day. It made it easier to shake off the gloom.
He stood across from her, back to the wall, one foot propped up, looking casual and out of place at the same time, in his suit.
“That’s why I don’t date local girls.” He winked. “In a town this small, it means countless awkward encounters after we break up.”
She could do this. Joking. Familiar territory. How was it possible after so much time? “If I remember right, you don’t date local girls because they’re uptight and only like sex if you promise them they’ll still be virgins after.”
He laughed. A rich sound that rolled over her skin and sank into her thoughts. “I managed to corrupt you,” he said.
“I won’t argue that for a second. But we weren’t dating. Still aren’t.”
“Touché. Rub it in a little more.”
“Not in public. Or at least not in the middle of the street.” She stepped closer and raised her hand, tracing a finger along his chest.
He snagged her wrist, stopping her halfway, and searched her eyes, gaze shifting back and forth. “You’ve changed.”
“Is that bad?” She didn’t have any issues with what she’d become, but it would be a shame to cut things short if he did.
“So far, it’s anything but.”
She gave a playful tug and broke free of his grip. “I should let you get back to work. Thank you again for rescuing me.”
“Always.” How could a single word carry so much sincerity? “I’d say see you around, but I don’t want to tempt fate into sending you home early. So enjoy the rest of your trip and try to give Liz a break?”
“I always try.” It wasn’t the mention of Liz that chipped away at her swelling good mood; it was that those were his parting words. But that was the way it should be. In a few days, she’d go back home, not see Ian again for ages—if ever—and find her next fling, account, and distraction.
The thought squeezed her chest, but she ignored the ache as she waved at Ian over her shoulder one last time and called for a shuttle back to the hotel.
* * * *
Several hours passed, and Mercy managed to find the headspace to dive into her looming presentation. Liz texted, to say she was night skiing, and Mercy decided the hotel lobby wasn’t a bad place for work, after all. Less chance of running into anyone she didn’t want to see than if she hit up Main Street again.
The sun set outside, the evening crowds rushed in and out, and she forced herself to keep her head down and focus on work. Doing anything else, letting her mind drift, brought her back to the conversation with Ian, and that was distracting. Something about it nagged in the back of her mind. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it frustrated her that she couldn’t grasp it.
“Is this seat taken?” Ian’s familiar voice cut through the noise in her head.
She didn’t try to hide her smile. “If you’re looking for Liz, she’ll be on the slopes a while longer.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” He dropped into the chair next to her. “I already talked to Liz. Did you manage to get any work done today?”
She nodded at her laptop. “That’s what I’m doing now. What are you doing here?” The question came out wrong, with an anxiousness she didn’t intend. She was grateful for the excuse to step outside her head, especially with him as part of the scenery, but he was a reminder of what had her thoughts in a mess.
“I’m looking for you.”
The simple statement made her pulse skip a beat. “Why?”
He scooted his chair closer and rested his arms on the table. His heat radiated toward her, melting her muddled thoughts into one single pool of him. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said.
Right. He was looking for her. She tried to tell her heart to stop pattering. That she didn’t care. Her heart didn’t listen. “You could have called.”
“You’re making this difficult.”
“I don’t know what this is. Fill me in, and I’ll try to make it easier?”
He reached in his pocket and placed something on the table, hidden by his palm. It clanked against the wood with a light ping. “I heard a rumor you’re on a tight deadline. I know hotel Wi-Fi isn’t always the fastest or most secure, and roaming the streets in a town like this can be dangerous.” He nudged a key toward her. “If you’d like to lock yourself away from everything tomorrow, my place will be empty.”
Instinct told her to turn him down. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t want something. She hated that voice and that it chanted now, instead of letting her think of an appropriate response. “Thank you,” she said, but didn’t reach for the key.
“Can I ask what you’re working on, or is that an insider secret?”
“You don’t have to make conversation to fill the empty air.” What was wrong with her tonight? Everything she said came out wrong.
He raised his brows. “Have I ever been a small talk kind of guy?”
The question triggered the memories from earlier. About their friendship, growing up. It also reminded her about her fight with Liz. Mercy decided to focus on the more pleasant aspects of the evening. “Maybe you’ve changed since I knew you.”
&
nbsp; “I have.” He chuckled. “But not like that. I asked because I want to know. If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me to fuck off.”
Nope. He definitely hadn’t changed like that. His genuine interest, the fact he wanted to talk to her—about her—warmed her from the inside out. Despite her reason insisting she was being silly, she liked the attention. “It’s a really big client. I can’t give you details; you know how that goes. It’s the kind of account that, if I land it, our status changes from struggling to almost making it.” As she spoke, his gaze never left her face. It wasn’t the kind of attention she was used to. How wrong was that? “What?”
“Your eyes light up when you’re excited about something. They turn a gorgeous shade of blue.”
She wanted to lose herself in the compliment. To make all sorts of assumptions about what it meant. They weren’t going down that road. Unless it meant one more tumble—clothes off this time—before they parted ways for good. Talk about a distracting thought. “I should get back to work.”
“I’m paying attention. I know you haven’t said yes. Take advantage of the quiet tomorrow.” He nudged the key a few inches closer to her.
“Because that’s not awkward at all. Me, wandering around your empty house.”
“If it makes you feel better, think of it as the family house. You know—the house you practically lived at?”
She did know, and she didn’t have a good response.
“Don’t turn me down because you feel like you’re supposed to. We both know you’ll get more done there,” Ian said.
“What if that place holds bad memories for me?” she asked.
“Does it?”
She laughed. “Not even close. It’d be kind of nice to be back there. Can I ask why you’re doing this?”
“I told you the other day—I have a lot of respect for what you do. Why’s that so hard to believe?”
Because no one who said so meant it. Not people she slept with, anyway. They wanted sex, and they didn’t care about what was inside the shell. She was fine with that. This whole I-like-you-as-a-person thing, from someone she’d screwed around with, messed with her head. Or maybe what weirded her out was that he seemed sincere and she wanted to believe him. When had she stopped taking people at face value? When I got smart. The answer made her wince internally; she didn’t like facing her cynicism head on. She took the key. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”
And she’d pray her cynicism was wrong.
Chapter Nine
Ian did one last walkthrough of the office building, calling hello in each room and making sure the lights were out. Even though at least half his staff lived in the mountains, within a few miles, the two feet of fresh snow in the last couple of hours prompted him to send them home early. Those who lived in the valley left long before that, and he was grateful he’d shut down work for the day. The canyons were closing to any vehicles without chains or four-wheel drive.
He trudged to his SUV through the white, unable to keep it from soaking his slacks halfway up to his knees. Years of experience navigating the roads in weather like this made it no less treacherous. Too many people drove too slow or too fast. With the twisty, windy mountain roads, that got dangerous. He was glad Liz knew enough to stay in Salt Lake for the evening. She’d already told him she wouldn’t be back tonight. One less thing to worry about.
He maneuvered his car along a route that should be familiar but looked foreign when it was covered in a white blanket. When he started sending employees home, he called Mercy. She didn’t pick up, and he sent a text, asking her to let him or Liz know she was okay.
That was hours ago, and neither he nor Liz had heard back. Logic told him there was a rational explanation, but as he crept the vehicle along more slowly than he could walk, concern built inside. Liz dropped Mercy off at the house this morning, before she went down to Salt Lake. If Mercy wasn’t at his place now, that would mean she called a cab, and Ian didn’t trust any taxi driver, experienced or not, in this weather.
He still wasn’t sure why he insisted Mercy work at his place today. On the surface, his reasons looked good. Mercy was on a deadline and those sucked. But underneath it all, he knew he wouldn’t have made the offer to anyone else. He just couldn’t figure out why.
Talking to Mercy yesterday, the way her face lit up and she almost glowed when he asked about work, almost made him forget it was a bad idea to ask her to join him in a back room somewhere. His cock had perked up for attention, and his brain argued that he was enjoying the conversation. He needed to get his head on straight, when it came to her.
Home was usually a fifteen-minute drive. Nearly forty-five minutes later, he pulled into his garage, gripping the steering wheel until the car was completely stopped. He lost track of how many cars around him slid in awkward directions along the way. Adrenaline thrummed hard and fast through his veins. He needed a drink. Neat.
The house was too quiet when he stepped inside. An odd thought, since it was always quiet, but he hoped Mercy was still here. Only because he needed to know she was safe. “Mercy?”
No answer.
He stripped off his coat and shoes and left them by the door leading to the garage. His suit jacket wound up draped over the back of a chair. He’d take it upstairs later. As he made his way to the liquor cabinet in the study, he strained his ears hard enough nothingness hummed back. And then another noise.
Was that keystrokes?
He paused in the study doorway and saw Mercy, head down and typing away. A tension he didn’t realize was there evaporated from his neck. She sat half-turned toward him, focused on her laptop and wearing earbuds. It took him a moment to drag his gaze from her long, slender neck—exposed because she’d pulled her hair back—and the way her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Time to stop staring. He had to shake himself. He knocked on the doorframe, and she still didn’t look up. Temptation snaked through him—the desire to slide up behind her, tug on her ponytail, and drag his mouth along her neck.
This was his sister’s best friend, and that was a relationship he couldn’t breach. Liz had lost too much already. He strode across the room and stopped next to Mercy. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she jumped and let out a little eep.
She plucked out her earbuds and slid her chair back. “I must have been more in the zone than I thought.”
A laugh of relief slipped from him. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? What do you know that I don’t?” The light in her eyes and quirk of her lips said she was teasing.
“You weren’t answering your phone. Speaking of—text Liz, tell her you’re alive.”
She glanced at the device next to her laptop. “Oh, that. I shut off my phone and told everyone in the office, if they needed me, it had to wait. I don’t know if this place has some kind of magic mojo, but I haven’t lost myself in work like this in ages. Thank you for that, by the way.”
There was that gorgeous look again. The same one she had last night. Bright eyes, a hint of pink on her cheeks, and a lilt to her voice that made him think she was barely keeping a rein on whatever was in her thoughts.
“I’m glad you got something done,” he said.
“It’s only two.” She glanced at her laptop. “Do you keep some kind of CEO, half-day hours?”
He nodded toward the balcony window behind her. From here, it was a view of the mountainside. On a clear day, anyway. Right now, it only showed clouds. He tugged her to her feet and let his touch linger, as he led her toward the sliding door. “Look outside.”
“Oh. Wow.” A cool blast hit them when she slid the glass open and stepped into the storm. “So much white.” She only stood there for a moment before rushing back inside.
“The roads up from the valley are all closed, and most of the city is shutting down. Liz is staying in Salt Lake for the night.”
“I should get back.” Her gaze kept drifting toward the balcony.
“You may want to
wait out the storm. The roads are a bit scary. I know; I was just on them, and the plows take their time getting up here.”
“Even after all these years. I’m not surprised.” She gave him her attention. The spark hadn’t faded from her face. “Is that your excuse to keep me here?”
The hint of playfulness mingled with the adrenaline from his commute and flipped a switch on his thoughts. “I don’t need excuses. I’m asking you outright. Stay.”
“For my own safety. Right?”
This was too easy with her. Too much fun. “Not only for that, but mostly.” It wasn’t as if they were going to repeat the other night. Though, the way she licked her lips, his imagination leaped ahead to that possibility. This was spending an evening with an old friend. With his sister’s friend. “Finish what you’re working on or wrap it up, and then decide. If you spend the next forty-five minutes white-knuckling it, while the cab slips and slides along the hillside, you’re not going to get anything done when you get to the hotel.”
She glanced outside again, over her shoulder, concern whispering across her face. “That long?”
“That’s how long it took me.”
“So the Porsche isn’t just your way of compensating? It serves a purpose?” There was no accusation in her light question.
“You tell me. Do I need to compensate?”
The way she traveled her gaze over him, from head to foot and back again, pushed his thoughts aside and left room for his nagging lust to surge to the surface. The corners of her mouth twitched. “I don’t think so. But I’m not the one who bought it.” The lights in the room dimmed, flashed back on, and then went out completely, leaving the reflection off the snow outside to illuminate the room. Mercy furrowed her brows. “Laptops and battery power are a lifesaver. You know?” She stepped around him, then clicked a few things on her computer before giving him her attention again. “Unless you have backup power, I’m not getting any more work done anyway.”
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