The Billionaire's Christmas Desire. Janice Maynard

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       Three

      The evening was quiet and after dinner Emma stayed in her room. She had eaten alone, experiencing a mix of relief and disappointment that Zach hadn’t appeared. It was wiser that he had not eaten with her. The less they socialized, the better, even though there was a part of her that wanted to see him.

      On Friday, he appeared wrapped in business and he kept his distance. That afternoon, he told her to leave at one so she could get to Dallas ahead of the traffic.

      “Thanks,” she replied, smiling broadly. “I’ll accept that offer.” Shutting down her computer, she was on the road away from the ranch twenty minutes later. They had gotten through the first week, so she must have the job. They also had kept a distance between them. He had been professional, quiet, but there was no way she could feel she had imagined the chemistry simmering just below the surface. Any time they locked gazes, it flared to life, scalding, filled with temptation, an unmistakable attraction.

      Now she could believe rumors she had always heard that he never dated employees, never getting emotionally entangled with anyone on his staff, never even in the most casual way. She intended to keep that professional, remote relationship with him and this job would be a plus on her resume.

      If she could just keep from dreaming about him at night—with a sigh, she concentrated on her driving and tried to stop thinking about Zach Delaney. Instead, she reflected on the fun she always had at home with the family and with her nieces and nephews.

      Monday when she returned to work, she dressed in jeans, a T-shirt sprinkled with bling, and sneakers. Zach had said jeans were fine and that’s what he had worn every workday. Even so, she felt slightly self-conscious when she entered the office.

      He was already there and looked up, giving her a thorough glance.

      “You said jeans are acceptable,” she stated.

      “Jeans are great,” he said in a tone that conveyed a more personal response. “Yours look terrific,” he added, confirming what she thought.

      “Thank you,” she answered, sitting behind her desk and starting to work.

      “This afternoon I’m going to Dallas to see my doctor. Hopefully, I can toss this crutch when I come home.”

      “You can return to your traveling?”

      “How I wish. No. He’s already told me that I’ll have to wear this and continue to stay off my foot except to get around the house. Still, it’ll be an improvement.”

      “Sure,” she replied.

      He returned to whatever he had been doing and they worked quietly the rest of the morning. When she left for lunch, he stayed in the office. In the afternoon, she read more Delaney letters, occasionally glancing at the great-great-grandson, continuing to wonder how he could care so little about his history.

      The next morning the crutch had disappeared. Zach remained professional and slightly remote. She noticed he hobbled around and kept his foot elevated when he was seated.

      On Thursday afternoon she dug inside one of the open boxes of memorabilia and picked up a small box and opened it. Yellowed paper was inside and when she pushed the paper away, she gasped when she discovered a beautiful pocket watch.

      “Zach, look at this,” she said, turning to take the box to him. He stood by a file cabinet. Today his T-shirt was navy, tight and short-sleeved, revealing firm muscles and a lean, fit body. Dark curls fell on his forehead. As he came around his desk, she handed him the box. Their fingers brushed, sending ripples radiating from the contact.

      “This is beautiful,” she said. She looked up from the watch, meeting his gaze, ensnared, while tension increased between them. She could barely get her breath. It was obvious he felt something as he focused on her. His attention lowered to her mouth. Her lips parted, tingled while her imagination ran riot. How long before he kissed her?

      “Zach,” she whispered, intending to break the spell, but she forgot what she had been about to say. He shifted, a slight closing of the space between them. His hand barely touched her waist as he leaned closer. She couldn’t keep from glancing at his mouth and then back into crystal blue that held flames of desire.

      The air heated, enveloped her, and the moment his mouth touched hers, she closed her eyes. His lips were warm, firm, a dangerous temptation. Her insides knotted, dropping into free fall. Protests vanished before being spoken. Her breath was gone. His lips settled, opened her mouth. His arm went around her waist tightly, holding her close against his hard body.

      She spun away, carried on his kiss. A dream kiss, only it was real, intensifying longing, burning with the impression of a brand that would last. Her hands went to his arms, resting lightly on hard, sculpted muscles.

      As his tongue probed and teased, her heart pounded. Passion swamped her caution. She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him in return. Standing on tiptoe, she poured herself into her kiss. His arm tightened and he leaned over her, kissing her hard and possessively, making her light-headed. She wound her fingers in his hair as she kissed him, barely aware he was tangling his hand in her own hair.

      It was Zach Delaney she kissed wildly. The reminder was dim, but gradually stirred prudence. “Zach,” she whispered, looking up at him. Her heart thudded because the look in his eyes scalded, sending its heat to burn her. His mouth was red from kisses, his eyes half closed. His expression held stormy hunger.

      “Emma, СКАЧАТЬ