Underneath it all—the vibrant, gonna-go-see-the-world, and I-don’t-care-about-Christmas veneer—was a pretty innocent twenty-two-year-old. One who had lost her anchor at a young age and didn’t trust the world not to slam her again. Hard.

  He wouldn’t have admitted it, but Ross really liked trying to get Lucy to enjoy the holiday season, despite her own best efforts to dislike it. And while he wasn’t totally certain she’d like the gift he’d bought her before going back to help at the studio this morning, he hoped she at least understood the intentions behind it.

  “That was great,” he said as he set his fork onto his empty plate. They’d just finished dinner at his tiny kitchen table.

  Lucy had insisted on cooking for him, though she’d warned him she wasn’t up to anything fancy. Still, it had been the first real “home-cooked” meal he’d had in ages, and he didn’t think meatloaf had ever tasted so good.

  He stood to clear the table and clean up the kitchen.

  “Let me help you,” she said, starting to rise.

  “You cooked,” he told her. “Go sit down and relax for a while. I’ve got this.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.” It struck him, suddenly, how domestic the whole thing was. Which was pretty bizarre, considering they’d known each other for a day and a half.

  The best day and a half ever.

  That was a crazy realization, but it was true nonetheless. He couldn’t remember a better time than he’d had since meeting Lucy Fleming. Honestly, wondering what was going to happen next had him more excited than anything in a very long time.

  Cleaning the kitchen quickly, he went into the other room, and found Lucy sitting on the sofa, with her head back and her eyes closed. She’d turned on the stereo and Christmas music played softly in the background. He was about to open his mouth to tease her about breaking her own rule when he saw the teardrop on her cheek.

  Saying nothing, he joined her on the couch, tugging her against him so that her head rested on his shoulder. They sat there for a long time in silence, listening to the music, watching the way the silly camera flash—now covered with a green sheet of plastic—cast glimmers of light on the Christmas tree.

  Finally, she shifted in his arms and looked up at him. “This is the nicest Christmas Eve I’ve had in a very long time.”

  “I’m glad. Not too traditional for you?”

  “No. It’s perfect.” She licked her lips. “I know you’re very close to your family, and this is all probably hard for you to understand…”

  “I can understand it with my brain,” he told her, meaning it. “But my heart doesn’t even want to try to understand. I just can’t imagine what it must be like.”

  His father drove him crazy, but Ross still loved him, and his mother. He couldn’t even fathom having his world yanked out from under him like Lucy had, couldn’t comprehend getting a phone call telling you the people you’d always assumed would be there were suddenly gone.

  People expected to outlive their parents, that was natural. But not until they reached at least middle age. Not until their own kids had gotten a chance to meet their grandparents. His own parents were pretty young, only in their early mid-fifties, and Ross fully expected another twenty to thirty years of arguing with his Dad and being fussed over by his Mom. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “I can tell you what it’s like,” she said. “It’s like waking up one day and realizing someone’s torn half your heart out of your chest. Your life is no longer about the number of years you’ve lived, or the ones you have in front of you. It becomes measured by before and after that one moment.”

  He understood. It broke his heart, but he definitely understood. He hugged her close, smoothing her hair, kissing her temple.

  “But then,” she whispered, “the hole starts to fill in. You remember the good times from before that moment, and also start to acknowledge the good ones that come after.” She shifted on the couch, looking up at him. Her beautiful brown eyes were luminous, but no more tears marred her cheeks. As if she wanted him to see that she was melancholy, but not heartbroken. “This weekend, you’ve given me good moments, Ross. And I’ll never forget them.”

  He bent to her, brushing his mouth across hers in a tender kiss. She kissed him back, sweetly, gently, then smiled up at him.

  “So,” he said, knowing the time was right, “is it okay if I give you your Christmas present now?”

  She eyed him warily.

  “It’s not much,” he told her as he got up and went to the tree. He’d hidden the wrapped package behind it when they’d arrived home earlier this evening.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” she insisted. “I don’t have anything for you.”

  He winked and raised a flirtatious brow. “I’m sure I’ll think of something you can give me later.”

  “Hmm…why don’t we see what’s in here, then I’ll decide just what you deserve to get in return.” She took the present, and though a shadow of trepidation crossed her face, and she nibbled her lip lightly, he would also swear he saw a glimmer of a smile.

  He sat on the opposite end of the couch, watching her unwrap the box. As she opened the lid, and stared down in silence at the gift inside, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a mistake.

  Maybe it was too soon. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d think he didn’t understand, after all.

  She reached in and pulled out the snow globe, shaking it gently, watching the white glitter swirl around the scene inside.

  It wasn’t anything funny, like her brother would give her, and certainly wasn’t intended to replace the peace sign Santa that had been broken. Instead it was simple, pretty—traditional. A house with a snowy roof and a wreath on the door. Warm, yellow light coming from the windows, where a family could be imagined to have gathered. A car parked outside. A tree-studded landscape. It portrayed a quiet Christmas night, when all was calm and bright.

  “I just thought, since your other one was broken…”

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  She twisted the knob on the bottom, and Deck The Halls began to play. Smiling, Lucy carefully set the globe down on the table. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Lucy.”

  The song on the radio ended, and an announcer came on to mention the time—midnight on the nose.

  They looked at the tree, then at each other. With no more sign of those tears, Lucy whispered, “Merry Christmas, Ross.”

  She rose from the couch and extended her hand. Ross took it and together they walked to his bedroom. They exchanged langorous, intimate kisses as they slowly undressed. Throughout the long night hours, they didn’t have sex, they made love. He had never been sure of the distinction before, but now, he finally got it.

  He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and was pretty sure it stayed there all night long. Because he was still smiling hours later, on Christmas morning, when he woke up to a naked Lucy wrapped in his arms…and a ringing phone.

  “What time is it?” she asked in a sleep-filled voice.

  He glanced at the clock. “Only six-thirty.”

  There would only be one person calling this early. His kid sister was always the first one up on Christmas, and she’d probably already checked her email and seen the cyber gift card he’d ordered for her.

  Checking the caller ID on his phone, and seeing his parents’ phone number, he chuckled and opened it, fully expecting to hear his sister’s joy-filled, chattery voice.

  “Hello?”

  A pause. A sob.

  Then the bottom fell out of his entire world.

  11

  Now

  Chicago, December 25, 2011

  LUCY WOKE UP CHRISTMAS morning feeling nice, warm and toasty. That wasn’t just because of the incredibly hot, sexy, naked man against whom she was lying, but also because the heating vent right above the foldout was blowing out a steady stream of warm air.

  The power was on. Hallelujah.

  She lay there for a few minutes, relieved, but also a tiny bit sad. Power was good. Great, in fact. But it signaled something: a return to normalcy. The real world was knocking at the doors of their romantic little love nest, reminding them it was really a six story office building in Chicago.

  For thirty-six hours, they’d been able to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. Now that they were wired again, however, they were just a phone call away from everyone.

  She should make use of that and call Sam, who might be worried. Hopefully he had been too busy to try to reach her. But at the very least she needed to call and wish him a merry Christmas…or at least a bah, humbug.

  She wondered if it would be merry for her. Before yesterday, she would have laughed at the idea. Now, though, she honestly wasn’t sure.

  It would probably be smart to cut her losses, grab the memory of the gift she’d already received this holiday season, and get out while the getting was good. She and Ross had shared a magical Christmas Eve—for the second time in her life. But they’d already proved once that they couldn’t last much beyond that. So what kind of fool would she be to let him back into her heart again, the way she’d let him back into her arms?

  Anybody could make a lovely, romantic memory out of the holiday season and some snow. They’d never had to try to exist out in the real world.

  And maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe they weren’t meant to.

  Saddened by that thought, she slowly sat up and stretched. She peered over Ross’s shoulder toward the wall of windows and realized that not only had the snow stopped, but the sky was trying to be all blue and sunny. There was also a distinct sound of some kind of motor nearby.

  Curious, she climbed out of bed and went to the window, which overlooked the parking lot. To her surprise, it was already half-cleared. A truck with a plow was working on the lot, and a small skid loader was taking care of the mounds of snow on the walkways.

  “Damn,” she whispered. Not only were they now connected electronically with the world, it looked like their “snowed-in” status was about to change, too. Their private holiday adventure had come to an end.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said from the bed, his voice thick with sleep.

  Though she wanted to respond in kind, the words stuck a little in her throat, which had thickened with every second since she’d awoken. “Good morning.”

  “Does it feel warmer in here, or is it just because I’m staring at you and you’re naked?”

  She laughed softly and returned to the bed, bending to kiss him as she crawled in beside him. “Power’s on. And the parking lot’s almost cleared.”

  He frowned. “Remind me to fire that snow clearing company.”

  Ross didn’t sound any happier about being “rescued” than she felt. Maybe because, like her, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they returned to reality.

  Did they have what it took to go beyond this weekend? To actually work in a day-to-day relationship? With his ties to his family and this business and this city…and her sometimes whimsical need to change direction and explore new opportunities, were they really cut out to be together?

  She had no idea. Nor did she really want to talk to him about it yet. She had some thinking to do. And it would probably be best to do it alone.

  “I guess you ought to call your family and let them know you’re okay,” she said. “They’ve probably been very worried.”

  He nodded. “Listen, why don’t you come with…”

  She knew what he was going to ask and held a hand up, palm out. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

  “Bah humbug, remember?”

  “Lucy…”

  “Please don’t,” she said as she got up and reached for her clothes and began pulling them on. As much as she’d like to stay naked in bed with Ross, she knew things had changed. She felt a lot less free and a lot more worried than she had last night. The presence of the rest of the world in their strange relationship had thrown her off-kilter. Where a few hours ago she had been filled with nothing but contentment and satisfaction, now the only things that filled her head were questions and concerns.

  “I need some time,” she told him. “I’d really just like to go home and take a shower.”

  “What about Christmas dinner?”

  Turkey subs out of the break room had sounded just about perfect. Going with him to his parents’ estate for a grand meal with a big family? Not so much.

  “Please don’t push it,” she said, hearing the edge in her voice and getting mad at herself. He was trying to share something special—his family’s holiday.

  “Okay,” he said. “I understand.”

  Since she didn’t understand herself, she doubted that, but didn’t want to argue with him. Not after the wonderful day they’d had yesterday and the beautiful, amazing, incredible nights in that narrow foldout bed.

  “You can use the phone on my desk if you want to call Sam,” he told her. “If the power’s on, the lines should be working. Just dial 9 first.”

  Thanking him, she finished dressing and went to the desk. She got Sam’s voice mail and left him a message. She checked her cell phone—still no reception—and decided to call her home phone and see if there were any messages.

  She dialed home, then entered the security code. When she heard she had two messages from Friday, she winced, realizing she’d never even listened to them when she got home the other night. She’d been too busy masturbating in the bathtub while thinking of Ross.

  A voice she didn’t recognize came on the line. “Ms. Fleming, this is Janet Sturgeon, I’m with Parents Place magazine. I’m sorry for calling right before the holidays, but we really wanted to reach you. Everyone in the office just loved your photo essay.”

  She sent up a mental cheer. But the voice wasn’t finished.

  “And of course we all remember the great work you’ve done for us in the past. Anyway, we’re making some changes here at headquarters and were wondering if you might be interested in coming to New York to discuss a more permanent working position with us? We’re looking for an artistic director. We all really like what you do and think you would be a great fit with our staff.”

  Lucy’s jaw had slowly become unhinged while she listened. She’d been hoping for a Yes, we’ll take your work and pay you X dollars. But a job offer? At least, the offer of an interview for a job? She’d never imagined it.

  Well, that was a lie, of course she’d imagined it. She’d thought many times about getting out of the self-employment wading pool and into the bigger publishing ocean. And Parents Place was a huge part of that ocean. The chance to work for them, to be an artistic director for a major national publication…honestly, it was like someone had just handed her the winning prize for a lottery, when she’d never bought a ticket.

  Her mind had drifted off, and she’d missed the phone number the caller had left at the end. Lucy saved the message to listen to again when she got home and thought about what to say when she called the woman back tomorrow.

  “Lucy? Are you okay?”

  Ross was watching her from the alcove. He’d finished dressing, and swept a hand through his thick, sleep-tousled hair, looking perfect and sexy and gorgeous. Her heart somersaulted in her chest, as it always did when she looked at the man in broad daylight. Or, hell, in pitch darkness.

  Only now, there was a faint squeezing sensation in her heart as well.

  Don’t be silly, you don’t even know if you’d actually get the job yet. Or if you’d take it.

  True. She couldn’t let herself get upset about what could possibly happen in the future, and what it meant for her and Ross. For all she knew, there was no her and Ross. This weekend had been amazing and wonderful…but she had already acknowledged there might not be more than that.

  There won’t be if you’re in New York.

  Which made her wonder—would he care if she left?

  Would he ask her not to go?

  “Lucy? Is everything okay? Was it Sam?”

  She shook her head slowly and lowered the receiver back onto the cradle. Trying to keep her voice steady, so she wouldn’t reveal either her excitement, or her incredible turmoil over what this could mean for them, she told him about the phone call.

  Ross didn’t react right away. He didn’t immediately smile and congratulate her. Neither did he frown and insist that she couldn’t possibly think about leaving now, when so much between them was up in the air.

  So maybe it’s not. Maybe everything was settled in that bed in the past thirty-six hours, and it’s all over and we are both supposed to just go merrily on with our lives.

  God, did she not want to believe that. But it was possible. To Ross, this may have just been a one-time thing. Maybe he couldn’t care less if she went. She just didn’t know. And honestly, she wasn’t sure how to ask.

  “I see. Well, that’s exciting,” he finally said.

  “It could be,” she replied carefully.

  “When would you go back to New York?”

  Yell, damn it. Show some kind of emotion.

  “She said they wanted to interview me immediately, this week if possible.”

  “I don’t imagine the airports are going to be open for a day or two. Maybe by late Tuesday, or Wednesday.”

  “Maybe,” she said, wondering how he could be so calm, why he wouldn’t reveal a thing about what he was thinking.

  Why he wasn’t telling her he didn’t want her to go.

  But he didn’t. Instead, still calm and reasonable, as if they’d just finished a dinner date rather than a thirty-six hour, emotionally-charged sexual marathon, he helped her straighten up the office and the break room, hiding evidence of the wild weekend idyll that had taken place there. Everything went back in its spot, the borrowed coats returned, the food neatly put away. Even the foldout was made and folded up. No evidence that they’d been here at all.

  The realization made her incredibly sad. But there was nothing she could do about it.

  Finally, with nothing left to do, they dressed in warm clothes, and headed downstairs. They had no problem getting out to the parking lot, and Ross paid his contractor a little extra to dig out their cars. So, by twelve noon, they were ready to go, neither too concerned about their drive, considering the plows and salt trucks had been out in force most of the night.