“Who the fuck is he?”

  Stepping forward, Ross said, “He the fuck is Lucy’s friend, Ross. We’re here to pick up the package she left behind. Now, would you get it, please? We’re in a hurry.”

  Yeah. Not because he had errands to run, but because he was in a rush to get Lucy away from this prick who’d hurt her, even if it had been her pride, not her heart that had been dinged. Honestly, he’d wanted to rip the guy’s hand off when he’d actually reached out and tried to touch her. Fortunately, Lucy had stepped aside, out of reach.

  The guy’s jaw hit his chest. He gaped, then sputtered, finally saying, “Who are you?”

  Ross looked at Lucy and shrugged. “Is he brain damaged or something? Like I said, I’m Ross. I’m here to make sure you give Lucy her package, and that you don’t try anything.”

  “Lucy, are you serious? Did you bring this guy to throw in my face, make me jealous or something?” He reached for her hand. “Babe, you don’t have to do that, you know I’ll take you back.”

  “Dude, get over it. You’ve been dumped,” Ross said.

  Jude’s glare would have fried an egg. “Mind your own damn business. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

  Lucy stepped between them. “Ross is a friend.”

  “Yeah, sure, right. How long has he been your…friend?”

  She tapped a finger on her lips, as if thinking about it, then cast a quick, mischievous glance toward Ross. “Oh, about an hour now.”

  Jude sputtered. Lucy ignored him.

  “He just wanted to come along in case you decided to be a jerk about my package.”

  The guy sneered. “Oh, yeah? And what’s he gonna do if I say you can’t have it?”

  Ross’s fingers curled into fists and his jaw tightened. He took a step toward the door. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever felt this anxious to punch someone but he didn’t think so. Something about hearing the way this little asshole talked to Lucy brought out the overprotective he-man in him.

  She put up a hand, stopping him. “It’s okay. Jude, please don’t be a pain about this. Can I just have my package?” She reached into her purse and pulled out a key ring. “And here, you should have this back.”

  He snatched the key out of her hand, cast one more glare at Ross, then stepped back into the apartment. He returned a few seconds later, shoving a small, paper-wrapped carton toward her. It was mashed, dirty, slightly torn.

  Lucy stared at it, her bottom lip trembling, then took it. A small shake elicited a tinkling sound from inside. The paper in which it was wrapped was damp.

  Whatever had been inside had contained some kind of liquid. And it was broken.

  “You didn’t,” she whispered, her voice thick. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

  Jude shrugged. “Hey, just figured it must not have been important if you left it here, so I was gonna pitch it.”

  It looked as though the bastard already had. Against a wall.

  Furious, Ross took another step toward him. “You petty little douchebag.” This time, Lucy was too distracted by the ruined gift in her hands to stop him.

  Good. That left Ross free to grab a fistful of her ex-boyfriend’s top and shove him back into his apartment. The guy tripped over a table, stumbling backward a few steps before falling on his arrogant ass.

  “Take another step and I’ll call the cops!” he shrieked. Obviously pretty boy wasn’t used to anybody threatening his perfect, spoiled little self.

  “I could knock out your teeth before they get here,” Ross growled.

  The other guy scrambled backward as Ross stalked him, step by step.

  “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said. “Lucy, come on, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. It was an accident.”

  “Accident my ass,” Ross said as he leaned down and hauled the guy up by the collar of his J. Crew sweater.

  His right hand curled into a fist but before he could let it fly, Lucy grabbed his arm. “Let him go. Please, Ross, let’s just get out of here.” She cast her ex a withering look. “Hey, he did me a favor. If there was any doubt in my mind that he’s a disgusting, hateful person, this eliminated it.”

  “Babe…”

  “Bite me, Jude,” she snapped.

  Ross grinned, then, for good measure, pushed the dude backward until he hit the couch, sprawling out on it.

  Ross glanced at Lucy, seeing she’d hugged the package to her chest, apparently not caring that it was wet. It was like seeing someone who’d lost their most prized possession. Nobody deserved to be cheated on, humiliated and then, to top it all off, have something important to them shattered. Remembering what she’d said about it being just the two of them after their parents had died, he felt his heart twist in his chest, knowing how much her brother’s gift must have meant to her.

  His own family drove him crazy sometimes—especially his overly controlling father—but he couldn’t imagine life without them. She was so young to bear that kind of sadness. One thing he knew, Lucy Fleming had to be one hell of a strong young woman. And a forgiving one, if she was determined to stop him from kicking her ex’s ass.

  “Please, can we just go?” she asked.

  Yeah. She seemed pretty determined. That was lucky for the ex, even though it didn’t make Ross too happy.

  “Fine,” he told her.

  He took her arm and led her to the door, glancing back over his shoulder before they walked through it. The ex still sat there on the couch, a sneer curling his lips. As if he were the injured party in this whole rotten mess.

  The boiling well of anger inside him had rolled back to a slow simmer, and Ross knew he had to get out of here before it boiled back up. Mr. J. Crew dickhead had finally realized the merits of shutting the hell up, but that look on his face was seriously pissing Ross off. If he opened his mouth again, or if one single tear fell out of Lucy’s eyes, he was gonna go postal on the squirmy punk.

  Her hand tightened on his arm, as if she knew what he was thinking. So he wouldn’t do it. But something wouldn’t let him leave without one more parting shot. “Hey, dude, don’t worry, I wouldn’ta hit you. Wouldn’t risk damaging that pretty face of yours, ’cause it sounds to me like you really need it.”

  “What do you mean?” the other man snapped, starting to rise from his seat. Emboldened, perhaps, by the thought that Ross was admitting he wouldn’t have hit him?

  Just give me a reason, punk.

  Ross shrugged as Lucy stepped into the hallway ahead of him. “I mean, it sounds like you need whatever help you can get. From what I hear, you not only have a scrawny neck, you have a scrawny dick as well.” Tsking, he shook his head. “Even worse, a sad, strange-looking one.”

  The other guy’s face erupted in scarlet, and he sputtered, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. Which, in Ross’s mind, confirmed what Lucy had said about him. A guy with an ounce of self-confidence would have laughed, or sneered. Jude just looked like he wanted to call Mommy and make the new kid stop saying mean things to him.

  “Oh, by the way,” he added. “Happy birthday.”

  Ross slammed the door, not waiting for Jude to come up with a crushing reply. Not that he could, really, because, man, any guy who couldn’t defend himself against small-cock accusations didn’t have much of a leg to stand on.

  It wasn’t until they were alone in the elevator, heading toward the bottom floor, that he looked down and saw Lucy’s shoulders shaking. It was as if she’d held herself together, keeping her emotions in check until she got out of sight of her ex, but now that they were alone, her sadness over the day’s events had come crashing down on her.

  He turned her toward him. Ross fully intended to take her into his arms, awkwardly pat her back or whatever guys did to console crying women. But before he could do it, he realized he’d made a big mistake.

  “Oh…my…God…” she said between gasps, which weren’t caused by tears, but rather, by laughter. She looked up at him, her lips shaking, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “Did you see his face?”

  “I saw,” he said, smiling down at her, so pleased she wasn’t brokenhearted over creepy Jude that he wanted to pick her up and swing her around in his arms.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “You were my knight in shining armor.”

  He grinned and gestured toward his bomber jacket. “Carpenter in tarnished leather, at best.”

  Her pretty mouth widened in a smile. “Either way…my hero.” Then, still looking playful, happy, appreciative, she rose on her tiptoes and reached up to brush her delicate fingers against his cheek. He had about a second to process what she was about to do before she pressed her soft lips against his.

  It was a thank-you kiss, he had no doubt about that.

  Sweet. Tender. Simple. Incredibly good.

  It should have been nothing but a three-second brush of skin on skin, an expression of gratitude between two people who didn’t really know each other yet but definitely wanted to.

  But damned if Ross was willing to let it go down that way. Once he felt Lucy’s mouth, shared her sweet breath, impulse took over. He lifted both hands, cupping one around her cheek. The other he tangled in her long, thick hair, taking pure pleasure in the softness of it, letting it glide through his fingers like water.

  He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue out to tease hers. Lucy groaned slightly, taking what he offered and upping the ante even more by tilting her head and widening her mouth. Thank you and you’re welcome turned into I-want-you and where’s the nearest bed in about ten seconds flat. Sweetness faded and heat erupted as their tongues thrust and twined.

  “Ahem.”

  It took a second for the voice to intrude. But another throat-clearing and a titter finally invaded his Lucy-infused consciousness. It appeared they’d arrived at the bottom floor. The door had slid open and they were providing quite a show for the people waiting in the lobby.

  Filled with regret, he pulled away, looking down into her pretty, flushed face, seeing the way her long lashes rested on her high cheekbones. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, swaying a little toward him. But the box pressed against her chest prevented her from melting into his body.

  And their sudden, unwelcome audience prevented him from moving the box.

  “We’re here,” he whispered.

  Her eyes flew open. Seeing the strangers watching them—two young men with their arms around each other’s waists, both grinning widely, and an older, white-haired woman whose grin was, if possible, even wider—Lucy stammered an apology.

  “No need to apologize,” one of the men said, waving his hand as Lucy and Ross exited the elevator.

  The other nodded in agreement. “Tell me this means you ditched 6C.”

  Lucy’s jaw fell open. “Wha…?”

  “He’s a bad egg,” the woman said, jumping into the conversation as if they had all known each other for years. In truth, Ross suspected they were complete strangers to Lucy. “A total fart-weasel.”

  Ross coughed into his fist at the description, but the two men were already nodding in agreement. “He sure is.”

  “Have we met?” Lucy asked, shaking her head in confusion, confirming Ross’s suspicion.

  “No,” said the darker-haired man. “But we all live on six, too. And honey, 6C is just nasty. So not your type!”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, looking even more embarrassed than before. Considering complete strangers were dissecting her love life, he could see why.

  The light-haired man eyed Ross. “Did you beat him up?”

  “No.”

  Ms. Elderly Busybody sighed heavily. “That’s too bad. I’ve been hoping somebody would. That boy could benefit from an ass-whupping.”

  “Well, given what I know of him so far, I have no doubt that someday your prayers will be answered,” Ross said.

  He and Lucy murmured goodbyes to their three new friends, then headed for the door. As they approached him, the doorman offered Lucy a conspiratorial wink, as if he agreed with the other residents’ opinion of her ex. Which was nice, but probably had to be making Lucy feel even worse about ever having dated the fart-weasel in 6C.

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  She sucked in a surprised breath, and stopped halfway across the lobby. Looking up at him, she appeared shocked that he’d been able to figure out what she’d been thinking.

  “He’s a con artist, Luce,” Ross said with a simple shrug. “He became what you wanted him to be.”

  “Yes, he did,” she murmured. “But how did you know?”

  “Guys do it all the time, especially with girls who won’t, uh….” He didn’t want to be crass enough to say put out, though that was what he meant.

  “Gotcha,” she said. “And thanks for not telling me I was a complete idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

  “You did see it,” he told her, not liking that self-recrimination in her voice. “Which is probably why you wouldn’t, uh…”

  This time, during the pregnant pause while they both mentally filled in the blank, Lucy actually laughed. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”

  “I have a few ex-girlfriends who would disagree, but my parents like to think so.”

  “I think I’ll have to side with your folks on that one.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell them that,” he said with a grin.

  She grinned back, then, without another word, slipped her hand into his and turned again toward the exit.

  As her soft fingers entwined with his, Ross’s heart jolted. He’d kissed her, touched her…but this was a little bit more. It wasn’t just a simple touch. That clasped hand was so easy and relaxed, like she already trusted him, as if they’d known each other for weeks rather than hours.

  He honestly wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they walked out of this building. He’d done what he’d set out to do—escorted her to her ex’s place to retrieve her present. But now what? They’d made no other plans. It was the day before Christmas Eve, the streets were a madhouse, he had a million things to do. But as they walked into the bracing December day, alive with the thrum of city life, laughter, and energy, all he could think was that the very last thing he wanted was to say goodbye to her.

  5

  Now

  Chicago, December 23, 2011

  THOUGH HE KNEW STELLA had the checks for the subcontractors ready, Ross was hoping it would take a while for her to find Lucy’s. While there were still people in the building, it would be far too easy for her to slip away. The longer it took, the better the chances were that she wouldn’t be able to avoid him on her way out.

  Yet somehow, she nearly pulled it off. He didn’t even realize she was leaving until he spotted a thick head of dark hair—topped by a merry green, feathered elf cap—getting onto the elevator. “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  Seeing the surprised expression on the face of one of his project managers, who’d stopped to chat after Mr. Whitaker departed, Ross mumbled, “I’m sorry, I just remembered something I forgot to take care of.”

  Like getting Lucy’s address, phone number and her promise to get together very soon so they could talk. Exactly what they’d talk about, he didn’t know. Six years seemed like a long time for a how’ve-you-been type of conversation. So maybe they’d skip how’ve you-beens in favor of what-happens-now?

  Then he remembered that Stella had hired Lucy. She had to know how to get in touch with her. Plus, Lucy had mentioned she lived here, worked here—it shouldn’t be hard to find her online.

  So, yes, he could be reasonable and mature and patient about this. Could wait until after the holidays, then call her sometime in January to say hello and see if she’d like to meet.

  But something—maybe the look in her eyes when she’d said he would know what she’d been up to if he’d called during the past six years—wouldn’t let him wait. He couldn’t have said it in front of anyone at the party; wasn’t sure he’d have found the words even if they’d been left alone. Still, Lucy deserved an explanation from him. Even if she thought it a lame one and decided to keep hating him, he’d feel better if he offered it.

  Then he’d get to work on making her not hate him anymore.

  “Thanks for the party, Mr. Marshall,” his employee said. “The kids really loved it.”

  “I’m glad. Hey, you and your family have a great holiday,” Ross replied, already stepping toward the enclosed stairs that were intended for emergencies.

  This was one. The elevator could have made a few stops on the way to the lobby—there were still employees on other floors, closing down for the holiday break. If he hustled, he might beat her to the bottom.

  He might not be slinging a hammer and doing hard physical labor ten hours a day anymore, but Ross did keep himself busy in his off hours. So the dash down six flights of stairs didn’t really wind him. By the time he burst through the doors into the tiled lobby of the building—surprising Chip, the elderly security guard—the elevator door was just sliding open, and several people exited, some carrying boxes, bags of gifts, plates of food, files to work on at home.

  One carried nothing, but wore a silly hat.

  Lucy saw him and her mouth dropped. “How did you…?”

  “Staircase,” he told her. “Were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?”

  “Did you really stalk me down six flights of stairs?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Stalking? That’s a little dramatic.”

  “You’re breathing hard and sweating,” she accused him, stepping close and frowning. “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t run every step of the way.”

  He couldn’t contain a small grin. “Busted.”

  “The question is, why?”

  “Here’s a better one. Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”

  “We said our goodbyes a long time ago,” she retorted.

  He whistled.

  “What?”

  “You’re still really mad at me.”

  Those slim shoulders straightened and her chin went up. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Lucy was obviously trying for a withering look, but with that silly hat and the droopy feather hanging by her cheek, she only managed freaking adorable. He couldn’t resist lifting a hand and nudging the feather back into place, his fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.