Lauren’s focus was abruptly drawn back upward as the woman screeched. The scene in front of her went into slow motion, the tray of coffee shooting up into the air, the lids flying off the cups as steaming coffee rained down on the sidewalk. Now freed from the coffee tray, the woman’s hands flailed wildly, grasping for anything to save her, as her feet, first the left, then the right, flew up over her head.

  Her hands found Lauren’s coat sleeve and she grabbed on with a death grip. The momentum from the woman’s body crashing to the ground pulled Lauren to her knees. Lauren tried to hold the tray of coffee upright but lost the fight. The two of them crumpled to the ground amidst a sea of steaming coffee.

  Lauren sat on the sidewalk blinking as she assessed the level of damage. She grimaced as she pressed up from the ground to a half-kneeling position, breathing a sigh of relief as she realized that nothing was broken. She rubbed her ass, her tailbone wasn’t broken either, but it was going to be bruised. Thankfully, her sweater had absorbed most of the hot coffee, and its clammy warmth clung heavily to her chest.

  Two sets of expensive shoes appeared, and she felt strong hands slip under her arms, helping her to her feet. “Are you okay?” The girl groaned as she was helped up.

  “I’m fine, just a little…” She pulled her coffee-soaked sweater away from her chest, “wet.”

  “Oh no.” The girl’s eyes went wide as she took in Lauren’s cream-colored sweater that now featured a dark brown avant-garde looking coffee splotch.

  Lauren brushed the snow off her arms. “It’s okay.” The girl obviously felt terrible, and Lauren tried to shrug off the incident, even though one of her best sweaters was ruined.

  The man who had helped her up was bending down again, picking up the empty cardboard cups that had been rolling around on the sidewalk. “Let me replace the coffee. It’s the least I can…” As he stood up and turned to face Lauren, the cups slipped out of his hand and clattered back down to the ground.

  Chance Rapids was full of good-looking men, but this man was the hottest guy she had seen in years. Her heart started hammering hard against her ribcage. Amongst the sea of rugged mountain men sporting plaid coats, this clean-cut man with eyes the color of ice staring at her from behind thick-rimmed glasses, stood out like a sore thumb.

  “It’s alright,” Lauren bent down to pick up the cups. “I know the owner,” she smiled.

  “Absolutely not,” the second man, the oldest of the group, stepped in between them. “Come on, Nicole, we’ll get more coffee.” He dragged the red-faced girl back to the café.

  Left with the Clark Kent doppelganger, Lauren noticed that the man’s bottom lip was quivering. Was he cold?

  “Your sweater.” He pointed to her chest.

  She gripped her wool coat closed with her mittens. “It should come out.” She knew that it wouldn’t. The sweater was ruined.

  “Is that cashmere?” he asked.

  “A blend,” Lauren sighed.

  “Did you get burned?” His eyes kept flitting down to her chest, but Lauren understood why.

  “No, thankfully the fibers absorbed most of the liquid before it could reach my skin.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He looked at his watch. “Come on.” He grabbed her by her hand, and Lauren stiffened at the unexpected touch.

  “Oh.” He looked at his own hand like he couldn’t believe what it had done. He let go of her hand like it was burning hot. “Let me buy you a new sweater.” He pointed to the outdoors store across the street. “We can find one there.”

  “You don’t need to buy me a new sweater.”

  “Yes, yes, I do,” he yelled as he crossed the street. When he reached the other side, he turned and opened his arms wide, “If you don’t come, I’ll be forced to pick it out myself.”

  Lauren’s hammering heart stopped completely. The whooshing in her ears had stopped too. Everything went silent as Lauren stared at the man across the street. There was something drawing her to him, and before her brain could catch up, her feet started crossing the street on autopilot. He was like a magnet, drawing her in.

  “Shall we?” He crooked his arm and she accepted it, sliding her mitten in to rest on his wool coat. “After all, I’ve heard that these sidewalks can be slippery.”

  “Your shoes are probably worse than mine,” she managed to stammer. Her heart had started working again and resumed its hard pounding.

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “Why do you think I’m holding onto you?”

  She laughed. He continued his gentlemanlike behavior by opening the door for her and gesturing for her to enter ahead of him.

  “Where are your finest sweaters?” the man asked the clerk.

  “On the wall there.” The clerk pointed to the right-hand side of the store.

  They made their way through the sea of Gore-Tex ski coats to the wall of base layers and sweaters.

  “How about this one?” he asked, holding up a hideous floral cardigan.

  “Maybe for my grandma.” She took it from his hand and hung it back up.

  They both reached for an emerald green sweater at the same time. He set it in her hands. “This is the one.”

  She flipped over the price tag. This was one of the stores her sister shopped in, not her, and she almost fell over when she saw the four-hundred-dollar price tag. “No,” she handed it back to him. “It’s too much.”

  “Just try it on.” He held his hands tight to his body like a T-rex so he couldn’t accept the sweater.

  She couldn’t shove the sweater back into his hands no matter how hard she tried. He glanced at his watch again, and Lauren realized that if she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late too. She sighed. She couldn’t show up to the meeting with Caldwell wearing a stained shirt. “I’ll try it on, but I’m paying for it.” She turned and stepped into one of the change rooms. She clicked the lock shut rested her forehead on the back of the door. This man was bringing out feelings in her she thought had disappeared forever. Her hands were shaking as she peeled off the offending coffee-stained sweater and wiped at her chest with the sleeves. She pulled the silky green sweater over her head. It felt like butter against her skin, fitting her like it was made just for her. If she put it on her credit card, she could have it paid off soon enough, she rationalized. She pulled off the tags, rolled her ruined sweated into a ball and put her coat back on. She stepped out of the changing room and glanced around the store, disappointed but also relieved that the dark-haired man wasn’t anywhere in sight. She made her way to the cash register, her breath shallow and her heart pounding in her ears as she glanced around the store, trying to catch sight of him. But from the displays of cross-country ski hats to the leather gloves from Norway, there was no sign of him, he was gone.

  She pulled out her wallet, but the clerk shook her head. “That man already paid for it.” Her eyes sparkled as she winked at Lauren.

  “Can you refund it and put it on this card?” Lauren shoved the card at the clerk.

  “Nope,” the girl smiled and shook her head.

  Lauren slid the card back into her wallet and bolted out onto the street. She frantically looked left and right, but there was no sign of the man. “Shit,” she muttered to herself. She hadn’t even gotten his name.

  Six

  He recognized her the second he laid eyes on her. There she was, sprawled out on the sidewalk, taken out by his clumsy assistant. She looked as good as he remembered, with the same freckles and dark hair that had glowed in the candlelight. But the eyes. He would never forget those emerald eyes, and he couldn’t believe that he had doubted himself the day before. The realtor was pretty and had similar features, but she wasn’t her.

  He never had a problem talking to women, so when his tongue stopped working it was a shock. He was able to calm down slightly when it became obvious that she didn’t recognize him. If she had, the woman deserved an Oscar, or a spot on the poker tour, because aside from blushing, which he assumed was a flush of embarrassment for the sidewalk crash carnage, there wasn’t a glimmer of recognition in those pretty eyes.

  When he left the outdoors shop, Thomas, Barry, and Nicole were waiting for him across the street, eight steaming coffees stacked high. “Come on,” Thomas shouted and waved impatiently.

  He hesitated. He wanted to rush back into the store to see her just one more time, to tell her his name, to tell her how he knew her. Would it be awkward? he wondered. Hi, remember me? We had sex ten years ago at the heli-lodge. He would word it better, obviously. He played it again in his mind. Hi, by any chance, years ago did you work at a heli-lodge and make love to one of the guests? No. None of those options sounded good. At all.

  He looked back one more time. It was a small town, and chances were good that he would run into her again. By then he would’ve figured out a way to explain to her who he was, and how they knew each other. He was surprised that she didn’t recognize him, but again, the last time she saw Baxter, he was a tree planter. Therefore, he looked homeless, complete with a rebellious beard and shoulder-length long hair.

  He didn’t have time to think about it. He ran across the street to meet his team and hopped into the SUV. He had to put the woman out of his mind. He was now headed to what he knew was going to be the most difficult meeting of the entire mission. He had to get his head screwed on straight.

  That woman did a number on him years ago, and it seemed that her power over him had only grown in strength. He had to put those brown eyes out of his mind and get into business mode. Put your game face on, he said to himself. This lawyer is going to be tough.

  Seven

  Lauren’s boots crunched on the sidewalk as she hurried past the scene of the coffee crime and into her office. The spartan space worked for her. She preferred function over form, but today, she knew that the executives would see the threadbare chairs from the seventies, the old-style desktop computer, and lack of assistants as proof that hers was a second-rate operation.

  She had done her homework though and knew that she had much more experience with environmental issues than their principal, and she also had the backing of the town council. Caldwell International was going to have to pull out all the stops if they were going to get their project passed through the council.

  Lauren threw on her best blazer over the gorgeous green sweater and applied a fresh layer of Chapstick. She sighed as she flicked on the electric kettle. The Caldwell executives were going to have to settle for instant coffee after all.

  She saw three shadows walk past the window, their shiny shoes visible beneath the blinds, and she took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” she thought to herself as the door swung open. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the first set of boots to step into her office – stiletto heels.

  The blond stepped forward, “We have a meeting with Mrs. Bunkman at nine-thirty,” she said, reading off her phone. There were no pleasantries. The woman hadn’t even so much as looked at Lauren.

  “It’s Miss Bunkman.” Lauren stood up and that’s when the woman’s eyes finally saw her.

  “Oh, my God. It’s you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I thought you were the secretary.” She seemed embarrassed.

  After working so many menial jobs, Lauren knew what it felt like to be invisible; she despised it when people looked down on those in-service jobs. This woman thought she was a receptionist, and therefore, not important. “You’re sorry about the coffee, or thinking I was the secretary?” Lauren crossed her arms across her chest.

  The girl’s face dropped.

  A man stepped around her, holding a tray of coffee in his left hand, his right outstretched. “Mr. Thomas Filterton.”

  Lauren shook his hand. The other, older man stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Bunkman,” he smiled. “I’m Caldwell’s lead attorney on this project.”

  “Ah, you must be Barry Birkner.” Finally, someone with a set of social skills, Lauren thought to herself as she shook Mr. Birkner’s hand.

  “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chairs she had set up in front of her desk.

  “Oh, here? Is this what passes as a conference room in this town?” Thomas smirked and looked around the small room.

  “We could go back to the sidewalk if you’d like,” Lauren sat down and put on her glasses. She knew she sounded snarky, but their condescending comments were pushing her buttons. “Shall we get started?”

  The trio sat down, leaving the center chair open. “Mr. Caldwell is on a call, so he will be in momentarily,” the blond woman said.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize that he would be joining us today.” Lauren quickly glanced at her notes. She had been expecting the lawyer, their consultant, and an assistant.

  “He likes to get his hands dirty,” Thomas smiled, and Lauren shivered. His perfect veneers against his tanned face made him look like a cyborg.

  Mr. Birkner cleared his throat. “This project is very important to Mr. Caldwell, Junior”

  “Junior?” Lauren said.

  “Yes, Mr. Caldwell, Senior is stepping back from his role in the development wing of the corporation.”

  This was news to Lauren. For the first time, she felt sideswiped. She thought that she knew everything about her competition, and now they were throwing this curveball at her. Two competing thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to maintain her composure. The first was that the inexperienced son of the CEO might be easier to deal with; the second thought was confirmed as the door to her office swung open, a cloud of steam escaping as the cold air met the warmth of her office. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that the sweater man; the only man that had been capable of making her heart skip a beat in the past ten years, and her opposition had just walked into her office.

  “My apologies,” he said, his back to the group as he shut the door.

  “That’s quite alright,” she stammered. “We were just getting acquainted.”

  He turned to face the group and the smile on his face faded as his eyes met Lauren’s.

  “Please, come in and have a seat.” Lauren gestured to the empty chair.

  As quickly as his smile had faded, a bigger, faker one appeared in its place. “Baxter Caldwell,” he extended his hand as he took his place in front of her desk.

  “Junior,” Lauren clarified.

  A scarlet blush crept up from the collar of Baxter’s pea coat collar. “Junior.”

  “Lauren Bunkman.” She shook his hand, squeezing it a little harder than necessary to mask the tremble that had set in.

  Lauren was never one to feel sorry for herself. She had been dealt a shit hand in life, growing up in poverty, losing her mom, being a single mother and having to work multiple jobs to put herself through law school, but this just seemed like a cruel twist of fate. For the first time in years, she had let herself imagine kissing and touching a man, specifically the man in front of her, the one sent to destroy her.

  * * *

  Holy fuck. Baxter could now put a name to the face. The woman he had slept with ten years ago. The woman he had spent years trying to find. The woman who had skated in and out of his dreams while he was in bed with other women, was Lauren Bunkman, Attorney-at-Law. The lawyer assigned to ruin him.

  “May I offer you a coffee?” Thomas smiled.

  Thank God for Thomas. Baxter thought. Baxter’s consultant handed Lauren a coffee and distributed the cups to everyone else. “I hope that you weren’t scalded earlier,” Thomas smiled.

  “I’m fine.” Lauren took a sip of the coffee. “And thank you for bringing these. The alternative was instant.” She pointed to the steaming electric kettle that was perched on top of the microwave.

  Baxter looked around her office. The woman belonged in a glossy magazine, not a hellhole like this. The fluorescent lights hummed overheard and he swore that he felt a spring poking his ass from the seat of his uncomfortable chair.

  “I feel terrible.” The blond shook her head. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

  “It was instinct,” Lauren said. She folded her hands together and rested them on top of her desk. “We should probably get started. I’m assuming you’re here to negotiate the boundaries for your project.”

  Baxter noticed that when Lauren switched into business mode, her voice changed, becoming deeper, more authoritative. His cock twitched in response and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Miss Bunkman, we want to work with you and the town, not against you. This development is going to be good for everyone.”

  If she could go into business mode, so could he. He had to look at her like an adversary, a foe, a fly to be squashed, not his dream woman.

  “Really, Mr. Caldwell.” She leaned forward. “As far as anyone in this town can see, the only person who is going to benefit from this expansion is you.” Her voice was firm but tinged with anger.

  “Mr. Filterton,” he addressed Thomas, ignoring her statement. “Would you care to go over the modifications for the expansion with Miss Bunkman.”

  “Of course, sir,” Thomas said. He set the big leather folio on her desk, opening it to reveal thick glossy cardstock with renderings of the proposed mountain village. “We typically do this electronically,” he apologized, “But we were informed your office could not support a digital presentation.”

  Baxter tightened his lips, insulting the woman and her operation was not going to help their cause.

  Thomas flipped through the various renderings, explaining the modifications that they had made. Modifications that took millions out of Caldwell’s pocket. When he was finished, he handed Lauren a tube with copies of the renderings and packed up his presentation.

  Lauren sighed. “What about the bear habitat? What about the request to hire local contractors? Mr. Caldwell, while you’ve taken two stories off your tower, its footprint hasn’t changed. The only improvements I can see in this plan is a slightly less phallic-looking tower in your proposed town square.”