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At long last he nodded. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Barnes. As usual, Papà’s shown excellent judgment. Let me show you to your desk.” He stood and led the way into the outer office. “Here’s your new home. Have a seat.”
He held out her chair with such natural, unconscious ease, she knew it must come from long ingrained habit. “Thank you,” she said.
“Get familiar with the setting, take some time to explore the office area, have a cup of coffee or tea, and report to me in an hour. Then we’ll go over office procedure. I’ll explain how we do things around here and run through your duties. Though in all honesty, there’s only one thing I expect from you.”
She eyed him warily. “Which is?”
He grinned. “Whatever I say.”
She stared at him uncertainly. He was a difficult man to nail down, serious one minute, teasing the next. Add to that an abundance of looks and intelligence, and it added up to a potent package. Worst of all, he possessed one final trait that would be the most difficult to deal with—a wicked sense of humor. No wonder women fell like ninepins. Was it possible his charm was an unconscious part of his personality, that he didn’t even realize all those women had lost their hearts to him? Time would tell.
Meanwhile, she could think of only one way to deal with him. “‘Whatever you say’ isn’t in my job description,” she announced in her most businesslike voice. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, Mr. Salvatore.”
His eyes glittered with laughter. “I’ll see what I can do. Oh, and one more thing.”
He circled her desk, standing directly behind her. She felt his hand brush her spine, following the row of buttons to the nape of her neck. It felt as though he touched her with a live wire. She started from her chair, but he pressed her gently back into her seat.
“Hold still, cara mia,” he ordered. “Just for a moment.”
With a final glancing touch, he released her. Crossing to the front of the desk, he looked down, a crooked smile curving his mouth. She gazed up at him, once again captured by those strange golden eyes.
“What were you doing?” she demanded.
“I was doing you a favor. Your button had come unfastened.” His voice lowered. “And I thought you looked like the sort of woman who isn’t comfortable unless she’s all buttoned up.” Without another word, he returned to his office and gently closed the door.
And that would set the pattern for their relationship, she realized with a sudden flash of intuition. She’d play the role of the stoic professional, and he’d be unable to resist pricking her composure, teasing a less than professional response from her.
Releasing her breath in a long sigh, Grace stared at the calendar centered on the desk. One year stretched before her in a string of endless days. Three hundred and sixty-five days, to be precise. It seemed a lifetime. Without giving herself time to consider, she opened the desk drawer and shoved through the paraphernalia cluttered inside until she found a bright red marker. With great deliberation, and even greater satisfaction, she slashed a big, fat X through the first day of her year-long sentence.
And in that instant Grace realized what she’d set herself up for . . . and just how long and difficult the next year would be.
Chapter 1
The Great Lie
Day 337: And all is well until now . . .
“Morning,Ms. Barnes,” the security guard greeted her with a cheerful grin. “Early to work, I see. Same as always, rain or shine.”
Grace leaned her dripping umbrella against his desk and stripped off her gloves. “More rain than shine, I’m afraid,” she observed, offering a warm smile in return.
“It is blustery out there. Did you have a good weekend?”
“Splendid, thank you, Edward.” She tucked her gloves into the pocket of her raincoat. “And you?”
“Drove to the mountains with the wife and kids. The forecast called for snow and they don’t often get the chance to see it falling. All the Thanksgiving decorations were out.” He shook his head. “It was quite a sight.”
An onslaught of memories from past holiday celebrations brought a wistful smile to Grace’s lips. Her parent’s house had always been filled with friends and family and with the odors of freshly baked pies and breads. Her father would build a huge, roaring fire and her mother would decorate the mantel with gourds and Indian corn and her pilgrim candlestick holders.
Tears pricked her eyes. Lord, how she missed all that. “The first snowfall of the season,” she said with undisguised longing. “It must have been glorious.”
“You and your fiancé ever do that? Drive to the mountains to see the snow?”
She shook her head, still lost in memories. “Never.”
“Aw, that’s a real shame.”
His expression turned pitying and right away she realized she’d made a mistake, forgotten for a split second the role she still needed to play. “I’ll suggest a drive to the mountains for next weekend. I’m certain he’ll think it’s an excellent idea.”
