Unwrapped

“I love yours too.” He returned to her side. “So which one do we send him?”

“Both. Abe won’t know what hit him.”

Tris was already prying his cell phone out of the jacket he’d tossed over the back of his chair. Even when it was just the three of them in the office, he always dressed the part of the successful young exec, though he usually bypassed the tie in favor of just a crisp shirt. But that crispness had been lost through the long day and night, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to bare his sinewy forearms.

Realizing she was studying the pattern of dark hair curling under his watch, she forced her gaze away as he talked to Abe. He sounded a lot less glum than the last time he’d spoken to him, even ending the call with a cheerful, “Merry Christmas!”

Tris pocketed his phone and grinned, then leaned forward to tap a few keys. “He’s waiting by his e-mail,” he said, pulling up his own e-mail program and attaching the files.

“So much for Christmas,” she murmured, ignoring her urge to rush back to her desk.

The need to put some distance between them was high, but she didn’t want to be cowed. They worked together. She’d have to learn to deal with her feelings for him somehow.

“Christmas Shmistmas. Making green’s much more fun.” He stepped back and extended a hand to her. As if he wanted to shake.

She glanced down at his outstretched palm, then up at his face, noting that for the first time in days his tension had drained away. Tentatively, she laid her hand in his.

“Good job, partner.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. See, this wasn’t so hard, even if his hand was warm and ridged and made her feel as delicate as a china doll. “You too.”

“So,” he said, still not releasing her as his gaze probed hers. “You heading home?”

She should. She’d promised her mom she wouldn’t be too late, and she’d already missed most of the evening. “No,” she heard herself say. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “Can’t deal with the family tonight. They’ll be…” He shut his eyes and shook his head. “My mom’s been thinking about Connie a lot this week. I just can’t handle it right now. I’ll go over tomorrow.”

She nodded and curled her fingers into his palm. “Next week is the anniversary.”

“Yes.”

“Eight years. I can’t believe it.”

“Me either. Seems like yesterday.” He sighed. “Seems like a lifetime.” He linked their fingers and drew her against him, into the shelter of his arms where she belonged. “I’ve missed you,” he said, nuzzling her hair.

His spicy sandalwood cologne filled her airspace. His heart beat strong under her cheek, and she breathed him in with every ragged breath. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Seems like a lifetime,” he echoed as she closed her eyes.

How could something that felt so right be so wrong?

Except maybe it wasn’t. Not even a little bit. She sucked in a breath. Perhaps the only thing that was truly wrong was her ridiculously narrow-minded worldview.

And maybe she could still change that. If she was strong enough.

Brave enough.

“Are you hungry?” he asked a few minutes later, his voice wavering.

Was he trying to hold himself back from touching her beyond their relatively chaste embrace? Did he have any clue how tightly she was strung, trying to keep from touching him?

“I could eat. Are you? Hungry?”

“Yeah. Think any place is open on Christmas Eve?”

“Dunno.” She took a careful step back and smiled up at him, grateful they’d reached some sort of détente that didn’t involve nudity. “We could find out.”

An hour later, they’d spread out their feast on the table in the little kitchenette where they’d eaten so many meals over the years. It was also the same place she and Matt had argued—and sexed—two weeks ago.