Page 4 of A Perfect Christmas Romance (Kringle, Texas #8)

Liv half expected to see her job description reflected in the intern’s eyes. “Of course he did.”

Ray Bosworth, or Boz to his friends (a list Liv wasn’t on), headed the Kringle branch, and he was her immediate superior.

“He wants me to work here when my internship is over,” Brandi Jo said, dropping this bomb with all the casualness of someone mentioning they had cereal for breakfast.

“That reminds me. I have to do your evaluation for school. When is it due?” Liv asked, mentally adding write a glowing review for potential usurper to her to-do list.

“Any time before January tenth.” The intern sounded a little less sure of herself, probably remembering she still had to graduate before she could fully commit to being the bane of Liv’s existence.

Liv planned to give Brandi Jo a good report card because it would be petty and spiteful not to acknowledge that the young woman worked hard, but Liv harbored no illusions about her temporary helper.

Just then, as if summoned by Liv’s rising anxiety, Boz barged in without knocking.

He plunked down in Liv’s chair before she had a chance to do anything but blink in surprise. Her office was about as private as a glass-walled bathroom.

“Good morning, Ray,” she said, injecting as much false cheer into her voice as she could muster on a Monday morning.

“I knew you’d want to hear about Friday’s executive meeting,” he said.

Most days, Liv liked Boz well enough, even though he could be as pompous as a peacock in a tuxedo. The round, graying VP was a professional glad-hander, and to his credit, he was usually as pleasant to employees as he was to clients.

Today, however, he had the air of a man about to push someone off a cliff while assuring them the fall would be suitable for their career.

“There will be a slight shift in your duties, Liv,” Bosworth said, suddenly finding his fingernails fascinating. “Nothing major right away, but we’ll be easing you into new responsibilities.”

“What kind of shift?” Liv asked. “What kind of responsibilities?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Brandi Jo had stopped working to listen.

“Billy wants more emphasis on client relationships. You’ll generate new leads and work up some accounts of your own. Gradually, we’ll take you out of crisis management in favor of having your own client base.”

“But crisis management is my specialty,” Liv said, even though the position he proposed would be a promotion with a small salary bump.

“And you’re good at it.” Boz smiled benevolently, but he was eyeballing at Brandi. It was like watching her career flash before her eyes, with Brandi Jo as the star. “This is your opportunity to grow with the firm and be on the cutting edge of expansion.”

She got it. She had to generate new business. Apparently, her job description now included “miracle worker” and “fortune teller.”

“Remember, Liv,” Boz said, standing and smoothing his dark charcoal jacket as though it could conceal his barrel belly (spoiler alert: it couldn’t), “Billy wants you to be more open and welcoming. Maybe Brandi Jo could give you a few pointers in that direction.”

Liv bit back a retort that would have made a sailor blush. “But I love helping clients who have problems. I love the challenge of putting out fires.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to start a few of those fires,” her boss said. “Brandi Jo, can I see you in my office?”

Gritting her teeth, Liv watched the intern totter out on four-inch heels that defied both gravity and common sense. How could Boz dump this on her in front of an intern? It was like being demoted and pantsed at the same time.

Just as Liv contemplated whether it was too early to start day drinking or too late to change careers, a sharp knock on the door startled her.

Before she could even open her mouth to say, “Come in” (or “Go away,” which was more in line with her current mood), the dark oak door banged inward.

And there, like a ghost from relationships past, stood Nick Matheson.

The man she hadn’t seen in five long years looked unfairly handsome and annoyingly composed.

Nick,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady while her brain ran off the rails. Of course he had to waltz back into her life looking like a Calvin Klein model. Couldn’t he have stayed in Dallas where he belonged?

He flashed a hot smile that gave global warming a run for its money. “Olivia.”

She was stunned. Time had weathered the vestiges of boyish roundness from Nick’s face, but his deep-set eyes were still as blue and penetrating as ever.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she stammered.

“Sorry. The receptionist said to walk right on in.” He had the grace to look abashed, which only made him more attractive.

Darn him.

“Are you a potential client?” Liv asked, grasping professionalism like a drowning woman clutching a life vest.

“Umm, not exactly.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

It was like verbal ping-pong, and Liv was losing. What was he up to? “It’s been a long time.”

“Five years.”

“How have you been?” Other than gorgeous, sexy, and cocky.

“Great, great.”

“I hear you’re reporting on sports at the CBS affiliate.”

“I am.”

“How did you know I worked here?”

He studied her, his grin widening like the Cheshire Cat’s. She tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, feeling like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“You look spectacular, Liv.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, cursing her fair complexion and her apparent inability to be immune to Nick’s charm.

He still had the annoying habit of dodging questions, but her reaction concerned her more.

How could he possibly look even better at twenty-nine than he had as a twenty-four-year-old graduate student?

It was like he’d been dipped in a vat of “Irresistible” while she’d been busy adulting and forgetting how to flirt.

He wore a conservative tweed sports jacket and casual slacks, a big step up from the jeans and sweatshirts he used to live in.

His long, lean body looked even harder and more muscular, like he’d been carved from marble by a sculptor with a thing for sports reporters.

His curly dark hair was shorter but still combed back from his forehead in carelessly perfection that probably took an hour to achieve.

He was clean-shaven, and his skin glowing with a honey hue that made her want to ask if he’d been vacationing on the sun.

“If you came for an apology, I’m sorry I was abrupt on your voice mail. Now you can leave,” Liv said, aiming for stern but landing somewhere between flustered and flirtatious.

“Oh, your message.” His grin vanished faster than free food at an office party. “Yeah, that was pretty abrupt.”

“I’m sorry about that. I was upset.”

“Because your sister invited me? If you didn’t want me to be there, it’s okay.”

“Yes, Amy overstepped, but it’s not that. We’ve canceled the event.”

“What happened?” The concerned expression in his eyes ripped at her chest like an emotional Velcro strip.

“My parents won’t be celebrating their thirtieth anniversary because they’re getting a divorce,” she said crisply, efficiently.

Pity darkened his eyes, and she hated it more than black licorice and Mondays combined.

“Liv, I’m really sorry. I know what a blow it is when parents split.”

Her heart felt as if it had a million little needles poking in it. “Yeah, and I never saw it coming.”

“If it’s any consolation, my parents are much happier apart. They’ve both remarried and are enjoying their new lives.”

“I appreciate your understanding.” She softened her tone.

None of this was his fault, and she regretted that Amy dragged him into this mess, although she supposed her sister had just been trying to help. They definitely needed to talk about boundaries.

He extended his hand as if to touch her shoulder to comfort her but drew it back and jammed it into his coat pocket. The aborted gesture hung between them like an unfinished sentence.

“You didn’t even know your sister had invited me, did you?” he asked.

“Well, actually, no.” Now that the initial shock of seeing him was wearing off, she remembered the months of heartbreak after he left. She wasn’t a girl to put her hand on a hot burner twice. “Thank you for coming by.”

“To tell the truth, seeing you is only a bonus. Strange coincidence, I didn’t even know you worked here until I walked into the lobby and saw your name on the roster. I’m actually chasing a lead on a story.”

“A lead? Here?”

“Your firm represents someone I want to interview.”

She shook her head. “We don’t divulge client information.”

“Yes, of course not, but the receptionist said you might be able to help me get an interview with her.”

“She was mistaken,” Liv said, her tone cooling to subzero temperatures.

“If I could explain?—”

“I’m sorry, Nick, but William Lawrence Associates keeps all client information confidential.”

“Let me tell you what I’m after, then I’ll accept your decision, whatever it is.” His voice was smooth as butter and twice as rich.

“You aren’t going to charm me into betraying a client.”

“I don’t even know if you’re still representing this one. Let me take you to lunch. We can talk about it.”

“Thank you, no. I don’t have time for lunch today.” Or the emotional fortitude for him.

“Dinner?” He arched an eyebrow. “Unless you have to hurry home to someone.”

“I don’t, but no thank you.” She was proud of how steady her voice sounded.

“We’ll go someplace close and quick.” He paused and locked his gaze on hers. “Please?”

Liv thought about the microwavable dinner she’d planned to eat in front of the TV while she watched a Netflix original movie she’d been dying to see.It wasn’t like she had anyone else fighting for her attention so why not say yes?

Still, her stomach twisted.Why was she making time for him? Was she really that desperate for closure?

“Forget your client. Forget the interview. We’ll take that off the table.” Nick took a deep breath. “I just want to spend time with you.”

“Why?” The word escaped before she could stop it, hanging in the air between them like a challenge.

He exhaled audibly.“Because until I walked in the door and saw you, I’d forgotten just how much I enjoyed your company.”

She hesitated. Saying yes felt dangerous, like holding her hand too close to a flame.

Aww, rats, she was falling for his soft smile and the sultry look in his eyes.

His motives were suspect. He wanted something from her, and it wasn’t to rekindle their lost romance.

She shouldn’t kid herself that his invitation was anything more than an attempt to coax a favor from her.

And yet, her heart longed to go. Darn it, she was such a dolt. A dolt with a weakness for blue eyes and charming smiles.

“All right. Come back at five.”

“Really?” He looked surprised like he’d just won a contest he didn’t know he entered.

“Yes.” Then she waved a hand, shooing him like a persistent gnat. “Now, off with you before I reconsider.”

“You won’t regret it,” he said. “I promise.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Gosh, I’ve missed you.” He grinned, turned, and headed for the door.

Her pulse skipped. What on earth she’d committed herself to?