Page 18 of Her Christmas Wish

And it wasn’t going to happen. No point in kidding herself about that one.

So she’d come up with a plan. A way to interact with her brother’s temporary guest and keep herself safe from his bizarre ability to rile her up.

Never before, or since, had she met anyone who seemed attached to her inner emotions as Gray had been.

Except for Leigh.

Her four-year-old daughter owned her now.

And that changed everything.

Including Sage’s ability to keep any wayward yearnings for Gray at bay. He didn’t hold first place in her heart anymore.

Her plan to see him only professionally was merely an insurance policy.

A peace-of-mind gift to herself, to help her sleep easily at night.

With Grayson Bartholomew in bed just four doors down from her.

She’d be fine, either way.

She had Leigh.

But helping Gray have the means to get out of their midst as quickly as possible still seemed like the prudent, right thing to do.

The second time Gray saw the elevator door open on Sage’s floor, he was better prepared. Refueled with his sense of self-power. Felt like he was taking back control of his life.

Starting with lunch. Sage had given no prior warning when she’d asked him to appear at her office, and only a vague indicator of a couple of hours before she’d called him back.

He’d spent those ensuing two hours hiring a Realtor, signing all necessary forms, and had been told a For Sale sign would be hung outside his place yet that afternoon. Her call had come just as he’d been about to get himself something to eat.

Figuring she’d been working the entire time, too, he’d brought enough for two.

She could partake, or not. He’d take whatever she didn’t want to the dog shelter. There was a group of homeless people who generally hung out there, waiting for him and the bag of nonperishable groceries he always brought for them. A few of the fancy tacos Sage loved to go along with the bag might be a treat.

If they didn’t want them, he could feed them to the dogs.

Her door was open when he reached it. He saw her, with that wavy blond hair framing her, sitting behind her large mahogany desk as she typed on a keyboard, her focus clearly on the screen in front of her.

And was hit with an urge to swipe his arm across the desk, clearing off everything in his way, grabbing her up, laying her down on top of it...

“Gray? You don’t have to wait out in the hall.” She’d stood, was walking toward him. “Come on in.”

He’d left his suit coat in the car. His dress pants were loose, but...she was looking at the large brown sealed bag he was carrying.

“You went to El Serrano’s?”

Silently thanking the bag for holding all her attention, he held it in front of him as he took a seat back where she’d earlier directed him. And ignored his body—and hers—allowing calm to shrink him back to general appropriateness, as he pulled out the insulated, disposable containers.

“Calle Pollo, chicken marinated and grilled with onions and peppers, street corn salsa, cotija cheese, crema and a side of lettuce,” he said as he laid out big, soft paper napkins and thick plastic cutlery beside the container on the couch side of the table.

He looked at the container he was opening for himself as he finished his response to her rhetorical question with, “Two years of hearing you order them, eating what you couldn’t finish...”

And had to stop, realizing, as she’d joined him, that he’d just exposed his own lunch to her gaze. Identical to hers. “They’re good,” he defended himself. And dug in.

He was hungry and did not allow food to go to waste. Ever.

Chapter Six