Temptation at Christmas

by Maureen Child

  “I hope you can excuse me for one minute,” Tara said, not waiting for an answer and marching over to the two men.

  “What are those three talking about?” Astrid asked.

  “I have a feeling I know,” Miranda said. “I think there’s big news for my brother.”

  “One last announcement, everyone,” Grant called out before Astrid had a chance to inquire more. “I want to congratulate the firm’s star architect, Clay Morgan, on being a finalist for the state Architect of the Year.”

  Miranda began to furiously clap, and so did Astrid, but her heart was also breaking a little as she watched Clay’s reaction. He offered the obligatory smile, but it was so glaringly obvious, at least to her, that he was not enjoying this moment in the spotlight. How sad was that? This was a big accomplishment. What was it about him that he seemed to take no joy in anything?

  Astrid felt an urgent need to at least fix that look on his face, and she rushed over to him in Miranda’s wake. She watched as Miranda and Clay embraced. There was an obvious warmth between them as brother and sister, a bond that seemed strong and loving. So he wasn’t made of pure ice, or at least not when it came to family. Miranda stepped back and Clay’s sights flew to Astrid. For a moment, it felt as though her heart was being squeezed like a stress ball as their gazes connected and she tried to decipher what must be going through his head. In that split-second, she reached no conclusion, other than that she wanted to hug him, too, but she was certain he would recoil.

  Instead, she did the only thing she could think to do. She offered a handshake. “Congratulations, Clay. It’s so exciting. I’m honored to be working with you on the Seaport project. I can’t wait for us to start on the next phase together.”

  Clay looked down at her hand. “Thanks. But I’m going to ask to be taken off the project.”

  Astrid’s heart dropped so low it was currently residing near her feet. “But why?”

  “I’m not sure you and I work well together.”

  * * *

  It hurt like hell to say that to Astrid, and the devastated look on her stunning face was making it that much more difficult. But it was the truth. They didn’t work together well. He was endlessly distracted by her. He made mistakes when they worked together and he prided himself on not doing that. He’d made a gaffe on the Seaport Promenade several weeks ago and it could have cost them the entire project. Luckily, Tara had discovered his mistake before the first presentation. The Architect of the Year definitely did not suffer such lapses, and he wanted that award more than anything. Aside from his young daughter and his sister, Miranda, Clay had nothing else in the world to pin any happiness to. His job was a crucial part of his life. It helped to define him.

  Astrid—with her willowy legs, sweet personality, and beguiling honey-gold hair—was standing between him and the very function of his brain. They’d been working together for well over a month and things weren’t getting better. In fact, they might be getting worse. When she was around, he was all thumbs. He found himself searching for words, and he was a man with a large vocabulary—surely there had to be some verbiage that was easily accessible. But no. Not when Astrid was close.

  He instead found himself concentrating on the curve of her full lips, enchanted by her wide cocoa-brown eyes. He couldn’t afford to fall for another beautiful face. It had ruined his entire life the other time he’d shown such weakness, for the woman who became his wife, only to leave him and his precious daughter behind.

  He would not take a single step toward that mistake again. His daughter and career were too important. But he wasn’t about to throw Astrid under the bus. She was a capable partner in her work, leaving him with no choice but to remove himself from the equation. It was a sacrifice he had to make to save his own skin.

  “You can’t be serious,” Astrid said in reply to his assertion that they didn’t make a good team. “We work together so well. We made it through the first round on the Seaport project and don’t forget, that was on a very tight timeline.”

  “What was that I heard about Seaport? Are you two talking shop?” Grant turned and stepped into the middle of their conversation.

  Clay had planned on speaking to Grant about this in a private meeting on Monday morning, not launching into it in front of anyone else, especially not Astrid. “We were, actually. I’m wondering if I can be taken off the project, so I can shift to some of the more pressing jobs we have ahead.”

  A deep crease formed between Grant’s eyes. “I thought you were enjoying it. And it’s such a high profile assignment. I would think that with the Architect of the Year nomination, this is your time to step into the spotlight, not out of it.”

  Tara had apparently overheard and excused herself from the person she’d been chatting with. Clay wanted to disappear into himself. He never should have allowed this to be discussed in the middle of a cocktail party. It was stupid and foolish and entirely too public. Clay was a deeply private person. He’d always been that way.

  “Everything okay over here?” Tara asked.

  “Clay wants to be taken off the Seaport project.” Grant slipped his arm around Tara’s waist, but he still seemed deeply concerned.

  “No. Absolutely not. You and Astrid are the dream team. Plus, now that I’m officially stepping into my role as co-CEO, I need you two to steer the ship on that project. I’m planning on handing Astrid all of the work I’ve been doing.”

  If only Tara knew that she was only making his argument that much stronger. She’d at least been a bit of a buffer between Astrid and him. Now she was leaving it to just the two of them? “The project right now is nothing more than adapting the existing plan to meet the city’s needs. Those are small details that are best left to one of the more junior architects.” Clay hoped this new line of thinking would convince them.

  Tara shook her head and pinched her lower lip between her fingers. “I don’t know.” She turned to Grant. “I would just feel a whole lot better about things if Clay was still the principal. He’s been working on it from the very beginning. It would make me very nervous to step away from it if he wasn’t still there.”

  Clay could not catch a break here. He kept losing ground, despite having dug in his heels.

  “It’s my fault,” Astrid interjected, surprising the hell out of Clay. “The truth is that Clay has a hard time working with me. But don’t worry. I will do better. We will work out our difficulties and everyone can proceed with their plans. Don’t worry about it.”

  Tara returned her sights to Astrid, then directed them at Clay. “Is that what this is really about? Office politics?”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Clay answered.

  “Do you want to tell me what, exactly?” Tara countered.

  As for further explanation, Clay had none. It looked as though his bed had been made for him and he’d better learn to lie down in it, however much it bothered him. Perhaps he could start wearing blinders to the office or tell Astrid that they should only communicate via email. “Look, it’s my fault. Not Astrid’s. I’m too rigid in my ways.” He didn’t want to cast himself in a bad light, but he also didn’t want Astrid to take the heat for this. He’d started it.

  “Give us some time,” Astrid said. “We’ll work it out. And if we don’t, I’ll take myself off the project.”

  A frustrated grumble fought to leave Clay’s throat. That wasn’t what he wanted either. But he didn’t really have a choice. He could live with the torment of Astrid for another week or two, then he’d figure out his next move. “Yes. Fine. We’ll find a compromise.”

  “Okay, then,” Grant said, seeming satisfied. He and Tara were quickly whisked back into the flow of the party, celebrating their many bits of good news.

  Clay knew he was supposed to be happy tonight. He had the nomination he’d worked hard for. And if things were simpler for him, he could allow himself to feel at least a little jub
ilation. He might even flirt with Astrid, or at the very least, not let her get to him so much.

  “I hope I didn’t put you on the spot,” Astrid said. “I just don’t want things to be strained between us.” She looked down at her feet, then back up, capturing him with the storm in her eyes. “I mean, any more than they are.”

  Good God, he was a jerk. Part of him wanted to explain what his problem really was, but even he failed to fully comprehend it. He only knew that there was a force deep inside him telling him to stay away. It was a reflex. He couldn’t help it. “I’ll see you at the office on Monday, okay?”

  “I’d like to have a meeting first thing so we can talk about this some more.”

  He shook his head. “No need for a conversation. It’s not you. It’s me.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. He needed to get out of there, get back to his daughter, Delia, and sleep off the effects of this night. Perhaps he’d have a clearer head in the morning. He scanned the crowd for his sister, but she was nowhere to be seen. He’d text her when he got home. “Have a good weekend,” he said to Astrid before starting for the door.

  “There’s no way it’s just you.” Astrid was right behind him, trotting along in her heels, the ones that made her legs look unbelievable.

  “Trust me. It is.” He pulled the door open, but out of habit, he stood aside for Astrid. Damn his gentlemanly ways.

  Astrid turned back to him as soon as she was out on the flagstone landing. The night breeze blew her hair across her face, and she shook it free. He struggled to remain standing. How could any woman be so beautiful? “It’s never just one person’s fault. And I know there has to be a reason you treat me the way you do.”

  Clay had worried his cold shoulder had gotten to be too much. He closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the most fun to work with. I’m under a lot of stress. It’s not an excuse, but it might explain some of it.”

  “I know I can be overly enthusiastic. I’m just excited to have a job where I feel like I have more of a purpose. I was a model for years and that didn’t make me feel very valuable.”

  “I’m sure your employers were very happy with your work.” How could they not be? She was so damn sexy, she could sell a brick to a man standing on a diving board. He resumed his trek to his car.

  “Maybe. I don’t really know. But I do know that I enjoy being at Sterling and I don’t want that to change.”

  “You own a chunk of the company. You can write your own ticket, can’t you?” He stopped and turned to her. “Honestly, do you even need to work?”

  “Do you?” She artfully arched both eyebrows at him.

  No, he didn’t need to work, at least not for the money. He and Miranda had inherited the entire family fortune when their grandmother died. But he did need to work for his own sanity. It kept his mind occupied. It kept him from constantly rehashing his past. “How do you know that?”

  “I ask questions.”

  Clay did not want anyone digging around for information about him. That didn’t sit well with him at all. “Well, don’t. You and I are coworkers. There’s no reason for you to know anything about my personal life.” Anger was bubbling up inside him. He just needed to get to his car.

  “I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand.”

  “Understand what? Me?” He nearly started laughing. As far as he was concerned, he was an easy case. If he was left alone to live his life, he’d be fine.

  “Yes, you.” She gripped his elbow and her warmth traveled through his body at warp speed. “I want to be able to work with you. I want to learn from you, and collaborate, and try to soak up at least a little of your brilliance.”

  He stood paralyzed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. She was so earnest, so unrelenting in her pursuit of a compromise. As far as he was concerned, that only made her more dangerous. Why couldn’t she simply give up on him, go back inside, and forget about this whole thing?

  “Why do you hate me, Clay? I’m struggling to understand what I did.”

  “I don’t hate you.” It’s that I can’t stop thinking about you.

  “But it feels that way sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” He clicked the fob and strode double-time to his Audi, fumbling for the door handle like a fool. He wasn’t going to let another woman get to him. Not like last time. Not ever again. He started the engine and the lights immediately came on. Straight ahead, Astrid stood there, shaking her head in disbelief. Even in the harshest light he could imagine, she was beautiful and alluring and the exact woman he wanted to take in his arms and kiss. She was also so difficult to understand. What could make someone so eager to trust in a virtual stranger?

  He’d learned long ago to trust in virtually no one.

  Copyright © 2020 by Karen Booth

  Return to Jackson Falls, where uncovered secrets just may lead to a second chance for Senatorial candidate Byron Robidoux and the woman he never stopped loving...

  Read on for the first chapter of

  Scandalous Secrets

  by Synithia Williams

  Scandalous Secrets

  by Synithia Williams

  CHAPTER ONE

  BYRON WAS AT the top of his game.

  His heart pumped with exhilaration. His cheeks hurt from the smile that refused to leave his face. He stared out at the crowd surrounding the stage, and the eyes looking back at him were bright with enthusiasm, hope and determination. Signs with the green and blue logo of his campaign flowed like waves in their hands. A blend of people from all races, economic classes and social backgrounds packed in the brewery he’d chosen to hold his watch party.

  And he hadn’t let them down. The results were in. He’d won.

  The fervor of his supporters was like a tidal wave. Bowling him over with its strength. He’d done this. He’d actually gotten this far. The primary win wasn’t a guarantee he’d make it to the Senate, but he had lasted far enough to beat out an opponent with experience as a state legislator and a much longer record of public service. The weight of responsibility to live up to the expectations of the people who’d voted for him, the people who were currently cheering for him, was something he refused to take lightly.

  “I promise you,” Byron said into the microphone. In his periphery, Roy, his campaign manager, took a step forward. Byron could hear Roy’s warning in his head. Never make promises in a speech. They come back and bite you in the ass. Byron didn’t care about that right now. This was a promise he planned to keep.

  Byron held up a finger and shook his hand with each word. “I promise you I will not forget the trust you all have honored me with tonight. We have gotten this far, and we will keep going all the way to Washington. No more waiting for tomorrow. The time is now!”

  The crowd cheered. They held up and waved his signs and repeated his words. “The time is now!” The campaign slogan had come about during a debate after his opponent, state senator Gordan, insisted the time wasn’t right to try and fight the administration on progressive ideas. Byron’s immediate comeback had been that fifteen years was too long to wait, and the time was now.

  A slim hand slid into his left one and squeezed. Byron turned from the crowd toward his fiancée, Yolanda. Her brown eyes were filled with pride. Tall, graceful and perfectly polished in a tasteful green blouse and navy pants—to match his campaign colors—she complemented him. As Byron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, anyone looking at them would see a young, optimistic couple deeply in love.

  Byron didn’t miss how the gleam of triumph overshadowed the pride in her eyes. Yolanda was a woman on the way to making partner at the reputable legal firm she worked for. A position beneficial for the wife of North Carolina’s newest senator.

  Byron leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. She placed a hand on his cheek. Her nails lig
htly scratched the beard he’d grown during the last weeks of the campaign. Her gentle reminder to cut the damn thing, before she pulled back and grinned wider. “We did it,” she said.

  He slid his arm back and entwined their fingers. “Yes, we did.”

  They waved and shook hands as they made their way off the stage. The band played upbeat music. Champagne corks popped throughout the building and more beer poured from the tap. The party would start now, along with the real work. He needed to finalize the strategy against his opponent. Brainstorm the best way to reach the digitally disconnected constituents in his district. Figure out the best way to utilize his family to spread his message throughout the district. Develop a plan to be more relatable to his constituents. Something even more necessary now that his best friend and former brother-in-law had plans to remarry into the family. This time with a different sister.

  “I know that look” came a booming male voice.

  Byron shifted and faced his father. Grant Robidoux had a Robidoux Tobacco cigar in one hand and the other slammed down hard onto Byron’s shoulder and squeezed. His dad was what Byron imagined he’d look like one day. Skin the color of dark honey slightly lined due to age, light brown eyes, and curly hair with just enough salt and pepper to make people say he looked distinguished. Pride radiated off him like sunbeams as he studied Byron’s face.

  Byron took the glass of champagne Yolanda handed to him off the tray of a passing server. “What look is that, Dad?”

  “The I’m-already-planning-the-next-step look,” Grant said, pointing his cigar at Byron. “Not tonight. There is enough time for strategy tomorrow. Tonight, you enjoy the win.” He winked at Yolanda. “Enjoy the company of the beautiful woman at your side. The real fight is about to begin. Give yourself this moment to bask in the glory.”

  Yolanda raised her glass and tapped it against Byron’s. “I agree with that.”

  Byron forced the massive list of things he needed to do to the back of his mind. Taking a second to enjoy this milestone wouldn’t hurt. “Fine, I’ll sit back and enjoy this win, but I’m starting early tomorrow.” He glanced around the crowd and caught the fierce glare of his older sister. “Uh-oh.”