Books

Excerpt: Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached

Chapter One

Lyndsey McCord thought she could listen to him forever. Even the phone book would sound fascinating.

“Let’s do a follow up in two weeks,” he said into her ear. “Note to tickler file. End.”

Oh, yeah, the tickler, Lyndsey thought, sighing. His rich voice was as decadent as any thousand-calorie temptation. Nate Caldwell was dessert, all right, and she always saved him for last.

“You have to do this.” His voice lost volume abruptly. Lyndsey could barely hear him. “I need you.”

She looked up. It was his voice but definitely not in the recording.

She pulled off her headset, untangling her curly hair from the cord. Maybe she was taking this fantasy thing too far. She freely admitted to an infatuation with the man she’d never met, but she’d never imagined him talking to her before.

“You know how I feel about divorce cases, Ar.”

It was him. Nate Caldwell. Live and in person. He must have come into the building the back way. She didn’t know what to do. No one had ever come into the office after midnight before. 

“I would if I could, Nate. It’s impossible.” A female voice grew louder as it neared. “I’m working three cases of my own and I took two of yours already so that you—“

A door shut, silencing the conversation between Nate Caldwell and Arianna Alvarado—two of the three owners of the Los Angeles-based ARC Security & Investigations, and Lyndsey’s bosses for the past three months. They must have gone into Nate’s office, which was so close to Lyndsey’s cubicle she could fly a paper airplane into it.

She had gotten used to the eerie silence of working alone late at night, and now, well, having someone in the building threw her off her routine. What should she do? Print up the case file she’d just typed—her last, fortunately—and sneak out before they saw her? Except . . . 

She had to put all the reports on the various investigators’ desks before she left. Including Nate Caldwell’s.

She moved to her entryway and listened, able to discern voices but not words. He was definitely upset about something, a tone far different from what she usually heard in dictation, when his voice was smooth, the flow of words easy. Judging by the reports she transcribed, he was smart. Judging by the comments of her friend Julie, who’d recommended Lyndsey for the job, he was thirty-two, charming, quick to smile, attractive, polite and thoughtful. In other words, the perfect man.

Oh, God. Twenty-six years old and she had a crush on a man she’d never met, a fantasy she let herself escape to when her life got dull. She couldn’t knock on his door and present him with his report—it wasn’t good to tamper with fantasies.

The document finished printing. Do or die, she thought, then stalled by delivering all of the reports but his. Should she interrupt? Their voices were a soft jumble of sound now. Apparently he’d calmed down. She moved closer to his office. 

Oh, why hadn’t she worn something other than a black sweater and jeans? Why hadn’t she taken the time to put on a little makeup?

Why couldn’t she lose fifteen pounds in five seconds?

Better to take the coward’s way out and leave his report on Arianna’s desk along with a note. 

Lyndsey tiptoed down the hall, easing past his office. She opened Arianna’s door quietly, wrote a quick note then left, backing out of the room and shutting the door soundlessly.

She turned—

“Who are you?” He was right there, no more than a foot from her.

She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. “I’m . . . Lyndsey McCord.”

He glanced at Arianna’s door then back to Lyndsey. “What were you doing in there?”

“Working.” She tried to act calm. “I . . . transcribe the investigators’ reports.” You might notice that I put yours on your desk, error free, every night, Monday through Friday.

He looked her over so blatantly that she didn’t know whether to feel complimented or harassed, until he walked away without a word.

Well, of all the rude— Lyndsey leaned against the door, stunned. So much for the perfect man. Nate Caldwell might have fooled Julie, but not her—

Oh, come on, Lyndsey. Here you are, creeping around the office. Of course he would question it. 

Disappointment settled over her as she made her way back to her cubicle. Another fantasy bites the dust, which was really frustrating, since she’d learned that one good fantasy could sustain her through twenty harsh realities.

She unplugged the string of twinkling Christmas lights decorating her work area then signed her time sheet.

“What’s your name again?”

She jolted around. Her heart went back into overdrive. The man had a penchant for invading a person’s space. “Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?” she asked before she could censure herself. He was her boss, after all. She should bite her tongue.

“I wasn’t sneaking. I was following.”

“Well, I didn’t hear you.”

“I only asked your name.”

The story of her life. She was one of those people who faded into the background. This time it stung more than usual. He wasn’t only her boss, in her fantasies he’d carried her away to some exotic location and read poetry to her. The reality was he couldn’t remember her name for fifteen seconds. “Lyndsey McCord,” she said at last, resigned.

“Can you cook?”

The question was so out of the blue that she didn’t respond at first, barely managing to keep her expression clear. She wasn’t about to lose her job because she got snippy with the boss. She needed the position for at least two more months. “Of course I can cook.” 

“How well?”

“I worked for a caterer for a couple of years.”

“Come into my office.”

And she was worried about being rude? 

“Please,” she heard Arianna call from within his office.

Nate stopped, turned, and looked at her. “Please,” he repeated.

“I’ve already clocked out,” she said, trying not to notice how his eyes were deep blue and intent. Never mind that square jaw, the shallow cleft in his chin, and a two a.m. shadow that only added to his appeal, if you didn’t count his personality. His streaky blond hair looked like he spent a lot of time at the beach.

“I have a proposition for you, Ms. McCord.” With that, he entered his office, obviously expecting her to follow.

You need the job, she reminded herself, trailing him. You really need the job. 

“Come sit down,” Arianna said, smiling encouragingly and patting the seat beside her on Nate’s sofa. Lyndsey perched there, her hands locked in her lap.

“I need you,” he said, hovering over her. 

She felt her cheeks heat. Her best fantasy flared back to life. “Excuse me?”

“I need a wife. You’ll do.”

You’ll do? 

“For the weekend,” Arianna added calmly after shooting Nate a quelling look that Lyndsey appreciated. “You and Nate would pretend to be married domestics. It’s a marital infidelity case. I know it’s last-minute, but we really do need you. I’m sure you’ve realized from the number of case files this week that we’re completely booked over the holidays, particularly for security needs.”

Lyndsey liked and admired Arianna, but any job involving Nate Caldwell was out of the question now that he’d so rudely destroyed the fantasy that had kept her entertained for months. It would be one thing had he remained the man of her dreams ....

“I’m busy this weekend.”

“Doing what?” Nate asked.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t believe I’m required to share my personal life. And anyway I’m supposed to work Friday night. Tomorrow.” 

“My assistant can fill in,” Arianna said, making it too hard for Lyndsey to say no.

“Why me?” she asked Nate, suspicious.

“You fit.”

“I fit?” What was that supposed to mean?

“It pays three hundred dollars a day,” he added, ignoring her question. “Is that incentive enough?”

She managed not to let her jaw drop at the amount. But the advantage was hers. He needed her. She pushed him, not wanting to be in the background anymore. Pay attention to me. “I make thirty dollars an hour.”

“You make that much because you get a nighttime incentive.”

“That’s my rate. It calculates to seven hundred and twenty dollars a day, in case you’re wondering.”

“You expect to be paid to sleep?”

“Would I be on call twenty-four hours?”

“In theory.”

“I rest my case.”

“Five hundred,” he muttered, crossing his arms as well. “That’s equivalent to mine.”

“You’re taking a pay cut?” Arianna asked, shock in her voice.

He sent her a cool look.

Lyndsey contained her excitement. In one weekend she could make enough money to fly her sister home from college for what would have been their first Christmas apart. So what if she didn’t like Nate Caldwell?

She adjusted her thinking. She didn’t know him, and she had heard good things about him. Surely she could deal with him for a weekend if it meant she and Jess would be together for the holidays. “What would I have to do?” she asked.

“Cook and clean for a philandering husband and his mistress—“

“Alleged philandering husband,” Arianna interrupted. “Observe and report. Whatever you’re asked to do, within reason. We’re not sure of all the details yet.”

“It doesn’t sound like a two-person job.”

“You’re right,” Arianna said, then smiled sweetly at Nate. “If Mr. Caldwell could do more than reheat pizza, you wouldn’t be necessary.”

Lyndsey debated. She didn’t understand why an investigator of Nate Caldwell’s stature would take such a basic job. ARC’s referral-only clients had one thing in common: they were high profile, whether their background was in business, politics or entertainment. They demanded and got discretion. A divorce investigation seemed too mundane for the firm, or at least for the owners. She couldn’t remember typing up a divorce case for Nate, Arianna or Sam Remington, the third partner.

“Well?” Impatience coated Nate’s voice.

She was half-tempted to say no, just to irritate him a little. She decided not to push her luck. “I’ll do it.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning.” Without another word he walked out the door.

“Yes, sir,” Lyndsey said with a little salute to his back, then recalled where she was and who she was doing it to. “Sorry,” she said to Arianna. “That was unprofessional.”

“He was rude, which is unlike him.” Arianna stood. “I won’t apologize for him, but I will tell you he has good reasons for not wanting to take this job. I appreciate your agreeing to help out, Lyndsey. We really were in a jam.”

“Was it your idea to ask me or his?”

Arianna eyed Lyndsey, her head cocked, her gaze steady. “Does it matter?” 

Lyndsey waited.

“His,” Arianna said at last. “Come into my office for a minute and choose a wedding band to wear.”

“I know it’s none of my business,” Lyndsey said, “but why did you meet here tonight? It’s so late.”

“The office was midway for both of us. I couldn’t talk sense to him over the phone, and we were both in our cars. In fact, my date is waiting in the parking lot.” Arianna flashed a smile. “I do love a patient man.” She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small black case, which she opened to reveal an array of wedding and engagement rings. “Take your pick.” 

Five minutes later Lyndsey slid into her car. She wrote a mental to-do list: pack, sleep for a couple of hours, shower, tame her hair, go online to check on airfare for Jess from New York to L.A. Could she get a good price only two weeks before Christmas? 

After her engine coughed to life, she let it idle. At least it wasn’t raining. Wet roads and worn tires weren’t a good combination. Maybe there would be enough money left after the plane ticket to get some work done on her car.

You fit, he’d said. Fit what? she wanted to know. She hadn’t felt she fit much of anywhere for the past seven years, ever since she put her life and dreams on hold to raise her half sister. She hadn’t counted on being mom as well as big sister, but then neither had her mother planned on dying at thirty-eight.

Lyndsey pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home, a fifteen-minute drive. You fit. He probably meant she looked like she’d be good at taking care of people. He’d be right, of course. She’d done little else for a long time.

She certainly didn’t fit with him, but maybe she could still have fun. They were supposed to look married, after all. She imagined his reaction to her calling him honey. The thought made her laugh. Suddenly he quit being a fantasy and became a man. A person. Just another human being. 

She stopped for a red light and glanced at her left hand. From a selection of wedding rings in Arianna’s desk she’d chosen one that was two bands woven together, nothing flashy but not too plain, either. On her thumb was a man’s matching ring.

She tried to picture how she would act, even though she knew little about what the actual job entailed. She wouldn’t fawn over him—she imagined too many women did—but she could establish an intimacy that would look genuine to onlookers, like actors did for their roles.

Nate Caldwell wouldn’t know what hit him.