The Complete Boardroom Collection. Yvonne Lindsay

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the scenes, often at great personal sacrifice.

      His heart expanded as an idea took hold.

      It was past time someone did something for her in return.

      A new client, Devon had said. He’d sent a text to her phone with an address and suite number, but no contact name. She’d called him back, but he hadn’t picked up at work and wasn’t answering his cell phone. Not surprising. It was past five o’clock on a Friday night. He had a social life. As did Hailey and pretty much everyone else on the planet.

      Everyone except her.

      In the two weeks since returning from Biloxi, she’d thrown herself into work. Exhaustion helped her sleep, but nothing prevented the dreams where she chased Max through a maze of long, dark hallways, following the sound of his voice, but never able to catch up to him.

      She didn’t need a professional to analyze her dreams. As much as she longed to be with him, Max was out of reach.

      Stepping out of the humid Houston afternoon into the cool comfort of the building’s enormous lobby, Rachel felt the first tingle of excitement in weeks. Landing a client in this building would mean big commissions. This was prime downtown real estate, the sort of place she’d hoped to lease for Lansing Employment Agency.

      In fact, six months ago, she’d looked here, but the available space, perfect for her needs, had been snapped up the day after she’d toured. With a gym and a whole host of retail and service providers on the first floor, it was a huge step up from the older building near the edge of downtown that she was in now. Rachel let a wistful sigh escape as she rode the elevator to the eighth floor.

      The suite had no identifying name on the outside. Not surprising. She’d passed quite a few unmarked offices on the way. Pushing through the door, she hesitated just inside.

      No one occupied the reception desk. The space beyond had an empty feel to it. Granted, it was after the normal workday on a Friday, but she’d expected some sign of life.

      “Hello?” She felt uncomfortable searching out her contact in the empty office. “It’s Rachel Lansing, I believe we had an appointment.”

      “Surprise!” Out of two offices burst Hailey and Devon. They threw their arms around each other’s shoulders and laughed, enjoying her shock.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded, confusion making her cross.

      “I work here,” Devon explained. “Come see my new office.”

      “You quit?” Tears popped into her eyes. She couldn’t lose Hailey, Max and Devon in the space of a month.

      “No.” Devon shook his head, his smile bigger than ever.

      Rachel took a deep breath, her hurt easing toward confusion. “I don’t understand.”

      “These are our new offices.”

      She must have misheard him. “Our new what?”

      “Offices,” Hailey chimed in, rushing forward to enfold Rachel in an enthusiastic hug. “What do you think?”

      “That I’ve died and heaven is an office suite in the best building in downtown Houston.”

      A pop came from behind Devon, the distinct sound of a cork leaving a champagne bottle.

      “Come see your office,” Hailey said.

      Rachel resisted her sister’s tugging. “This is a great idea,” she said. “But I’ve crunched the numbers a hundred different ways and I can’t afford to move in here.”

      “You can,” a deep, masculine voice assured her. Max came down the hall, carrying four flutes of champagne. “Thanks to your sister.”

      Seeing him wrenched her heart in six different ways. The days of no communication had been excruciating. She had reached for the phone a hundred times and dialed his number at least a dozen. Loving him and knowing that he could never forgive her was agony.

      She turned away from his handsome face and stared at her sister. “Hailey, what does he mean?”

      “He means that I took the money I got back from Brody and put it toward your offices.”

      Rachel’s spirits plummeted. “Hailey, no. You shouldn’t have done that.”

      “Don’t even go there. You put me through school. You suffered with Brody for five years. Let me do something for you.”

      “But you’re getting married. You should use the money for your wedding or a house.”

      “I’m marrying a man who understands how amazing my sister is and supports my desire to help her with something she’s been working toward for four years.”

      “In other words,” Devon piped up. “Say thank you, Rachel.”

      “Thank you,” Rachel echoed, with the slightest touch of irony. Tears burned her eyes. Emotion tightened her throat. She wrapped her arms around Hailey and hugged her hard. “Thank you,” she repeated, unable to speak above a whisper.

      “Here,” Max handed her a glass of champagne, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Devon handed Hailey a glass. “To Lansing Employment Agency. May it continue matching executives with assistants for many years to come.”

      They clinked glasses. Rachel sipped her champagne, and then watched the bubbles to avoid staring at Max. Two weeks and two feet separated them. She felt as giddy as a teenager, and just as awkward.

      “I have you to thank for this, as well, don’t I?” she asked him.

      “I might have made a few inquiries.”

      She suspected he’d done more than that. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d vouched for her, as well. What prompted him to help her? Heaven knew she’d been nothing but a thorn in his side since reappearing in his life. He’d been eager enough to drop her off after their trip to Biloxi. She’d put every scrap of love she felt for him into that kiss and he’d walked away without a backward glance.

      “Thanks.” She put her hand on his arm. Lightning shot from her fingertips to her toes, awakening every nerve it passed. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

      “I think I do.”

      The room fell away as she got lost in the possibilities swimming in his eyes. He took a half step closer, filling her nostrils with his crisp masculine scent, swamping her with the heat from his body and the pull of his charisma.

      “Max, I’m sorry about everything.”

      He plucked her glass from her numb fingers and set it on the receptionist desk. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

      “Brody. The money.”

      “Gone and returned.” His hands slid around her waist, drawing her against him. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

      “For what?”

      “For making you the scapegoat for my

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