orange missile shot straight toward the basket and plopped down—three feet short.
Rafe wanted to howl at the frustration on her face. She was stiff as a baseball bat now with her hands clenched into small fists by her sides. But instead of laughing, he shook his head in mock commiseration. “Ah, damn. That’s too bad,” he said sympathetically. He scooped the ball up from the carpet. “Let’s see if I can do any better.”
He made a minor production of measuring off his shooting range, making sure he doubled the distance Lauren had thrown from. Then with a casual toss, he threw the ball.
He nodded in satisfaction as it sank right in the can. Man, he was good. He glanced at his secretary to see if she fully appreciated his prowess, and his smile disappeared.
Lauren looked sick. Her pale skin had a yellow cast and as he watched, she flinched, then wrapped her arms around her waist.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said, but the words ended on a small gasp. “I just have a small pain in my stomach.”
He frowned as she tightened her arms again. “What do you mean pain?” he demanded. “Like appendicitis?”
“No. Really—I’m fine.”
“There’s a flu bug going around—”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, dismissing his concern with an airy wave of her hand.
A second later, however, she clasped that same hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in alarm. Jumping up, she looked frantically at the trash can—still decked out with its silly net—then dashed out the door.
Chapter Two
When Lauren emerged from the women’s restroom a few minutes later, she was feeling much better. She’d splashed cold water on her face, rinsed out her mouth, and was sure she could make it through the rest of the day. But then she saw Rafe leaning against the wall outside with his arms crossed, wearing his black overcoat. Her brown coat and scarf were slung over his arm, and he had the scuffed brown messenger bag she used as a purse clutched in his big hand.
He straightened at the sight of her. “Okay, let’s go,” he said briskly, before she could speak. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”
“I’m not sick,” Lauren said, automatically reaching for her bag.
He relinquished it, but turned her this way and that as he hooked her arms into her coat and tugged it up her shoulders. Then, taking her arm in a firm grasp, he steered her down the hall toward the elevators.
“Rafe—wait! I’m better now,” Lauren told him, trying to dig in her heels.
“Glad to hear it,” he replied, but kept walking, pulling her along with him.
When they reached the elevator, he still didn’t give her a chance to argue, pushing the button and pulling her inside before she could think of a way to convince him she was all right.
The doors closed and he turned to face her. “You’re white as a ghost, Lauren.” Ignoring her protests, he slung the scarf around her neck. He wrapped it around and around to the mellow rendition of “Jingle Bells” seeping from the elevator speakers. “I’m taking you home. I don’t want you driving yourself.”
Lauren pulled down the wool folds stacked up over her nose. “But there’s no need! Mr. Haley—”
“Will understand. I left him a message explaining that you weren’t feeling well. Since it’s Friday, you’ll have the entire weekend to rest up.”
Lauren opened her mouth to protest again, then shut it as she glanced at Rafe’s face. His tone sounded pleasant enough, but the look in his eyes told her he meant what he said.
Lauren sighed, subsiding back into her scarf. She’d seen that look before, whenever he was working on a deal. Rafe was determined to get his way, and any argument she made would simply be a waste of breath.
She decided to try anyway. “I can take a taxi. Or the bus. Or maybe Jay will give me a ride home.”
He glanced down at her, raising his brows in question. “Who’s Jay?”
“Jay Leonardo, the neighbor who drove me in this morning.”
“What’s wrong with your car?” he asked, as the elevator lurched to a stop at the fourteenth floor. The mirrored doors slid open for another passenger.
“I’m not sure,” Lauren told him. “It was slow starting and Jay offered—”
“Why, hello Rafe,” a sultry voice interrupted.
Lauren looked up. A blond woman was standing at the open doors, staring at Rafe with delight.
His crooked grin appeared. “Well, hello, Nancy,” he drawled.
The blonde slid into the elevator and immediately slunk up next to Rafe. Like a snake, Lauren decided. A busty one.
So this was the Nancy she was supposed to buy a present for.
Lauren faced forward as the door closed. Beside her, Rafe and the woman exchanged pleasantries as “Jingle Bells” ended and “White Christmas” began. Trying to avoid looking in the mirrors surrounding her, Lauren glanced up at the overhead lights, then down at her unvarnished nails. But finally she gave in. She might as well be invisible, she thought, staring at their reflections in the mirrored door.
Rafe stood next to her, but he wasn’t looking at her; not at all. He’d fixed his entire attention on the woman on his other side—and the blonde’s was fixed entirely on him.
Which, of course, was no surprise in either case. The woman looked beautiful in her expensive blue suit, fitted within an inch of her life. Flimsy-looking heels showcased her tiny feet, and a fur hung over her arm. Sleek, sophisticated, she had at least ten years on Lauren’s twenty-four and radiated the confidence those years had obviously given her. And as for Rafe…
Lauren studied him, noting how his crisp white shirt made his hair and eyes look even darker. How the tailored lines of his charcoal suit contrasted sharply with his rugged face. He smiled briefly at the newcomer and his straight teeth gleamed. Beguiling creases appeared in his lean cheeks.
Rafe looked…just fine, too.
Lauren looked away from him to stare woodenly ahead at her own image. With her frumpy cloth coat, striped scarf, and serviceable low pumps—and her long brown hair hanging down in a tangle around her glasses—she looked like a stump. A furry, brown one.
“What are you doing in this area of town?” Rafe was asking Nancy.
“I had an appointment with my accountant on the fourteenth floor and thought I’d stop by your office to see if you wanted to have lunch. I haven’t heard from you for a while,” the woman murmured in a chiding tone, looking up at him from beneath long lashes.
Ooh, bad move, Lauren thought. Rafe didn’t encourage his dates to visit him at the office. It made them
