Back on Blossom Street

Christian was waiting for her out front. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her as they left the flower shop. She half expected some comment on the type of employment she’d taken after leaving Dempsey Imports. He said nothing.

“There’s a café across the street,” he said, gesturing toward the French Café with its striped awning. One of the windows displayed a multitude of baked delicacies and through the other they could see small tables and chairs.

“Why don’t we go for a short walk instead?” She didn’t want anyone from the café to listen in on their conversation.

Christian was agreeable. They spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries as they strolled down Blossom Street. Christian walked with his hands behind his back, careful to keep pace with her shorter strides. What struck Colette was the way they both struggled to maintain a facade of unfamiliarity. They acted like strangers when they so obviously weren’t.

“How are you?” Christian asked. He turned to look at her as if he possessed the uncanny ability to see straight through her, which in fact he did.

“I’m very well, thank you.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal how on edge she really felt.

“I mean, how are you … physically?” he asked again.

“Physically?” she repeated.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” His words were impatient. “If I remember correctly, neither of us took the time to employ any measures to prevent pregnancy.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment lit up her cheeks brighter than the red signal light at the intersection. “I’m fine. There’s … nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t seem to believe her.

“If that’s all,” she said, ready to part company, “I should be getting back.” Her mind was crowded with questions and accusations. She’d never taken Christian for a fool and yet she had proof that he was trafficking in Chinese aliens. Seeing him confused her. She didn’t want to think about him or give him reasons to suspect she carried his child. The sooner they said their good-byes, the better.

“No, there’s more,” he countered sharply. He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure how to formulate the next question. After a brief pause, he blurted out, “I’d like you to return to Dempsey Imports.”

His request shocked her, and Colette automatically shook her head. “I can’t.”

When the light changed, they crossed the street and continued walking, no real destination in mind.

Christian waited until they were on the other side. “Is it because of what happened?”

“Christian,” she murmured and instantly knew he hadn’t found out about the letter. “It wouldn’t work. It’s unfortunate and I feel bad, but that night will always stand between us.”

“And day.”

He seemed to be trying to add to her embarrassment.

“Fine, and that day,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. Working together is no longer an option.”

“All right,” he said regretfully. “I realize I made a mistake after the holidays. The relationship changed and I had no idea how to deal with it.”

That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, she thought sarcastically.

“I pretended nothing was different between us,” he went on. “But it was … is. You’ve made your point. We need to discuss this like two mature adults and reach an understanding.”

“I don’t want to discuss it. And there’s nothing to understand. We made a regrettable mistake. Blame it on too much champagne, too much Christmas spirit.”

He raised his brows.

Colette stared down at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything’s changed, Christian. I can’t go back to being your assistant.”

“Why can’t we both consider what happened at the Christmas party a slip in judgment and let it go at that? You’re a valuable employee. The company needs you.”

“The company?” she asked.

He exhaled slowly. “I need you,” he murmured. “I want you to come back.”

Colette supposed she should be flattered, since Christian Dempsey rarely admitted to needing anyone or anything. “It isn’t possible,” she said and she meant it. “We can’t undo what’s already been done. Don’t you see that?” He couldn’t honestly expect her to resume managing his schedule, his travel arrangements and his dates. As soon as he learned she’d contacted the authorities, he’d fire her anyway.

He didn’t answer.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Why? Were you hiding?”

“No …”

“It wasn’t that difficult. I had Accounting contact your bank and get the new address—to mail your severance documents.”

She shrugged, feeling a bit foolish. But she couldn’t resist another question. “Did you hire a new assistant yet?” She could have asked any of the friends she’d made through the years. But the company must be rife with gossip and rumors as to why she’d quit so abruptly, and for that reason, Colette hadn’t called anyone at Dempsey Imports. Getting in touch with them to ask for information like that was a last resort.

“Lloyd York,” Christian said.

“Lloyd,” she repeated. She tried unsuccessfully to remember a face to go with the name. “I don’t know him.” As much as possible, Christian made it a practice to promote and hire within the company.

“He’s a temp.”

Colette felt her eyes widen. Christian disliked using personnel from a temporary agency and until now he’d avoided it. The fact that he’d looked outside the company only underlined his guilt. What she didn’t understand was his reason for wanting her back. Surely he knew she’d uncover his activities sooner or later.

“I hoped you’d come to your senses and return voluntarily. When I didn’t hear from you, I had no choice but to contact you myself.”

“Christian, I’m sorry, sorrier than you know. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”

“No.” She closed her eyes. Despite everything, she missed him, missed the demands and challenges of her position. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of him. She wanted to tell him about the baby but knew she couldn’t until everything had played out. Needless to say, she couldn’t predict how or when that would take place.

“You want to come back, Colette. I can feel it. Tell me what’s stopping you and I’ll make it right. You want a raise, fine. I’ll double whatever your salary was before. We know each other well and—”

Angry now, she whirled on him. “I beg to differ. After five years of working side by side, you know next to nothing about me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” she flared.

“On the contrary, I know you very well, Colette Blake.” The innuendo was so sharp, it felt like a carefully aimed needle pricking her vulnerable skin—and her pride.

“See what I mean?” she said as calmly as her hammering pulse would allow. “You just made my case. What happened … happened, and there’s no going back. I suggest you hire a permanent replacement, Mr. Dempsey, because I can assure you I have no intention of working for you again … ever.”