Free One Christmas Knight by Robyn Grady Page B

love of his life, have some kids of his own. At thirty-five, Damon had begun to wonder, too. God knows, it wouldn’t happen here. The love/hate connection he shared with Emma was hardly a viable option.
    And yet whenever he saw her, some loopy, persistent part of him whispered “what if?” There were times when he had to plug his hands in his pockets to stop from trying to re-ignite the sizzle that had left them both so steamy and confused six months ago.
    Another reason to get on with his life.
    “My family’s scattered all over the globe,” Damon told Judd because, first time ever, he actually looked interested. “Meeting up in Hawaii this year.”
    “What do they eat there? Papaya? Nice’n’warm, too, I s’pose.”
    Oh, yeah . Maine’s winter hadn’t got a proper hold yet and already Damon was over the thought of snow, and more snow.
    Judd finished his coffee and headed out. When he fanned open the door, icy air blew in, swirling around Damon’s shoulders and chest before sweeping around the counter. Papers flew, darting every which way. As Judd shut the door behind him, Damon glanced toward Emma’s office. Still on that call.
    He walked around, scooping up loose sheets. When he came across that Christmas card…well, he was human. He wanted to peek. But nothing good ever came from snooping. Whatever had upset Emma was none of his business.
    He was placing the pile back on the desk when Emma joined him again. Blond waves bounced about her shoulders as she flung a look around. “Judd gone?”
    “Guess he couldn’t wait for that bagel. He’s doing a plumbing job for me this week before I leave.”
    “Leave for where?”
    “Hawaii for the holidays.”
    Emma closed her eyes and sighed. “Lord, that sounds good.” Then her eyes sprang open and she gave her jacket’s hem an officious tug.  “I mean, it’d be good to…you know. Get away from…whatever.’
    Damon arched a brow. “Is there something you want to escape, Emma?” Something to do with that card?
    She chewed her lip and dimples deepened. But she shored herself up again, pinning back her shoulders.
    “You said you wanted my help,” she said.
    “My property,” he said, forgetting the card and wanting to help. Waste of time. “It needs to go on the market.”
    “Trading up, Damon?”
    “Moving on. I finish up at the medical center in February. Starting on the west coast two weeks after that.”
    Her face dropped, like she couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d gotten on one knee and proposed.
    “Congratulations.” In spite of herself, she looked curious. “A better offer?”
    “I grew up in L.A. It’s been two decades, but an older brother and his family still live there.”
    “Family…” she murmured, and her focus drifted toward the counter. To that card.
    The fax machine began to hum and rattle. Moving across, she concentrated on the digital display, head down, expression shielded. But her hand resting on the desk was white-knuckle clenched.
    He stepped closer, softened his voice. Emma Bagwell could be prickly, snarky, but it killed him to see her like this.
    “Em…you okay?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “When I walked in earlier, you were upset.”
    “Because you scared me half to death.”
    “I thought you might be hurt.”
    She angled her head away more and her hand clenched tighter.
    “It sometimes helps,” he said, “to talk about things.”
    When she fixed her eyes on his, aside from daggers, he also saw hurt―glistening and raw.
    “Sometimes, Damon,” she said, “nothing can help.”
    She slipped the received fax onto the counter and joined him. While her eyes were wet, her jaw was firm. She had I’m back in control written all over her.
    No one could say he hadn’t tried.
    He gave his address along with a brief description of the house layout and such.
    “These are my numbers, private and at the clinic.” He pulled out his card and the other spare key. “Guess you’ll need this.”
    She