Snow Jam by Rachel Hanna Page A

I'd never told him my last name. It had never come up. I'd never even thought to tell him my first name, really. The communications job had come up while I was in Las Vegas, waiting to start. He hadn't done anything wrong.
    Neither had I. Except for the dreams. The fantasies. But a girl can dream, right? And they'd been harmless – I'd never expected to see or hear from him again.
    So just start over , I thought. Rick was over it. I needed to get over it. If circumstances hadn't been so weird, I probably would already be over it; it'd be nothing but a shock. And his distance? I couldn't forget what Sunny had told me. He'd lost his wife to suicide. I was pretty sure that kind of shock didn't fade. My father had caused the suicide of one of his clients and even that very tenuous bond clung to me. I could understand Rick finding any kind of a relationship challenging.
    He didn't know I knew.
    I needed to get out of here. I'd see him in the meeting, meet everyone, watch his cues to see how we were supposed to proceed together, though of course by then everyone would assume we'd met. And in the meeting he could outline how we were going to work together.
    That works , I told myself. I started up from the chair like it had been electrocuted and crossed the room to the door.
    Which Rick came through. I found myself face to chest with him. Alarm bells went off all over my body. All systems were screaming. Everything felt electric. The hair on my arms stood. I looked up at him.
    He looked down at me. His eyes held a hardness for about five seconds longer and then he said, "Oh, crap," and grabbed me, his arms pulling me tight, one shoulder hitching to slam the door shut. No need to lock it because he pressed me up against it, his mouth on mine and these weren't the tentative playful kisses of our Snow Bound Adventure, these were hot and angry and all the way present, both of us very alive, very angry.
    Very happy to see each other.
    I ran my hands over that chest again. I'd missed it. Wouldn't have admitted that for anything. But I had. I slid my arms around his waist and pulled him hip to hip with me, just as tight against me as I was against him.
    "We can't do this here," he said.
    He said it with his mouth so pressed against mine it should have echoed in my throat.
    "No, of course not," I said, without moving away from him.
    "You have to let go of me," he said and I heard some humor in his voice, that inner Rick I hadn't gotten to see much of in our touted what, twenty hour acquaintance?
    "You touched first. You stop first." My words were indistinct. I'd started kissing his neck.
    "OK."
    "OK."
    Neither of us moved. Until finally hands came up, stroking faces, playing in hair, fingers tried for buttons on shirts that couldn't be undone, not here not now, hands raced along torsos, voices whispered and laughed and protested and agreed of course. We weren't doing this. Highly improper. He was my boss after all.
    Hold me.
    We leaned against his office door, arms around each other, kissing, unable and unwilling to stop.
     
    The meeting, when it happened, was an ordinary staff meeting. I met the entire team, took notes on names, and tried to memorize who each person was every time he or she spoke. I introduced myself, gave them my background with economic development in Nevada, and got some impressed looks because economic development isn't easy in the Silver State, not since its un-diversified economy that rarely went into recession was hit by the Great Recession. Having worked successfully in Nevada post-recession gave me street cred.
    Rick was still explaining himself and his platform and plans even two months in. That gave me an introduction to my own department. Other department heads – new business, business expansion, industry consultant, Governor's Office liaison and liaisons with state and county economic development authorities – all introduced themselves.
    Rick and I came through it just fine. No one even blinked at one of