A Night of No Return. Sarah Morgan

wasn’t the first time she’d seen him drunk, was it? It was the second time. And the first time would have been—when? Trying to remember, she twisted the streamer between her fingers. There had been snow on the ground then too. It would have been around the same time of year as this.

      Last year.

      She’d worked late and assumed she was on her own in the building apart from Security, but when she’d walked into his office Lucas had been there, sprawled on the sofa with an empty bottle of whisky next to him.

      He’d been asleep and she hadn’t woken him.

      Instead, she’d covered him with a blanket and checked on him a few times while she quietly got on with her work.

      He probably didn’t even know who had put the blanket there. Either way, neither of them had ever referred to it.

      Reaching up, she removed the rest of the streamers and the balloons.

      It had been exactly this week. It might even have been the same date. She remembered because it was the same time that she took her holiday every year.

      She stood, holding a bouquet of unwanted festivity as she thought it through.

      Was it a coincidence that he was drunk again? Yes, probably. It was a busy time and everyone was entitled to let their hair down from time to time. Even the ruthlessly focused Lucas.

      Emma clenched her jaw and stabbed the balloons with her car keys until they popped. It was none of her business.

      But what if it wasn’t coincidence that he’d chosen to drink alone on the same night last year? What if it wasn’t coincidence that a man who forgot nothing chose this night to forget important documents?

      She gathered up the last of the streamers until the only remaining evidence of the unwanted party was the uncut cake and the empty glasses.

      With a murmur of frustration, she glanced over her shoulder towards the stairs.

      This was one of those situations where she couldn’t win. If she left she’d worry and if she stayed she ran the risk of being shouted at again. Or worse.

      Her cheeks heated. What if he thought she’d stayed for a different reason? She wasn’t stupid enough to think he hadn’t noticed the way she’d reacted to him earlier. Lucas Jackson had far too much experience with women not to have noticed. Her only hope was that he was too drunk to remember. That, by morning, the single breathless moment when she’d forgotten to think of him as her boss would have been drowned out by other more important memories. And if he did happen to remember it, with luck he’d dismiss it as a figment of his imagination. A memory spun by alcohol, not reality. Her own behaviour would support that belief because at work she was always careful never, ever to stray into the realms of personal.

      Looking out of the window, she saw that the snow was still falling.

      She’d stay another half an hour, she decided. She’d check on him one more time, hopefully without him even noticing her, just as she’d done the last time. And then she’d leave him to his snowy solitude.