Rules of Engagement. Carla Cassidy

he replied. Had she ever really heard his voice radiating with warmth? Or had it always held that cold, sardonic tone?

      She opened the office door. “See you tomorrow, Nate.” She pulled her wheeled suitcase out into the hallway and breathed a deep sigh.

      She was tired, too tired to concentrate on the program with her thoughts focused too intently on Nate. She’d thought she’d see him again and it would be no big deal. She hadn’t expected his surliness and she certainly hadn’t expected the twinge in her heart.

      Pressing the button on the elevator, she promised herself that this evening she’d resolve her emotions where he was concerned so she could begin tomorrow focused solely on solving the problem, as she’d been hired to do.

      She stepped into the elevator and was surprised when Nate slid through the doors to ride down with her. He’d pulled on a midlength gray coat and looked every inch the successful businessman.

      “Going home to the little lady?” she asked as the elevator door whooshed closed.

      “There is no little lady.”

      “Ah, going home to the big lady?”

      Almost…almost he smiled, but it was only a promising glimmer in his eyes before it was snuffed out by a scowl. “There is no lady at all. I figured I’d better walk you to your hotel. It’s late enough you shouldn’t be walking the streets alone.”

      He held out a hand for her suitcase. For a moment stubbornness made her fingers tighten around the handle, but she was tired and the suitcase was heavy, so she relinquished it to him as the elevator doors opened.

      “So, you haven’t married?” she asked as they stepped out of the elevator.

      “No, what about you?”

      “Marriage has never been high on my priority list,” she replied.

      “Yeah, I seem to remember that.” There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, the first real indication to her that the past they’d shared wasn’t totally forgotten.

      A responding swell of bitterness rose in her. She swallowed against it, refusing to give it a voice. There was nothing to be gained in rehashing a past relationship that wasn’t meant to be. There was no reason to bring up old issues that might make the two of them working together more difficult.

      As they stepped into the office building lobby, the floor-to-ceiling windows ahead revealed a wintry wonderland. At least three inches of snow had fallen.

      “Oh, Nate! Isn’t it beautiful?” She hurried ahead of him and pushed through the double doors and outside. She twirled around on the sidewalk, her arms raised to the heavens, where the snow was still coming down at a good clip.

      After the tension in the office, the stress of the past couple of hours, she felt like dancing in the street, reveling in the snow that was as alien to her as Nate’s taciturn nature.

      “It’s just snow,” Nate said.

      “My first snow,” she exclaimed.

      “Really? So, you never drove up to Oregon or anywhere to experience snow skiing or snowmobiling?”

      “Never took the time. It’s a long drive to the mountains.”

      She picked up a handful of the white snow and packed it into a ball, then eyed Nate with a wicked gleam.

      “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

      She didn’t. She threw it and it splatted into the center of his chest. He stared down at his coat, then back at her in disbelief. Slowly he released his hold on her suitcase, leaned down and grabbed a handful of snow.

      “Nate, no.” A giggle escaped her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you!” As she saw the intent in his eyes, she turned and ran and was hit square in the back with his snowball.

      They made their way toward the Brisbain Hotel one snowball at a time and, more than once, she heard Nate’s deep laughter ring out.

      She was pleased to know he still had the capacity to laugh. While they had been in his office she’d begun to think he was anatomically incapable of laughter.

      She felt warmer than she had since the moment she’d stepped off the plane, despite the frigid temperatures and falling snow.

      They stopped in front of the hotel and he reached out to brush the snow off her hair and face. He’d touched her only a moment when all laughter faded from his eyes and he stepped back from her, tension once again radiating from every pore of his body.

      “Here you are, safe and sound.” He held out her suitcase and she took it from him.

      “Thank you for walking me here,” she said. “It was quite chivalrous of you.”

      “Lloyd and Emily Winters would never forgive me if anything happened to you before the hacker is caught.”

      Kat suddenly felt the chill of the air not only around her, but blowing through her as well. For just a moment, as Nate’s laughter had filled the air, she’d almost forgotten he was the man who had broken her heart.

      She’d almost forgotten he was the man without a heart, the man for whom life held no meaning outside of his work.

      “Thanks, anyway,” she replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

      With a curt nod, he turned on his heels and left, a gray-clad solitary figure against the pristine snow.

      She watched until he disappeared from her sight, then she turned and went into the hotel lobby. Wintersoft, Inc. had spared no expense on her room.

      The first thing she did when she entered the luxury suite was order in room service. Only when a decent meal was in the works did she unpack her suitcase and change into an oversize T-shirt that served as her sleeping attire.

      She hadn’t really considered that working with Nate would be so difficult. She hadn’t believed that just by looking at him she’d remember the fact that he had been a breathtaking, passionate lover.

      But she couldn’t forget that those four months she’d spent with him, months of laughing and loving, of craziness and embracing life had been nothing more than a temporary illusion.

      It had been four months that Nate had been able to pretend to be human. He’d managed to make her believe he understood people, that he understood her. Her time with him had culminated in the discovery that he was nothing like the kind of man she’d thought him to be.

      “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” she said aloud as she stretched out on the sofa with her room service table in front of her.

      She’d been fooled by Nate Leeman once in her life. She’d thought that if you cut him, he’d bleed blood like normal people, but she had learned that if you cut him, he bled gigabytes and stuffy Bostonian ideals of home, hearth and wife. She hadn’t fit then, and likely never would.