Boiling Point: Triple Trouble

Chapter

One

Where winter and summer face off through the field

And fire and ice join powers and yield

One soul to bind them, to bring forth their truth

Pure, perfect love, from a heart so aloof.

—Old Slavic prophecy, first stanza

LINA

L ina! Edgar’s shrill scream rolled and bounced through the office’s hallways like a rampaging sackful of renegade ball bearings on a plate-glass floor.

Lina cringed. Damn it, not even five minutes into her workday and he was pitching a tantrum already. She pushed back her chair from her desk and made her way down to his office.

What is it? she asked from the doorway, leaning against the door jamb and crossing her arms over her chest.

It’s too early in the morning for this ish.

He’d torn his desk apart. Papers on the floor, file drawers open—he’d only been in there fifteen minutes. How the hell did he wreak that much carnage in such a short amount of time?

He looked desperate. I can’t find it!

"Find what, Edgar?"

Bella’s birthday card. I can’t find it!

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath to force back her biting reply. She walked over to his drafting table and picked up the pink envelope. This one?

He looked up, startled, a huge grin breaking out across his face. He sighed, relieved. Oh, baby! You are the greatest! Did I ever tell you that? He rushed over to her and hugged her, planted a kiss on her cheek before snatching the card from her hand and racing out the door.

Leaving a huge mess behind.

Lina crossed her arms over her chest again as she surveyed the disaster. If it wasn’t for her, Edgar would be awash in a sea of paperwork and eraser rubbings.

She sighed.

"Oh…man. Paula’s voice from the doorway made Lina turn. What the hell happened here, girlfriend?" Paula looked elegant, her ebony skin and dark brown eyes set off by tasteful makeup and designer clothes that perfectly fit her exquisitely chiseled frame. Lina always felt frumpy, underdressed and fat next to her friend, even though that was no fault of Paula’s.

Hurricane Edgar, Lina snarked. What else? She leaned over to pick up a file from the floor.

Looks like a Cat 5 today. Paula walked in and started helping Lina in putting everything back together again. When you gonna give up on him, honey? Paula softly asked.

Pavlina—Lina to her friends and coworkers—Zaria knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of her boss and friend of ten years ever looking at her that way. Not with her pale skin, freckles, and five-six, plushly curved frame. It’s not like I’ve got any other eligible guys in my life. She morosely looked around the office. Besides, Edgar needs me.

Paula tapped a perfectly painted fingernail on a folder. You’ve got that right. You are the only thing holding this place together. He wouldn’t be able to put his pants on the right way if it wasn’t for you. But don’t you ever get tired of playing second fiddle to Edgar’s slut of the hour?

Lina shrugged and brushed back a loose strand of hair. This morning her long, curly, naturally red locks had decided to be especially unruly, frizzing in the muggy Florida July heat. She’d given up trying to style it and simply pulled it back with a ponytail holder. He needs me, she lamely repeated.

"Honey, what do you need? You’re thirty years old. When’s the last time you went on a date?"

I’ve been on dates.

"Pity parties with Zack while sucking up gallons of Chunky Monkey and Cherry Garcia on his couch and crying over Sleepless in Seattle is not a date. You have a better chance of getting laid with Zack than you would Edgar."

Lina rolled her eyes. You know damn well Zack’s gay.

"Uh, duh! That’s my point!"

Thirty minutes later, Paula and Lina had the mess cleaned up. Until the next time Edgar blew through, at least. Paula leveled a serious gaze at her friend. You know what your horrorscope said this morning?

That’s horoscope.

Not the way yours reads. It said, ‘Time for a change. Your way isn’t working, so face the facts. Bosses who like bony bimbos won’t change their stripes and aren’t worth your heart anyway. Go find a guy on Tinder and get your freak on.’

Lina snorted. It didn’t say that.

No, it said you’d meet someone who would change your life. Time to let Hurricane Edgar spin his wheels on his own, honey. Just like Jim Cantore, all you can do is stand around and wait for him to show up and do his damage. It’s time for you to move out of the cone of uncertainty and into a better life for yourself.

Callaway and Associates employed over thirty people, including architects, designers, and support staff. They’d come a long way from the days when it was just Edgar and Lina in a small garage office in his old house in north Carrollwood. Now they took up over half of an entire floor in a downtown Tampa office high-rise.

Lina’s office overlooked the arena where the Lightning played hockey. Edgar had given Lina her pick of offices when they first moved in. She fondly remembered that day, just the two of them, when he’d surprised her after taking her to lunch. So what if she’d gotten her hopes up that the special surprise he’d taken great pride in teasing her with all throughout the meal might be confessing his feelings? When they’d arrived at the building he’d taken her hand and led her to the elevator. When they stepped out of it and into the empty space, he’d hugged her.

This wouldn’t have been possible without you, sweetie. Whatever you want, it’s yours. That’s why you get first dibs, any office you want. And I mean that.

She’d forced a smile and swallowed her disappointment. Thanks, Edgar.

She couldn’t complain about him as a boss or even as a friend. He was damn good to her, generous, never forgetting their history or failing to recognize and reward her accomplishments. The shortcomings in their relationship were on her shoulders, not his.

Paula’s right. He’ll never see me as anything but a friend. Even when they were in college, Edgar treated her almost like a little sister.

Lina gathered everyone in the conference room for the morning planning session and tried to focus on the meeting. Edgar rarely made them anymore. She suspected the only reason he’d shown up at all this morning was because of the lost birthday card. Normally, he didn’t come in until after ten. She’d been surprised to see him breeze through the door that early.

After the team caught Lina up on project updates, Paula went over the daily list of appointments. The only one I’m concerned about is Edgar’s two o’clock, Janek Alexandr. Edgar’s having lunch over on Harbor Island with some Rotary buddies at twelve-thirty. What do you want to do about this one?

Lina silently swore. That meant they probably wouldn’t Edgar him until four… if he even made it back to the office. Give him to me, I’ll take him. What’s he looking for?

House. Specialty design, some unusual upgrades.

Oh, good. That’s easy. I can deal with that. Even though Lina was the general manager, she’d spent enough time with Edgar that she could intelligently speak about less complex structures. If it was an office or commercial building, she’d have to slough it off to someone else, but she could get the ball rolling on a house design, even if it was a custom job.

Hell, she could practically design them herself, as long as someone else dealt with the electrical and made sure the roof angles were up to code, things like that.

When the meeting adjourned, Lina returned to her office and tackled the most pressing items on her to-do list. On a Friday she normally tried to leave the office early, meaning three o’clock instead of her usual seven. But with a client to deal with, that wouldn’t happen.

At noon Paula stopped by her door. You going to get something to eat? Lina’s usual routine was to eat lunch with her best friend, Zack. She’d known him as long as she could remember, ever since they were little kids.

No, I called the Silver Ring Café, Lina said. They’re delivering a Cuban.

Paula grinned. "Oooh, a hunky straight and single one, I hope?"

Lina groaned at the bad joke. Sandwich.

Oh. Well, I knew that was too much to hope for with you. See you later.

Lina shook her head. Paula could afford to joke like that. She never had a problem snagging a guy. Not with her model body and Mensa brain.

At least I’ve got the brain.

Lina had given up trying to diet herself into a single-digit clothing size two years out of college. She exercised regularly—swimming, walking and light weights. Unfortunately, her father’s sturdy Slavic genes stubbornly refused all attempts to become svelte. She was healthy, and even her borderline fatphobic doctor reluctantly agreed all her other vital stats were in healthy zones. If he hadn’t been friends with her parents she would have ditched him, but once she’d had it out with him that he could stop harping on her extra thirty-odd pounds, he’d finally let it drop. She’d resigned herself that she would always be a big girl, broad across the beam.

Breeder hips, her old Grandmother Danika had once joked.

Stupid old bat. Apparently in the old country, they liked ’em roomy.

She sat back and scrubbed her hands over her face. She’d forgone makeup today after the hair fiasco. She started to chew one of her nails before catching herself. At least her hands didn’t look horrible. She had long, graceful fingers that tapered from her thin wrists and elegant arms.

What a twisted sense of humor Mother Nature possessed. Lina had long since quit counting the times she’d been asked if she played piano.

About the same time she’d finally quit wishing her shape was more hourglass and a hell of a lot less pear.

At a quarter ’til two, Lina took a few minutes to freshen up, attempted another battle of the braids, and gave up when it was obvious nothing short of a gallon of hair gel would force her unruly locks into submission today. Back to the ponytail. She applied a little powder, blush, eye shadow, and tinted lip gloss.

Good enough. If she had to look fancy, meaning Zack