Christmas Miracle (2 page)

Her lips relaxed a fraction and for a brief second, Cameron thought she would smile. She didn’t.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Mackintosh. I can have my secretary—”

“Tomorrow,” he cut in smoothly. Whipping out his cell phone, he easily scrolled to his calendar for the following day. “How about one o’clock? We can do lunch.”

Her expression never changed, though he saw those eyes of hers narrow even more.

In a noncommittal manner, she answered, “I would have to check my schedule, Mr. Mackintosh.”

“Please,” Cameron began, holding up a hand. “I’ve asked you to call me Cameron.” When she nodded, he continued, “And your having lunch with me would be greatly appreciated, Melanie. I have two more appointments with public relations agencies today, and I’m a man who only makes informed decisions. I would hate to stop now.”

“Of course not, Mr.—Cameron.”

His smile widened. His name sounded good on her lips. He was sure it would sound even better when she screamed it.

“So, tomorrow at one? I’ll pick you up.”

He turned to leave, but a soft hand touched his arm over his jacket. Surprised, he turned back to her.

“If you could manage, Cameron, to be on time tomorrow,” she murmured with a cool smile. This time, he couldn’t hold in his smile.

He was being reprimanded. Granted, he had been half an hour late, but the last time anyone had reprimanded him had been many years ago. Wealth made people willing to wait. Apparently, someone hadn’t shared that information with Melanie Samuels.

Reaching for her hand, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to the back.

“I apologize for my tardiness, lass,” he said, attempting to charm her with his Scottish accent. He could turn it on and off at will, having lived in many countries over his thirty-one years. It worked for many a woman, young and old.

It did not work for Melanie Samuels.

In fact, she looked ready to snatch her arm back and slug him. Cameron lifted a brow. So she did show emotion, just not happiness. Intrigued, he released her hand. What would it take to get a smile from this woman, and did he want to find out? He certainly did.

“Until tomorrow, Melanie.”

***

It was nearing six o’clock when her work phone rang. It was her secretary. She picked up the phone. “Yes, Fiona?”

“Ms. Samuels, I’m leaving for the day.”

“Okay. Good night, Fiona.”

“Um, Ms. Samuels?”

“Yes, Fiona, what is it?”

“Can I speak to you before I leave?”

Melanie didn’t like the sound of that. Fiona never asked to speak with her when it was concerning her work. She always knocked and they discussed whatever it was.

Knowing she’d probably end up not liking this conversation, Melanie managed, “Yes. Come in.”

Moments later, the short and curvy woman was standing before her. Fiona was twenty-five, only four years younger than Melanie, but Melanie always felt older. On a good day, Fiona had the social skills of a graduate student; on a bad day, Melanie wondered why the woman was still employed at her agency. Even as she “wondered,” she had all the reasons listed: Fiona was the only secretary she could tolerate, and Fiona seemed to have the personality to tolerate her. She’d gone through almost six secretaries in three years, and the first five had been during the first year alone. And then Fiona Clark had come along, and although in some ways she irritated Melanie to no degree, she was efficient. In addition, she was pliable and willing to do anything to help, which were great traits in a secretary. Even the other agents who worked for Melanie asked to borrow Fiona for certain tasks. Most times, Melanie refused. It wasn’t easy being her secretary, and she certainly didn’t want Fiona feeling overwhelmed with tasks from other agents.

“Well, Ms. Samuels, you know that Christmas is coming up...”

Melanie nodded and leaned back in her chair. Yes, she knew all right. Her sister Lauren had been leaving messages since December 1st to remind her of that.

“Well, I haven’t taken any vacation for the year, and I hope it’s all right with you, but I applied for three days—”

“Which three?”

“The twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and the twenty-sixth.”

Melanie’s right eye twitched. Today was the twentieth of December, and there was still a lot of work to be done to close out the year. Although most employers gave their employees Christmas and Thanksgiving off, Melanie was not one of them. The contract they’d all signed indicated the number of vacation days/sick days they could claim but specified that, when necessary, employees would be required to come in on some holidays. She ran a business, and she paid her employees well to see that it ran smoothly.

“You can have the twenty-fifth, Fiona, as it’s Christmas after all, but I need you here on the twenty-fourth and the twenty-sixth.”

Fiona was already shaking her blonde head when Melanie held up a hand. “Fiona, you have a choice. You can take Christmas off and be here on the other days, thereby guaranteeing your spot as my secretary for next year, or you can leave on the twenty-fourth and I will find someone to replace you. Please let me know your decision now so I can make arrangements if necessary.”

As the woman’s face grew red, and her eyes filled with unshed tears, Melanie looked away. Contrary to what many believed, she didn’t take pleasure in making people cry. She was simply blunt, finding little time to mince or butter her words, and sometimes people were hurt by her words and actions. It wasn’t something she could control or wanted to control. People needed to grow thicker skin around her. When she’d interviewed Fiona for the job, the woman had assured her she could deal with various tempers, including extreme ones. As she recalled Fiona’s reactions over the past two years, Melanie questioned that assertion. Maybe it would be better for them both if Fiona found employment elsewhere…

When she refocused on her secretary, the woman was nodding. She even forced a smile. “That’s fine, Ms. Samuels. I’ll just take the twenty-fifth. I’m sure I can work something out with my family.”

“Good, Fiona,” Melanie replied, looking back to the stack of expandable folders on her desk. It was already six at night and she’d barely finished one. It was going to be another long evening for her. “I knew you would understand.”

Chapter Two

“Melanie, it’s, well, it’s me again...”

Standing in her recently redecorated living room with her dark blue bathrobe draped around her body, Melanie took a long drink of cold water before she paused to inhale and exhale deeply. She’d arrived at her Chelsea apartment just after nine o’clock and after a quick take-out meal, was preparing to shower and head to bed. Habit made her check her voicemail as she finished up dinner.

Why Lauren called her so steadily when Christmas came around still boggled her mind. She hadn’t answered her in years, but still her sister called.

“…I just wanted to check to see if you were going to spend Christmas with us this year. I don’t know if I told you, but we moved. We’re now living in a really nice place in Brooklyn. It’s much better than our last apartment. Well, yea…much better. I found us a house this time, in a quiet neighborhood. It reminds me of where we grew up.” Lauren broke off and released a long-suffering sigh. Melanie lifted a brow at the answering machine. “Mel, please, just call me, call
us.
Janie misses you. She’s six now, and she asks a lot of questions about you. I know you always send her presents for Christmas, and they are always amazing, but she’d rather see her aunt in person. When you get this, call me...I miss you—” The beep came. Thankfully.

There were a few other messages, mostly alerts from companies calling to remind her about deadlines for bills, and the rest from telemarketers. Deleting them all, she downed the rest of the water before placing the glass in her dishwasher and heading for the bathroom.

As she stood under the warm, forceful spray of the shower, Melanie tried to clear her mind of everything: work, her sister, her niece…

Bracing her shower-capped head against the warm tiles, she forced herself to breathe deeply, evenly, just as she’d learned in her yoga classes. Next, she pictured herself on a beach with a book and a sweet drink. As her muscles relaxed and her mind expunged all stressful thoughts, Melanie sighed.

Somehow, her mind went to Sebastian Mackintosh. Cameron, as he preferred to be called.

The magazines didn’t do him justice. The man was much more impressive in person, even dressed down as he was today in khakis, a navy button down flannel shirt, and a thick leather jacket. While she didn’t let beautiful men affect her, Cameron Mackintosh had somehow managed to pierce that wall she usually kept between herself and gorgeous clients.

There was something intriguing about the man, something that cemented his attraction to others. Whatever that something was, she had no interest in pursuing it. For one, she wasn’t on the market, and she liked it that way. She didn’t have time for men. Her business was more than enough to keep her occupied. And two, she made no pretense of the fact that Cameron was a whore. It was likely a rumor when a magazine posted one story, maybe two, but she’d run a search on his name and had come up with so many articles, some inclusive of pictures, of him and female celebrities that it was more than likely that most of those articles were true.

Tomorrow, when she met with Cameron, she would do everything in her power to get him to sign with her agency, everything except become another notch on his bedpost. While there were PR agents who’d climbed their way to the top on their backs, she wasn’t one of them.

Since branching out on her own three years ago, she’d landed a decent set of major clients, and had even had some of her old clients follow her from the international PR agency where she’d worked. But Cameron would give her agency even wider appeal. If she could land him, it would give her a legitimacy she thought her business was still lacking. So far, her clients consisted of actors, musicians, comedians, and some small-time business people who wanted to market themselves on a wider scale, but Mackintosh was gold. He was her trump card, the first of many if she played it right.

Stepping from the stand-up shower, she toweled herself off, applied Shea butter to her skin, and headed for her bedroom. Turning on her TV, she found a news station and watched for a few minutes just to keep herself abreast on the goings on of the world and to catch a glimpse of tomorrow’s weather, before turning it off. As soon as she snuggled under the warm duvet, her lids grew heavy. Once upon a time, sleep eluded her. She’d needed to take supplements and a host of other medications to get her to sleep. Now, her body seemed to react on instinct once she followed a certain schedule. She found a tiny smile as she snuggled even deeper into the bed.

Within moments, she was asleep.

***

“Do you have a preference for black?”

The question caught her off guard, so Melanie naturally said the first thing that popped into her mind. “What?”

They were having lunch in the exclusive
Le Petit Rue
in midtown Manhattan. Although one had to make reservations in advance, Cameron apparently knew the owner so they’d been seated without a reservation, at seats that had been reserved by others. Cameron had been early today, entering her office just before one. She’d been impressed, just slightly, as she’d fully expected him to keep her waiting again today. From the moment she’d stepped into his SUV, he’d been asking questions about her firm. What would her representation entail? Why should he choose her? Why did he even need her services? And she’d been answering. He’d been so serious with his questions up until the last one, that the change of subject stumped her.

Cameron smiled and repeated his question, this time adding, “You were wearing black yesterday as well.”

Melanie looked down at her clothing. She wasn’t the type that color-coordinated outfits. She wore professional attire at all times because that was what she was: a professional. And one never knew when one would meet one’s next client. Was she really wearing black? She was. The more appropriate question was why it mattered to him. “It’s comfortable.”

He lifted a brow and took a bite of his steak. Melanie watched him chew slowly, lift his glass of wine to his lips for a drink, smile, and then say casually, “It’s boring.” She must have looked offended because he added quickly, “You could make anything look good, Melanie, but if you’re not in mourning, why do you look the part?”

“Mr. Mackintosh …”

“Melanie, I think we’re past formalities, don’t you? We’re having lunch in a beautiful restaurant. You’re trying to sell me your business, and I’m open to it. I think we’re almost friends, don’t you? Friends trust other friends with their public images.”

She blinked once, twice, before composing herself enough to reply. “Cameron, I came here to share more about my company—”

“—and not to discuss your clothing? I know, Melanie. Perhaps I overreached when I mentioned your clothing, but I think you would look great in brighter colors. Plus, Christmas is just four days away. Show a bit of Christmas spirit, like me.” He indicated his red tie.