Millionaire's Christmas Miracle (5 page)

There was a flash of something that looked suspiciously like a smile in her eyes, then it died and she was doing for him what she’d done for the child, blotting his chest, the shirt and suit coat, then his face. She stopped short of ruffling his hair before she drew back. “I am so, so sorry,” she said. “I’ve had trouble with those bottles. The lids…” She shrugged. “She must have squeezed it too hard and…” She narrowed her eyes, as if studying him. “You’ve got orange juice in your hair, and on your shirt and your jacket and…” She reached toward his face, but stopped short of touching him before drawing back and vaguely wiped at her ear with her fingers. “And your ear, it’s got some on it, too.”

He took the towel from her, rubbing the rough terry cloth over his hair and face, then looked at her. “Gone?”

“Well, yes, but that bit on your ear?”

He dabbed at his ear. “Now?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” she said, then looked at his clothes. “Your jacket and shirt.” She grimaced. “Oh, boy, your tie’s a mess. Give them to me and I’ll sponge them off with cold water,” she said, literally reaching out and undoing the buttons on his jacket. “You can’t let it set up.”

He looked down at his one-of-a-kind suit jacket, but didn’t really see it. What he saw were her long,
slender fingers, furiously tugging at the buttons and the material, slipping it off his shoulders. The next thing he knew, she had his jacket, holding it by the collar. She was staring at his shirt. “You…you take off your shirt and tie, okay? And I’ll get working on this.”

After a quick look at Taylor, who was busy taking the laundry off the table, one piece at a time, Amy hurried out of the room through a door to one side of the kitchen. She kept talking until she was a disembodied voice, just as she’d been at the center last night when she was backing out of the tree. “Just take those things off and bring them in here, the sooner the better.”

He did as he was told. He undid the tie, tugged it off, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off before following her. He found her in a tiny bathroom off a short hallway, furiously sponging at his jacket with a facecloth she dampened from the faucet in a small sink. “Don’t do that,” he said, seeing the water seeping into the fine material of his suit coat. “Please.”

Amy stopped swiping at the stain and turned, ready to tell Quint that she wouldn’t stop until she had his suit jacket back to good-as-new condition. But the words caught in her throat when she saw him in the doorway, stripped to the waist, holding his shirt and tie in one hand.

All she could see was the expanse of bare chest, the slight tan to the taut skin, the light sprinkling of dark hair forming a T that disappeared into his waistband. Her mouth went dry and she jerked her eyes up, praying that he wouldn’t have a clue where her
thoughts had been going. She felt sick from it, and she literally had to swallow twice before she could speak to him. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Amy, it’s ruined,” he said in that low grumble of a voice that only added to her discomfort at his closeness.

She turned away from him, gathering her thoughts, and stared at the jacket. The stain was still there, now darkened by water. “No, I can fix it.”

“Forget it. It’s finished.”

She still thought she could make it okay, but if he didn’t, she wasn’t going to fight him. “Okay, how much did it cost?”

“You don’t have to do that. It was an accident, but I have to say that you and your daughter are quite a pair, wreaking havoc on everyone and everything around you.”

She looked up, catching herself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet, Quint’s reflection right behind her, Quint and that half smile he had playing at the corners of his mouth. “How much?” she repeated. “I need to pay for it if I can’t fix it.”

He watched her for a long moment, then shrugged, “Lady, it’s off the rack and cost about two hundred dollars, but it’s old and it was time to get rid of it. You saved me a trip to the secondhand store.” He leaned one shoulder against the door frame and studied her with those hazel eyes. “You’ve got better things to do with your money than buy a jacket for me. Just do me a favor and throw it out.” He held out his shirt and tie to her. “And these, just throw them out, too.”

She took the ruined shirt and tie out of his hand, laid them over the jacket on the sink’s edge, then looked at him again. He had his arms crossed over his naked chest, showing surprising muscles, and she forced herself to look him right in the eye. “This is the deal. I’ll do what I can for all of the clothes, and if I can’t clean them, I’ll throw them out and pay you for them.” When he would have objected, she stopped him. “That’s the deal, period. No negotiating about it.”

He stood straight, hands lifted, palms out toward her. “Okay. You win. Deal.” Then he looked down at his lack of clothing before he met her gaze again. “Can I ask a favor?”

Taylor came up behind Quint right then, and Amy barely had time to get to her before she tossed the bottle at Quint again. She thought she’d put it up high enough, but obviously she hadn’t. She grabbed the bottle, hitting Quint in the shoulder in the process, but keeping his slacks safe from the remainder of the juice. Taylor plunked down on her bottom in the hall behind Quint.

“Thank goodness,” Amy breathed, straightening with the topless bottle, relieved to have averted another catastrophe, at least until she turned and found herself with no more than two inches between herself and Quint’s bare chest. When she looked up, his face seemed so close that it was slightly blurred.

“Lady, you’re good.”

She sidled to the right, into the hallway, to get distance, and scooped up Taylor, setting her on one hip. “I’ll find you something to wear,” she said quickly,
carrying Taylor and the bottle back into the main room, then through to the kitchen. Tossing the bottle in the sink, she turned and saw Quint across the half wall, in the living area, watching her, his expression unreadable.

“I refuse to wear a blouse,” he said.

Damn it, was he joking as if this was all fun, when it was stressing her so much she had to remind herself to breathe? She went back into the living area, put Taylor down by the window near her open toy box and crossed to the coffee table. “There has to be something in here you can wear,” she muttered, sorting through clothes that she knew darn well wouldn’t fit him. But she had some oversize T-shirts, a couple of sweatshirts that might work.

“How about this?” Quint said and she looked up to see that he’d found a T-shirt that she’d had forever. But he wasn’t going to wear that shirt. It had been Rob’s. It was one she’d kept, and one she wore to sleep in sometimes.

Before she could snatch it back to safety, Quint was shaking it out. “Super Dude?” he asked, looking at the logo that had faded so much from time and use.

She wanted to reach for it, but made herself speak calmly. “Not that one.”

“Why not? It looks like it’ll fit,” he murmured.

“It’s old and you have that dinner appointment, and…” She put her hands behind her back to keep herself from diving at him to get it back. “It wouldn’t be cool to go in as Super Dude.”

His crooked grin was accompanied by him turning the T-shirt around and holding it up in front of his
bare chest. “Oh, I don’t know. Super Dude sounds about right for what I have to do.” He looked down at it. “What do you think?”

She stared at him, and what she’d dreaded happening didn’t happen. Something worse happened. She didn’t look at Quint holding up the shirt and see Rob in that shirt making silly comments about “being super.” Instead, in a truly frightening moment for her, she couldn’t see Rob at all. She couldn’t remember what he’d looked like in the shirt, and that shook her. “That’s stupid,” she mumbled and clutched her hands behind her so tightly that her nails were digging into her palms. But even that didn’t help.

“Hey, lady,” he said, his smile fading. “That’s a joke.” He was coming closer and she closed her eyes tightly, willing the image of Rob to come to her. It was there, a solid man with gray eyes, sandy-blond hair and…She willed the image to be clearer, but instead it started to fade. She opened her eyes quickly, and was shocked to find Quint not more than a foot from her. His image was so clear it was literally painful for her.

His hazel eyes were narrowed on her, but that didn’t lessen the pain that was all around her. She swallowed hard, fighting the burn of tears. She sensed Taylor happily playing in the clothes while she stared at the man in front of her and was terrified that she would start to cry. She’d frighten Taylor, and she’d embarrass herself with Quint over an old T-shirt. But Taylor kept playing, and Quint didn’t say anything.

He did something far worse.

He touched her, lightly brushing the tips of his fingers
along her jawline before he cupped her chin. The contact was as insubstantial as the touch of a feather, but it became the center of her existence at that moment. All she could do was stand there, staring at him, silently cursing him for being there, for being so alive and for making the past seem so remote and so faded.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She didn’t have a clue what he had to be sorry for. Then he gave her an out. A rational explanation for something that had no explanation. “It’s rough with a sick child, and it’s rough having to deal with it.”

He thought she was upset over Taylor being sick, and she grabbed at that as an explanation for herself, too. That made sense. It explained why she felt so fragmented and why him holding an old T-shirt was making her crazy. And why she wished with all her heart that he had his clothes on and was at his damned dinner appointment and not here…so close…and so gentle, and why she was hearing…bells, jingle bells?

Then the bells were overlaid by a jarringly cheerful voice calling out, “Hello, hello, hello and a very merry Christmas to one and all!”

Quint slowly withdrew his touch from her chin, then she took a breath and turned away from him. Jenn was coming in the door, actually backing in with her arms full of presents. Amy hadn’t heard any knock on the door, or the key being used. But when she saw Jenn, she felt as if she’d been thrown a lifeline, and she knew what she had to do. Get rid of Quint. Get him out of there and get the T-shirt back.

Jingle Bells? Merry Christmas?

Quint had to literally make himself draw back from Amy, to break the contact, so he could make sense out of what was going on. For a man who usually understood everything happening around him, he understood very little of what had happened in the apartment since he’d knocked on the door. And for a man who understood his limitations and knew when to cut his losses and run, he was hanging around like some moonstruck teenager, standing half-dressed in front of someone who looked deeply relieved to have an interruption in whatever was happening between them.

He curled his hand around the T-shirt and watched Amy smile as a woman entered the apartment and set a pile of brightly wrapped presents on the floor. Amy hurried over to the woman, but Taylor beat her mother there, and was scooped up into a huge hug.

The newcomer was all in red and trimmed in jingle bells, from the two tied at the top of each red boot, to those sewn on dancing reindeers embroidered on an oversize sweatshirt and those fringing a Santa hat worn over pale-blond hair. She was laughing, hugging
Taylor, calling her, “My munchkin,” then leaning over to kiss Amy on the cheek, before she looked up finally and saw him there.

She had to be in her late twenties, pretty in a “cute” way, and obviously a woman with control, because she didn’t say a thing about him being half-naked. And she was a woman who didn’t mind a little girl tugging a Santa hat right off her head to throw it in the air. Instead, her eyes flicked over his bare chest, then she met his gaze. “I left a message I’d call or come by later,” she said without looking away from Quint.

“Yes, Jenn, I got it,” Amy said as Quint shook out the T-shirt, fully intending to put it on to try and make the situation less awkward. But before he could, Amy hurried back to him, saying. “And I was hoping you’d stop by. I’m very glad that you did.” Then she startled him by reaching for the T-shirt, tugging it out of his hands.

Without missing a step, she kept going, through the mess of laundry Taylor had scattered from the table to the floor, and across to the bookshelf the television sat on. She was still talking. “Just come on in, and we’ll open presents and have a good time, as soon as I take care of this.” She bent down and opened a drawer in the chest, then stood and turned with something navy in her hands. “This is better, warmer and more…” She shrugged, an action that seemed tinged with a degree of vulnerability to Quint. He barely had time to absorb that before she finished with, “Suitable.”

That’s what this whole experience wasn’t—suitable.
He was older and wiser, and wasn’t looking for any of this. This definitely wasn’t going with the flow or chilling. It was stupid. Then Amy was there holding out a navy sweatshirt to him.

“Yes, that’s suitable,” he said, taking it from her.

Even as he spoke, she was moving again, going over to Jenn, who was still holding Taylor.

He shook out the sweatshirt, put it on, tugged it down, then raked his fingers through his hair. “It fits,” he said.

“I’m Jenn Blake,” the visitor said out of the blue. Quint looked at her and met a smile. “And you are…?”

“He’s late. He’s got an appointment,” Amy said before Quint could say anything, and started to pick up the presents Jenn had put on the floor. “Wow, you outdid yourself with all of this, Jenn.”

Jenn was still looking at Quint. “Whoever you are, won’t you stay for some hot cider, or carol-singing or some holiday spirit, or just plain old spirits, as the case may be?”

He liked her. She had the ability to go with the flow, just adjust to whatever she found, even a half-naked man. He just wished he had that ability at the moment. “I really have to be going. I’ve got an appointment, business.”

“Oh, not on Christmas Eve, surely,” Jenn said, as Taylor squirmed out of her arms to get to the presents on the floor.

Amy crouched by Taylor, offering her one of the smaller gifts, but looked at Quint over her daughter’s head. “I’ll get back with you about your clothes,”
she said, while Taylor ripped the silver paper off the package.

It was obvious she wanted him out of there, and he should have wanted out of there, too. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he crossed the room, picking his way past the laundry to get to the two women and the child.

He looked at Jenn. “By the way, my name isn’t ‘he’s late.’ It’s Quint Gallagher. And it was nice to meet you.”

He glanced at Amy, and found her face slightly flushed and her eyes narrowed. Oh, yes, she wanted him long gone. What galled him was, just looking at her made him think things he didn’t need to think. Feel things he didn’t need to feel. The safest of all the feelings was the urge to brush at a single strand of hair that had fallen loose from the ponytail and lay against her throat. That was foolish. And the thought of kissing her again was definitely insane.

So he said, “Merry Christmas,” and turned away before he acted on impulse. He wasn’t an impulsive man, never had been, but this woman brought out the worst in him.

He went out into the hall, swung the door shut behind him, and walked away, the way he had the night before. But this time it was even harder to keep going.

A
MY SANK DOWN
on the floor with Taylor, sitting cross-legged while she watched her daughter stack the colored blocks that had been in the wrapped box. She braced herself for the questions that would be coming, but Jenn surprised her by kneeling by the two of them
and reaching to stroke Taylor’s silky hair. “Such a relief to see her feeling better,” she said.

“She’s a lot better, thank goodness.” Amy looked at her sister-in-law. “And I owe you an explanation.”

“Me? No, no way. But, if you feel compelled to tell me why you had a drop-dead-gorgeous half-naked man in your apartment, I’m as open to an explanation as the next shocked-out-of-her-socks aunt.” Jenn grinned at her. “Okay, who is he?”

Amy envied Jenn’s ability never to take life too seriously.
Really
envied her sometimes. “He works for LynTech, just came on board, and he left his wallet at the center last night.”

“That’s all fascinating, but that doesn’t explain how he ended up here on Christmas Eve, half-naked.” Her smile faded a bit. “Listen, Amy, you don’t have to explain any of this. It’s been two years since Rob died, and that’s a long two years.”

Her stomach twisted. “It isn’t like that. No. Never.”

The smile was completely gone now. “Honey, don’t ever say never. You’re young and if—”

“Jenn, please, don’t start.”

“I’m not. I won’t. I just want you to know that if, and I’m saying ‘if’ you ever want to get on with your life—”

“You make it sound as if I stopped my life, and have to restart it some way.”

“Don’t you?” she asked softly. “Sweetie, do you think it’s normal to be still sleeping in that damn T-shirt after two years, just because Rob wore it so much?”

She stood quickly, sick that Jenn had seen through her about the T-shirt. “He came here to get his wallet back, and Taylor spilled juice on his clothes. I offered to clean them for him. And in order for me to do that, he had to take them off.”

She went back into the bathroom, picked up the jacket and returned to show the coat to Jenn. “See? He said it’s old and not worth much, but I need to clean it anyway.” She shook it out and something flipped into the air, landing with a faint plopping sound on top of one of the gold-wrapped presents. Her heart sank. His wallet.

Jenn picked it up, then held it up to Amy. “Is this the wallet that’s given to wandering off on its own?”

“Shoot,” she said, taking the wallet. “Stay here with Taylor. Maybe I can catch him before he takes off without it again.”

“A bad habit,” she heard Jenn say as she ran out the door. She hurried down into the lobby and through the security door that hadn’t locked since she’d moved in, into the cold night, but she couldn’t see a limousine anywhere.

The street was almost empty, with just a few cars passing by. No Quint. She looked down at the wallet, then turned and went back inside. “Shoot, shoot and double shoot,” she muttered as she trudged back up the two flights of stairs to the apartment.

When she went in, she found Jenn and Taylor huddled over a new doll. Jenn looked up. “Sorry, we opened another one,” she said, motioning toward the doll. “I have a heck of a time saying no to this little
thing.” Jenn glanced at the wallet in Amy’s hands. “I take it you didn’t catch him?”

“No, not even close.”

“He’ll be back,” Jenn said. “As soon as he figures out that he left the damn thing again.”

That was what she was worried about. She sank down on the floor with the wallet still in her hands. “He knows where I live,” she muttered.

“Oh, by the way?” Jenn said as Taylor took the bonnet off the baby doll. “The suit coat?”

She looked up at Jenn who was reaching to snatch the jacket off the chair where she’d dropped it before going outside. “What about it?”

“It’s not going to get clean. It’s ruined.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” she said, touching the damp spots on the front. “The juice is so acidy…” She shrugged. “That just ruins that kind of material.”

“Great. Now, I’ll have to get him another one.”

“Sweetie, that sounds good, but do you have any idea what that jacket probably cost?”

She shrugged. “He said it cost maybe two hundred dollars, and I’m thinking that means the pants and the jacket, and the pants were just fine, actually.”

Jenn actually snorted at that. “Boy, either I’m losing my touch with fabric, or he’s delusional.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The jacket isn’t just a jacket, it’s a creation. It’s a Marno. Italian. Custom-made.”

Her heart was starting to drop. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“I wish I was. Even the label isn’t a label, it’s a
hand-embroidered statement on the lining over the heart,” she said as she reached for the jacket and opened it to show the lining in the front. She pointed at something that looked like an irregularity in the silky fabric, until she looked closer. It was a flourish in embroidery that looked as if it could have said, Marno, with numbers under it. She swallowed hard. “How much is it worth?”

Jenn studied the jacket, felt the material, then touched the label before she looked back to Amy. “Honestly?”

“Please, don’t lie to me, okay?”

“Marno creations start at five thousand, and take six months’ worth of labor.”

“Holy kamoley,” Amy breathed, as she sank back on her heels.

“Listen, it obviously doesn’t mean very much to him. These things are all relative. And if he didn’t tell you how much it really costs, he doesn’t want your money.”

“Of course, he felt sorry for me.” She hadn’t wanted his sympathy when she’d told him about being a widow, and she sure as heck didn’t want his pity.

“You can’t afford to have another one made for him, and even if you could, you’d have to find the tailor with Marno who does his work and do it through him.” She touched Amy, covering her hands with hers. “Sweetie, don’t kill the wallet.”

Amy looked down at the wallet she had been unconsciously twisting in her hands. She dropped it on the floor, and stared at it. There had to be a thousand
dollars in it, and he hadn’t even remembered to take it again. Jenn was right. Money didn’t mean a lot to him. Taylor crawled into her lap and cuddled into her mommy, holding the doll to her. “I’ll worry about this later when I can think straight,” she said, kissing Taylor on the top of her head. She could feel the fever creeping back. “Right now, I need to give her some more medicine.”

“I’ll get it. Just tell me where,” Jenn said, getting to her feet, the jingle bells ringing.

“In the fridge, pink, in a bottle, and there’s a measuring cap on it.”

Jenn crossed to the kitchen, jingling all the way. “How about you, do you need a drink?”

She thought a whole bottle of something very strong wouldn’t be all bad, but she called after her sister-in-law, “Maybe later.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Jenn said from the kitchen. “Why don’t you two come to my place and spend the night?” She peeked around the corner and into the room. “We could do the whole S–A–N–T–A thing.” She ducked back into the kitchen. “We could do stockings and everything.”

Amy felt Taylor sigh as she relaxed, and she looked around the tiny apartment. “That might be a good idea.”

“Great. Are you sure you don’t want anything right now?”

“Five thousand dollars,” she muttered.

“What did you say?”

“A miracle for Christmas,” she said, and was startled by the phone ringing. “Can you get that?” she
called to Jenn, not wanting to get up and disturb Taylor.

“Sure.” Jenn came back into the room holding the bottle of medicine and the dose cup, grabbed the phone on her way, and as she said, “Hello,” into the phone, she handed the medicine and dose cup to Amy.

She frowned slightly as she listened, then smiled. “Oh, yes, of course. We found it right after you left.” Quint. Amy watched Jenn. “Of course, of course. Just a minute.” Jenn pulled the receiver down to press it into her chest and spoke to Amy in a low voice. “It’s him, and he asked me to ask you when you’d be back at LynTech working so he can get his wallet?”

She felt very relieved he wouldn’t show up on her doorstep again. “I don’t know. Maybe the day after Christmas, maybe not until a few days after Christmas. It all depends on Taylor and how she’s doing.”

Jenn put the phone back up to her ear. “She doesn’t know,” she said, editing the whole statement down to a three-word sentence. “Do you want to come back and get it now?”

“No, no,” Amy protested, waving the hand that held the medicine in the air to get her sister-in-law’s attention.

But Jenn ignored her and said, “I don’t see why not.”

“Jenn, don’t let him come back,” she whispered tensely. “Tell him we’re going away, anything.”

“If you’re sure?” Jenn turned her back slightly to Amy, obviously shutting out her gesticulating and hissing whispers. “Okay, sure, no problem.” She
hung up the phone, then turned to Amy. “Well, that’s settled.”

“I told you not to let him come back here,” she said, annoyed with Jenn for what could have been the first time since they’d met. “I don’t want him here.”