Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge (10 page)

“Oh, I didn’t mean to sound like I was
expecting a donation!”

He eased even more and laughed outright. “I’m
happy to oblige.”

Laura mumbled her thanks, embarrassed at her
lack of following his conversation, but nevertheless took a liking
to the man immediately. His smile was friendly and his personality
almost came off shy-like, which was unusual but oddly very
attractive.

She spelled her name for him and watched as
he scribbled an amount on the check. Her jaw dropped, stunned at
the large figure, her hand shaking even as she reached out and
accepted it. “That's very generous of you.”

He smiled but shifted his eyes, avoiding eye
contact. “My address is on the check, if you wouldn’t mind sending
the receipt there.”

“Yes, of course.” Still in a state of shock
at the dollar amount, she quickly collected herself and said,
“Thank you, thank you very much.”

“Good night, then.” He tipped his head in
farewell, then was gone.

Laura stood staring after the man completely
perplexed, then down at the check, not sure if she was dreaming or
if it was reality. She looked up, urgently needing to share her
wonderful news. Her eyes fell upon Cara Henderson who was lavishly
enjoying her meal with her husband.

“Mrs. Henderson, it must be you I should
thank for this.”

The girl looked up and noticed the check in
Laura's hand, and didn't blink an eye. “Call me Cara. What great
deed have I done to deserve your gratitude?”

“I just received an over generous donation.
Obviously from one of the companies associated with your firm.”

Cara's hand stilled in its route to feed a
forkful of food into her mouth, her voice sounding slightly
alarmed. “What makes you say that?”

“The flyer you posted in your office. It must
have worked and I have you to thank for it.”

Cara let out a sigh, as if relieved. “No need
to thank me. I really didn't do anything. You're the one who put
this together. Take full credit.”

“Still, if you hadn't posted the flyer I
wouldn't have received this wonderful donation. I'm grateful,
truly.”

The girl again shrugged her off with a wave
of her hand. “If you're to be dishing out thanks, make sure you
give one to Mrs. C. This meal is fantastic.”

“I'll repeat your compliment. I'm on my way
over there now.”

She left them to finish their food and went
to search out Adell once again. She hadn't covered a few yards when
a graceful hand stopped her.

An elegant woman, certainly out of her
element in the present surroundings, stood looking at her
inquisitively. “Are you Laura Witherow?”

“Yes.”

“I represent Lazer Technology Incorporation,
founded out of Ottawa, and would be pleased if you would accept a
charitable donation to your organization.”

Laura was too stunned to speak she simply
stared dumbfounded at the woman who began to frown amusingly at
her. Immediately, Laura snapped herself out of it and quickly
placed a gracious smile upon her face. “That would be much
appreciated. Thank you.”

As the woman wrote out a check for a dollar
amount Laura felt was far too generous, she couldn't help but
concede the success of the flyers and the effect they had on the
evening. Especially, it appeared, the ones posted at Britten
Investments.

If Dexter only knew, he would fly into a
frenzied fury, she grinned mischievously to herself. Particularly
since he had been headstrong about posting flyers in his building
in the first place. Her grin widened. What a wonderful thrill it
will be to rub the success of the evening in his stiff-necked,
fickle opinionated face.

By the time the evening came to a close,
Laura's cash box was filled with checks from various companies and
organizations whose appearances that night were for the sole
purpose of donating money to the shelter. She was thrilled, not in
a million years would she have believed the bingo night could have
been so successful. Her excitement was shared with Adell who stayed
behind after the last guest left and helped clean up.

“I'm sure your shelter will have no problem
getting back on its feet now. It was a wonderfully successful
night.”

“I'm truly stunned at the enormous success. I
had no idea I would receive such an overwhelming response.” She
talked eagerly, paying no mind to her words as they flowed off her
tongue. “Not only will I be able to run my shelter properly, but
I'll be able to return my father's home back to its original
splendor. Though I can't be foolish with the money, I'll have to
take some responsibility and invest it properly. I'm sure Dexter
will know exactly where—”

Adell looked up from wiping a table,
pretending not to notice Laura's abrupt halt in words. “Yes, Dexter
will be able to help you there. As I said before, he's a genius in
his field. You couldn't trust your money more with anyone
else.”

Without a doubt, Laura didn't deny the
woman's words. What Dexter lacked in every other characteristic, he
made up in his astuteness regarding money matters. Maybe, for the
first time in their acquaintance, they would share a topic of
enjoyment and be able to sit down and have a congenial
conversation.

Folding a chair, she stacked it against the
wall as she felt an unexpected wave of joy. It had been a long time
since she allowed herself the pure feeling of utter happiness.
Tonight, since before her father's death, she felt just that and
would allow absolutely nothing to interpose.

* * *

Later, if asked why she returned to Britten
Investments, she would have explained it easily as the need to
gloat. But, truth being, it wasn't in her character to be so
shallow and display such egotistic smugness. Though if she knew
what was she was about to confront, she would have gladly stayed
away.

Happily, she sailed into Cara's office and
gave a good morning greeting before grasping the door handle of
Dexter's office.

The secretary had been engrossed in typing
out a dictation, and only caught the tail end of Laura's greeting.
Alarmed, she pulled off her headphones and called out, “Wait,
Laura, you can't go in there!”

Too late, the door was open and she glided
across the threshold, smug smile firmly in place. She had just
crossed the threshold when her feet came to an abrupt halt. Dexter
sat comfortably at his desk, minus his suit blazer, and tie
loosened at the collar. He was looking up at a very beautiful, very
bleach blonde seductively perched against the edge of his desk, two
long shapely legs straddling the arms of his chair. Even from her
distance she could smell the woman's heady perfume and its lethal
effect.

Laura felt the blood drain from her face,
felt a cold chill engulf her, and thought perhaps she was going to
be sick right on the threshold of Dexter's office.

“What the blazes do you want now?” Dexter's
angry voice drew her attention. “Cara, isn't it a practice in this
office to buzz for callers?”

Laura watched as he continued to sit there,
obviously enjoying his position far too much to bother getting
up.

“Excuse me.” She at last found her voice,
surprised at the controlled tone it held. “It's obviously a bad
time. I'll come back another day.”

Dexter watched as she turned leisurely on her
heel and left his office. It piqued him she had not been effected
by what she walked in on. He wasn't sure why, but he definitely
felt she should have appeared at least angry or upset, not this
apologetic, uncaring woman.

True, she really didn't have anything to feel
jealous over; she simply walked in at a bad moment. Bridget was
always showing her affection in this lurid manner, and if he had
any heart he would actually enjoy her unwanted attention. At the
least, his male urges should have shown a spark of interest; after
all she was a very beautiful, very desirable woman who was more
than just willing. But, as always, she left him feeling cold and
disgruntled.

He found himself in the process of brushing
her legs away, as he would have done moments before Laura made her
unexpected appearance, and got to his feet. Damn the woman, when
she walked in he felt a spurt of haughtiness that at last this was
what it would take to get her out of his life, and for good.
However, the only thing that came out of her mouth, was a promise
of returning. Now he had to go, stop her, and reinforce what she
walked into, really was what it wasn't. Lord, he confused
himself!

Ignoring Bridget's cry of abandonment he
rushed out of his office in pursuit of Laura. He found her just as
she was in the act of boarding the elevator. With a determined
gesture he reached out and intervened the doors closing with his
arm. She turned around startled, and that was when he felt a blow
directly to the pit of his stomach.

The color had returned with a vengeance to
her pale skin, her beautiful green eyes sparkled like emeralds from
the pool of tears flooding them. That uncharacteristic, far from
needed emotion of wanting to comfort, had him regretting his
decision to come after her.

Gathering up his dispassionate attitude, he
said impassively, “I thought I told you not to come back here.”

She swiped angrily at a tear. “No, that's not
what you said.”

His brows dipped toward his nose.
“Pardon?”

The elevator door bucked against his hand.
“Would you kindly release the door so I may continue
downstairs?”

He gestured past himself with a sweep of his
hand, indicating for her to exit the elevator before him.

“I'm not coming back out.” Stubbornly, she
remained where she was.

He scowled at her before boarding the
elevator and allowing the door to glide shut behind him.
“Happy?”

It was sarcastically snapped but Laura felt
far from it. She couldn't remember feeling this miserable since—no,
she absolutely refused to give Dexter the receiving end of an
emotion equal to the death of her father. He most definitely did
not deserve it.

With a purposeful sigh, she reminded herself
what Dexter O'Reilly was good at. “You said not to come back to
your office unless I had some real business to deal with.”

His look turned interested. “All right, what
have you got?”

“Money.” It was blandly stated, the way she
felt. The smugness, the gloating she had been looking so forward
to, found no place in her heart.

He looked at her, waiting for her to continue
and when she didn't he persisted, “Exactly how much? I can't
imagine you raising much money from—”

Sticking her hand into her handbag she
withdrew a wad of cash and checks, secured tightly in an elastic
band. “This isn't all of it. I kept some back to pay prior bills,
but I'd like to invest most of this.”

He let out a small whistle as he retrieved
the bundle and began to flip through it with his thumb. “Now you're
beginning to make some sense.”

She watched as he reached out and pressed the
button to the tenth floor, a feeling of gloom shadowed her heart.
The only time he wanted anything to do with her came with a
price.

“They were charity donations. Tax right offs.
Is that what you meant when you said I wasn't thinking big
enough?”

“Basically. The type of clientele you should
be looking for, wouldn't be showing up in a bingo hall.”

“But they did.” She pointed out, the
beginning of pride slipping in.

He glanced down at her and their eyes locked
before he turned away muttering, “You were lucky this time.”

“Why didn't you just tell me this in the
first place?”

“I've told you from the beginning, I think
your shelter is a business disaster and you should close down.”

“So you hoped I would fail.”

“I can't do all your thinking for you, if you
plan from going bankrupt you're going to have to start using your
head.”

“What if I just hire someone to do my
business planning for me? Like you.”

He snorted. “You couldn't afford me.”

“You're that valuable?”

“Yes, but you couldn't afford anyone. Lady,
look at the business you're running. You're not exactly running an
enterprise here.” The elevator came to a stop and Dexter stepped to
the side to allow Laura to proceed him. He noticed the leather
binder still tucked under her arm. “What else have you got in
there?”

Reminded, she slipped her hand back in and
retrieved a small bound binder. “I thought maybe you might need my
accounts book.”

He let out a loud snort before snatching the
book from her hand and flipping the pages disgustingly. Rolling his
eyes heavenward, he proclaimed, “These are a mess. It’s no wonder
you haven’t been able to get organized.”

At this, Laura felt her anger grow. “I do the
best I can. I have more pressing matters to deal with than the
day-to-day balancing of my accounts.”

“Now that.” He pointed an accusing finger
toward her. “Is the kind of irresponsible remark that levels you
incompetent to run a business.”

“So you think my business ethics need to be
polished up, that doesn't mean I won't make it.”

“It damn well guarantees it! This isn't a
board game, you don't get to pass GO and collect $200. You need a
financial plan. You need something firm and concrete.”

They had stopped walking, coming to a halt at
the end of the long carpeted corridor. “But that's where the
difference comes between my organization and all the others you
deal with. Nothing is firm and concrete in running a homeless
shelter. It is built on the shaky grounds of the vulnerable spirits
of these girls. How can I be thinking of the bottom dollar of my
bank book every month, when Darcy's baby is crying non-stop because
she has a wet diaper and we can't afford to buy any more. Or Kelly
can't go home because her bastard of a father beats her. Then
there's Ingrid whom I seem to forever discharging out of either the
hospital or police station. We don't have the money for bail but
I'll be damned if I'll leave her there. What these girls need is
love and support, is it my fault it comes with a price tag?”