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Pepper hadn’t been sure in the beginning of their living arrangement if it was a good idea. But with the paparazzi hunting for a story, she didn’t have much choice. Trying to stay in a motel with the press hounding her would have been a disaster. At least when she was in Simon’s penthouse, they couldn’t photograph her.
And she was able to leave through the garage in a private car with tinted windows that Simon had put at her disposal. She didn’t like having to rely on him, but with the baby’s safety to take into consideration, she’d decided to take him up on his offer.
But one day had turned into two days. And two days had turned into a week. At last, the paparazzi had moved on to a new scandal. Pepper felt sorry for the young woman at the center of it. She knew what it was to be hounded day and night.
Friday afternoon, she had no baking scheduled. It wasn’t her day at the shelter. And she had no idea what to do with all the time on her hands.
With Simon going out of his way for her, she wanted to repay him. It had to be more than his morning coffee and daily supply of cherry turnovers. She wanted to do more. But what? She frowned as her mind drew a blank.
Her gaze moved around the stark, monochrome penthouse. Pepper sighed. This place exuded money, but it was so cold. Not temperature-wise, as she had the fireplace lit, but in a personal way. She noticed there weren’t any photos, not of him, not of his family, not of anyone. She found that strange.
She would be lost without her photos. Her heart clutched. What if they’d been lost in the fire?
Immediately, tears pricked the back of her eyes. She told herself to calm down. Though they hadn’t let her into the apartment yet, they’d said the damage on the second floor was limited to water and smoke. She just had to hope the pictures had survi
ved.
Instead of sitting around worrying, she knew she had to get busy. Her grandmother used to say that idle hands were the devil’s workshop. In Pepper’s case, it was an idle mind.
If she was going to continue to stay here, something had to be done with the place. There wasn’t one thing around the penthouse that resembled Christmas. Not even a red or green anything. The color scheme was limited to black, white and gray.
The penthouse exuded a high-powered executive lifestyle. But it didn’t look like anyone actually lived there. She turned in a circle, taking in the two long couches forming a right angle near the black marble fireplace. A large smoked-glass coffee table was devoid of everything, not even a houseplant or magazine was on it. How did this man live like this?
And then she realized the answer: he lived at his office. If it wasn’t for her presence, he wouldn’t be home nearly as much. Maybe she needed to give him a reason to come home—a place to unwind. Since the Polka Dotted Bakery, where he used to let down his guard, was currently out of commission, she’d have to create a homey atmosphere here. Or as close to it as she could get.
She grabbed her purse, coat and knit cap. Out the door she went. She was a lady on a mission.
* * *
What in the world...?
Simon came to a stop at the edge of the living room.
He blinked, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. He hadn’t been sleeping well, with all the latest developments in his life and a big launch ahead of him. He blinked again—but there was still a ginormous pine tree leaning against the wall. What in the world?
How did it get in here?
He glanced around for Pepper. It was too big for her to carry, but he’d bet his business that she had something to do with its presence.
“Pepper!”
He wasn’t a man who normally raised his voice, but these obviously weren’t normal times. And all he’d wanted to do was come home, yank off his tie, undo the top buttons on his dress shirt, have a drink and unwind.
“Pepper!”
“Why are you yelling?” The voice came from behind him.
He spun around to find Pepper standing in the doorway with shopping bags in her hands. He rushed forward and took the bags from her so she could take off her coat and hat.
He returned to the living room and his gaze settled on the Christmas tree—the source of his agitation. He set the bags on the couch and turned to her. “What is this doing here?”
She pulled off her cap and smoothed her hands down over her hair. When her gaze landed on the tree, a big smile lit up her pretty face. Instantly, his agitation started to fade.
“It looks perfect in here. I was afraid it would be too small, but I also worried about getting something too big, you know, with the elevator and everything.”
He didn’t do holidays. The only ones he endured were those for employees or business acquaintances. But he certainly didn’t have a tree and decorations for his own benefit.
“It has to go.” His tone was firm. His mind was made up.
