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“I don’t see how standing next to Scrooge here and faking merry is going to help you spread Christmas cheer.” The light from the window caught Mary Paige’s hair, creating a golden curtain around her pleasant face. She wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup or any sultry perfumes. When she’d passed him earlier, she’d smelled clean, like fresh laundry and sunshine. Like some crap on a commercial…but he’d noted it.
And she’d just called himScrooge.
“It will do more than you know, Mary Paige. Ol’ Scrooge here—” his grandfather gestured toward Brennan “—needs to be a poster boy for Henry’s in this city. I’ve seen him put on a smile when it behooves, and it need behoove him now if he wishes to move on to the large chair in the biggest office. The success of this company is not in the bottom line, but in the values we embrace and show to the world. I’ll let it be known here and now that we have genuine concern for our fellow man. If that is the focus, it trickles down into every square inch of every store across the country.”
Brennan had to mull that one over. Maybe his grandfather had a point. Sometimes it was hard for Brennan to see the forest for the bottom line. His goal was profit, but that alone would not sustain the company.
“I want you to understand, Miss Gentry, that this Spirit of Christmas campaign is not about making more money, but rather bringing something back I’ve been missing for so many years in my own life. It has been too long since I’ve felt the wonder of kindness and the generosity of my fellow man. I know change starts with me. I am looking at the man in the mirror each morning and expecting something more.”
Brennan glanced at Mary Paige, and he could see the cogwheels rotating through the windows of those chocolate-brown eyes.
“How can I help?” she asked. “By showing up at events wearing my best smile? How is that going to make anyone feel any more charitable toward a fellow human being?”
“I have a hunch about you, my dear.” The confidence in Malcolm’s expression seemed to say he knew something no one else in the room did. “A very strong hunch about what you can accomplish in even the hardest of hearts.” He then looked at Brennan with a sort of gleam in his eye.
Oh, hell, no. If his grandfather had some sort of notion about Mary Paige performing a bypass on the hardened parts of his ticker, he was sadly mistaken. Brennan wasn’t damaged or bitter. He was merely a realist. And he absolutely did not need another woman in his life—not when he couldn’t seem to shed Creighton. She’d become like a latex coating on his fingers…preventing him from feeling anything. He really wished he’d left her alone. Wished she’d get the message he’d tried to send her many times over the past few weeks.
So even if the accountant was cute in a Betty Crocker kinda way, he wasn’t letting his grandfather cook up some crazy matchmaking scheme with a stranger he’d picked up at a gas station.
Mary Whatever her Name Was narrowed her eyes at the old man then shifted her gaze to him.
“Thisisabout Christmas, right? I mean, you’re not trying to give me a babysitting job with McScrooge here, are you? I’m no miracle worker, Mr. Henry.”
“Babysitting?”Brennan echoed, trying not to scare poor misguided Little Bo Peep. “I’m not the one who fell off a chair in the lobby. Or crawled across a boardroom to fawn over some mutt. I’m not the one who needs looking after.”
Izzy lifted her head and gave him a doggy glare as if she knew he’d slighted her.
Mary Paige crinkled her eyes and sniffed, making him feel a little childish for being so defensive. What was wrong with him? He never got emotional during business meetings. Of course, this was one of the strangest meetings, but nevertheless, he had to get hold of the situation. No way would he try to convince her to do this. If she refused, it would likely be game over for his grandfather’s little idea. One less headache for Brennan.
“Before we send out a press release or make any further plans, why not do a test run?” his grandfather said, settling back into his chair and folding his hands across his still-flat stomach.
“Wait, what?” Mary Paige looked as if she might bolt for the door.
Her reaction to him struck Brennan as odd. Most women found him charming. Okay, not charming, but intriguing. After all, he wasn’t half-bad to look at, had money in the bank, and treated them like ladies. Okay, so maybe his last comment had been somewhat insulting. But hadn’t he helped her from her fall, picked up her lipstick, and held the door for her? He hadn’t been an ogre.
So, he was a bit grumpy this morning. And not totally on board with the whole Spirit of Christmas idea. Was that good reason to act like he was the Antichrist?
Or maybe just anti-Christmas?
Perhaps that was it. The woman was a bona fide Christmas jingle-bell ringer. Probably decorated her whole house with flashing lights and little red-nosed reindeers.
“Why not take Miss Gentry down for a cup of that new eggnog coffee they’re brewing at CC’s? Show her your sweet side, grandson o’ mine,” Malcolm said.
It wasn’t a suggestion…it was an order—iron buffered with gentility. His grandfather may have been slurping down the Froot Loops lately, but he was still his grandfather, the man who’d nearly single-handedly built Henry’s into a reputable, reliable chain of department stores with net worth that kept Wall Street’s eye on them. So, if Malcolm Henry said “Jump,” folks asked, “How high?” But Brennan wasn’tfolks.He was the heir to the throne with the keyalmostin his pocket. Wasn’t it time he stopped dancing to his grandfather’s tune? “I’m sure Miss Gentry has other business—”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed quickly.
Her eagerness to avoid him stopped him. The woman didn’t even want to go to coffee with him? Good Lord, when was the last time a woman had turned him down? Hardly ever. From the time he’d been knee-high, everyone had jumped to do his bidding, to be his friend, to have some of the limelight given to the Henry name shine on them. But this little accountant didn’t want a thing to do with him…and that made her more interesting than her willingness to hand back the check.
“On second thought, I wouldn’t mind a second cup.” He stood and politely pulled her chair back as she rose.
Her hair swished in front of his nose, releasing a light scent of something that tumbled him briefly into childhood. He breathed deeply, then exhaled into the silky strands. And he felt her tense in awareness.
Something strange flared inside him and a wisp of a vision curled into his brain. Mary Paige in silk stockings and a red-and-white Santa-styled push-up bra. Her ass would be spectacular in a garter and thong. And her smile so promising.
Ellen’s phone went off, drawing everyone’s attention to the phone vibrating on the table. He popped the picture of Mary Paige playing the sexy ingenue from his mind with his handy dandy pin of reality. For heaven’s sake, the woman was wearing some girdle thing that was about as sexy as corn bread.
Mary Paige stepped back, almost brushing against him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Henry. I’m merely convinced I’m not the right girl to be your holiday spirit. I’ve a lot on my plate, and while the money would be nice, I think it best if I bow out.”
