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“Coward,” Brennan whispered before he could catch himself. He had no clue why he’d issued the challenge. What did he care if she stomped out of the office, handed over the check, and the whole stupid holiday stunt crashed and burned? He didn’t. But something inside him had balked at watching Miss Mary Sunshine slip through his fingers.
He felt her response—the slight outrage, the nervousness at his presence invading her space, and a little bit of the right kind of interest—just before she moved away.
Malcolm frowned. “Please, Miss Gentry. Just think about it. I know you’re the person for this blessing on our community. We have a lot of wonderful opportunities to do such good.”
“Fine. I’ll have coffee with him and think about it,” she said.
“Splendid,” his grandfather crowed, leaning forward to toss a file onto the table. “Ellen and I have some work to do while you two discuss our message of goodwill that is so necessary in today’s climate. It’s going to be the best season for Henry Department Stores in its history…a season of kindness.”
Brennan ignored his grandfather’s donning of Christmas-colored glasses and gestured toward the door, allowing Mary Paige to slide through before following. He couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her rounded bottom in that tight skirt.
She spun around as the boardroom door closed and caught him looking. Her face went pink again. “This is a business meeting.”
“Jump to conclusions much?” he arched an eyebrow.
She narrowed her pretty eyes. “So, what were you looking at?”
“Whatever you’re wearing that keeps showing under your skirt.”
Her eyes widened right before a vivid red swept up her neck. She jerked at the skirt riding high on her thighs. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe…”
She turned and stalked ahead of him, holding her purse as if it were the last parachute on a plane.
He followed not because he had to, but because something inside him wanted to.
Which was weirder than his grandfather dressing that damn dog in sweaters.
4
MALCOLMHENRY, JR.sat in his big office chair and smiled.
He couldn’t have scripted a better meeting between his grandson and that adorable girl. Brennan had taken notice of her charms earlier than Malcolm had expected, and the thought this particular woman catching Brennan’s eye tickled him to no end. Malcolm tired of watching a parade of beautiful empty girls wind through his grandson’s life, and he wondered if this Mary Paige could serve a double purpose – be the spirit of Christmas for his department stores while also bringing something more into Brennan’s life.
Of course, this had not been his original intention. Malcolm wasn’t a matchmaker and would never think to meddle in his grandson’s love life. But when life handed you peaches, you made pie. And as he’d watched the pretty Mary Paige climb into his Bentley with such apprehension, he wondered if fate had pulled a fast one and delivered the very person who might helpBrennanfind the true meaning of Christmas.
Hell, the true meaning of life.
A real peach.
Malcolm sneezed, and it scared the dog curled in his lap.
“Sorry, girl,” he said, scratching under Izzy’s chin. She closed her eyes, and if a dog could sigh, well, then Izzy sighed. “Such a wonderful creature, aren’t you?”
She didn’t bother to open her eyes. That meant she agreed.
A knock at his office door had him spinning from the view of Poydras Street to face his assistant, Anton “Gator” Perot, who’d been his bodyguard, driver, and right-hand man for the past twenty years. Malcolm trusted Gator like he trusted no other. Raised on the bayou backwaters by a grandmother from the Houma tribe, Gator had pulled himself up from near poverty by sheer cunning, guts, and smarts. He’d landed in Malcolm’s doorway after refusing to take a job with the Garciano family—a true show of character that paid off when Al Garciano was tossed in the slammer for racketeering.
“I placed the pictures from last night on this disk,” Gator said, setting a plastic case on Malcolm’s desk. “Want me to give them to Ellen? I can send a digital file to thePicayune.”
Malcolm sighed. “We’re on hold. Still waiting to see if Miss Gentry will sign on.”
His assistant raised his eyebrows as he eased into one of the red leather chairs across from Malcolm. “She did look at the check, didn’t she? Two million’s hard to say no to. Don’t think I’ve met a woman who’d turn down shoe money like that.”
“This one’s a bit different.”
“Do-gooders usually are.”
“Is that what you think she is? A do-gooder?”
