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“Well, there’s that,” Mitzi said.
“Besides, I don’t want to feel like every man I meet is a potential candidate for love of my life. My main goal for this next year is passing the CPA exam. And all this publicity stuff for the Face of Christmas is—”
“Spirit,” Mitzi said.
“Huh?”
“I thought it was the Spirit of Christmas. That’s what they said on WNOE. I remember because it made me think of ghosts and things that go bump in the night.”
“Yeah, Spirit. Anyway, I don’t have time for a man, good-looking, rich or otherwise.”
“That’s a bad attitude for a twentysomething single gal. I get the whole career thing, but why wouldn’t you be open to tall, dark, and wealthy if the opportunity showed up? Think I’d pass that up? Even if I have cancer and could be dead in a few months?”
“Don’t you dare say that, Mitzi Cascio.” Mary Paige stiffened, her inane problems fading at her friend’s words. Cancer did that. Made a gal feel silly for fretting over men, work, and having to attend functions. Mitzi had been positive about her diagnosis and recovery, but still tossed out morbid zingers Mary Paige struggled with. “You’re getting well. I refuse to believe any differently.”
Mitzi smiled. “Me, too, but I’m just saying. Brennan Henry might be exactly what you need—a sexy rebound. God, he has to be good in bed.”
“Yeah, being rich and handsome makes you a good lover,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Probably the opposite. He probably lies back with his hands behind his head and lets the girl do all the work.”
The image of her rising above a naked Brennan Henry while he looked on with gray eyes no longer hard as steel, but molten and stormy, while she moved her hands all over his taut abs made her feel gooey.
Great. Now she was having fantasies about sex with Brennan. And she didn’t even know if he had taut abs or not.
“That would be a travesty.” Mitzi’s expression had taken on a faraway look that told Mary Paige she might be having her own Brennan fantasies. “So, tell me about this money. Two million? Really?”
“Yeah. Two million, but here’s the thing. I don’t know what to do with it. I haven’t even told my mom about this whole campaign because I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it.”
“Why wouldn’t you do it?”
“Because it’s invasive and it puts me out in the spotlight. I’m not comfortable with that. Look at me.” Mary Paige indicated her sweater, skirt, and pristine white Reeboks. Realizing she still wore the stupid elf hat, she jerked it off her head and growled, “I’m no show stallion.”
“Mare,” Mitzi corrected. “M.P., this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can’t pass it up.”
“I haven’t because it’s not a totally bad idea. Maybe a few people will look at Christmas as an opportunity to show love to their fellow man. That’s Mr. Henry’s goal—to make people think about what is really important, who they should value.”
Mitzi laughed. “I swear you’re like an insurance commercial.”
“So, I wear rose-colored glasses. Not a crime to care.”
“Nope. Not a crime at all.”
“Let’s eat,” Mama Cascio cried, her New Orleansyataccent no doubt as thick as her marinara sauce. “And I heard you fussing at her, Mitz. Let Mary Paige decide things for herself.”
“Mary Paige needs wild, hot sex and a man who lavishes stuff on her. After that prick Simon sucked her dry, she needs—”
“Spaghetti and Italian gravy,” Mama Cascio said, shooting her daughter the Sicilian stink eye. “She said she’s not interested in the Henry boy, so let it die already.”
Mary Paige knew deep inside she was interested in Brennan, but where would that desire lead? Brennan Henry was a dead-end street for a girl like Mary Paige. It wasn’t only that she wasn’t his type, it was also the man’s nature. If the gossips were to be believed, he was averse to commitment. She’d spent the past year struggling with Simon the Leech, and she swore the next man she even thought about in a romantic capacity would have integrity, heart, and generosity of spirit. From what she’d seen so far, Brennan Henry had none of those qualities.
More like selfish, damaged, and intolerant.
“Come in the kitchen,” Mama Cascio said. “We’re family, and we’ll eat like family.”
The woman’s words washed over Mary Paige like warm bathwater. She appreciated Mitzi, and her mother saw her as family, even though they’d first met a little over two years ago. Going through cancer, bad boyfriends, and the launch of Mama Cascio’s catering business had knit them tightly together and had solidified in her heart that moving to New Orleans had been the right decision for her.
From that perspective, working to bring the Spirit of Christmas to her new city seemed the right thing to do.
* * *
