Maureen Child - Under the Millionaire’s Mistletoe

Sam glared at the damn phone as if Anna not speaking to him were its fault instead of his own. “Idiot,” he muttered thickly, shoving one hand through his hair. He’d done nothing but think about Anna for the last few days. Their last argument was on constant replay in his thoughts. And every time he relived it, he saw the shock on her face and the hurt in her eyes. He still wasn’t sure how the damn argument had erupted and he’d like nothing better than to step back in time and bite back the words that had hurt her so badly.

Why the hell had he said something so stupid? He knew damn well that she wasn’t after his money. He had been convinced of that as soon as he saw how much time and effort and artistry she’d poured into the mural she had painted for him. No mercenary woman would have cared so much about doing a good job. She would have come in, slapped some color on a wall and cashed his check.

But Anna had pride. Integrity.

And his heart, damn it.

He poured a Scotch and took a seat on the sofa. The Christmas tree was lit up and soft jazz pumped through the stereo. It would have been perfect, he thought. If Anna were there.

Instead, there was a hollow spot in his chest that he couldn’t see being filled anytime soon. God, if he had to live the rest of his life with this emptiness inside…

“Sitting alone in the dark?” Garret said when he came into the room. “Not a good sign, Sam.”

“It’s not dark,” he protested lamely. “The tree lights are on.”

“Yeah.” Garret grabbed a beer from the wet bar, then sat down in a chair close to his brother. He took a long drink and said, “So, you want to tell me what’s eating you?”

“What?” Sam shot his brother a look.

“I was gone like a week or so, not years. You’re…” he tipped his head to one side and studied Sam “…different, somehow. Still mean as hell, of course, but there’s something else, too.”

This was a rare moment, Sam thought. His younger brother was noticing something outside himself. And maybe it was a sign that the younger Hale brother was finally taking a step toward maturity. God, he hoped so. Because Sam knew what he had to do.

He’d missed Anna like he would have an arm or a leg. Somehow, in the last couple of weeks, she had become as necessary to him as breathing. And he couldn’t live without her. So he had to tell his brother that not only wasn’t Garret going to get Anna back, but also that Sam was in love with her himself.

Love.

Wasn’t the first time he’d thought that word over the last few days. But it was the first time he’d welcomed it. And admitting the truth, if only to himself, made him feel…good. He looked at his brother and knew that what he was about to say could cost him the relationship. But he had no choice. He had to try to make things right with Anna.

“Actually,” Sam said, setting his glass of Scotch aside. He sat up, and braced his forearms on his thighs. Looking directly into his brother’s eyes he said, “There is something else.”

Garret paled at the suddenly serious tone. “Are you okay? You’re not sick are you?”

“No.” Sam laughed shortly and realized it was the first time he’d even smiled since losing Anna. That thought steeled him for what came next. “Nothing like that. But you remember when I told you to break up with Anna Cameron?”

Garret rolled his eyes. “You mean when you ordered me to stop seeing the man-hunting gold digger? Yeah, Sam. I remember.”

Sam bristled, hearing his own words tossed at him. God, he’d been an idiot. “She’s not, you know. A gold digger.”

One of Garret’s eyebrows lifted and he took a swig of his beer. “Interesting. I seem to recall trying to convince you of that.”

“Yeah, well. Things have changed.”

“I’m getting that. So let’s hear it.” He sat back, kicked his legs out in front of him and crossed his feet.

Sam couldn’t sit still. He jumped up and paced to the wide front window where the Christmas tree lights were reflected on the glass. Staring out at the night, he started talking.

“I was going to get her back for you,” he admitted.

“What?” Garret jolted upright. “Just a minute-”

“Was,” Sam repeated, turning now to look at his brother. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen, to go around you like this, but the truth is, I’m in love with Anna.”

He waited, letting his words sink in. Watching his brother’s face, Sam didn’t miss the wide smile or the relieved sigh.

“Thank God.”

“Excuse me?” Sam said.

“I don’t want Anna back, Sam.” Garret blew out a breath.

Now Sam was confused. He’d thought his brother had real feelings for Anna. “But I thought-”

“Is this what’s been bugging you since I got home?” Garret asked, standing up to walk to his brother’s side.

“Well, yeah.” Sam hadn’t expected their little chat to go so well and damned if he could figure out why it was. But he was grateful, as well as surprised.

“Then relax, brother,” Garret said and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m entirely over Anna. I mean, I knew she wasn’t after the family money, but she wasn’t for me anyway. That’s the only reason I went along with you telling me what to do. I mean, come on, what am I? Twelve?”

Sam scowled at him, but realized he should have considered that before. Garret never had done anything he didn’t want to.

“I’m glad for you, Sam. You’re a way better fit with her than I ever could have been. She’s nice and everything, but she’s too traditional for me.”

“Traditional.” Sam laughed, still stunned by his brother’s reaction. “And you told her I thought she was flaky and immature.”

Garret laughed, too, then shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her that you had called me that.”

Sam looked at his younger brother and felt a rush of love for him. Didn’t matter if Garret hadn’t found his way yet, Sam was suddenly sure that he would. Now all that was left was for Sam himself to find a way back to Anna.

“Is it just me?” Garret wondered aloud. “I thought love was supposed to make you feel good and you still look crappy. What’s going on?”

He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck and stared out at the night again. “Anna’s not real happy with me right now.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Sam shot a look at his brother. “What?”

Garret grinned. “Why the snake Anna painted on your wall has your face.”

“Yeah, that’s a long story.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Garret said. “We’ll have another drink. And then I’ll tell you all about the professional snowboarder I met in Aspen.”

Sam shook his head and smiled. “What’s her name?”

Garret winked. “Shania. She’s gorgeous. And amazing-brilliant, talented. She’s really something special. And in two days, we’re flying to Geneva for a couple of weeks to do some serious boarding.”

Sam pulled his brother in for a brief, hard hug, then let him go again. “I’m not gonna worry about you anymore, Garret,” he said with a smile. “I think you’re going to do just fine.”

Garret’s features sobered and he nodded as if accepting an award. “Thanks for that, Sam,” he said. “I really will be all right, you know. So now that I’m off your worry list, why don’t you tell me all about Anna and we can figure out a way to get her back in your life?”

“I’ll tell you,” Sam said, draping one arm over his brother’s shoulders to steer him over to the chairs. “Then you can tell me all about Shania. As for me, I’m doing whatever I have to to get Anna back.”

Christmas was over and New Year’s Eve was just a day away. Anna had buried herself in work, wishing away the holidays, wanting to get lost in the dark, gray days of January. A storm was settling in over Crystal Bay and the cold damp suited Anna’s mood perfectly.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe the new year would be filled with lots of opportunities. But at the very least, time would be passing. And the more time passed, the easier it would become to get over Sam.

At least, that’s what Anna fervently hoped.

“For now, though,” she told herself firmly, “I’m going to concentrate on work and try to put everything else out of my mind.”

Sounded good in theory, but Sam’s image would never completely leave her thoughts. He was with her, sleeping and waking. He was always there, just behind the mental door she tried repeatedly to close.

“How’s it coming, Anna?”

“What?” She jolted and her grip on the paintbrush in her hand tightened. Whipping around, she looked at Mateo Corzino as he walked toward her. The owner of Corzino’s, home of the best lasagna on the California coast, Mateo had hired her to do a mural on the wall of his restaurant.

It was a big job that could keep her busy for a couple of weeks. He wanted a view of a Sicilian harbor, fishing boats tied up at a dock, complete with cliffs and sand-colored buildings in the background. And he wanted it to look as though the view was seen through a crumbling wall. She was eager to dig in, loving the challenge and a crumbling wall was one of her favorite effects. If only she could fully concentrate instead of having her heart and mind torn in two.

“Jeez,” he said with a grin, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head and laughed a little. “I guess I was just thinking so hard I didn’t hear you come up.”

He glanced at the wall where she’d just begun laying down the dark brown tracer lines that would eventually look like cracks in old plaster.

“It already looks real,” he said, a touch of awe in his voice. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Pleased, Anna smiled and wiped her fingers on a paint rag. “Well, I don’t know how you make that amazing sauce of yours either, so we’re even.”

“Speaking of that, I’d better get back to the kitchen. My wife’s minding the stove and the baby.” He looked at the wall again and nodded in appreciation. “You need anything, you give a shout. The restaurant won’t be open until dinner, so no one will bother you.”

“Thanks, Mateo,” she said, but he was already gone, hurrying back to his family. She heard a deep baby giggle coming from the kitchen and then Mateo’s wife laughed along.

Anna sighed and turned back to her paints. Emptiness filled her as she reached up to paint another jagged line on the wall. As she did, she felt as though she were capturing in paint the cracks in her own broken heart.

She worked for another hour or two uninterrupted. Then she heard a frantic knocking on the glass door behind her. Anna ignored it, figuring that Mateo would be rushing out to take care of an overeager customer. But when the knocking continued, Anna sighed, and stepped out from behind a tall, potted ficus tree.

Clarissa was standing outside the restaurant, leaning up against the glass, shading her eyes so that she could look inside. A second later, that frantic knocking started up again.

Mateo finally headed out of the kitchen and Anna stopped him. “I’ll take care of it, Mateo. Sorry.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, recognizing Anna’s stepmother. “No problem.”

Anna hurried to the door, turned the lock and opened it. “Clarissa, what is it? What’s happened?” Then she saw her stepmother’s eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. Grabbing hold of the woman, Anna demanded, “Is it Dad? Is he okay?”

Clarissa nodded, gulped audibly and lunged for her. Hugging Anna tightly, she tried to talk around her own tears, but the words were garbled.

Relieved that her father was all right, Anna patted the woman’s back until she calmed down, then pulled away and said, “What’s going on, Clarissa? Why are you crying?”

“Oh,” the woman said, rummaging in her black bag for a handkerchief, “it’s just so wonderful…”

Anna’s heart picked up a normal rhythm. Not bad news, then. She waited impatiently for her stepmother to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. Then, at last, Clarissa spoke again.

“I had to find you, Anna,” she said. “Tell you right away. I know how worried you’ve been for your father and you just had to know the good news.”

Patience, Anna reminded herself, though the opposite feeling was pumping through her fast and hard. You needed patience with Clarissa.

“If it’s good news,” Anna said softly, steering Clarissa to a chair, “then I definitely want to hear it.”

But Clarissa didn’t want to sit down. She stopped suddenly, gave Anna another hard, tight hug and stepped back, giving her a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Anna. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, feeling that hard-won patience begin to dissolve. “What are you thanking me for?”

Clarissa’s eyes widened and her smile got even brighter.