Secret Billionaire on Her Doorstep

by Michelle Douglas

  Lissy’s mouth dropped open. ‘All of your clothes too?’ She whimpered at Callie’s nod. ‘I’d have bawled my eyes out.’

  Had Callie wanted to cry? He squirmed as he recalled what he’d thought about her...how mistaken he’d been. He should’ve been more sympathetic, kinder...gentler.

  ‘Your brother was great—he had some essentials delivered and took care of everything. I was so grateful.’

  She sent him a smile that made him feel like a million dollars.

  ‘But I still need to buy some clothes. Are there any stores around here you can recommend? I’ve no idea, and—’

  ‘I could go shopping with you!’ Lissy’s face lit up. ‘Tomorrow? It’d be fun.’ She grinned at her brother. ‘Owen would let me crash for the night. I mean you’ve been nagging me to stay for, like, for ever, right?’

  She was volunteering to stay the whole night? He did his best not to sound too eager. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Is it okay, Mom?’

  ‘Sure, honey—but only if it’s okay with Callie. She might have plans.’

  ‘No plans.’ Callie nudged Lissy’s shoulder. ‘I’d love it.’

  He wanted to hug her for the grin she sent his little sister.

  ‘And maybe we could all watch a movie after dinner,’ Lissy added.

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ Callie agreed.

  Both of them turned to him and he raised his hands in surrender. ‘Any chance I get to choose the movie?’

  ‘None at all,’ Lissy said, with a cheerfulness that warmed him all the way through.

  ‘Fine...’ he pretended to grumble. But the plan sounded absolutely perfect.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SEEING OWEN WITH his family was like viewing him through an entirely new lens. He’d lost that almost unconscious edge he had whenever he was around her. He’d relaxed. Properly. And a relaxed Owen was doubly potent.

  It sent warning bells clanging through Callie’s mind. All she wanted to focus on was finding a new direction in life—starting with the TV job. And then she’d make a decision about her inheritance. And she planned to do all of that footloose and fancy-free, thank you very much. She wasn’t letting any man into her life until she was damn certain everything she’d worked so hard for couldn’t be pulled out from under her. She wasn’t putting her livelihood at the mercy of some guy’s whims. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

  And she had an extra reason to worry now too. If word got out that she’d inherited so much money, how could she be certain that any man would want her for herself? How could she be certain he wasn’t interested in her money instead?

  Even Owen. After all, how much did she really know about him?

  She glanced across at him in his soft worn jeans that looked as comfortable as air and his loose long-sleeved tee. A girl could admire a good-looking guy without it meaning anything, though, right?

  ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?’ she asked.

  ‘Just keep sitting there, looking suitably impressed with my kitchen skills. It’s doing wonders for my ego.’

  He said it with the same teasing half-grin he used on Lissy and it made her feel as if she belonged, that she wasn’t an unwelcome intruder.

  Dangerous. The word whispered through her. Still, the man prepared a salad with an elegance that was very easy on the eye...

  ‘You know your way around a kitchen better than I do.’

  ‘I like to cook. It gives me time to think. Figuring out how to make an app work can take a lot of thinking time.’

  Margaret ambled over from the sofa, where she’d been flicking through a newspaper, to perch on a stool beside Callie. Lissy and Barney were out in the courtyard. Callie could hear Lissy talking on her phone.

  ‘It’s something you do very well,’ Margaret said. ‘Your apps are inspired.’

  ‘Obviously the company he works for thinks so,’ said Callie. ‘I saw his office. It’s amazing.’

  Margaret sent her son a swift glance, but he was busy slicing onions. ‘He’s too modest,’ she said drily.

  Callie did her best not to get mesmerised by the sight of those large hands, with their short, slightly squared nails, effortlessly slicing and chopping.

  ‘Coming up with ways to make a lecture or a tutorial engaging and fun can be a bit like that,’ she said. ‘But doing my thinking time in the kitchen would be a disaster. The food would either be half raw or burned to a crisp.’

  His grin hooked up one side of his mouth and her heart started pitter-pattering away as if it had donned tap shoes and was learning a brand-new dance routine. He scattered sliced red pepper over the lettuce and red onion already in the salad bowl before adding cherry tomatoes and sliced cucumber. She blinked when he pulled extra virgin olive oil and a bottle of gourmet vinegar from the pantry.

  He made his own dressing?

  The fork he whisked with faltered for a moment as he sent her a sidelong glance, and she suddenly realised she was staring. She had to get over this awareness. It was crazy!

  She swung to Margaret. ‘What’s the thing you remember most about Frances?’

  A sigh Callie didn’t understand eased out of the older woman. ‘I have a lot of memories. But honestly...? It’s her sadness I find myself remembering most.’

  Owen stopped whisking and stared at his mother as if her words had speared straight through his heart.

  She sent Callie a small smile. ‘Frances helped me escape an unpleasant situation and I’ll be forever grateful to her. I loved her. I just wish I could’ve done...more.’

  She reached out to touch Margaret’s arm. ‘I’m glad she was able to help you. But from what Owen has told me, you all helped her tremendously too.’

  Margaret nodded. ‘Owen especially.’

  Really? She filed that under her Things to Pursue Later list.

  ‘I also remember her political rants,’ Margaret added with a laugh. ‘She could be scathing when she disagreed with whoever happened to be in power at the time. Hilariously so. She’d have us all in stitches, but nodding in agreement.’

  ‘That sounds like fun.’ And it did.

  Margaret nibbled a piece of cucumber Owen had pushed her way, as if he was inherently attuned to what she’d like. He glanced at Callie and raised an eyebrow. She pointed to the red pepper, so he cut a nice long slice, speared it on the end of the knife and held it out to her. It made her feel ridiculously cared for.

  Margaret gestured towards her son. ‘Owen did most of the cooking in our household from the age of twelve onwards.’

  Her eyebrows flew upwards. ‘Really?’

  ‘Mom worked long hours. Cleaning houses all day is hard work. It seemed the least I could do.’

  ‘He traded me chores—told me he’d cook if I did the dishes.’

  ‘Doing the dishes is my least favourite chore ever. Besides...’ he grinned at his mother ‘...back then Mom had three standard meals that she cooked on rotation.’

  Margaret winked at Callie. ‘And he wasn’t a fan of any of them.’

  ‘And she’d cook them up in these huge batches, so we’d be eating the same thing for days on end. I like variety.’

  His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug and Callie tried to not let her mind dwell on other things that involved variety—things she really shouldn’t be thinking about.

  ‘So you taught yourself to cook?’ she said in a rush, hoping it would hide where her thoughts had gone.

  He and Margaret shared a swift glance, a beat of silence passing between them, and Callie found herself nodding.

  ‘Frances taught you how to cook.’

  They both turned, as if concerned the revelation might upset her.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, touched that they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. ‘You can’t miss something you never knew you had.’

  ‘Not true.�
� Owen rinsed the fork before turning back and searching her face.

  She thought of the little boy who’d probably been terrified of his father. He’d have missed his parents not having a harmonious marriage. He’d have missed not having a father who couldn’t control his temper.

  ‘You can,’ she agreed slowly.

  She flashed to an image of her ten-year-old self, sitting in her classroom on Grandparents’ Day. It was a memory that stuck with her to this very day.

  ‘Do you guys do Grandparents’ Day at school? It’s where grandparents spend half a day at school in the classroom with their grandkids. I wasn’t the only kid in my class who didn’t have grandparents, but the split would’ve been about eighty-twenty. And on that day I really wanted grandparents. And aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings and everything in between.’

  She smiled, but a thread of sadness for her younger self remained. She’d yearned for big family picnics and huge Christmas celebrations and spending holidays with people who belonged to her.

  ‘At the end of the day I raced home and told my mother that if she married again and gave me a stepfather, I would adopt his mum and dad as my grandparents.’

  Owen leant his hip against the bench. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She asked me what would happen if she fell in love with a man who didn’t have parents any more, just like—’ She pulled up short, suddenly conscious of how callous that would sound to Owen and Margaret—people who had loved Frances.

  ‘Just like her,’ Owen finished. He shook his head. ‘It’s okay, Callie.’

  Actually, it wasn’t. But she pasted on a smile anyway. ‘I told her she was only allowed to fall in love with a man who had a mum and a dad and six brothers and sisters, all with little kids, so I could have first cousins and second cousins and third cousins twice removed.’

  Margaret’s eyes twinkled. ‘Did she manage to keep a straight face?’

  ‘Not for a moment!’ Callie laughed. ‘Though I didn’t understand at the time why she thought my plan so funny.’

  ‘When I met Jack—Lissy’s father—Owen was fourteen at the time, and he took him into the courtyard out there and told him that if he ever raised either his hand or his voice to me he’d drop his cold, dead body in the river.’

  Callie clapped both hands over her mouth. ‘You didn’t!’

  His grin had her heart setting off on another tap-dancing routine. ‘I obviously had an over-inflated sense of my own power. Jack weighed twice what I did, and he had arms like—’ He made a big circle in the air the size of a pumpkin.

  She swallowed. ‘What did he say?’ And where was Jack now?

  ‘He said that if he ever did either of those things he’d help me find the best spot in the river to dump his cold, dead body.’

  She pressed her hands to her chest. ‘Perfect answer.’

  Margaret took the salad to the small dining table as Owen lifted chicken breasts in a fancy salsa from the oven. He sent Callie a wink. ‘You’ll be pleased to know there has never been cause to find that spot on the river. Jack is at his monthly poker night tonight. He’ll be sorry to have missed meeting you. He and Frances became great friends.’

  It appeared then that everyone had been on the best of terms with Frances. Everyone, that was, except her mother.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve contacted three of Frances’s oldest friends.’

  Callie had been kneeling on Owen’s living room rug, greeting Barney after returning from the library, but she shot to her feet again now. ‘Friends?’ Old friends?

  ‘Childhood friends.’

  It was three days since she’d had dinner with Owen and his family. She flew across to the breakfast bar. ‘Do you think they’ll talk to me? Maybe let me visit them?’

  He glanced up from pouring coffee beans into his machine. ‘I’ve organised for us to meet with them at the Russian Tea Rooms for high tea this Friday at two o’clock. It was the only time I could get them together at the same time, and I thought it’d be better to meet as a group. Their memories might spark off each other.’ He halted. ‘I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t trying to be high-handed—’

  ‘Of course you weren’t.’ She reached out to squeeze his arm. ‘I’m really grateful.’

  Beneath her hand, his forearm burned warm and vibrant, and a bolt of energy transferred itself from him to her, making her breathe deeper and adding colour to all the things in his kitchen, as if her eyes were seeing them in a more vivid light. She suddenly felt more alive than she could remember feeling. Ever.

  He’d stilled at her touch and he stared down at her hand now. ‘We have a deal. And I mean to keep my side of the bargain, Callie.’

  She reefed her hand back. That was what this was all about—the bargain they’d struck. He didn’t want her short-changing the residents of the apartment block. Nothing more. Which was exactly as it should be. But her heart gave a sick thud all the same.

  ‘I’m still grateful. Thank you.’

  He shrugged, his attention on the coffee machine again and thankfully not on her.

  ‘Hopefully they’ll be able to provide you with a couple of leads.’

  She hoped so too.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘Um...no thanks.’ She’d shared one with him yesterday, and the day before too, but she couldn’t let herself get too comfortable and cosy with him. Men were off her agenda for the foreseeable future. Her sole focus was to get that TV job and find a new direction for her life.

  If you keep your inheritance you can take things easy, take your time, have a holiday...

  She shook the thought off. She still intended to work. Sitting around in the lap of luxury might sound appealing at first, but she had to do something or she’d go out of her mind with boredom. She had no intention of being a good-for-nothing layabout. She pulled in a breath. Bottom line—no guys until she was once again gainfully employed and her life felt as if it belonged to her again.

  She edged towards the door. ‘I might just dump my gear upstairs and then take Barney for a walk.’

  She didn’t ask him if he wanted to join her. They weren’t friends. All she was to him was a duty to discharge.

  ‘C’mon, Barney.’

  The little dog scrambled to his feet and scurried across the room to her. The two of them had started towards Owen’s front door when Owen called out, ‘What do you do at the library, Callie?’

  Working at the library sounded romantic—as if she might be sitting in a lofty vaulted room poring over dusty tomes, but the reality was vastly different.

  ‘Basically I just use their computers to access genealogical databases and old newspapers...and print off whatever looks useful.’

  ‘You could do that from here.’

  ‘Except my laptop was taken in the robbery. And as I have access to my emails on my phone, I figured I wouldn’t bother replacing it until I got home.’

  ‘I have a spare computer you can use.’

  The day she’d been in his office he’d had three computers all fired up and on the go at the same time. She’d figured they were all necessary for whatever it was he did. Besides, the thought of working beside him day after day...

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve intruded enough on your time as it is, Owen. You don’t need me under your feet. The library is fine.’

  He stared, and then his eyes widened and his mouth puckered as if he’d sucked on a lemon. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you work in my office.’

  She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. Nice.

  ‘Sorry, but I’m not good with distractions—noise, music...other people moving about. It breaks my concentration.’

  She unbent a fraction and glanced at Barney.

  Owen shook his head. ‘Barney is as good as gold. He just lies on his bed—’ they’d both bought Barney dog beds for their respective apartme
nts ‘—and we enjoy each other’s company.’

  ‘You’re such a good dog,’ she cooed, scratching Barney’s hindquarters until he groaned his pleasure.

  Owen frowned. ‘He doesn’t chew anything he shouldn’t. He doesn’t bark when he hears any of the other residents coming or going...’

  ‘And on walks he’s always polite to other dogs. He loves choosing random people to make friends with. He’s sociable and well adjusted.’ She blew out a breath, nodding. ‘I know... Someone has to be missing him.’

  ‘No word yet?’

  ‘None.’ She checked the posters they’d put up in various shop windows and on trees in the park every time she and Barney went for a walk. Just to make sure they were still there and didn’t need replacing.

  ‘Okay—back to the subject of the computer. I was going to suggest we set up a spare computer and printer in your apartment. You’re welcome to use it for as long as you’re in New York.’

  She swiped her hands down the sides of her jeans. ‘Are you sure you can spare one?’

  ‘You have seen my office, right?’

  His hands went to his hips and it made him look tall and broad and delectable. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She did her best to unglue it. ‘If you can spare it, then a computer would be very welcome.’

  ‘Done. Let’s do it.’

  He strode into his office and she followed in his wake, slightly bemused.

  ‘Can you manage the printer?’ He opened a door to a storage cupboard and effortlessly lifted out a printer. ‘If not I can make a second trip.’

  ‘Give it here. Of course I can manage. I’ll head on up and open the door,’ she added as he started to haul out a computer. And cables.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you.’

  The printer wasn’t heavy, but by the time she’d climbed the stairs she was short of breath.

  ‘I need to get fitter, Barney.’

  But she knew there was nothing wrong with her fitness levels. It was just that the guy downstairs had a habit of stealing all the oxygen from her lungs, and it always took too long for her to get it back.