A Miracle for Christmas (Harlequin Romance)

by Grace Green

  Stephanie stared. He was giving her an ultimatum: marry me, or you lose your store. Grief, it was blackmail!

  ‘No.’ Concealing her rising fury, she raised her brows in guileless question. ‘You’ll have to spell it out for me.’

  He closed the space between them angrily and grasped her shoulders. ‘You know damned well what I’m saying!’

  She tried in vain to wrench herself free. ‘Then,’ she choked out the words, ‘you give me no choice but to leave—’

  When his mouth—cold and wet—swooped down on hers, she was too stunned to react. But only for a moment. As adrenaline rushed through her, she gathered her strength and drove her knee into his groin. He doubled up, and staggered back with an agonized groan.

  ‘You little bitch!’ His entire body vibrated with rage. ‘You’ve screwed yourself now, missy! You get yourself and your asinine toys out of here by the end of this month, or by heaven I’ll take you to court!’

  Joyce must have heard the shouting. She stormed through and hooked a bolstering arm around Stephanie.

  ‘Get out!’ Stephanie glared at her ex-fiancé through eyes blurred with tears of outrage. ‘Or you’re the one who’ll end up in court, on a charge of assault!’

  He left, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls shook and several stuffed toys tumbled off the shelves.

  Joyce patted her back, as if she were a small child. ‘You need to sit down for a bit, dear. Let’s go through the back, and I’ll make us a pot of tea. Hot and strong.’

  She led Stephanie through to the back, and after seating her in a chair, put the kettle on to boil.

  ‘You heard what he said?’ Stephanie’s voice was weary. ‘We have to be out of here by the end of the month.’

  Joyce came up behind her, and started massaging the knots in Stephanie’s shoulders. ‘We’ll phone the Globe and put an ad in. We’ll fine somewhere else.’

  Stephanie closed her eyes. ‘No,’ she said dully. “Thanks, Joyce, but no. No ad. I’m tired of the city, and oh Lord, I’m even more tired of city men. I’m going home.’

  ‘Back to Rockfield?’

  ‘Back to Rockfield.’ Her smile was wan. ‘It’s funny—the reason I left home was I was looking for more excitement in my life. Rockfield had come to seem so...ordinary. Now I’ve had my fill of excitement, and ordinary has never looked so good. Can I persuade you to come with me, Joyce? We make a great team!’

  Joyce chuckled. ‘Thanks, but my family are all here in Boston. And you know, Gina wants to go back to work full-time once her baby’s born, and she’s asked me if I’d baby-sit weekdays. I’ve been meaning to broach the subject with you, but kept putting it off as I didn’t want to let you down.’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Stephanie said. ‘You get to baby-sit, and I get to go home. All’s well that ends well.’

  But if she really meant that, she asked herself as Joyce infused the tea, why did she feel so miserable?

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE Tuesday following the Easter weekend, Stephanie dismantled the sunny yellow Easter display in her window. She was proud of herself, that she managed to do so without once checking to see if McAllister might be watching.

  When she jumped down from the window platform onto the shop floor, ready to pack the display away, she saw Joyce dragging forward a huge box labeled Mother’s Day.

  She felt her throat muscles tighten.

  ‘Put that away, Joyce.’ Keeping her head averted in case Joyce saw the sudden shine of tears in her eyes, she wiggled a skinny Easter Rabbit into its plastic storage case. ‘We won’t be here on Mother’s Day. You know that.’

  ‘But we are going to be here for another week, and we always get such a fantastic response from your Mother’s Day window.’

  ‘It takes me hours to set it up, and I don’t think it’s worth the bother, not for just a few days. Actually we ought to get started on packing those toys stored on the back room shelves, and we’ll make more speed if we don’t have customers trekking in and out.’ She avoided looking at Joyce as she dropped vinyl Easter eggs into a bag. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yes, dear, whatever you wish. I’ll just put this Mother’s Day stuff back, and start clearing the shelves.’

  ‘We’ll need more boxes. I’ll pop over to Pickways and get some.’

  She finished packing away the Easter display, and then called through to Joyce, ‘I’m going now. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

  It was a lovely April morning, the gentle breeze sweet with the scent of hyacinths, the sky a soft pastel blue. Spring was in the air, and as she stepped outside, two young lovers passed by, arms around each other, laughing softly.

  Stephanie’s heart felt as if it were lead. While she walked to the corner and waited at the edge of the sidewalk for the lights to change so she could cross to Pickways, she found herself thinking bleakly about Tony. What a fool she’d been, to have been so mistaken about him. He was pathetic. Now Damian McAllister...there was a different kind of man. Oh, he had a hang-up or two, no doubt about that, but he was a man of honor, a man she could admire, a man she could—

  ‘Stephanie.’

  It was his voice. It came from right behind her. Or had she just imagined she heard him?

  She turned, her nerves drumming.

  It was McAllister all right, and the sight of him had her heart reeling groggily against her ribs, like a boxer spinning against the ropes after a totally unexpected slug. He was standing just two feet away from her, and he was breathing hard, as if he’d been walking fast. To catch up with her? ‘Oh, hi there.’ She sounded as breathless as he appeared to be. ‘How are you?’

  Silly question. He was gorgeous. Wider of shoulder than she remembered, darker of eye, and... she felt a hint of surprise...thinner.

  ‘Just great.’ His shirt was the same steel blue as his irises; his suit jacket the same blue-black as his hair. His gaze was searching, warm...concerned? ‘But how are you?’ He frowned. ‘You look...different.’

  She hoped the breeze wouldn’t stiffen; one strong puff and she’d topple right over. This man made her feel as if her limbs were barely capable of holding her up. ‘My hair, maybe?’ Tremulously she shoved back the mass of brown curls. ‘It...needs cutting. I just haven’t had time.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not your hair. It’s exactly as I remembered it.’ His face sobered. ‘Wonderful.’ As if he couldn’t help himself, he reached up and touched the glossy curls resting on one shoulder. ‘Like dreaming in silk.’

  In the pit of her stomach, something tingled, something electrical, coiling, hot ‘Ah...there’s the Walk signal.’

  ‘I’m in no hurry. You?’

  No, she thought, I’m in no hurry, either. I could stand here forever, just looking at you, wanting to be in your arms, aching to feel your lips on mine.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘I...am in rather a hurry.’

  ‘Too bad. We could have gone for a coffee...or something.’

  Or something. Her nerves quivered as her mind skimmed over the possibilities. ‘That would have been nice.’

  He’d moved very close, edged toward her by passersby jostling to cross the street. His male scent sought her, intoxicated her. She fought a feeling of faintness.

  ‘I heard you’d gone to Aspen for Easter,’ she said.

  ‘I was staying with the Whitneys. I’ve just completed the first phase of their new place—’

  ‘It’s not habitable yet, surely?’

  He shook his head. ‘Mark and Paula have rented the lodge next door. They’re spending a lot of time there—Mark likes to keep an eye on what the builder’s doing. But there should be no problem. Jack Brock’s an excellent man.’

  ‘And...Tiffany was there, too?’ The question flew out before she could stop it.

  He grinned. ‘There’s no show without Punch.’

  ‘So they say.’ Stephanie was visited by a vivid Technicolor image of Ms. Whitney and McAllister waving gaily to each other as they skied down some d
eath-defying slope—followed immediately by another of the two engaged in an acrobatically astonishing après-ski coupling on a sheepskin rug before a triumphantly blazing log fire. Bitchily, she superimposed an image of her own, one of an avalanche that left the lovers up to their necks in snow, their desire terminally chilled as their bodies turned blue. ‘Well, I’m glad you had such a good time.’

  ‘Tiffany had a good time.’ His eyes were smoky with amusement. ‘She met Enrico Cabido, the Italian billionaire playboy, her first day on the slopes, and they haven’t spent one moment apart since.’

  Her heartbeat skipped a little; so...he was no longer involved with the gorgeous blonde. Ruthlessly she ordered her heart to settle down; what difference would it make to her, whether or not the two were still seeing each other! ‘You don’t sound too upset that she deserted you?’

  ‘Deserted?’

  ‘You were...with her, weren’t you? Haven’t you been one of her regular escorts, recently?’

  ‘You seem to be implying that we were...lovers.’

  ‘Weren’t you?’

  ‘It was Tiff’s father who gave me my start in this town, Stephanie, when I graduated from university so burdened with student loans that I wondered if I’d ever manage to pay them off. He not only asked me to design his new branch office in Cambridge, but he spread the word among his many contacts that I was an up-and-comer. I owe him a lot...and if that debt includes acting as an escort from time to time when his daughter needs one, I don’t mind. Tiff knows the score.’

  ‘The score?’

  His gaze fell to her lips, and lingered. ‘Marriage is not on my agenda, and even if it were...’ His voice trailed away, but she sensed the words that had remained unspoken. Tiffany Whitney would not be a candidate. He was, however, too much of a gentleman to say it.

  Which was one of the reasons she liked him so much. It was not only his bone-melting sexual magnetism that drew her inexorably to him, it was the very character of the man. And unlike Tiffany Whitney, she wanted the whole man, and was not willing to settle for less. So why was she standing here, subjecting herself to this exquisite torture?

  She glanced at her watch and faked a look of dismay. ‘Oh, dear, I’ve forgotten something. I have to go back to the store.’ She made herself smile up into his face. ‘It’s been nice seeing you, but I really must fly.’

  ‘It’s all go, isn’t it?’ he remarked lightly.

  ‘It is indeed,’ she said, knowing he was totally unaware of how dead on his remark was. ‘Go’ was the operative word, and if he’d known how far she was about to go, and why, he would probably have been shocked.

  ‘See you, then,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, see you around.’

  She turned away from him and walked briskly back along the street to the Warmest Fuzzies, trying to make her step as purposeful as she could. She certainly didn’t want to give him the impression she was fleeing...though she was. Did he stand and watch her as she went? She didn’t look around, yet she could have sworn she felt his eyes on her.

  Joyce came through when she heard the bell.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I thought it was a customer.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Didn’t you get any boxes?’

  ‘I’ve...decided to phone and have them delivered.’ Which was what she wished she had done in the first place. If she had, she wouldn’t have bumped into McAllister, wouldn’t have had her emotions all freshly churned up, wouldn’t have all these wonderful new pictures of him in her mind, pictures that had no place there.

  Thank goodness she’d be out of here in a week. Surely once she was back home, she’d be able to forget him?

  ‘Mrs. Sutton!’

  Marjorie Sutton jammed the lid back onto her container of peach yogurt and raised her corseted body from her seat. Patting her hair, she hurried to the adjoining office.

  ‘Yes, Mr. McAllister?’

  He was standing at the window, looking out. ‘Come over here,’ he said, gesturing without glancing around.

  She crossed to stand by his side.

  ‘Look down there,’ he growled. ‘And tell me... what’s wrong with this picture.’

  She looked. Everything seemed as usual to her—four lanes of traffic moving at a fair pace, sidewalks busy as they normally were in the lunch hour, lights functioning like clockwork at the intersection. ‘Wrong, Mr. McAllister? I...don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Down there!’ He had a mechanical pencil in his hand, and he tapped it irritably against the windowpane. ‘That store across the street—’

  ‘The Warmest Fuzzies Toy Store? Where my friend Joyce works?’

  ‘The window’s empty.’

  ‘Yes, the window’s empty.’ Though her tone was polite, it held a trace of anxiety; it wasn’t like The McAllister to waste her time on trivialities. ‘You’re right. It is empty. Now, may I go? I’m just going to have my I—’

  ‘Easter’s past. May is almost upon us. Mother’s Day is just around the corner. But the window’s empty...’ He sounded now as if he were talking to himself. ‘Now that is damned strange.’

  ‘Oh, I see! You’re wondering why that pretty Miss Redford hasn’t put her Mother’s Day display in the window as she always has done in the past, right after Easter.’

  ‘Correct, Mrs. Sutton.’ Her boss’s tone was edged with impatience. ‘The minute St. Valentine’s Day is over, the St. Patrick’s display goes up. The minute St. Patrick’s Day is over, the Easter display goes up. The minute Easter is over, the Mother’s Day display goes up—and so on and so on and so on...right through Halloween and Thanksgiving till Christmas, at which point she drives me crazy with her eternally blinking Merry Xmas To U And Yours! Now why hasn’t she put up the—’

  ‘She’s leaving, Mr. McAllister.’

  A shocked silence followed her announcement. The room positively rocked with it. The McAllister stared at her, for a full ten seconds, absolutely motionless, his eyes stark and incredulous. Then with a ferocious scowl corrugating his forehead, he barked, ‘Leaving?’

  ‘Going back to Rockfield. And I tell you—’ Marjorie lowered her voice to a whisper ‘—the Mother’s Day sign didn’t go up because Miss Redford’s heart just isn’t in it anymore. Joyce’s worried sick about her.’

  Shaking her head and murmuring unhappily, the secretary walked out of the office and back to her desk, where even the prospect of her favorite peach yogurt no longer held any appeal. Maybe later she’d feel like having it; but not now. She liked that pretty Miss Redford; it was a crying shame that she was so miserable. But there was nothing more she and Joyce could do about it. They’d tried, hadn’t they, after she broke off her engagement to Tony Gould? They’d set her and The McAllister up at Gina’s wedding, and thought he’d be smart enough to know when he’d had a miracle handed to him. But he hadn’t. He’d blown it. And now he was starting to show a real interest. When it was too late. Much too late.

  Men!

  Two days before the end of the month, Stephanie was sitting behind her counter checking invoices when the door opened. Glancing up, she felt her heartbeat jar. McAllister. McAllister...in a toy store? That had to be a first!

  And it must surely be a painful thing for him to do, to come into a place like this, with its poignant reminder of his own lost child. So what had driven him here?

  She slipped off her stool, and walked around the edge of the counter, her nerves tight. ‘Good morning,’ she said.

  ‘Good morning, Stephanie.’

  He was wearing a navy polo shirt that clung to his chest, and faded blue jeans that delineated his long powerful legs. A dreamboat, Joyce had called him; oh Lord, he was that...and so much more.

  He held out a gift-wrapped package. ‘This is for you.’

  ‘What...?’

  ‘A going-away present.’

  So...he had heard she was leaving—but of course he had not come to persuade her to stay. She felt his eyes on her as she slipped off the wrapping. When she saw the pristine hardback copy of U
ntimely Graves, she looked up slowly.

  ‘Thank you.’ She envisioned him trekking doggedly from store to store in pursuit of the elusive book, and had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat.

  ‘I hope you haven’t already finished reading it?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve been meaning to check it out of the library, but time’s been running away from me recently. It’ll be wonderful to have this copy for my own library.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a keeper. So,’ he watched as she put the book and wrapping paper on the counter, ‘you’re leaving. I must say I was very surprised to hear you were moving.’

  ‘It wasn’t by choice...at least, initially. My lease is up at the end of the month and Tony wouldn’t renew it.’ She smiled grimly. ‘You said once that you were well aware of how he operated. This is the kind of thing you meant?’

  ‘Good God, even for Gould this is an all-time low. What a petty piece of revenge!’

  ‘More than revenge, actually. Attempted blackmail. He made it clear he’d renew the lease If I...went back to him.’

  McAllister muttered something very coarse under his breath. Then he said tautly, ‘Were you tempted?’

  ‘Hardly! But in the long run he did me a favor. It forced me to make a decision, and I decided to go back to Rockfield. I realize now that that’s where I belong. I’m a small-town girl, who just couldn’t cut it in the city.’

  ‘Garbage! You’ve proved beyond a doubt that you can make it in the city. Look, I have contacts here...give me a day or two and I guarantee I’ll find you a place you’ll love—if not in this area, then in one that’s comparable.’

  “Thanks, I do appreciate your offer, but I’ve made up my mind. Now,’ abruptly she changed the subject, his kindness and his confidence in her a threat to her already precarious self-control. ‘Let me thank you again for—’

  ‘You can’t let Gould chase you away.’ The fierce expression in his eyes jellied her knees.