The Millionaire's Snowbound Seduction

by Sandra Marton

  And suddenly, after all the years and the sorrow, he saw it all. How Holly had tried to give him tangible proof of her love and how his own stiff-necked pride, his damnable ego, had made him blind to those tokens of the heart. How he had rejected her offerings again and again…

  How he’d rejected them tonight.

  Nick whisked his wallet out of his pocket and peeled off a bill. He pressed it into Santa’s mittened hand.

  ‘Does that cover the oil?’

  Santa looked down at the bill and his bushy brows lifted. ‘Ten times over. Just wait a minute while I get change.’

  ‘No. I don’t want change. In fact…’ Nick opened his wallet again, pulled out half a dozen bills, and stuffed them into Santa’s hand, too. ‘Buy some more toys for the Boys’ Home. How’s that sound?’

  Santa grinned. ‘Sounds just fine.’

  ‘Good. Great. Terrific.’ Nick grinned, too. Then he patted the old man awkwardly on the back. ‘Thank you,’ he said, as he slid behind the wheel of his Explorer. ‘For everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Smiling, Santa watched as Nick pulled out onto the dark, deserted road. His smile broadened when the vehicle suddenly stopped, then roared into reverse.

  Nick put down his window. ‘Santa?’

  ‘Yes?’

  Nick smiled. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  The old man chuckled. ‘Merry Christmas to you, too, son. And to that sweet young woman you left up on North Mountain.’

  Nick’s brow furrowed. ‘How did you…?’

  ‘Got to get goin’,’ the old man said, and just at that moment a sudden snow flurry swept through the station, obliterating everything in a whirl of white. When it had passed, the old man was gone, and the station lights had winked out.

  Nick stared at the darkened gas pumps. Then he took a deep breath and swung the Explorer across the highway, back towards North Mountain.

  * * *

  Holly sat, cross-legged, in the middle of the bed.

  The wind was howling wildly around the cabin; snow pattered against the windows. It was the kind of night to curl up by the fire, to lie in the arms of your lover…

  She blinked back her tears.

  What an idiot she’d been, to have thought she and Nick might have had a chance at being happy. He was so full of himself, of his plans, his successes…

  She jumped at the sudden, piercing shrill of the telephone, then stared at it as it rang again. Who’d call her here, especially tonight?

  Her heart thumped and she snatched up the phone.

  ‘Nick?’ she said.

  ‘Holly?’ It wasn’t Nick. The voice was too deep. ‘Holly,’ it said again, and then the instrument went dead.

  Great. This was just what she needed. Another storm building, a telephone that wouldn’t work…

  The phone rang again.

  ‘Hello?’ Holly said, jamming it against her ear.

  A chorus of metallic shrieks and whistles poured through the receiver. Holly winced and held the thing away from her ear.

  ‘Is anybody there?’ she shouted. ‘You’ll have to speak up, whoever you are. I can hardly hear you.’

  ‘Holly? It’s…linda.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘It’s me. Bel…’

  ‘Belinda?’ Holly frowned and switched the phone to her other ear. ‘I don’t think this connection’s going to last. Why are you calling? Is there a problem?’

  ‘No. No prob…’ Static crackled like lightning. ‘…hello. And to tell you…idea.’

  ‘An idea? What kind of idea? Listen, this phone’s going to die any second. If you called for a reason, you’d better get to it.’

  ‘I just…wonderful new recipes yet?’

  ‘No. But I will.’ Holly frowned. ‘Belinda? Your voice is so deep. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just…flu. There’s…going around.’

  ‘Well, you sound awful. Not at all like yourself. You ought to make yourself a toddy. Hot, buttered rum is—’

  ‘Holly. Listen to me. I’ve had…book.’

  ‘What?’ Holly shouted. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  ‘I said, I have an idea for your next book.’

  Holly blinked. That was certainly unusual. Belinda didn’t know a thing about cooking, or cookbooks. The success of their relationship had to do with Holly’s talent and Belinda’s contacts, not her expertise. But then, this entire conversation was unusual. The static. The howling wind. The surprising depth of Belinda’s voice.

  The faint hint of a New England accent?

  Holly swung her legs to the floor and sat up straight. ‘Belinda? Belinda, is that really—?’

  ‘…book for…marrieds.’

  ‘Marrieds? What does that mean?’

  ‘…cookbook. For…newly-weds.’

  A cookbook. For newly-weds? Holly rolled her eyes. Of course, this was Belinda on the phone. Who else would come up with an idea that had been done to death?

  ‘There are a hundred books like that,’ she said. ‘One-dish meals, quick meals, easy meals… I really don’t think there’s a market there.’

  ‘…with advice. Know what I mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t know what you mean.’ Holly’s frown deepened. ‘You really should see a doctor. Your voice is so strange, it’s, well, almost masculine. It’s kind of spooky.’

  ‘Holly. About the book—’

  ‘Belinda.’ Holly pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. ‘Look, it isn’t that I don’t appreciate your efforts. It’s just that I’ve had a long day. It snowed up here, and—and you were right, I shouldn’t have come at all, and—’

  ‘A recipe on one page, a bit of advice on the other,’ Belinda said.

  Holly sighed. ‘What kind of advice?’ she said wearily, because it was becoming obvious she’d never get Belinda off the phone until she heard her out.

  ‘Are you sure you can hear me clearly now, Holly? I want to make sure you get all of this.’

  ‘Yes. Actually, for some reason, you’re suddenly coming through just fine.’

  ‘Good. As for the sort of advice you could offer—how’s this? You’d ask your readers, “Is your husband working longer hours than you think he should? Is he less appreciative of the things you do around the house than you think he should be?”’

  ‘Honestly, Belinda…’

  ‘“If he is, perhaps you need to consider things from his viewpoint. If he grew up poor, and you grew up rich, he probably feels guilty about taking you away from that lifestyle.”’

  Holly got off the bed. ‘Belinda? What is this?’

  ‘“Maybe he’s overcompensating. Maybe he’s working harder than he should to try and give you the things he thinks you deserve.”’

  ‘Wait a minute. Wait just a darned minute! Who is this?’

  ‘“Maybe, when he sees you sewing curtains, and cooking hamburger in a zillion different ways, he sees only that he’s condemned you to a life of drudgery.”’

  ‘Who is this? I know it isn’t Belin—’

  ‘Aye-up, maybe he’s behaved badly, Holly, but if he has, it’s only because that boy loves you with all his heart.’

  There was a gentle click, and then a buzz, and Belinda’s voice—someone’s voice—was gone.

  Holly stared at the phone and then, very carefully, put it down. Who could have known so much about her? About Nick?

  Her throat constricted.

  Who could have been so right?

  Why hadn’t she seen it? It wasn’t that Nick was self-centered, it was that he blamed himself for not having been able to give her the things she’d grown up with.

  ‘Things,’ Holly said bitterly. As if ‘things’ mattered, as if Nick weren’t the only thing that mattered, the only man, the only love of her life.

  ‘Holly?’

  Holly’s head came up. ‘Nick?’ she whispered.

  It couldn’t be. She had to have imagined his voice.

  ‘Holly. Where are you? Holly, sweetheart…’

/>   She raced from the bedroom and through the hall. Oh, it was true! It was Nick, coming up the stairs.

  ‘Nick,’ she said, and when he looked up and saw the joy on her face he knew everything would be all right.

  ‘Holly,’ he whispered, and a second later they were in each other’s arms.

  * * *

  A little before midnight, the snow stopped. The stars came out, burning fiercely against the blackness of the sky, and a big white moon hung over North Mountain.

  Holly, snug in her husband’s arms, turned her face to his.

  ‘I love you, Nicholas Brennan,’ she said.

  Nick kissed her. ‘And I love you, Mrs. Brennan. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…’

  ‘Forever,’ Holly whispered, and they kissed again. After a moment, she put her head on his shoulder. ‘Will it bother you? My career, I mean.’

  ‘Bother me? Sweetheart, I’m proud of you. I can’t wait to tell everybody I know that my wife writes cookbooks.’ He grinned. ‘I might even buy a couple, and learn how to cook—if you’ll agree to give me private lessons.’

  Holly laughed softly. ‘Absolutely—if you’ll take me along on some of your business trips.’

  ‘Come with me on all of them—although there won’t be so many, now. I’ve got some damn good people working for me. I don’t have to be involved in every detail of running Brennan Resorts.’ His arms tightened around her. ‘I don’t want to be, baby…I mean, sweetheart. Not anymore.’

  ‘Actually,’ Holly said dreamily, ‘I love it when you call me “baby”.’ She touched her fingers to his lips. ‘It’s sexy. And it makes me feel protected.’ She snuggled against him, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Nick?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I know this sounds weird, but—did you call me on your cellphone this evening? Before you got here?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘I tried. I wanted to tell you how much I loved you, and what an idiot I’ve been…’

  ‘What idiots we’ve both been,’ Holly interrupted.

  ‘But your line was busy.’ He sighed. ‘It’s probably just as well. I might have said the wrong thing and you’d have told me not to bother showing my face.’

  ‘No. I’d never have told you that. Not after I spoke with—with…’

  ‘With whom?’

  Holly frowned. It was a good question. Who’d telephoned her tonight? Belinda? In her heart, she didn’t think so. But if it hadn’t been Belinda or Nick…

  ‘Somebody who gave me some good advice,’she said.

  ‘I had a conversation I’m grateful for, too.’ Nick laughed. ‘You’ll never believe it, but this old guy was all dressed up as—’

  ‘Nick! Nick, look!’

  Holly and Nick turned towards the window. Something was moving across the face of the moon. Figures. Tiny figures. One, two, three, four…

  ‘…five, six, seven, eight,’ Nick said in hushed tones.

  Holly stared, transfixed. ‘And that,’ she whispered, ‘that looks like a sleigh. Nick, do you see it? And—and there’s someone driving it. He’s waving to us…’

  A cloud swept in, obscuring the moon. When it passed, the silhouette was gone.

  Nick gave a shaky laugh. ‘Snow geese. That’s what it probably was. Snow geese, flying across the night sky.’

  ‘Snow geese,’ Holly said, letting out her breath. ‘Definitely.’

  Nick smiled. ‘Merry Christmas, wife.’

  Holly smiled, too, as she went into his arms. ‘Merry Christmas, husband.’

  ‘Aye-up,’ the wind whispered, as it curled around the snug little cabin. Off in the distance, the sweet, haunting sound of sleighbells rang out across the mountain.

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  ISBN: 9781488024214

  The Millionaire’s Snowbound Seduction,

  originally published as A MIRACLE ON CHRISTMAS EVE

  Copyright © 1998 by Sandra Marton

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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