I'll Be Home for Christmas and One Golden Christmas: I'll Be Home For Christmas / One Golden Christmas. Lenora Worth
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her tone or the hurt look in her eyes. “What are you thinking?”
She smiled then, but her eyes still held a certain sadness. “That you have a beautiful house. Six bedrooms, is it? And four baths? And those sunrooms. I’ve always loved having lots of live plants in a sunny room.”
Nick hadn’t really noticed the plants. He shrugged, his gaze sweeping casually over his surroundings. “It’s almost too big for a bachelor and his baby sister, but it’s home.”
“Is it?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Is it what?”
“Home?”
“I live here, don’t I?”
“Yes, but…oh, never mind. This place is like something out of a dream, but it just seems as if something is missing in this great, old house.”
She’d sensed it, when she’d gone through the rooms earlier, dusting and gawking at the same time. The house was as reserved and cool as the man who lived in it, and just like him, it cast out a false sense of contentment.
Nick sighed, then turned to go. “Don’t try to analyze me, Myla. There’s nothing missing here. Everything is as it should be.”
“If you say so.”
She watched as he left the room and stalked up the curving staircase. How sad that he couldn’t enjoy the holidays. Myla wondered what had made him this way. She turned back to the tree, her gaze fixed on the gold and white angel watching her from the top of the sturdy blue spruce. “I think Nick Rudolph needs your help,” she whispered.
An hour later, the house was filled with the sound of laughter tinkling on the air as crystal glasses tinkled with ice. The aroma of mulling cider wafted through the night while the fire in the massive marble fireplace located across one wall of the den crackled and popped. Myla viewed the cluster of people scattered around the tree, making sure each guest had plenty to eat and drink, while she listened to the carefully selected group’s conversation.
“Nick, I love the house this year,” a stout woman covered in diamonds said between bites of puffed pastry stuffed with artichoke filling. “I haven’t seen it this festive and bright in a long time.”
Nick’s smile was all calculated charm. “Glad you approve, Dottie. I’m not much on the holidays, but my new housekeeper insisted I put up a tree, at least.” He guided Dottie away from the tree, then said, “Remind me to show you Rudolph Oil’s fourth-quarter report. I’d love to have you serve on the board again. We could use your input.”
Clearly enthralled, the woman practically preened. “You know, I’ve been telling Jacob we need to reconsider that decision.”
Jacob, a tall gray-haired man, listened diligently. “Whatever you say, dear.”
Nick grinned, then caught Myla’s eye. He saw the disapproving look she cast his way and wondered what he’d done to offend her. Excusing himself from Dottie, he cornered Myla by the buffet.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” she replied, her gaze scanning the crowd. “Would you like another glass of soda?”
He finished off the cool liquid left in the bottom of his glass, then shook his head. “No, but I’d like to know why you were glaring at me earlier.”
“No reason,” she said, busying herself by putting out more cans of soda for his guests. “I was just watching you work the crowd.”
“And you disapprove?”
Myla gave him a direct stare. “No, I’m just surprised. One minute you’re acting like a regular grizzly bear and the next you’re turning on the charm.”
Recalling their earlier encounter right here in this room, Nick replied, “Look, I’m sorry I got angry about the decorations and the tree. You were smart to spruce this place up…and it looks wonderful. Perfect.”
“Glad you approve,” she said, not at all convinced of his sincerity.
Sensing that she didn’t exactly trust his motives, Nick smiled over at her. “I do approve. So far, everything’s going according to schedule. And I owe that to you.”
Before she could respond, he turned away to greet some more guests, leaving her with the memory of his aftershave. She’d smelled it earlier when he’d entered the kitchen. He was a handsome man. A self-reliant man, who liked to rule over his domain.
This was his world, not hers. She’d had a similar life with her husband, but now…now, she intended to make her own way, with her faith to shield and guide her. She wouldn’t put her trust in another ruthless man. And Nick Rudolph was exactly that.
She watched him play host to the hilt as he mixed business with pleasure and made her feel like an out-of-place Cinderella watching the prince dance with all the other girls at the ball.
“Bill, you rascal,” Nick said, laughing as he playfully slapped the tall, blond-headed man on the back. “How are things looking for your re-election to the Senate? Can I depend on you down in Baton Rouge?”
“Can I depend on your donation to my next campaign?” Bill countered with a hearty laugh, thus beginning a rather long and detailed account of his political aspirations. His wife, a slender brunette in a pricey red pantsuit gave a bored smile as her eyes fell across Myla, then moved on.
The look of dismissal galled Myla, but she knew her place. She’d been poor before she married Sonny Howell. And now, she’d come full circle. She could afford to be gracious to the woman; she’d once been so like her.
Once again, Nick excused himself from his guest to head toward Myla with a purposeful stride. Afraid that she’d done something wrong again, she moved to meet him.
“Everyone’s here except—” Nick stopped in mid-sentence when a loud screeching noise, followed by a bellowing bark and the crash of dishes, rose from the back of the huge house. “What was that?”
The doors of the kitchen burst open as a tall woman with flowing blond hair ran into the room, her black dress clinging to her slender curves.
“Carolyn?” Nick looked surprised, then laughed in relief. “Leave it to you to make a grand entrance.”
The lovely Carolyn fumed with indignation. “Nick Rudolph, how dare you laugh at me? It’s bad enough that you stood me up last night, but now this. You’ve got to do something!”
“Do what?” Nick looked confused. “What’s the matter?”
The other guests had gathered around now, each waiting and watching as Carolyn pulled at a torn spot in her black hose. “It’s Pooky,” she said on a low moan. “He’s in the kitchen—”
Another wailing scream rose from the kitchen, followed by a growl and another scream, this one human. Several loud crashes joined in with the screams.
Nick plopped his glass down on a walnut table. “What’s going on in there?”
Carolyn moaned again and tugged at her hair. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Nick. I brought Pooky along with me to ward off muggers and when I went to put him in Henny’s room, a…a cat ran out and now Pooky’s chasing the crazed creature around the kitchen and when I tried to stop him, well…that cat lurched into my leg and well, look, a fifteen-dollar pair of nylons ruined.” Tossing her evening bag and black velvet cape into Nick’s face, she added, “And I’m bleeding. You know I’m allergic to cats!”
The uproar in the kitchen increased now, the crowd moving in closer, each guest hovering near the swinging doors, afraid to go in and see what Pooky and the mysterious cat were doing to each other.
“Cat?” Nick shook his head. “I don’t have a cat.”
Another scream brought Myla into action. Pushing through the dazed spectators,