The Millionaire's Christmas Wish. Shawna Delacorte
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and who could not make a commitment. She had once been engaged to a man who suddenly decided commitment was not for him. He had been convinced that marriage would tie him down to a dull daily routine. He wanted to be free to come and go as he wished. She had given him back his ring and told him to go follow his desires. When he said that he might be ready to settle down in a couple of years and in the meantime they could continue to date, she had told him to forget it.
When she married it would be to a man who wanted a stable home life, not someone who drifted from one adventure to another. She wanted somebody who would consider her to be an equal partner, an important part of his life. She did not want a relationship built around the idea that marriage and home was a burden to be endured because it was expected of you, something where you settled for less than what you wanted out of life.
Her father had been a dreamer who had always believed there was a greener pasture just over the next hill. He had pulled up stakes and moved the family so many times that she had not been able to spend more than a few months at a time in any one school. Her mother had finally sent her to live with her grandmother so she could have a secure home environment and attend all four years of high school at one place.
Her mother had died when Marcie was barely sixteen. She had never been very close to her father, his life-style leaving her with very definite opinions about responsibility, commitment, and what marriage should and should not be. And one thing it should not be was a union entered into with a man who could not commit to the responsibility of maintaining a stable and secure home life.
She glanced at the newspaper photograph again. The caption made no mention of the woman standing next to Chance Fowler, but from the way the woman was staring at him, it was obvious that they knew each other very well. She again noted the very skimpy bikini the woman was wearing. The woman looked exactly like the type she imagined he would be attracted to. “Take-A-Chance Fowler,” the tabloids had dubbed him. She touched her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the heat of his kiss even though she wished it was not so.
Marcie slowly sipped what little coffee remained in her mug, leaving the newspaper unread as she became totally absorbed in thought. Chance Fowler... never in a million years had she thought she would ever run into someone like him, but now that she had it was easy to understand why women vied for his attention. A ringing sound startled her out of her reverie.
She grabbed the cordless phone from the base station. “Hello?”
“Marcie...it’s Sandy. I’m afraid I won’t be at work today. I’ve been awake most of the night with the stomach flu.”
It was not what Marcie wanted to hear. Sandy had been a dedicated employee for five years and had proven herself invaluable. Marcie had come to depend more and more on her.
“Okay, Sandy. I’ll see you when you’re feeling better.”
“What about the wholesale flower mart in the morning?”
“Don’t give it another thought. I’ll take care of that. You just take care of yourself and get well.”
“Thanks, Marcie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
What Marcie had thought would be a leisurely day had suddenly turned into a very busy one. Saturday and Sunday were the busiest days for the nursery regardless of the time of year. Even though the flower shop was Sandy’s primary domain, she usually helped out in the nursery on Sunday when the flower shop was closed. Marcie hurried through her shower and dressed for work. An hour later she was in the nursery preparing to open for the day’s business.
A young man in his mid-twenties walked in the back door. “That does it, Marcie,” he said as he removed his work gloves. “Everything’s watered, dead leaves cut away, walkways all hosed down. I have Don restocking the wild bird feed right now. He’s already straightened the bird feeder display and put out the two new birdhouse designs that came in a couple of days ago.”
“Thanks, Glen. As soon as Don’s finished I’d like the two of you to move the planters on the north side to make room for the Christmas trees.”
Glen laughed as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Being from Michigan I still have a little trouble thinking in terms of Christmas without snow. And a Santa who arrives on water skis, wearing sunglasses and dressed in Bermuda shorts...well, that’s definitely beyond my scope of reality.”
She smiled as she handed Glen an order form. “Could you pull this order together sometime today? Mr. Adams’s gardener is coming by to pick it up first thing in the morning.”
Glen took the order form. “Sure.” He offered her a weary smile that said they were not even open for business yet and already it had been a busy day. “I’ll get to it this afternoon.”
Glen was another one. Like Sandy, he was a dedicated employee Marcie had come to depend on. The expansion of the landscaping business had put an additional workload on the nursery employees. Sandy ran the flower shop and Marcie spent most of her time with the nursery, but Glen needed another person on the nursery payroll in addition to the four other employees who already worked under his supervision.
Marcie had run an ad a week earlier, but none of the applicants had measured up to what Glen considered suitable. He occasionally pulled one of the workers away from the landscaping crew when things got really backed up, but it was not an ideal situation. Glen had said he would rather work short-handed and know things were being done right than spend all his time following someone around, correcting sloppy work.
Marcie opened the nursery for business promptly at ten o’clock. There was a steady flow of customers in and out all day, keeping her very busy—but not too busy to prevent Chance Fowler from entering her thoughts again and again. It had been a random encounter, nothing more. She would not even have known who he was if his picture had not been in the newspaper that morning.
There was absolutely no reason for them to ever bump into each other again. They traveled in completely different circles. He lived in the heady realm of yacht clubs, world travel, and high-dollar society functions while she belonged to the world of backyard barbecues and walks on the beach. And even if they did meet again, there would be no reason for him to remember her. So why was she having so much difficulty exorcising him from her thoughts? She touched her fingertips to her lips, to the heat of his kiss—a gesture she had done so often the past couple of days that it had almost become a habit.
Marcie glanced at the clock—five-thirty. Another half hour and she could lock up the nursery and call it a day. She started bringing in the plants and various display items that had been placed outside the front entrance. She managed the smaller items by herself, then looked around for either Glen or Don. Neither employee was anywhere in sight, obviously busy in the greenhouse or out in back on the grounds. She shrugged, took a deep breath, and began struggling with a large planter.
Chance Fowler pulled into the parking lot of the Crestview Bay Nursery. A delightful sight caught his attention before he could even get out of his car. The woman who had refused to leave his thoughts stood next to the front entrance staring at a large redwood planter containing some sort of a bush. She circled the planter, pushed at it with her foot, then stood with her hands on her hips and stared at it Finally she bent over and tried to pick it up.
He shoved open the car door, swung his long legs out, then quickly covered the distance to the front door of the nursery. Her back to him as she grappled with the task she had set for herself, Chance took a moment to visually trace each and every one of her curves with an appreciative gaze before stepping up behind her.
He put his arms around her to grab the planter as he whispered in her ear, “That looks heavy. Let me help you with it.”
The words came from out of nowhere just as a pair of strong arms reached around her. She did not know which came first, her surprise or her recognition of his voice. She jerked upright, startled by his sudden intrusion, and whirled around to face him.
His uninhibited laugh filled the air. “Marcie Roper, I presume? You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.” He gave her a quick