Mistletoe Man. Kathleen O'Brien
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in schools. Believe me, they will pay as soon as they can, and you know that this economic downturn won’t last forever. Robert was willing to dig into his own pockets, hoping against hope that he could find a way to let these people keep their homes until the economy improved.”
“Yes, Robert is a prince among men, I’m sure,” Daniel interjected dryly. “But now what? Now we come to the third and perhaps most troubling problem in this misguided troika—he’s taken out high-interest loans to cover his debts, and he’s secured those new loans with the few good properties he still owns. If he defaults, he’ll lose every profitable asset Hamilton Homes possesses, and the company will consist of a couple of hundred families who are busily planting marigolds in yards they can’t pay for.”
He leaned forward and tapped the thick pile of documents. “And then, Miss Blaisdell, Robert Hamilton won’t be able to sell this company for enough cash to buy a pair of gardeming gloves.”
Lindsay opened her lips to contradict him, but somehow no words would come. Again an uncomfortable silence blanketed the room. While she searched for the perfect answer, she touched her hair, tucking it behind her ear, wishing she had brushed it after that harrowing helicopter ride. She must look completely mussed and flustered. Which, of course, she was. Where had all her carefully crafted speeches disappeared to? Daniel hadn’t said anything that Lindsay herself hadn’t told Robert a thousand times. Why did hearing it from this man give the criticism so much authority, so much power to crush Robert’s good intentions to dust?
“There is one thing I do want to ask you, though,” Daniel said suddenly, and though his eyes were still narrowed, they no longer looked bored. They looked focused, probing.
“What is it?” She lifted her chin, ready.
“Why are you here?” He raised a hand to hold off her murmur of surprise. “I mean really why are you here? You must have known that the odds of persuading me to buy this business were about a million to one. And I suspect that you would rather jump naked into a river of hungry crocodiles than come begging for special favors from me.”
For a minute she stared at him, irritated by his confident assurance that she hated being here, that she was still afraid of him. He raised one brow and waited.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she finally said with all the equanimity she could muster. She had known he’d find a way to bring up the past, and she was ready for it. “But crocodiles, however hungry, rarely have enough liquid capital to pull off a deal like this.”
“I see.” He almost smiled. He leaned back again slowly. “Right. But you’re very young, attractive, capable. Why not go get yourself another job and leave Robert Hamilton to suffer the fate of all misguided martyrs?”
What a question! She stiffened, her short-lived poise evaporating. “Hamilton Homes is special to me, Mr. McKinley. Robert Hamilton is special to me. He’s been my employer for three years. He hired me when I was unexpectedly…out of work.”
She paused a moment to let the significance of that comment sink in, and then she went on. “He hired me without any references, and he allowed me the flexibility I needed to keep my family together. I owe him a lot for all that. And I intend to help him in any way I can.”
“So that’s all there is behind this impassioned defense? Gratitude?” He tilted his head speculatively. “I wonder. Could he, perhaps, be more than your employer?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Are you lovers?” He said the word so offhandedly she could hardly believe she had heard him correctly.
“Lovers?” A fire rose in her cheeks. “Of course not!”
She was outraged by the question, and yet her blush was all the more intense because, in a way, Daniel had stumbled closer to the truth than he imagined. Strange as it sounded, she had accepted this desperate mission in part because Robert Hamilton was not her lover. He desperately wanted that title…and more. It was his dream, he had hinted, to be her husband someday. It was because that dream would never come true that she felt obligated to make it up to him somehow.
“No,” she repeated more quietly, trying to quell the stupid blush. “We’re not lovers.” Not that it was any of Daniel McKinley’s business.
Daniel’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “You know, I’m almost tempted to believe you. You’re much too young to have a lover if the mere word makes you blush.”
“Tempted to believe me?” She rose to her feet, finally too furious to play this stupid game of insinuation and veiled hostility. “My private life has no bearing on these negotiations, Mr. McKinley, but, just for the record, if I’m blushing it’s anger you see on my cheeks, not embarrassed innocence. I’m not accustomed to having my word doubted, and frankly I don’t appreciate your condescending attitude toward Robert, who has been a very good friend to me, and to a lot of people.”
His lips thinned. “Perhaps if he had spent less time on friendship and more time on his business—”
But that was too much. She broke in heedlessly, her voice cold and contemptuous, finding with fatal certainty the phrase she’d uttered three years ago.
“Not every employer is a money-mad workaholic with no time for personal relationships, Mr. McKinley.”
The instant the words were out, she knew she had crossed some invisible line. She saw him draw his head back slightly, a fighter reacting to a surprise jab. So he remembered, too, she thought—remembered the exact words she had used that day, though he obviously hadn’t expected her to use them again.
Deep beneath her anger, she felt a dull pang of regret for having wrenched open their mutual wound. “More importantly, though,” she said, talking fast, as if hurrying to bury the insult, “you should learn that not every employee is a rat ready to leap overboard at the first sign of trouble.”
The air in the room had gone cold, as surely as if someone had opened a window to the storm outdoors. Daniel was still, frozen except for a subtle whitening around his lips. Her throat felt very dry again, and her heart was suddenly like a stone in her chest. She had, she knew, just put paid to all of Robert’s hopes.
“Perhaps not,” Daniel said quietly, lethally. “But I’m quite sure that, if you think back on my experience as your employer, Miss Blaisdell, you’ll understand why I might have…shall we say.. .underestimated your passion for loyalty?”
It was an emotional bull’s-eye and she felt the shaft of his insult pierce straight through her. Somehow managing not to wince, she bent over his desk and, with fingers that were visibly shaking, began to gather up Robert’s papers.
“Yes, of course, I understand perfectly,” she said, glad that the trembling in her fingers had not penetrated her voice. “If you’ll just please send for another helicopter…I’m sure there must be one somewhere for hire…Robert will pay the fare, whatever it is…and I’ll not bother you any further—”
“Damn it.” Damel put out his hand, staying hers by encircling her wrist with his thumb and fingers. “Lindsay—”
But he never got to finish his sentence. Suddenly Roc was there beside them again, the black of his clothes and the gleam of his hook as startling as ever.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” Roc said, clearing his throat loudly, “but I just wanted to report that I’m off to make up the bed in the guest room.”
Daniel’s hand tightened on her wrist. Both of them stared, uncomprehending, at the big man. Lindsay saw that his huge arms were full of pale green linens and creamy white blankets.
“The guest room?” The words were Daniel’s, but they were echoing hollowly in Lindsay’s mind, too. “The guest room? Why?”
“Look out the window, Danny Boy. While you’ve had your nose stuck in those papers, that storm’s been huffing and puffing and trying to blow your house