The Third Kiss. Leanna Wilson
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He gave a frustrated sigh and wished he could convince her that she had years and years left. It was as if she’d given up! As if she wanted to die. “It was more like an auction. She—”
“She?”
“The millionth customer. An exasperating woman if I ever met one. She was giving away all the prizes.”
“Giving them away?”
He nodded gravely. “She gave the lifetime supply of jeans to a friend. And she asked for the roadster to be traded for a van so she could give it to an orphanage. Can you believe that?”
“Sounds like a levelheaded woman. And a generous one.” His grandmother gave an approving nod. She carefully folded back a portion of the white hospital sheet. “Exasperating, huh? I do believe that’s what Linc said about me when we first met. I told you about that, didn’t I?”
“Once or twice.” He grinned.
She waved her hand, dismissing her fond memories. “You just don’t like changes. Never have. But maybe it worked out for the best. Maybe this exasperating woman’s generosity will stir up more publicity for the store. And more important, maybe it did a little good for the community.”
If anyone knew the meaning of generosity, he did. He’d learned it from his grandparents. Where his parents had been selfish, using their millions for indulgences and self-gratifying motives, Eliza and Linc Cutter had given not only gobs of money but gold bullions of time. Matt had been a recipient in more ways than one.
So why had Brooke Watson’s altruism irritated him? He simply didn’t like it when his plans veered off course.
He decided to play the devil’s advocate. “It could look as if this woman didn’t like our products. As if our merchandise wasn’t good enough for her.”
His argument lacked conviction. He hated to admit he’d been impressed with her. Too impressed. Too aroused. Especially when they’d stood toe-to-toe. He didn’t want to think how close he’d come to grabbing her and kissing her. What a headline that would have been!
“What did she do with the million pennies?” Eliza asked.
“Hmm?”
“That exasperating woman,” she quoted him, her mouth lifting in a smile. “What did she do with the million pennies?”
He shook loose his raging hormones. “She gave them to a local school.”
He’d anticipated her wanting the money for herself, or maybe even asking for more. But she hadn’t. She’d simply promised the money to a bunch of needy kids.
His previous annoyance had grudgingly changed to approval. Why had he wanted to dislike Brooke Watson so much? He shrugged off that question, refusing to touch it as if it were the electric fence surrounding Fort Knox.
“She seems thoughtful and caring,” his grandmother mused. “Sounds like a nice woman. Not exasperating at all.”
How about irritating, infuriating, maddening? He pictured Brooke. None of those words came to mind. Only beautiful, sexy, tempting. Trouble, he decided.
“What did she look like?”
“Hmm?” Her question jarred him from his thoughts.
A twinkle sparkled in his grandmother’s eye. He wished he could keep that sparkle there and make her want to continue living. “What did she look like?”
“I can’t really remember, Grandmother.” Actually he couldn’t forget.
Eliza’s papery brow wrinkled into a frown.
Immediately he felt a jolt of concern to his heart. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad? Do you need a nurse?”
“No, no, darling. I’m fine. As fine as I can be, confined to this bed. I’m just wishing you could find a woman…someone kind and generous…like that woman who won. But someone who would light your fire.” She waggled her silvery-gray eyebrows.
“Grandmother!”
She chuckled softly, then leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Faint blue veins made a delicate pattern across her eyelids. “Someday you’ll find her. I just wish I could live long enough to meet the woman who’s going to knock your socks off.”
“Don’t worry yourself sick.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Call if you need anything before then.”
She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. Reluctant to leave, he hovered near the doorway until her breathing fell into the rhythm of sleep. A constriction cut off his own oxygen supply. She was all he had. All he’d ever had. She’d raised him, loved him when his parents had been too busy trekking around the world, spending money as if it was grown on trees and forgetting they had a family business to run and a son to raise. So his grandmother had stepped in to care for him. Now he’d do anything…anything…for her.
Anything, huh?
Would he be willing to make her last wish come true? With that simple question, an outrageous plan locked into place. Why not? Why couldn’t he do this one thing for her, when she’d sacrificed so much for him? She’d taken time away from her beloved Linc to raise him, going to all his baseball games, tennis matches and golf tournaments. Why couldn’t he make this one sacrifice for her? After all, it wouldn’t have to be forever. Only until…
He winced at that thought. He couldn’t think of her dying. But he could concentrate on making his grandmother the happiest woman alive. If that was her last wish, then, by God, he’d see that she had it. He’d find himself a bride. A temporary bride.
But who?
His mind clicked into gear, keeping pace with each clunk of his boot heels against the linoleum floor as he strode back down the hallway toward the elevator. It didn’t take long for him to land on a possibility. His only possibility.
The only thing that would make my mother happy is if I showed up with a husband. Brooke Watson’s words came back to him full force.
Of course. She’s the one!
She had incentive. Just as he did.
But she hadn’t lunged for his wallet. So maybe she’d be willing to give him his ring back after a short, fake engagement, the way she’d given away all his prizes.
He congratulated himself on a fine plan. This would be a piece of cake. A piece of wedding cake!
“Why don’t we read this book together, Jeffrey?” Brooke kept her voice upbeat even when she felt defeated once more by this reticent five-year-old.
He kept his head bent, never looking up, never responding. A shock of brown hair fell across his forehead, and she smoothed it back. At least he no longer flinched.
“This is one of my favorites. Have you ever read it?” She continued talking, though she felt as if she was talking to a brick wall.
But she didn’t stop. She plowed ahead, opening the book, showing him the pages. If he would only look up enough to see the bright, colorful carnival pictures of cotton candy, popcorn and clowns. She’d just reached the second page when a shadow crossed the book. With a sigh she stopped. Was it already time for her to leave?
Expecting to see the prim and stoic Mrs. Morris who ran the orphanage, she glanced up and felt the breath knock out of her lungs. “What do you want?”
Matt Cutter gave her that charming grin she was sure had made many women swoon. But not her. He didn’t faze her in the least. Not even those navy-blue eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean and as full of as many mysteries. She refused to notice the way his starched white shirt emphasized his tan or the way his faded jeans fit a tad too snugly, causing a heat flash inside her.
“I came to see you.” His deep, sexy voice made the back of her neck tingle.
She