Read Online Millionaire's Christmas Miracle by Mary Anne Wilson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Anne Wilson
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sorting through clothes that she knew darn well wouldn’t fit him. But she had some oversize T-shirts, a couple of sweatshirts that might work.
“How about this?” Quint said and she looked up to see that he’d found a T-shirt that she’d had forever. But he wasn’t going to wear that shirt. It had been Rob’s. It was one she’d kept, and one she wore to sleep in sometimes.
Before she could snatch it back to safety, Quint was shaking it out. “Super Dude?” he asked, looking at the logo that had faded so much from time and use.
She wanted to reach for it, but made herself speak calmly. “Not that one.”
“Why not? It looks like it’ll fit,” he murmured.
“It’s old and you have that dinner appointment, and…” She put her hands behind her back to keep herself from diving at him to get it back. “It wouldn’t be cool to go in as Super Dude.”
His crooked grin was accompanied by him turning the T-shirt around and holding it up in front of hisbare chest. “Oh, I don’t know. Super Dude sounds about right for what I have to do.” He looked down at it. “What do you think?”
She stared at him, and what she’d dreaded happening didn’t happen. Something worse happened. She didn’t look at Quint holding up the shirt and see Rob in that shirt making silly comments about “being super.” Instead, in a truly frightening moment for her, she couldn’t see Rob at all. She couldn’t remember what he’d looked like in the shirt, and that shook her. “That’s stupid,” she mumbled and clutched her hands behind her so tightly that her nails were digging into her palms. But even that didn’t help.
“Hey, lady,” he said, his smile fading. “That’s a joke.” He was coming closer and she closed her eyes tightly, willing the image of Rob to come to her. It was there, a solid man with gray eyes, sandy-blond hair and…She willed the image to be clearer, but instead it started to fade. She opened her eyes quickly, and was shocked to find Quint not more than a foot from her. His image was so clear it was literally painful for her.
His hazel eyes were narrowed on her, but that didn’t lessen the pain that was all around her. She swallowed hard, fighting the burn of tears. She sensed Taylor happily playing in the clothes while she stared at the man in front of her and was terrified that she would start to cry. She’d frighten Taylor, and she’d embarrass herself with Quint over an old T-shirt. But Taylor kept playing, and Quint didn’t say anything.
He did something far worse.
He touched her, lightly brushing the tips of his fingersalong her jawline before he cupped her chin. The contact was as insubstantial as the touch of a feather, but it became the center of her existence at that moment. All she could do was stand there, staring at him, silently cursing him for being there, for being so alive and for making the past seem so remote and so faded.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She didn’t have a clue what he had to be sorry for. Then he gave her an out. A rational explanation for something that had no explanation. “It’s rough with a sick child, and it’s rough having to deal with it.”
He thought she was upset over Taylor being sick, and she grabbed at that as an explanation for herself, too. That made sense. It explained why she felt so fragmented and why him holding an old T-shirt was making her crazy. And why she wished with all her heart that he had his clothes on and was at his damned dinner appointment and not here…so close…and so gentle, and why she was hearing…bells, jingle bells?
Then the bells were overlaid by a jarringly cheerful voice calling out, “Hello, hello, hello and a very merry Christmas to one and all!”
Quint slowly withdrew his touch from her chin, then she took a breath and turned away from him. Jenn was coming in the door, actually backing in with her arms full of presents. Amy hadn’t heard any knock on the door, or the key being used. But when
“How about this?” Quint said and she looked up to see that he’d found a T-shirt that she’d had forever. But he wasn’t going to wear that shirt. It had been Rob’s. It was one she’d kept, and one she wore to sleep in sometimes.
Before she could snatch it back to safety, Quint was shaking it out. “Super Dude?” he asked, looking at the logo that had faded so much from time and use.
She wanted to reach for it, but made herself speak calmly. “Not that one.”
“Why not? It looks like it’ll fit,” he murmured.
“It’s old and you have that dinner appointment, and…” She put her hands behind her back to keep herself from diving at him to get it back. “It wouldn’t be cool to go in as Super Dude.”
His crooked grin was accompanied by him turning the T-shirt around and holding it up in front of hisbare chest. “Oh, I don’t know. Super Dude sounds about right for what I have to do.” He looked down at it. “What do you think?”
She stared at him, and what she’d dreaded happening didn’t happen. Something worse happened. She didn’t look at Quint holding up the shirt and see Rob in that shirt making silly comments about “being super.” Instead, in a truly frightening moment for her, she couldn’t see Rob at all. She couldn’t remember what he’d looked like in the shirt, and that shook her. “That’s stupid,” she mumbled and clutched her hands behind her so tightly that her nails were digging into her palms. But even that didn’t help.
“Hey, lady,” he said, his smile fading. “That’s a joke.” He was coming closer and she closed her eyes tightly, willing the image of Rob to come to her. It was there, a solid man with gray eyes, sandy-blond hair and…She willed the image to be clearer, but instead it started to fade. She opened her eyes quickly, and was shocked to find Quint not more than a foot from her. His image was so clear it was literally painful for her.
His hazel eyes were narrowed on her, but that didn’t lessen the pain that was all around her. She swallowed hard, fighting the burn of tears. She sensed Taylor happily playing in the clothes while she stared at the man in front of her and was terrified that she would start to cry. She’d frighten Taylor, and she’d embarrass herself with Quint over an old T-shirt. But Taylor kept playing, and Quint didn’t say anything.
He did something far worse.
He touched her, lightly brushing the tips of his fingersalong her jawline before he cupped her chin. The contact was as insubstantial as the touch of a feather, but it became the center of her existence at that moment. All she could do was stand there, staring at him, silently cursing him for being there, for being so alive and for making the past seem so remote and so faded.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She didn’t have a clue what he had to be sorry for. Then he gave her an out. A rational explanation for something that had no explanation. “It’s rough with a sick child, and it’s rough having to deal with it.”
He thought she was upset over Taylor being sick, and she grabbed at that as an explanation for herself, too. That made sense. It explained why she felt so fragmented and why him holding an old T-shirt was making her crazy. And why she wished with all her heart that he had his clothes on and was at his damned dinner appointment and not here…so close…and so gentle, and why she was hearing…bells, jingle bells?
Then the bells were overlaid by a jarringly cheerful voice calling out, “Hello, hello, hello and a very merry Christmas to one and all!”
Quint slowly withdrew his touch from her chin, then she took a breath and turned away from him. Jenn was coming in the door, actually backing in with her arms full of presents. Amy hadn’t heard any knock on the door, or the key being used. But when
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