Renee Roszel - Her Mistletoe Husband

The crease in his brow deepened. “For what?”

“My...” She swallowed. “My family is coming for Christmas. I don’t want them upset by this—this misunderstanding about the inn.”

“Miss Crosby, you must face the—”

“So!” she interrupted, “I want you to go along with my plan to tell them we’re old friends from law school.”

“Law school?” He looked skeptical. “What are you, around thirty, thirty-two, tops? I’m thirty-eight, Miss Crosby. I graduated from Harvard Law, and I was in practice before you—”

“Okay, okay!” She shook her head. “Say we met at some law conference or something.”

“And what?”

Unsettled by his cross examination, she broke eye contact, absently scanning the gray cement walls. “I don’t know. We became friends, I suppose. What else?”

“No. We had an affair.”

She jerked to stare at him. “What?”

He shrugged, his eyes glittering eerily. “Why else would I be here?”

“Lots of men have platonic female friends.”

“I don’t.” His grin was revealing. The woman in her knew—without a doubt—that no female who had ever befriended Alex D’Amour had any desire to keep the relationship platonic. “This could be fun,” he went on. “Of course, if we use that lie, I’d have to sleep with you.”

She stared, stunned, then saw the sparkle in his eyes and realized he was baiting her. “That’s very funny, Mr. D’Amour. Does that line work for you?”

“Apparently not.” He grinned crookedly, clearly far from crushed by her rejection. “It’s worth thinking about, though.”

“Let me do the thinking. It’s less dangerous.”

“If you must.” He placed his hands on the back of her office chair. “But, while you’re thinking, Miss Crosby, think K-I-S-S.”

She scowled at him. Couldn’t he get off sex? Did he think he was so irresistible that she would be willing to stoop to anything to get his help? “Mr. D’Amour, do you do all your thinking with your—”

“Keep it simple, stupid,” he interjected. “Didn’t you learn that in law school? K-I-S-S.”

As the acronym soaked in, her cheeks heated. Just who was the one who couldn’t get her mind off sex? “Oh...”

“I find that the simplest story is usually the best. If you must lie to your family, tell them I own the D’Amour mansion, that I’m staying here while it’s remodeled and that we’ve become friends.”

After a moment, she nodded, acknowledging that the idea had merit. “And—and since you didn’t have a reservation,” she improvised, “I had to put you down here in the basement.”

His expression had grown serious. A tensing along his jaw drew her attention. “What’s wrong now? It was your idea.”

He leaned forward, over the chair back. Elissa had the urge to clamber onto her desk to put distance between them, but she resisted. “Are you sure you want to lie? Wouldn’t you rather have your family join you in staring daggers at me?”

“Of course I would,” she admitted, then shook her head. “But I want their holiday here to be happy. Besides, once I’ve proven my ownership, they’ll never have to know there was a problem.” Making reluctant eye contact, she tried to seem confident, but the act was tainted when she adjusted her suit jacket and toyed with the buttons.

He clenched his jaw. “I may joke about it, Miss Crosby, but frankly, I don’t like lying.”

“I don’t care what you like.” She bit her tongue. This was no time to make him mad. Shaking herself for her outburst she eased her features and her voice. “If you have an ounce of humanity in you, you’ll do this for my family’s sake.”

He eyed her with cynicism. “I don’t give a damn about families.”

“Miss Elissa!” came Bella’s shout from the top of the stairs. “Your sisters are here.”

Witnessing Alex D’Amour’s unyielding expression, Elissa’s heart fell into a deep, dark well.

CHAPTER THREE

ALEX D‘AMOUR’S expression was uncompromising, and panic rose inside Elissa. What could she offer this ruthless man to make him help her? In a last-ditch attempt, she pleaded, “I’m begging you, Mr. D’Amour.” Her voice cracked, and she hated the sound of her weakness. Hated to have to ask anything of him.

She’d always been the strong one, the big sister Helen and Lucy depended on—ever since Mother had died. She’d only been nine, but her grief-stricken father had been no comfort to the three young girls. Even after Elissa had gone to law school she’d been there for her family, calling home every night to make herself available to listen to their problems or fears. Daddy had come to depend on her, too, when the illness that finally took his life incapacitated him. Helen and Lucy continued to count on her. She’d been mothering her sisters almost all their lives, and she didn’t intend to fail them now.

She would not allow Alex’s claim on her property to cast a pall over the holidays. She saw her sisters so rarely since they’d married, she refused to inflict pain on them during their short visit. But in order to protect them, she needed Alex D’Amour’s help.

Swallowing to steady her voice, she asked, just above a whisper, “If you won’t do it for my family, what—what would you do it for?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, emphasizing the place where she had wounded him nearly a week ago. Shuttered eyes scanned her face, making her feel like a flea about to be swatted. As time stretched into an agonizing eternity, her emotions became as taut as violin strings. Finally he muttered, “I’ll do it for you.”

She was confused, not sure she’d heard right. “For—me?” Visions of demanded sexual favors flashed through her mind. She bit out her reply, “No matter how badly I need your help, I won’t sleep with you.”

His low chuckle was humorless. “Don’t panic, Miss Crosby, I don’t force women into my bed.” He turned away, presenting her with his grim profile. “I just figure I can do that much for you.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. He’d agreed, and there were no strings. Clearly he was less than delighted about it, but he was going to keep the secret. That’s what mattered.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, she stumbled around the chair and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Mr. D’Amour.” She could feel his body go taut against hers in his surprise, and that reminded her exactly who he was and why he was there. What did she think she was doing? She backed away, mortified.

She noticed his hands had stilled in a half-raised position, almost a defensive gesture. She came close to smiling about that. Could she blame him for anticipating an attack? After all, the only other times she’d made contact with his body she’d clawed him, kneed him, then tried to knee him, again.

Avoiding his gaze she focused on his cleft chin, striving to appear all business. “Uh, you can call me Elissa and I’ll call you Alex. Okay?”

He smiled, but there was precious little humor there. “Why didn’t I think of that.”

“Miss Elissa?” Bella called again.

Her heart constricted. “Oh dear...” Was she going to be able to carry off this farce? Could she keep her worries from her family? “Oh—dear...”

A hand, big and warm, encircled her elbow. Until that second, she hadn’t realized how cold she was. “Let’s go, Elissa dear.” He tugged her into movement. “How’s this?” Light-headed with trepidation, she glanced at his face. He grinned down at her in a way that reeked of affection. He was really good “Now you try,” he coaxed.

She inhaled, attempting to arrange her face in a smile.

He chuckled as she battled to fake a pleasant demeanor. “This is your lie, Miss Crosby. If you want to look believable, unclench your teeth.”