Barbara Wallace - Christmas Baby For The Princess

So what did he do? He choked. He’d walked out there to fire her, but right when he was about to say the words, they died on his tongue. Killed by a pair of soulful blue eyes.

His mother’s eyes had been brown. Brown and surrounded by mottled purple smudges she would try to cover with makeup. It never worked. Max always knew. No matter how much she applied, makeup couldn’t cover split lips.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Arianna was running away from the same nightmare as his mother. His gut said no. Well, his gut and the fact that her alabaster skin would bruise too easily for her to hide it.

Or maybe he was rationalizing to soothe his conscience.

His conscience was still nagging him a few hours later when Darius knocked on his office door. “Just wanted to let you know the last party is getting ready to leave,” he said.

“Thanks. I’ll be out to close out the till in a bit.”

“Okay.” Except instead of leaving, his friend wavered in the doorway. “Is it true?” he asked. “Did you really let your new puppy go?”

“Stop calling her that,” Max said, bristling. Arianna wasn’t some stray off the streets. “And who told you I let her go?”

“The pup—lady—herself. When Darlene brought over a steak, she told me it was her last meal at the Fox Club.”

“Oh.” Apparently, he’d made his point after all. Now his conscience really stung. “I suppose it is.”

“It’s for the best, you know.”

“I know.” Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, though.

Stepping all the way inside the office, the bartender pushed aside the brass lamp and took its place on the edge of Max’s desk. “Look, man, no one appreciates what you were trying to do more than me, but things don’t always work out, you know? If you still want to help her, write the chick a check. Unless...”

His voice drifting off, Darius’s attention shifted to the desk’s surface and an invisible spot that he suddenly needed to scratch at with his fingernail.

Max narrowed his eyes. “Unless what?”

“Unless, it ain’t just about helping a girl out. You said yourself she was hot.”

“I didn’t say she was hot, I said she’d look good in the uniform...and I was right.” Over on the side of the desk, Darius let out a snort. One that said Max was splitting hairs, and they both knew it.

Truth? Yeah, he was attracted to the woman. She was different from other women who had crossed his path, and not because her appearance screamed money—although that did make her stand out. It was her personality that truly set her apart. She had the oddest combination of haughtiness and innocence about her. One moment she was icy and entitled, the next she looked vulnerable and scared. Most women, he could read from the get-go. They were either women from his old life, looking to rise up from their lousy circumstances, or they were women from his current world looking to hook a successful businessman. In either case, their faces were open books.

Not Arianna’s, though. As much as he could read her, there was a layer he couldn’t get to. It intrigued him.

Excited him, too. The way she wore that uniform, like it was a real Dior. He’d have to be a dead man not to appreciate that fact, and even death wasn’t a guarantee that he wouldn’t, seeing as how every swish of her skirt and sway of her hips sent awareness shooting below his belt.

A smile played on his lips. “Oh, brother,” Darius said. “Just admit you want her already, will you?”

Max refused to respond. Spinning in his chair, he turned and looked out his office window. The view wasn’t much, an alley and the emergency exit for the building on the next lot, but he’d certainly had worse. Behind him, the dining room was quiet except for the sounds of chairs being put on the tables. In between scrapes and rattles, he heard the soft notes of a piano over the din. Some song he’d never heard before. Reminded him of a Christmas carol, but not quite.

“When did you switch on the radio?” he asked. Normally, he wasn’t big on plain piano music, but this was nice.

“I didn’t,” Darius replied. “That’s the piano on stage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Unless the speaker over your door is blown.”

Max frowned. “Shirley?” Last he heard, his former piano player was behind bars. “You think she got out?”

“Doubt it. Besides, she was never that good.”

Rising, Max made his way to the office door, with Darius not far behind. Together the two of them stepped into the main dining room. “Well, what do you know...?” Max said, giving a low whistle.

Arianna sat the piano, head bent over the keyboard, playing with the agility of a trained expert.

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