The Mistletoe Affair

is. John spoils you rotten. You better hold onto him.'

After Deborah hung up, Katherine stared at the list of assets displayed on the computer. All her years of hard work fit on half a page. Her throat constricted and she swallowed hard. They're only material things, she reminded herself. Things can be replaced.

She winced and moved their home in the suburbs of Sugar Land to the sold column of the spreadsheet.

Glancing up, the date posted at the top edge of the computer screen glared back at her-December eighteenth.

She had three days to beat Paul at his own game by selling everything she'd ever owned to pay off her father's debts. Somehow, it didn't feel like winning. This morning she had pawned her jewelry, except for the emerald pendant Paul made her wear. The jewelry was no real loss because he had given it to her. She moved it over to the sold section, too.

Paul's threat loomed like a vulture at the top of her spreadsheet. With the sale of her house and jewelry, she'd reduced his threat to a measly two hundred eighty thousand. Right?

How could she possibly raise the rest?

Someone tried to open her bedroom door. It clattered as the handle was jarred up and down. A foot kicked loudly against the bottom of the door. “Why is it locked?” Paul's voice shouted from the hall.

Her hand shot down to the mouse and hit ‘SAVE,’ her stomach turning somersaults until it finished whirring and clicking the valuable information onto her floppy. She flung the disc behind a rack of books with one hand and opened a new, innocent file with the other. She sprinted across the room and unlocked the door.

Paul flung it open, banging it against the wall. “Don't lock me out of here again.” His lips pressed into an angry scowl. He glanced around the room and looked inside the closet. “I heard your voice.” His eyes narrowed. “You trying to pull something?'

“You missed the bed,” she said, lifting the spread so he could peek under it.

“Very funny. What the hell were you doing in here?'

She pointed to the computer. Last year's presentation showed on the screen, but he wouldn't know the slides were from a previous year. “Practicing a speech.'

He walked to the monitor, clicked the mouse and read a few lines.

“Pretty dull, huh?” she asked.

When he relaxed and seemed to accept her story, she breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“I thought we'd go out to lunch. We should let Grace and Matt see us together some over the next couple of days,” he suggested, walking back toward the doorway.

Paul had left after breakfast and stayed gone for three hours today. His ‘trip’ was her window of opportunity to raise money. She suspected he had gone to see Ann Young. Maybe if she prodded him a little, he'd get angry and stay away more.

She had to try.

“Where'd you go this morning?” she asked, glancing at him.

“An urgent matter came up,” he said suggestively. The look he gave her left no doubt where he'd been.

She knew he hated orders. Tell him not to do anything, and he'd do it just for spite. “Stay away from Ann Young while you're here.” She turned her back on him and stood by the computer with her arms crossed, waiting for his response.

She heard him move closer.

“You want me to bring my urges in here?” His breath fell on the nape of her neck.

She lifted a four-inch bladed letter opener, so he could see it over he shoulder. “Do you think you should?'

Paul moved away. “I don't think so, and stop trying to tell me what to do.” He pointed his finger at her. “That's the thing I hated most about being married to you. I'll see her every morning if I want to. Ann's a helluva lot of fun. Hot. Bedding you was like rubbing against ice,” he accused.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

He's playing on your feelings of inadequacy. Don't let him know he can get to you.

When she replied, her voice was steady and level. “I need to freshen up before we leave.'

He laughed harshly. “Who knows? Maybe we'll run into Jared while we're out.'

Her eyes flew open, and her throat tightened.

Jared.

* * * *

“You're making a huge mistake. I don't know why you're doing this, but think about it for a week or two before you do anything,” her business partner, Roger, suggested over the phone the next day.

A week or two! Today was December nineteenth. She had one more day to raise the money to pay off Paul.

“Will you buy my share of the investment firm or not?” Katherine held the phone to one side and wiped the tears that slid down her cheeks.

“You know damn well I'd jump at it, and so would Ethan and Christopher. We could probably swing one hundred and fifty thousand for your buyout initially. Long range payments could range from forty to sixty thousand a year over the next five years. The three of us will sit down, work out the math and get exact figures to you later today.'

Her chin quivered. “Do it,” she whispered. “Send an e-mail to me with the specifics.'

His voice softened. “Katherine, you're selling a business you've built from the ground up. Your baby. One that's growing fast and has the potential to bring you millions in ten or twelve years. We're friends, not just business partners. Why are you doing this crazy thing?'

“My mother needs me,” she murmured.

“There's no way I can change your mind?'

“No.'

He exhaled into the phone. “Okay. Fax me the signed documents if you agree to what I send you, we'll wire the money to your bank tomorrow.” Roger paused. “Keep in touch, Katherine.'

After hanging up the phone, she blew her nose and moved her investment firm over to the sold section.

The amount she needed now stood at one hundred and thirty thousand. She had one more day to raise that astronomical sum.

Continuing down the list of assets, she bypassed the car. Selling her eight-year-old Mustang was out of the question. Paul would notice if it suddenly went missing. If he became suspicious, he would move the wedding date up.

That left one asset.

The coin collection her mother had found and given Katherine. She had placed a fat question mark beside it. While the sentimental value was priceless, the monetary value was unknown.

She had no choice. Time was running out.

Tomorrow, she'd sell another piece of her heart.

* * * *

Jared owed Carl a bonus. The detective had traced every transaction Paul and Katherine made and had them tailed.

“I'm telling you, Mr. Randall, those coins Katherine Cahill brought in for appraisal are worth fifty thousand dollars tops,” the coin collector whispered into the phone.

“Give the lady what she's asking,” Jared said tersely. He was about one heartbeat away from losing his temper. Katherine was in the other room waiting on an appraisal and probably worried sick.

Today was December twentieth. Jared knew she was running out of time to raise the money.

“You want me to give her one hundred thirty thousand dollars for something worth fifty?” he croaked. “Are you loony?'

“Probably.'