Millionaire Under The Mistletoe

Callum Ironstone have to do with your accounts?”

“He originally settled all our accounts after your father died. It was part of our agreement,” Flo said defensively. “Everyone knows who the Ironstones are. Things were so difficult at the time-don’t you remember? He used to pay the accounts I sent him until you took over.”

Her mother fluttered her hands like a delicate butterfly but Miranda refused to be diverted. “I don’t remember. It must have been in that agreement you never showed me,” she said grimly. “Are you telling me you’ve extended your credit on the basis of Callum’s name?” It was too horrible to contemplate.

“Well, it’s not costing him anything,” Flo said defiantly.

“But it will if you don’t pay. I can’t believe these stores have let the balances run on for so long.”

“I call them regularly-I’m hardly some debtor they think is about to abscond. They know Callum will look after me.”

This was getting worse and worse. Miranda snatched the account back, and studied it, before looking back at her mother in despair. “The interest is running at a prohibitive rate.”

“I don’t think all the stores charge such high rates, darling.”

All the stores? “There are more?” Miranda stared at her mother, aghast.

So much for her stubborn determination never to be beholden to Callum again. There was no money to pay these accounts. Callum would be contacted by the stores eventually to be told that her mother was shopping on his credit.

Unless of course Hemingway’s decided to institute legal action to recover the debt.

The shame of it.

“Oh, dear Lord, Mum. What have you done?”

It was the following afternoon-her day off-and after a spending the day walking aimlessly around the city, her brain in turmoil, Miranda finally decided to take action about her mother’s revelation.

Even if Callum had paid off her parents’ accounts after her father’s death, he could hardly have intended her mother to continue using his name to lever credit. The time had come to see him and lay all the dead cats on his boardroom table, she decided with mordant humor. Adrian and Flo would have to put up with whatever repercussions followed.

She could no longer continue deceiving him.

Miranda paused at Trafalgar Square. Years ago Flo had sometimes brought her and Adrian here to feed the pigeons, and each Christmas, they’d come to admire the lights and Christmas tree. The pigeons had long since been discouraged, but the Christmas tree still stood. And the fountain Adrian had almost fallen into one icy winter’s day.

So when her cell phone rang and she heard Callum’s distinctive voice, Miranda was hardly surprised. She sank down on a bench near the fountain. To her annoyance her “Hi” was more than a little breathless.

“Been making any brandy snaps lately?”

His lighthearted comment made her want to cry. That teasing humor wouldn’t last once he heard what her mother had been up to. “Not enough.”

That reminded her that she needed to organize some overtime. There were Flo’s accounts to pay. On the spur of the moment she said rashly, “I don’t suppose you have more work for me?”

The pause echoed in her ears.

She shut her eyes. Stupid. She opened them and gazed blindly at the tall tree decorated with vertical rows of light on the other side of the fountain. “I mean real work. I don’t want a donation.”

“I know you don’t. I was thinking.”

She tried not to notice how low his voice was…how sexy…or how it sent shivers down her spine.

“Maybe we could meet and talk about people I know who might be able to give you work,” he said.

It wouldn’t be a date. And little as she wanted to be in his debt, what harm was there in using his social network to further her own ends? It wasn’t as if she was taking money from him.

And she would use the opportunity to tell him what Flo had done. Maybe even what Adrian had done-if the meeting went smoothly enough.

“That would be great.” The world seemed bright and shiny-no longer dull and gray. “I’d like that.”

“Then I’ll pick you up on Friday-we’ll have dinner.”

Friday night? That sounded suspiciously like a date. But she knew that this time she wouldn’t refuse.

Callum was rather pleased with himself.

Not only had he managed to secure a date with Miranda-although he rather doubted she’d view the evening in the same light-he’d also gotten glowing feedback about the Christmas cocktail party Miranda had catered for him. Apart from the fact that everyone had enjoyed it, saying it was streets ahead of any similar event they’d attended, Hunter told him there’d been a promise of a new corporate deal from Tom Murray, and a businessman Callum had been courting for a long time had made an appointment to talk about having all his plants insured with Ironstone Insurance. He’d even heard that Miranda had catered a small dinner party for Hunter, though she’d said nothing about that.

All in all Callum had the feeling that his plans were finally working out.

When he picked her up on Friday evening, she was ready for him, auguring well for the night. He liked punctuality in a woman.

No black dress this time-he didn’t know whether to be sorry or relieved. Instead she wore a pair of fitted narrow-legged black pants, high boots and a skirted coat with a wide belt that covered her curves. No matter. He had every intention of taking her somewhere warm, so by the end of the evening she would be wearing far fewer clothes if it all went to plan.

Seated opposite her at a table in the alcove of the bay window in one of his favorite restaurants, Callum smiled in satisfaction as he took in the sensual sheen of the gray satin blouse she wore. So far so good. He watched as she studied the menu, that endearing frown furrowing her brow. When she snapped the menu shut, she caught him staring. Callum raised his champagne flute and took a quick sip.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You do things with so much concentration-it takes your whole being.” He set the glass down on the white linen cloth.

Miranda looked down and fiddled with her fork. She looked embarrassed as she said, “Some people say I’m too single-minded.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“You think?” She abandoned the fork, and her gaze locked with his. “I’ve been told it’s unfeminine.”

He chuckled. “There’s not an unfeminine bone in your body.” His gaze traced the dark brows, the gentle curve of her cheek and settled on her lush mouth. Her tongue came out and moistened her bottom lip. Callum quickly raised his eyes. She was staring at him, her dark eyes wide and a little shocked.

There was no doubt that he must’ve revealed some of the insatiable hunger she roused in him.

To play down the moment, he couldn’t resist asking, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” She flushed and glanced away, picking up her serviette and spreading it out before laying it on her lap. The heat that smoldered whenever he was near her ignited.

Miranda was every bit as aware of him as he was of her. He wished she would give in to the inevitable. Couldn’t she see they were destined to be lovers?

Then she looked up. “For some reason this feels like a date.” She pointed at the tall crystal flutes and the arrangement of white roses on the table. “I told you I didn’t want to date you.” But a slight smile softened her words.

A waiter arrived and lit the squat white candle with a taper, before taking their orders.

Once he’d topped their glasses and collected the menus he departed, Callum took up the conversation where they’d left off. “It’s not a date-it’s a business meeting.”

He fought back a grin at her expression of disbelief.

She snorted. “You bring business colleagues here on a Friday night?”

He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I’ve been known to invite business associates on a Saturday night for dinner-I’m a busy man.”

“I accept you’d bring your brothers here. But what about Gordon? Or Tom Murray? Tom must love the champagne, huh?” She raised her glass in a mock salute.