Millionaire Under the Mistletoe / His High-Stakes Holiday Seduction. Emilie Rose

to back out now.”

      “You should’ve thought of that before you pledged my money.”

      Then wished she’d bitten her tongue when he said, “Just forget it, okay. I’ll find someone else to help me—maybe I can get an advance against my pay.”

      And place her further in Callum’s debt? Over her dead body! Miranda contemplated the amount in her savings account. Every cent she’d squirreled away for the past fourteen months. The extra jobs. The overtime. All painfully accumulated to allow her a few months of breathing space when she finally handed in her notice at The Golden Goose and started her own catering business.

      It was a pittance compared to the overwhelming amount she needed to repay Callum. Her dream was already history.

      She suppressed a sigh.

      But at least Adrian wasn’t gambling. He wasn’t in trouble. Despite her fears, she hadn’t been called in to Ironstone’s because he’d done anything stupid. And now he’d promised to help a friend. Weren’t those precisely the kind of values she’d tried to instill in him?

      The time had come to start trusting his judgment; otherwise he’d never grow up.

      But, oh, boy, it was hard.

      “Let me see what I can do.”

      A pause. Then, “Thanks, sis.”

      “But it will be a loan, Adrian,” she cautioned. This wasn’t going the way of all the other sums she’d “lent” her brother. “Your friend needs to understand that. When will I get it back?”

      “Soon,” he replied, with a worrying vagueness that reminded her uncomfortably of Flo. “He’ll get paid—probably at the end of the next fortnight.”

      “I’ll hold you to that.” Hitting the end-call button with unaccustomed ferocity, Miranda noticed that it had started to drizzle. She shivered in the gloom. Her dream had just received a death knell, so why bother about a bit of rain?

      Headlights cut through the drizzle, tires hissing as a sleek car veered toward the curb. Miranda turned away, not in the mood for unwelcome harassment.

      A window lowered. “Jump in.”

      Callum!

      Miranda hunched her shoulders and ignored him.

      A door slammed, and a moment later an arm landed across her shoulders, surrounding her with warmth and comfort. Miranda was tempted to lean into his broad chest and draw the strength she could. She squared her shoulders. This was Callum Ironstone. Her enemy.

      “I’m parked illegally. Let’s go before I get ticketed.”

      She shrugged him off. “I’ll wait for my bus, thanks.”

      He glanced up at the electronic information board above the bus shelter. “Looks like a long wait. Or would you rather freeze on principle?”

      She hated that he managed to make her sound like a petulant child. Reluctantly Miranda allowed him to take her elbow—ignoring the sudden prickles of sensation—and steer her to his car, a ghost-gray Daimler. Opening the door for her, he stood back while she clambered in.

      A delicious frisson rippled down her spine as the warm interior embraced her. Turning her head away as if in rejection of the seductive comfort Callum’s wealth offered, Miranda stared blindly out the side window as he settled in the driver’s seat beside her.

      “Where to?”

      The weight of Callum’s gaze settled on Miranda.

      “Home.”

      “Not The Golden Goose?”

      “I’ve finished for the day.” No point revealing what a tussle she’d had getting time off.

      Instead of starting the car, he said, “I’d have thought you’d have used your qualifications to land something better than a job at a place like that.”

      She shrugged and stared through the windshield at traffic that had slowed to a crawl as the drizzle turned to rain. No point defending The Golden Goose. Not when what he said was true and she couldn’t wait to escape.

      Although any chance of that had gone up in smoke the moment he’d told her about her father’s life insurance being nonexistent.

      “It was the closest job I could find to home.” That meant less spent on transport, less time commuting, which gave more hours to work overtime. “It’s only a short bus ride away,” she said tiredly. “It pays the bills.”

      And that was what mattered. Making sure Adrian’s future education was taken care of, repaying Callum and saving enough money to look after Flo. Until she’d repaid Callum she couldn’t even think of opening her own catering business.

      He must have heard her sigh because he said gently, “I know your family is short of cash. You should’ve accepted my proposition—who knows, you might have impressed people and gotten a few more catering jobs to ease the hardship.”

      Did he have any idea what kind of temptation he’d dangled in front of her? How hard it had been to refuse?

      She eyed him warily as he accelerated into the stream of traffic. Yes, he probably did. “Now I believe everything I’ve heard about you.”

      “Everything? You shouldn’t believe everything.” She caught a lightning flash of wicked blue eyes before he turned his attention back to the road. “Some rumors are nothing more than wild speculation.”

      Ignoring the innuendo underlying the humor, Miranda said hastily, “That you have the ability to home in on what people want and then use it against them?” And now he was doing that to her.

      Studying his profile, she took in the straight nose jutting out with masculine arrogance, quickly bypassing his generous mouth. Miranda had no idea how he’d gotten a glimpse into her soul, her deepest desire, but somehow the sneaky bastard had.

      If the offer had come from anyone else…

      “I’m only asking you to cater a dinner party for me. How can I use that against you?”

      “I’m sure you’ll find a way,” she said darkly, thinking of how he’d pressured her poor mother into signing an agreement that Flo wouldn’t have had a hope of understanding. No doubt it cleared the Ironstone family of all liability. Helplessness filled Miranda. How could she fight such a man?

      “So why don’t you prove to me that I didn’t waste money putting you through cooking school?”

      “Culinary school,” she corrected.

      “If you say so.” He slowed as a light turned red. He swiveled his head, and his gaze met hers. “If it makes it easier, think of it this way. You owe it to me.”

      “I owe it to you?” The gall of the man. “I owe you nothing.” He owed her. For taking her father away, for ruining her family.

      Her anger and confusion trapped her. She wanted him to hurt as much as she hurt, wanted to force him to take responsibility for what he’d done. But not by making her family his pet charity. And the only thing she truly desired he could never give back.

      Her father.

      In the meantime, all the money Callum had given Flo had to be paid back. And once that had been accomplished, Miranda hoped the guilt of knowing what he’d done killed him.

      “If you could, you’d gather what cash you could and hurl it at me right now, wouldn’t you?” That rogue eyebrow quirked up again.

      “Maybe,” she said grudgingly, resenting the fact that he could read her so well.

      He shook his head. “What a wasted effort.”

      “Easy for you to say.”

      “It will take you forever.” As the lights changed, he put the car back