The Tycoon's Proposal. Leigh Michaels

short, she admitted, he’d been simply intoxicating. He’d acted on her senses like a rich old brandy, sweeping away every inhibition, every fragment of common sense…. He’d used his charm, he’d used her, just so he could win a bet.

      What a shame it was that Kurt Callahan’s flaws were on the inside. He hadn’t had a conscience six years ago, and she doubted very much that he’d grown one since.

      Well, she’d just have to work around him, that was all. Surely he wouldn’t be staying in Minneapolis for long—a man with his responsibilities? And Hannah’s plan was not only simple, logical and sensible, it was the best deal Lissa was likely to find.

      How it had come about, however, was nothing short of fantastic, when Lissa stopped to think about it. She’d simply been doing her job, taking care of two elderly lunch patrons. She’d seen them many times before in the union’s dining room—they were simply Mrs. Wilder and Mrs. Meadows, and she treated them as she did every other patron.

      Then Mrs. Meadows had left, and Hannah Wilder had sat still a little longer, drinking her coffee and chatting as Lissa cleared the table and brought her receipt. And then she’d got up from her chair, reeled, and almost fallen….

      Lissa still didn’t quite understand why she’d actually told Hannah about the money which was missing from her room. More than twelve hours after the discovery she’d still been a bit dazed over the realization that she’d been robbed, of course. But why she’d actually confided in Hannah—who had enough problems of her own just then—was beyond her.

      However, Hannah had asked her to sit down for a few minutes and keep her company while she recovered from her spell of lightheadedness. And then she’d looked straight into Lissa’s eyes and said, “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

      It was the first time in months that anyone had treated Lissa with such obvious personal concern. One thing had led to another, the words had come tumbling out…and here she was.

      “Driver?” Kurt said.

      Lissa pulled herself back to the moment.

      “Personal assistant,” Hannah corrected. She came down the last few stairs, holding tightly to the railing. “If you insist on discussing it, Kurt, let’s go back into the living room and have a seat.”

      Kurt was instantly beside her, offering an arm. “I’m sorry, Gran—I forgot you weren’t feeling well.”

      “It was only a momentary weak spell, and it has passed. I got up too suddenly, that’s all. I’m certainly not an invalid.”

      Lissa couldn’t stop herself. “But if your blood pressure is likely to behave like a jumping jack, you shouldn’t be driving.”

      Kurt shot a look at Lissa. “I can’t disagree with that—though it sounds self-serving when it’s you who’s saying it. I suppose you’re the one who suggested the whole plan?”

      “The only thing she suggested was that I see a doctor,” Hannah said placidly. “I don’t think the idea of a driver would have occurred to Lissa at all. Since she doesn’t have a car herself, she doesn’t think in those terms.”

      Kurt was starting to look like a thundercloud. “You don’t have a car? Do you even have a driver’s license?”

      “All students do,” Hannah put in. “I understand there’s some rule about not being able to go into a bar without one.”

      You’re not helping matters, Hannah. Lissa put her chin up and looked squarely at Kurt. “I have a perfectly valid driver’s license, and not just to use as proof of my age so I can go out drinking.”

      “When’s the last time you were behind the wheel of a car?”

      She’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask that. “I suppose you mean before today? A while.”

      His eyes narrowed.

      “All right, it’s been—maybe three years. I don’t remember.”

      “Great. Add up the two of you, and we still have a mediocre, inexperienced driver.”

      Much as she wanted to, Lissa couldn’t exactly argue with that. Between the unfamiliar car and the slick streets she’d been nervous, on edge, and too cautious for their own good, creeping along at a snail’s pace in fear of losing control. But at least she knew her limitations.

      “They say you never forget how,” Hannah added helpfully. “Or were they talking about bicycles?”

      Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. “Gran, it’s a wonderful idea for you not to drive anymore. But since Janet doesn’t drive either, it would be much better to sell the car and use the money for taxis. The car’s probably only worth a few hundred dollars, but that’s a lot of taxi rides.”

      With all his money, Lissa thought, he could buy Hannah her own private limo service. Instead he was suggesting she sell her car and tuck the money away in a taxi fund? “I didn’t realize you had such a cheap streak, Kurt.”

      He shot a look at her. “I’m not the one with the cheap streak.”

      “I hate to wait for a ride,” Hannah said. “In fact, I hate taxis all the way around—they smell. And a cabby won’t walk you into a doctor’s office.”

      “That’s why you have Janet.”

      “Janet’s no steadier on her feet than I am these days.” Hannah laughed lightly. “You should have seen us trying to buff the hardwood floor in your room before you came, Kurt—we must have looked like the Three Stooges on ice. Well, two of them, at least.”

      “Why were you buffing…?” Kurt closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “Never mind. How often do you even leave the house?”

      Hannah began ticking points off on her fingertips. “The hairdresser, the massage clinic, physical therapy, the doctor, the pharmacy, the grocery store, the bank, my broker, the—”

      “All right, I take your point. What about a limo service? They don’t smell.”

      “I’d still have to wait around for someone to come and pick me up. And it would be expensive, because I go out at least once a day. I deliberately split up my errands and appointments so that every day I get some fresh air and exercise.”

      “I can afford it, Gran.”

      “Waste is waste, no matter who’s paying for it.”

      Kurt shot a look at Lissa. “See? I told you I’m not the one with the cheap streak.”

      “I’m not cheap,” Hannah said. “I just like to get value for money. So if you’re worried about Lissa getting off too easily, don’t. She’ll have plenty to keep her occupied, helping me out.”

      “Gran, you can’t have it both ways. If you’re saying now that you’re ill enough to need someone right beside you all the time, then surely a personal nurse would be a better choice?”

      “Oh, no.” Hannah took a deep breath and let her gaze wander around the room, as if she’d rather look anywhere than at him. “I don’t need a nurse. Just an extra pair of hands and a strong set of legs. I wasn’t going to break the news to you just yet, Kurt, but I suppose it’s time to tell you.”

      Here it comes, Lissa thought. She hadn’t quite believed it herself when Hannah had told her. Not that it was any of her business, but she felt like ducking behind the couch to avoid the worst of the explosion when Kurt heard the news.

      “Tell me what?” Kurt sounded wary. Almost fearful.

      “I’ve decided to give up the house,” Hannah said simply. “I’m just not up to taking care of it anymore, and neither is Janet.”

      “Then hire a housekeeping service.”

      Despite her best efforts, Lissa couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Perhaps you could stop snapping