Christmas Babies. Ellen James

he’d learned the truth had been the beginning of manhood for him. It had given him a hearty dislike for deception, and it had made him vow someday he’d be rich enough so that his mother wouldn’t have to work at all.

      Of course, he hadn’t counted on her stubbornness, or her independence. She’d kept right on working, well past the time when he could have supported her several times over. It had been something of a coup when at last he’d convinced her to retire. She’d chosen Saint Louis, to be near one of her girlhood friends. But now…now she was back in San Diego, trying to arrange the end of her life as neatly as she was arranging the cans on her pantry shelves.

      Having set down her cloth, she’d lined up the potato soup next to the cream of tomato. “It would be nice,” she said, “if you could meet someone, Bryan. Someone besides those dreadful businesswomen you usually surround yourself with.”

      Another backhanded compliment. “Actually,” Bryan said, surprising himself, “I have met someone.”

      His mother perked right up. “Oh—who is she?”

      He smiled a little. “You could say she’s a carpenter.”

      Elizabeth shrugged. “That’s different, at least. About time you got away from those icy corporate types.”

      Bryan had to smile again at that. Danni was indeed a “corporate type,” but hardly icy. Maybe she’d been standoffish at first, but at their last few meetings all that had changed.

      “What’s her name?” Elizabeth asked.

      “Danni. Danni Ferris.”

      “Go on,” his mother said impatiently. “Is it serious?”

      There was only so much he was willing to share. He didn’t tell his mother a whole lot about his personal life; that was one of his rules.

      “Bryan,” said his mother, “don’t keep me in suspense. Is it serious?”

      Maybe there was no point in hiding the truth. Especially since his mother was so ill. And so he gave a grudging nod.

      “Could be,” he said. Finally, Bryan saw a smile ease the pain and weariness on his mother’s face.

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS GOING TO BE a long night at the offices of Nolan, Williams and Beck. A new account had just been dumped on Danni’s desk, deadline yesterday, and she was brainstorming with the two members of her team. At least, she was attempting to brainstorm while one half of her team sat slumped over a notepad, making non-sensical doodles, and the other half rambled on.

      “Mr. Nolan told me personally this was a very important assignment,” said twenty-one-year-old Michelle in a reverent tone. Michelle was discoursing at length on her favorite subject: Mr. Nolan, chief partner in Nolan, Williams and Beck.

      Larry, still doodling on his notepad, conveyed an air of world-weary cynicism. It didn’t fool Danni, though. She knew all about his long-term crush on Michelle. The wonder was that Michelle didn’t know.

      “Mr. Nolan,” said Michelle, “is putting his full trust in us to do a first-rate job. That’s exactly what he told me. His full trust.”

      Larry rolled his eyes. Michelle gave him a suspicious glance.

      “Mr. Nolan,” she said, a bit more forcefully, “is the type of person who expects a person to rise to the occasion. I won’t let him down. He’s counting on me.”

      Larry rolled his eyes even more expressively this time. He didn’t need to say anything, but Danni knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing she was thinking: the very rich and powerful, very good-looking Mr. Nolan probably didn’t even know Michelle’s name.

      “Speaking of the job,” Danni said, “let’s get going. We need to come up with ideas fast.” She rubbed the crick in her neck, and frowned at the file on Hobbyhorse Toys. The company was a regional business, brand-new, rushing to launch its grand opening in time for Christmas. Apparently there had been “creative differences” with the previous advertising firm, and Danni was pinch-hitting late in the game. Make that very late. She needed some major inspiration.

      A familiar tension coiled through her body. This was the nature of the business—always struggling for that one perfect idea that would excite the client and sell the product. After so many years, she ought to be used to the process by now…the endless late nights, the gallons of coffee, the deadlines threatening, the panic—followed by elation when the idea came. And then the whole cycle beginning again with another client.

      Danni pulled a blank sheet of paper toward her and started doodling herself. Think, she commanded. What’s the angle on this one? What’s going to save us this time? She scarcely paid attention to what she was drawing until Michelle leaned over to peer.

      “Designing a dream house?” she asked with interest.

      Danni stared at her rough sketch. A porch with arches, a garden gate, a trellised passage-way…it looked very much like Bryan McKay’s house. Danni crumpled the sheet and lobbed it toward the trash can on the opposite side of the room. She kept it over there on purpose so she could practice her set shot. This time she missed. The crumpled sheet of paper landed at the feet of someone who had just appeared in the door-way—Bryan McKay. He picked it up and took his own aim. It landed neatly in the trash. Then he regarded Danni, his expression impassive.

      Her heart pounded uncomfortably. She could think of only one reason he would be here. Kristine no doubt had spoken to him…and now he probably wanted Danni’s explanation as well.

      “Larry,” she said. “Michelle. You can take a break.”

      The two trooped out the door. Michelle, as she went, gave Bryan an interested glance—her devotion to Mr. Nolan notwithstanding. Of course, what woman could avoid looking at Bryan? Tonight he wore a charcoal suit of understated sophistication, his tie loosened just a bit. With his dark eyes and darker hair, he was far too handsome for anyone’s good.

      When they were alone, Danni nodded toward the door. “You might as well close it,” she said. “And then we’ll get this over with.”

      He gave her a quizzical glance. “It’s going to be that unpleasant?”

      “After what Kris told you,” she muttered, “it’s bound to be.”

      “Who’s Kris?”

      She sank back in her chair. So he didn’t know…Kristine hadn’t talked to him yet. Danni felt the oddest mixture of despair and relief. The forty-eight hours she’d given her sister were only half over.

      “Bryan, why are you here?” she asked, trying to sound as businesslike as possible.

      He closed the door after all. Then he came to her desk and drew her up beside him. He put his arms around her and traced his lips across her cheek.

      Unfair…so unfair. To have a man touch her like this, hold her like this, and to know it was all a mistake. She felt herself tremble.

      “Danni, what’s wrong?” he murmured against her ear.

      She closed her eyes briefly. Then she lifted her head and gazed full at him. See me, she commanded silently. See who I am.

      But he didn’t see. He just brought her close once more and kissed her.

      It was a very long moment before she pulled shakily away from him. She’d never known a kiss like that, not even in her dreams. Tender, sensual…possessive. Claiming her, even when he didn’t know who she was.

      Danni retreated to the other side of her desk. “We can’t do this,” she said.

      “Why not?” he asked in a reasonable tone.

      She folded her arms against her body, and gazed at him as steadily as possible. “By tomorrow night you’ll know the answer. I’d tell you myself, but…well, I made a promise.