The Tycoon's Proposal

by Leigh Michaels

  Yeah, right, she thought dryly. Keep talking, Lissa, and maybe you’ll convince yourself that a one-night stand with him was a good thing.

  Still, she wasn’t about to let herself overreact now; she was bigger than that, and running into him again wasn’t going to change anything.

  So what if he was even better-looking now than he’d been in college, with his crisp black hair and unusual blue-gray eyes, his youthful arrogance mellowed by time and success into something more like self-confidence? It didn’t matter to her anymore.

  But why couldn’t that encounter last night have been the end of it? She’d been proud of the way she’d handled herself in the cloakroom standoff. She hadn’t lost her temper or embarrassed herself. She hadn’t even needed to publicly rub his nose in the facts in order to feel good about telling him to get lost. But now that she was face to face with him once more…. Now that he had remembered her….

  Hannah’s offer had seemed so simple on the drive from the student union to her house. And it was so perfectly logical. You need a job, Hannah had said. And I need some help for a while. We can be a team. What difference did it make whether the woman offering to hire her was Kurt Callahan’s grandmother? He wouldn’t know anything about it.

  Only here he was—in the flesh. And what nice flesh it was, too, Lissa thought. Today he wasn’t wearing a suit, but khakis and a polo shirt, and the clothing showed him off nicely. He was tanned and athletic without being showy—no overdone bulges of biceps. In fact, he was perfectly proportioned, without a flaw anywhere to draw the eye. He might be a little more muscular than he’d been six years ago, a little more imposing. But even then he’d been pretty much perfect—strong and hard and clean and intoxicatingly attractive.

  In 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 out orders and just listen for a change?”

  Hannah was smiling. “Thank you, Lissa dear. It’s really no wonder that the women he dates have such a short shelf-life, is it? I can’t blame them for getting tired of it.”

  “I’m only trying to help!” Kurt’s voice was almost a bark.

  “In such a typically masculine way, too,” Hannah murmured. “Your grandfather used to do the same thing—as soon as I complained about something he would tell me precisely how I should solve the problem. It was really quite annoying, and I never managed to break him of it…At any rate, I have a housekeeping service already. It’s not the work I’m concerned about, Kurt, it’s the responsibility.”

  Kurt frowned.

  “I’m tired of writing out a list for the housecleaning team and making sure they follow it. I want someone else to think about the weeds in the flowerbeds and the leaves in the gutters, and whether the draperies in the guestroom need to be replaced or just taken down and sent along to the cleaners.”

  Kurt rubbed his finger along the bridge of his nose. “I see. You’re talking about moving into some kind of retirement community, I suppose, where they do all that stuff for you? I’ll see what’s available, and—”

  “You mean you’ll assign someone on your staff to see what’s available? Anyway, I’ve already looked. I know where I want to go. It’s a very nice apartment complex which provides all the assistance anyone could want—and doesn’t bother people when they don’t want help.”

  Kurt shrugged. “All right, Gran. Whatever you want to do.”

  The gesture looked as if it hurt him, Lissa thought. Clearly this was a man who didn’t enjoy being left out of the loop.

  “When are you planning to do this?”

  “Well, that’s a bit more difficult. I can’t just lock the door and walk off. This house holds many years of memories to be sorted out, and only I can do that. But Lissa’s going to be my hands and feet while I get the job done—starting tomorrow. I’m going to go upstairs for a nap now, so you just entertain yourselves for a while, children.”

  As her footsteps retreated up the stairs, Kurt turned to Lissa. “If you think you’re going to walk in here and get away with this—”

  It was clearly time to take a stand. “Get away with what? I’d say Hannah’s the boss, and you’re not—so what she decides goes, Kurt.”

  “Maybe I can’t contradict her orders. But I can darned sure try to make sure she’s safe. Put your coat on.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we’re not going to go build a snowman. Before I let you start chauffeuring Gran around, you’re going to have to pass a driving test. Scare me, and you flunk. Got it?”

  She would have told him to jump headfirst into a snowdrift, except that Lissa knew some practice behind the wheel would be a very good idea—and she figured if she could drive safely with a frustrated Kurt riding shotgun, then she wouldn’t be putting Hannah into any danger at all. And if his backseat driving got to be unbearable, she mused, she would just slam the passenger side of the car into a tree somewhere and walk home….

  “Watch out for that truck,” Kurt said, and Lissa pulled her attention back to the street.

  Hannah’s car was small and light, and as the afternoon waned and traffic grew heavier the packed-down snow which remained on the streets grew ever more slippery. But, after a false start or two, Lissa’s confidence began to come back, despite the silent and glowering male in the passenger seat next to her.

  Maybe Hannah had been right after all, she thought, and driving a car—like riding a bicycle—was a skill which never quite vanished from the subconscious mind. If it didn’t bother her to have Kurt either issuing instructions or seething not quite silently—like a pasta pot just about to boil—then she could handle normal traffic along with Hannah’s chatter with no trouble at all.

  “Well?” she said finally, after a solid hour of negotiating everything from narrow alleys to eight-lane freeways. “Since I haven’t smashed either you or the car, and you haven’t grabbed for the steering wheel or the brake in at least twenty minutes, I’m going to assume that the test is over and take you back to Hannah’s house.”

  “Not quite. Parallel park in front of that diner up there.”

  “Parallel park? Nobody ever has to actually do that.”

  His level look said that she would do it or else, so Lissa sighed and took a stab at it. Two tries later she was quite proud of the result. “Good enough?”

  “Shut the car off. Let’s have a cup of coffee.”

  “I’m honored at the invitation, but—”

  “Don’t be. This is the only way we can talk without Gran interrupting.”

  “We’ve been riding around for an hour,” Lissa protested, “and you haven’t had a word to say the whole time. So why should I—?”

  “I wasn’t going to risk taking your attention off the road. Come on.” He slammed the car door and kicked at the wad of snow and ice which had built up behind the front wheel. “Looks like this thing could stand some new tires. Would you like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?”

  She settled for tea and refused a piece of apple pie to go with it. Kurt surveyed her over the rim of his coffee cup and said, “All right, what’s really going on here? How did all this happen?”

  Lissa sighed. “I didn’t stalk your grandmother, if that’s what you’re suggesting. It just happened to be my table she chose at lunchtime. There aren’t all that many of us working at the union, you know—not as regulars in the dining room, at least. It’s also the last day before the holidays, so a lot of the kids who work there have already gone home for Christmas.”

  She waited for him to ask why she wasn’t going anywhere for Christmas. But he didn’t.

  “Look,” Lissa said, “I’ll tell you exactly what happened. Mrs. Meadows left because she had an appointment of some sort, and your grandmother stayed to finish her coffee. I cleared the dessert dishes, she wished me a Merry Christmas, then she got up from the table and started to sway. I helped her back in her chair and offered to find a doctor. She said no, but would I just sit down with her for a minute, so I did. Then when she felt better she asked if I’d walk her out to her car. When I found out she was planning to drive herself home, I suggested she take a cab, and—”

  “And she offered you a job? Just like that?”

  “She’s not quite that fast a worker,” Lissa admitted. “It took her maybe ten minutes in all.”

  “Why?”

  “Ask her. How should I know why she offered me a job?”

  “I will. But what I really want to know is why you took it.”

  “Because I need a job—”

  “But why do you need a job? You were the math whiz of the entire campus—why aren’t you a chief financial officer at some big corporation by now?”

  All the plans she had made and the dreams sh
e had dreamed…. Lissa had thought she’d come to terms with all the losses and the delays, but it wasn’t until now—when Kurt Callahan asked the question in that slightly cynical tone—that she realized how much it hurt that after so long she was still marking time.

  “Did you get caught with your fingers in the till, or what?”

  Lissa bristled. “No. I’m still here because I had to drop out for a while. I have one more semester to go before I finish my degree.”

  He went absolutely still. “Why, Lissa?”

  “Why should it matter to you? It’s long over with.” Then she bit her lip and said quietly, “I’m still here because my father got lymphoma and I had to drop out and take care of him in the last year of his life. That cost me my scholarships, because walking out in the middle of a term doesn’t sit well with the financial aid people around here. I worked for a while, and saved money to come back, but I was just getting up to speed again when I got pneumonia. That knocked me down for months. I couldn’t keep up with classes, so I had to quit again.”

  He seemed to be waiting for something else. Finally, when the silence drew out painfully, he said, “That’s nasty luck.”

  Was there a hidden meaning in his tone? She told herself it was pointless to try to analyze. “Yes, it was.”

  “But hardly anything new for you. You dropped out of that calculus class, too.”

  “Noticed that, did you?” Lissa said dryly. “I’m amazed you were paying attention.”

  “Dammit, Lissa, I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t even stop walking down the hall, much less let me apologize. And then before I knew it you were gone—”

  “So what would you have said you were sorry for? Not making love, I’ll bet.”

  “No,” he admitted. “Not that.”

  “Then what? Getting caught? Making sure everybody in the class knew you’d won your bet?” She saw curiosity flicker in his eyes, and she took a deep breath and reminded herself that it didn’t matter anymore. The last thing she wanted to do was let him think she still cared. She’d buried those feelings long ago. “One-night stands happen, Kurt. I was quite a little more innocent than you were, that’s true, and it annoyed the hell out of me that you’d told everyone in class I slept with you—”