The Tycoon's Proposal

by Leigh Michaels

  Lissa had told herself for days that she was glad he was staying away from the house so much, that his absence made her life a great deal easier. Only now, after facing the greater truth, could she admit the reality—she had missed him almost beyond bearing.

  She’d awakened every morning eager to see him, and she’d been disappointed to find that he was already gone for the day. Every precious minute that she had actually spent in his company—always, it seemed, with Hannah there, or Janet—she’d been jealous, because she’d wanted to have him all to herself.

  No wonder just half an hour ago, when Mindy had chased them down, interrupted their conversation, and started to flirt with Kurt, Lissa had reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

  It’s my utter fascination with everything about Kurt, she’d told Mindy. She’d intended the comment as sarcasm, but it was far from that. It was simple truth. She was utterly fascinated with everything about the man.

  It was too late to erase the fact, to back out of loving him. And there was not a thing she could do to make him return her feelings. She’d done this to herself—and now she was stuck with the results.

  Though it felt to Lissa as if a month or two had passed while she was standing at the fringes of the party and sorting out what had happened to her, in fact only a few minutes had gone by. When she pulled herself back to the atrium at the center of Maximum Sports, the windchimes were still murmuring softly and the director of the Mission Shelter was still giving thanks for the generous gift.

  Kurt, she noticed, was looking around as if he wished he were anywhere else.

  Lissa couldn’t quite keep herself from smiling at the way he was shifting from one foot to the other, looking in turn at the marble floor and the glass dome of the atrium. Definitely he wasn’t the same guy he’d been in calculus class, she thought. Then he’d been nothing short of arrogant, while now he exuded a self-confidence that was based in fact rather than attitude. He’d gone out into the world and made it his.

  The rush of warmth which surged through her at the thought took her by surprise, almost rocking her off her feet. Was this what love felt like? Not a flood of passion—though she didn’t doubt that it lurked not far under the surface—but an incredible wave of tenderness. Fondness. Affection. Sheer liking.

  It wasn’t at all what she would have expected.

  The shelter director stopped talking, and there was a burst of applause. Then Lissa heard Kurt’s voice. It seemed to her to ring out above the noise of the crowd, even though his tone was actually low and almost intimate. How was it she could hear him so clearly? Had she simply tuned her hearing so that she wouldn’t miss anything he said?

  He was talking to Mindy, and it was very clear to Lissa what the woman had been saying. Something about the incredible generosity of his gift, what a wonderful guy he was, how his openhandedness should get the widespread publicity it deserved. Lissa thought she caught something about a Man of the Year award, as well.

  Kurt said, sounding short-tempered, “The gift was from this store and Maximum Sports as a whole. Not from me.”

  Mindy gave a little trill of laughter. “But that’s exactly what I mean, Kurt. Just pretending that it wasn’t all your idea is another very big-hearted gesture.”

  She hasn’t got any idea what makes him tick, Lissa thought with a tinge of amusement. Then she pulled herself up short. And you think you do, Lissa?

  Even if she did understand him far better than Mindy ever could, she warned herself, the talent wasn’t likely to get her anywhere. Just because she claimed to have some great insight into his character it didn’t mean Kurt would appreciate being analyzed. Probably far from it.

  As if he had felt her gaze on him, Kurt ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder toward her. Lissa ducked behind the windchime display.

  Hannah came up beside her. “What are you doing hiding back here?”

  Lissa wondered what Hannah would say if she told the truth. I’m contemplating how I happened to fall in love with your grandson. No—that wouldn’t be smart at all. Lissa fumbled for an acceptable excuse. “I thought I recognized one of the employees,” she said. “He’s a basketball player at the university, and he asked me for my phone number once.” It was true enough, as far as it went. She’d noticed almost as soon as they arrived that one of the employees looked very much like one of the athletes who had been hanging around the cloakroom the night of Kurt’s banquet.

  Kurt’s banquet. The night her life had changed—though she’d had no idea of it at the time.

  “I don’t mind if you get calls,” Hannah said absently.

  Lissa figured there was no point in explaining about the time and temperature in Winnipeg, or why the athlete just might be nursing a grudge.

  “I’m very tired,” Hannah went on. “I’m going home now, but there’s no need for you to leave the party yet.”

  “I don’t mind at all, Hannah. Just let me grab your coat—did you leave it over in that pile on the billiard tables?”

  “Don’t forget to say good night to Kurt.”

  Lissa darted a glance in his direction. “It appears Mindy’s taking good care of him,” she said dryly. “I’d hate to interrupt when she’s on such a roll.”

  Hannah didn’t protest, but followed meekly along to the door. Her unusual mildness drew Lissa’s attention away from her own preoccupation.

  “Are you really just tired tonight?” she asked suspiciously. “Or are you not feeling well? You still haven’t called a doctor, have you?”

  “I’ll get around to it,” Hannah said vaguely.

  Lissa ran out into the frost-coated parking lot to warm up the SUV and bring it to the door, so the winter air wouldn’t hurt Hannah’s lungs. Then she spent the drive home quietly plotting. Maybe if she waited up tonight to share her concerns with Kurt he would put his foot down….

  Are you certain you aren’t just looking for an excuse to talk to him? To have any sort of meaningful contact with him at all?

  By the time they reached the house Hannah seemed to have regained all her spirit, if not her energy. “I can’t have you stuffing your own Christmas stocking, you know,” she said. “But if you’ll do Kurt’s and Janet’s for me I’d appreciate it.” Hannah sat down by the now-dead fireplace to supervise. “I left the goodies on the table in the library.”

  Lissa retrieved two huge bags, studied the stockings, and wondered how she was to make everything fit. “Just in case you’re putting a shoehorn in my stocking, Hannah, may I have it early? It would make this job a little easier.”

  “No shoehorn, I’m afraid. I didn’t realize you wanted one.” Hannah’s tongue was obviously just as firmly in her cheek as Lissa’s.

  By the time Lissa had finished, the two stockings were fat and heavy enough to almost drag down the bright red bricks which anchored them to the mantelshelf. Even Hannah’s stocking, though Lissa hadn’t added anything to it, had a suspicious bulge in the toe and a very swollen calf—Janet must have been busy while they were gone.

  But Lissa’s, the only one without a name needlepointed on it, was still just as limp and empty as when she had hung it last weekend.

  She didn’t feel sorry for herself, or even left out. She’d been on her own too long for that sort of indulgence. She’d long ago learned to face the painful realities straightforwardly and without excuses.

  This was just one more good lesson to remember. When Christmas was over and the holiday break came to an end everything would go back to normal. The generic stocking assigned to Lissa this Christmas would be returned to Hannah’s stash of seasonal decorations to be used again some other time, for someone else—or given away, if Hannah found someone who would appreciate all her Christmas treasures. Lissa would return to her classes, her work at the student union, and her boarding house room—or one very much like it—all alone.

  The only things she would be able to keep from this precious time would be her memories, and her dreams of what might
have been.

  Christmas morning was unusually bright and beautiful, and despite the party running late the night before Kurt was up almost as early as the sun. Still yawning, he threw on jeans and a sweater and went downstairs.

  His grandmother was already in the living room, tucked up on the couch under a knitted blanket, wearing a fuzzy pink dressing gown and matching slippers. “Are you eager to tear into your presents, Kurt?”

  “I’m not six years old anymore, Gran.” He poked at the fire and added a log. “Besides, at least I took the time to get dressed. What’s your excuse for eagerness? You can’t wait to see what Santa brought you?”

  “I’m eager to watch Lissa’s face. What a good child she’s been, waiting patiently for the days to go by.”

  Kurt wasn’t about to admit it, but he was feeling just about the same—impatient to see the glow in Lissa’s eyes at what must be her first real Christmas in a long time. He eyed the weighted-down stockings and the pile of brightly wrapped gifts under the tree. “And what a big heart you have, Gran,” he said softly.

  Janet came in with coffee mugs on a tray. Three of them, Kurt noted. “You’re actually going to sit down and join us, Janet?”

  The housekeeper sniffed. “No. I brought three because I thought the young lady would be hurrying down so she wouldn’t miss out on anything. I have pecan rolls in the oven for breakfast, so I can’t dawdle.” She set the tray on the table in front of Hannah with a thump, and went back to the kitchen.

  “Speaking of missing out on things, you and Lissa left last night before the goodbye gifts were handed out.” He went out to the hallway and retrieved two small silvery boxes from the pocket of his overcoat. He tossed one to Hannah and perched the other in the overloaded cuff of Lissa’s stocking.

  Hannah sat up straight, her excitement palpable as she tested the weight of the box.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Kurt said dryly. “It’s not a diamond necklace—everybody who was at the store last night got one of these.”

  Hannah ripped the box open. She was exclaiming over the sterling silver Christmas ornament—the Maximum Sports penguin mascot, wielding a finely crafted tennis racquet and ball, engraved with the store name and date—when Lissa came in.

  “You haven’t turned on the Christmas carols?” she asked.

  She, too, was dressed in jeans and a pullover. With her auburn hair and bright green sweater, Kurt thought she looked a bit like a Christmas package herself—just as intriguing, just as full of secrets, just as much fun to investigate and unwrap….

  He especially liked the idea of unwrapping her. He spent a moment enjoying the view as Lissa bent over the stereo set to choose the morning’s music. She was still too thin, but how could he ever have thought her to be shapeless?

  Finally, Kurt tore his gaze away from her nicely rounded little rear. “We were waiting for you. If you’d been another five minutes I’d have blasted you out with ‘Jingle Bells.’”

  Or maybe I’d have done something which would have been equally sure to wake you up—even if it didn’t involve getting you out of bed.

  “The youngest person in the room has to sort out the gifts,” Hannah ordered. “It’s tradition in the family.”

  Lissa bit her lip, and Kurt saw a shadow flicker in her eyes. It’s tradition in the family…. But Lissa was obviously remembering she wasn’t family. He was annoyed with his grandmother for tripping over her tongue like that, saying something which was so carelessly hurtful.

  “You sort out the boxes, Lissa,” he said. “I’ll get the stockings down.”

  The soft strains of an a capella choir mingled with the crackle of the flames as he took down the stockings. He set Janet’s on the loveseat, a bit away from the fire, because Janet’s stocking was always loaded with chocolate and other goodies which didn’t react well to heat. Hannah instantly dumped hers in her lap, and tiny packages spilled out over her blanket. Then Kurt paused to watch Lissa dragging packages out from under the tree. It was a sight well worth considering.

  With all the boxes distributed, Lissa dropped cross-legged to the floor in front of the fire, so he set her stocking on the hearthrug in front of her before he took his own back to his chair. He sat down at an angle, where he could see Lissa’s face.

  Nobody moved.

  “Go ahead,” Hannah urged. “Dump the stocking and dig in. Unless you want to start with your packages instead?”

  “Aren’t we waiting for Janet?” Lissa asked.

  “She’ll be along when she’s ready.”

  Finally Lissa reached out and touched the top bulge in her stocking with a tentative finger, picking up the silvery box Kurt had tucked in just a few minutes before she came downstairs. Her ornament showed the Maximum Sports penguin mascot decked out as a skier with poles braced, crouched for a jump.

  “Darn,” Kurt said. “I was hoping you’d get the rock climber.”

  Lissa stroked the sterling silver ski mask with a gentle fingertip. “There’s a set?” Her voice was wistful.

  “We do four ornaments each year, just for employees.”

  “I never did ask you why your mascot is a penguin.”

  Kurt grinned. “His name’s Tux. I chose him because he’s awkward and unwieldy except in the water.”

  Lissa frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “People don’t have to be graceful or elegant or professional to enjoy sports, any more than Tux is. On land, he waddles and falls over—but he’s a heck of a swimmer. The point is that everybody can find a sport they’re good at—even if they’re awkward, it’s all right.”

  “Enough with the fairy tales,” Hannah interrupted. “Get on with those packages, girl!”

  Lissa reluctantly set the silver penguin aside and dug into her stocking. The next item wasn’t even wrapped—in fact it was just a simple chocolate orange in a decorative box—but she studied it, sniffed it, and smiled.

  Hannah was fidgeting. Kurt didn’t know which he was enjoying more—watching Lissa make the most of the holiday, or watching Hannah being driven wild by such care and patience. The longer Lissa took to slit the tape and unfold the paper from each box, the more Hannah bounced on the couch. He found the show quite entertaining to watch.

  The stack of discarded paper and empty boxes grew. Kurt unwrapped a package which had no giver’s name on the tag—not that it needed one, since it was clear as soon as he saw the title of the book whose idea this gift had been.

  “You must have ransacked the bookstores to find this,” he said dryly as he held up The Calculus Cheat Sheet.

  So that was how she’d spent part of the money she’d borrowed from him. Now he was glad he’d indulged his own whimsical side.

  He set the book aside and rummaged through Lissa’s pile of gifts. “Here, open this one next.”

  It was small and flat, wrapped in paper emblazoned with Maximum Sports’ logo. As she lifted a gold-embossed certificate out of the box, she eyed it warily. “You gave me a ticket for the climbing wall?”

  “Not just one ticket. It’s a free pass, so you can climb whenever you want.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Lissa said. “It’s so thoughtful of you.”

  He grinned, enjoying her discomfort. “You’ve been on a ladder so much this week that the climbing wall probably won’t even be a challenge. You must be over your fear of heights by now. When would you like to make your first climb?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll savor the idea for a while first,” she said dryly. “Or maybe I’ll just wait till you visit again. I’m sure you’ll be back sometime in the next decade.”

  His grandmother was ecstatic over the seed-pearl choker that Kurt had slipped into her stocking. “You’ve still got the prettiest neck around,” he said, kissing her cheek when she thanked him.

  But she seemed just as pleased, he noticed, by the pair of Austrian crystal earrings Lissa had given her. She put them on instantly, and leaned forward to point out a package in Lissa’s pile. “Open that one next,” she said.
“I can’t wait to see your face.”

  Lissa’s eyes widened and she looked at Kurt, as if begging him to rescue her. With obvious reluctance she picked up the package. Small, flat, and apparently almost weightless, it looked as if it might be a box of stationery. Or…

  “What is it, Gran?” he asked lazily. “The deed to the house?”

  “No, dear. You should know better than that.”

  Lissa relaxed visibly and started to pull tape loose from the red foil paper.

  “Some things just aren’t appropriate Christmas gifts,” Hannah went on. “And in any case, I’ve reconsidered.”

  Lissa paused. “You have?”

  Kurt leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “Why? You didn’t like the idea of a hot tub for eight right out by the neighbors’ side door?”

  Hannah laughed merrily. “Only if I get to come and use it—and enjoy seeing the shock on their faces. But Lissa’s right—if you don’t want the house, then I shouldn’t saddle you with it.”

  “So you’re staying here?” Kurt asked casually.

  “Oh, no, dear. I still want something much smaller, much simpler, with much less responsibility. This solution was Lissa’s idea, really. Well, not directly—but when we were choosing charities to donate things to it seemed such a pity that the only thing I could give to the group of unwed mothers she’s so attached to was a few skeins of yarn and some knitting needles. Since there haven’t been any babies in this family for twenty-five years, I don’t have high chairs or cribs to give away.”

  They must be the only things she doesn’t have stuck back in a closet somewhere, just in case she might need them someday.

  Lissa shifted, as if the hearthrug had suddenly grown hot under her. “Hannah—”

  Lissa had gone pale, Kurt noted. Because she isn’t going to get the house after all? But he’d swear she’d been sincere all the times she’d said she didn’t want it. Besides, Lissa was the most pragmatic female he’d ever run across, and she certainly knew how impractical it would be for a young woman with no job to take on a house the size of Hannah’s.