by Leanne Banks
He looked like a man accustomed to hearing yes from women. Breathless, she shifted the coffeepot to her left hand and extended her right hand to the man. She would be crazy not to accept his offer. “Yes, Mr.—” She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t even know your name.”
He stood and enclosed her hand in his. “Gabriel Raines.”
Faith’s heart stopped. “Omigoodness!” she whispered. “You’re our Santa Claus!”
Chapter 2
“No pot belly,” Gabriel said firmly. “Although that might happen if I have too much of your food. No white beard. And no red suit.”
Faith continued to gape at him in disbelief. The coffeepot tipped precariously in her hand, a stream of the brown liquid spilling onto the floor. He instinctively steadied her hand. “Whoa.”
Faith glanced down at the puddle on the floor. “Omigoodness look at the mess I made. I just can’t believe it’s you.” Her hand trembled within his and he moved the pot to the table. Pulling a towel from her pocket, she lifted her gaze to his. “Am I having an out-of-body experience or did you really just offer me a job at The Quartermaster?”
Her flustered reaction affected his chest in a strange way. “Yes, I did. And you accepted.”
She shook her head. “This is amazing. First the gifts you’re giving the kids and now this job. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did,” he said, uncomfortable with her gratitude.
“I don’t think you realize how much this will mean to us.”
Gabe grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment. “You know that the press is covering this.”
She nodded. “There’s supposed to be a presentation tomorrow. I’ve asked for time off from work and the house is mostly presentable.”
“My public relations department deserves more of your gratitude than I do. They launched this particular project.”
“But you okayed it,” she pointed out, kneeling to wipe up her spill.
“Yes,” he reluctantly admitted.
Rising, she met his gaze directly. “And whose idea was it to offer me a job at The Quartermaster?”
Gabe felt his collar growing tight again. “Mine, but—”
“But nothing, Mr. Raines,” she said in that soft, husky voice that slid over him like a warm caress. “Thank you.”
He didn’t know if he was more uneasy with her gratitude or the surprising way her voice affected him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two women walk into the café and don aprons. He nodded toward the employees. “Looks like your relief is here.”
She seemed to tear her gaze from his. “Good. I’ll, uh, get your check. Did you want anything else?”
Feeling the walls close in around him, he shook his head and pulled a hundred dollar bill from his pocket. “I don’t need the check. Take this,” he said, sliding the bill into her pocket. “Keep the change. I’ll see you tomorrow for the press conference.”
Gabe strode past curious gazes out into the pouring rain and got into his truck. A flood of memories rolled through him. A vision of his late wife, Charlotte, and young daughter, Michelle laughing bubbled to the surface of his mind. Michelle had been a blond mirror image of his beautiful, accomplished wife and Charlotte had kept little Michelle busy with every lesson imaginable: horseback riding, ballet and tap and piano.
Sometimes he’d wished Charlotte and Michelle hadn’t been such overachievers, but he’d figured they got it honestly. He’d been accused of being an overachiever since before he’d turned eighteen. With her education and cultured upbringing, his wife had been a perfect mate for him. She’d filled the social gaps while he’d built the business his grandfather had started. Charlotte had produced a beautiful baby and she and Gabe had discussed having another, but the time had never seemed right.
The time had never come for a lot of things, he thought, remembering the awful day Charlotte and Michelle had been killed in an automobile accident on the way to Michelle’s dance recital. He should have been there. He should have been driving them. Maybe then…
The maybes tormented him. He stared out his window. It had been a rainy day, just like today. He watched Faith Donner and her two kids dodge raindrops as they left the café and climbed into an old Ford sedan.
He wrinkled his nose in disapproval. Several acronyms came to mind. Found On the Road Dead. Fix Or Repair Daily. He realized the company had come a long way, but he was still a General Motors man. He heard her make several attempts to get the engine running. Finally it started. She backed out of her parking space. He couldn’t see the tires, but he bet they were worn.
Gabe frowned. A woman in her circumstance should have reliable transportation. It wasn’t safe for her or her children for her to be rattling around in something undependable.
The following afternoon Gabe drove down the driveway leading to the ranch house where Faith and her children lived. He saw vehicles belonging to the press parked next to the house. He checked his rearview mirror to make sure that the other vehicle was still following.
Pulling to a stop, Gabe got out of his truck and held up his hand toward the driver of the vehicle behind him, who cut his lights and waved his hand in acknowledgement. With a sigh, Gabe walked toward the wraparound porch. A wreath hanging on the door exuded cheer despite the continuing dreary rain. Sometimes he felt as if he’d been walking in the rain since Charlotte and Michelle died. Today wasn’t much different.
Gabe knocked on the hardwood door.
“Somebody’s at the door,” Jason yelled at the top of his lungs.
The sound of scrambling footsteps and a hard smack against the door made Gabe wince. That was definitely a kamikaze kid. The door swung open and Jason greeted him, nearly bursting with excitement with his striped clip-on tie askew and a tear in the knee of his pants. He furrowed his little eyebrows in confusion. “You don’t look like Santa Claus.”
“Thank goodness,” Gabe muttered.
Becky and Faith rushed to Jason’s side. “Mom told you not to run,” Becky said, pushing her glasses back on her nose.
“Oh, Jason, your pants are torn,” Faith said.
Jason gave a heavy sigh. “Sorry, but he don’t look like Santa.”
“Doesn’t,” Faith corrected.
“That’s what I said. He doesn’t look like Santa.”
Faith met Gabe’s gaze and gave an exasperated smile. “I told you that he’s not supposed to look like Santa. He is just acting like Santa. Remember he read Becky’s letter in the paper and decided he wanted to give you some gifts for Christmas. Mr. Raines, please meet Becky and Jason.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Raines,” Becky said with perfect politeness as she fingered the folds of her blue dress. “You’re very kind to give us gifts and a job for my mom.”
Gabe extended his hand and gently shook her smaller one. “It’s my pleasure. You look very nice.”
“Thank you,” Becky said, blushing prettily. “I wanted my hair like Mom’s. She says I got all the natural beauty with my curls, but I think she looks pretty, don’t you?”
Faith’s eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks colored with embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “Jason, say hello to Mr. Raines.”
“Hi,” Jason said solemly shaking Gabe’s hand. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Gabe said, comfortable with the simplicity of Jason’s response to him.
“We have cookies and cider in the kitchen,” Faith said and lowered her voice. “Please forgive Becky for fishing for compliments. She means well.”
“She was right. You do look pretty,” Gabe said. With her hair pulled back from her face, she couldn’t hide the nervous excitement in her brown eyes. She wore a modest burgundy print shirtwaist dress that concealed more than it revealed. For a moment, Gabe wondered how she would look in something that skimmed her lithe frame.
“Thank you,” Faith said. “Now if I can just survive the press.”
A young man entered the foyer and ext
ended his hand to Gabe. “Mr. Raines, I’m Derrick Brown, an intern, and I’m here to help carry in the loot.”
Gabe handed the man the keys to his truck. “It’s wrapped and ready.”
“Mr. Raines,” a woman said as she rounded the corner. “I’m Carol O’Neil with the Houston ABC affiliate. Do you mind if we put a microphone on you?”
He stifled a sigh. “Go right ahead.” He was led into the living room where the Christmas tree was decorated with lights, ornaments, popcorn and cranberry garland and stockings hung from the mantel on top of the large fireplace.
Gabe and Faith were positioned on chairs and given clip-on microphones while the wrapped gifts were hauled into the room. Gabe noticed that Faith’s hands shook as she clipped her mike to the collar of her dress. He struggled with an odd urge to reassure her that the fuss with the press would be over soon.
“Ms. Donner, I’ll start the interview with you and ask a few questions. I may ask your daughter a question or two about her letter to Santa then I’ll interview Mr. Raines.” She turned to the camera crew. “Everyone ready?”
For Faith, the interview seemed interminable. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Although she was excited about taking a job with Gabriel Raines’s new restaurant, she’d been troubled by thoughts about the upcoming interview and accepting gifts from Mr. Raines. Sure, she’d had it tough the past few years, but she’d always had a roof over her head and good food to eat. Her children wore clean clothing and had toys. She and her little family had a lot more than many people this Christmas. Knowing that, she felt guilty accepting Mr. Raines’s charity.
Just as she sensed the end of the session, Mr. Raines pulled an envelope out of his suit pocket. “We at Raines, Incorporated are impressed with Ms. Donner’s devotion to her children and her late aunt. That kind of commitment to family is the backbone of all our communities. We’d like to give a token of recognition with this check and one more gift for her.”
Taken off guard, Faith stared numbly at Gabriel Raines. The agreement she’d made with his PR department had been that gifts for her children would be appreciated, but there would be no gifts for her. Feeling all eyes focused on her, she started to shake her head.
“I know Ms. Donner has been reluctant to accept gifts for herself, but I hope she’ll make an exception.”
Faith opened her mouth to protest, but the implacable steel in Gabriel Raines’s gaze told her it would be useless. He placed the envelope in her hand and she was afraid to look inside, but the reporter insisted.
Faith hadn’t thought she could be more surprised, but the zeroes on the check bowled her over. “I—I—I—” She gulped. “This is far too generous. You’ve done entirely too much.”
“And there’s more,” Carol O’Neil said. “Are you going to give her the keys?”
The combination of the check and the word keys sent Faith over the edge. “Keys!” Faith echoed, jumping to her feet, heedless of the falling microphone.
Gabriel stood also, irritating her with his ability to loom over her. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “You need a new car.”
“I do not!” she said hotly. “Need is a word associated with food, clothing and shelter. Not a new vehicle. This is beginning to feel like The Price Is Right.”
His lips twitched, but his gaze remained serious. “Your car is old and I bet the tires are nearly bald.”
“It gets us where we need to go.”
“It’s a safety issue. I would think you would want to make sure you don’t break down on the road with your kids in the car.”
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. “Are you implying I don’t watch over the safety of my children?” she asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice.
“I’m saying I’d like to make this part of the safety issue easier.”
“And what’s not to love about that?” the reporter asked with desperate enthusiasm.
Jason scampered into the room, bumping a camera man. “Mom! There’s a big white car outside! Is that one ours?”
Becky poked her head in the room. “It’s an SUV!”
Faith met Gabriel Raines’s gaze and was torn between hugging him and ringing his neck. “I’d like a moment alone with you please.”
He dipped his head and followed her onto the front porch.
“We had an agreement,” she told him.
“I know, but these two gifts will still technically benefit the children. They will be riding in this vehicle. And it’s not as if you’re going to go buy a diamond necklace with the check. I’m sure you’ll end up spending plenty of that on the kids.”
“Yes, but—”
He swore under his breath. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you how to say thank you?”
Faith stared at him then felt a strangled sound of exasperation bubble from her throat. “Okay, on one hand, you think I’m this wonderful devoted mother and member of the community worthy of a fat check and a new car. On the other hand, I’m a rotten mother because I’m driving an older vehicle. And don’t forget I have terrible manners because you just want me to say thank you so you can get on your way. I’m curious, Mr. Raines. If someone wanted to give you a car and a big check, how would you feel?”
“That’s different.”
“Because you’re loaded?” she asked and shook her head. “There are plenty of people worse off than me. I feel guilty accepting this.”
He met her gaze and surprised her by taking her hand. “Trust me. This is a drop in the bucket when you compare it to what you’ll be paying for college tuition. Think of this as winning a mini-lottery. Somebody else will win it next time.” He turned at the sound of the door opening. “The camera crew is coming. Take a deep breath, stop snarling at me and try to smile.”
The next moments passed in a blur. All Faith remembered saying was, “You did too much.” When the news crew left, she slumped into a chair.
Jason tugged on her arm. “Can we open a present? Just one?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Faith said, still overwhelmed from the events of the day.
“There’s a big one to Becky and me.”
“You might need some help putting that one together,” Gabriel Raines said from the doorway. “My assistant briefed me on the larger items.”
Faith sat up. She hadn’t realized he was still there. “It needs to be put together?”
“I wouldn’t mind doing it.”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“Okay I’ll trade labor for cookies.”
“Can we Mom? Can we?” Jason asked, bouncing up and down.
Becky ran her hand over the package. “I wonder what could be in such a big box.”
They found out in a matter of seconds. “A computer!” Becky said. “Mom, we got a computer!”
“We can play games on it,” Jason said.
“And use the Internet,” Becky said, whipping around to look at Faith. “Maybe we could find a husband for you on the Internet.”
Faith felt her blood drain to her feet. Her precious, precocious daughter was going to drive her nuts. She shot a hard glance at Gabriel Raines. “Look at what you’ve started.”
Gabriel roared with laughter.
The sound surprised her. She’d heard him chuckle, but not this full-bodied, vibrant laughter. It made him seem less like a CEO and more like a man. An attractive, virile man, she thought as he removed his jacket from his broad shoulders and pushed up his shirtsleeves. Faith wondered what his story was. Why wasn’t he rushing home to be with his wife or some other special someone? Or with that body, he could have several special someones. No wedding ring on his finger, she noticed. She wondered how many women he had on a string.
“Hello, Faith,” he said, waving his hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?” he asked, as if he’d been talking to her and she hadn’t responded.
Faith felt her cheeks heat. She’d been lost in speculation. Inappropriate speculation, she chastised herself. �
�I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little dazed. What did you want?”
He studied her for a few seconds too long and she almost feared he could read her mind. Talk about embarrassing.
“Cookies,” he finally said. “The kids would like some cookies while I hook up the computer.”
Cookies turned into homemade vegetable beef soup and sandwiches, and one opened gift turned into three. The computer, the monitor and a computer game. Becky and Jason were thrilled.
Faith started to build a fire, but Gabriel stopped her. “I’ll do it,” he said.
“You’ll mess up your suit.”
“That’s what dry cleaning is for.”
Faith sank into a chair and fidgeted while she watched him build the fire. She wasn’t accustomed to having anyone do anything for her. She tried to remember the last time anyone except her had built a fire in the house. Her aunt had been too ill, and her uncle had died several years ago.
She felt a pang of longing for a simpler time.
Gabriel looked at her and searched her gaze. “You sighed. What were you thinking?”
“I miss my aunt,” she confessed in a low voice because she didn’t want the children to hear. “Even though she was very ill this time last year, she was someone stable and sure in my life. Another grown-up. My uncle has been gone a long time, and my sisters and I lost our parents when we were very young.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I shouldn’t be complaining. This will definitely be a Christmas to remember. All the gifts you’ve given us, plus my sisters are coming home for a visit.”
“How many sisters?”
“Two. Ann Elise is my type-A older sister, a veterinarian in Dallas. Marilou is the baby.” She frowned. “I worry about her. She hasn’t sounded right on the phone lately. But we’ll take care of everything at Christmas. What about you? Any family?”
“My father is retired from the family business. He and my mother travel a lot. I have a younger brother in Chicago.” He paused, staring into the flames. “My wife and daughter died a few years ago.”
Faith’s heart clenched in immediate sympathy. “That’s terrible.”