The Tycoon's Proposal

The envelope was still there, but it was empty. Someone had raided her room, searched her belongings, and walked away with her minuscule savings. All the money she had left in the world now was in her pocket—the tips she’d taken from the glass jar before she left the student union tonight.

She had to remind herself to breathe. Her chest felt as if she was caught between a pair of elevator doors which were squeezing the life out of her.

You’ve survived hard times before. You can do it again. There would be a check waiting for her when the union reopened after the holidays, pay for the hours she’d worked in the last two weeks.

But in the meantime, to find herself essentially without funds and with no immediate means of earning any….

Maybe, she thought wryly, she should have given Kurt Callahan a real phone number after all. At least then, if by some wild chance he had actually called her, she could have hit him up for a loan, for old times’ sake….

By the next afternoon the snowstorm was over, though the wind had picked up. In the residential neighborhood where his grandmother’s three-story Dutch Colonial house stood, some of the alleys and sidestreets hadn’t yet been plowed. The driveway had been cleared—the handyman had been busy since Kurt had left that morning—but in places small drifts were beginning to form once more, shaped by the wind.

He parked his Jaguar under the porte cochere at the side of the house and went in.

From the kitchen, the scents of warm cinnamon and vanilla swirled around him, mixed with the crisp cold of the outside air. Christmas cookies, he’d bet. He pushed open the swinging shutters which separated the kitchen from the hallway and peered in.

His grandmother’s all-purpose household helper was standing on a chair, digging in a top cabinet which looked as if it hadn’t been opened in years. As he watched, a stack of odd pans cascaded from the cabinet, raining past Janet’s upraised arms and clattering against the hard tile floor.

He offered a hand to help Janet down, and started gathering up pans almost before they’d stopped banging. “Why are you climbing on a chair, anyway? I thought I bought you a ladder for this kind of thing.”

“It’s in the basement. Too hard to drag it up here. That’s the pan I need, the springform one.” She took it out of his hand. “Everything else can go back.”

If only all of his store managers were as good as Janet at delegating responsibility, Kurt thought, the entire chain would run more smoothly. He gathered up the remaining dozen-odd pans and climbed up on the chair to put them back. “Is Gran home from her lunch date?”

“Not yet. She and Miss Marian always have a lot to talk about.”

Including, Kurt remembered ruefully, planning a tea date for him and Marian’s “little friend.” As if he couldn’t see through that for the matchmaking stunt it was. No wonder Gran had been helping to hold off the procession of women at the banquet last night…

“There’s fresh coffee,” Janet said.

Kurt got himself a cup and carried it and a couple of cookies into the big living room. The sun had come out, and it reflected off the brilliant whiteness outside and poured into the house. The arched panel of leaded glass at the top of the big front window shattered the light into rainbows in which a few dust motes danced like ballerinas.

The enormous fir tree in front of the house swayed in the wind, and a clump of wet snow fell to the sidewalk just as a small reddish car turned the corner and pulled into the driveway. Kurt stared. That was certainly his grandmother’s car, but why she would have taken it out in weather like this—

The side door opened and shut, and he met her in the doorway between hall and living room. “What the devil are you doing driving around in this snow?” he demanded.

“The streets are perfectly clear now, dear. We’re used to snow in Minneapolis, and the road crews are very good at their job.”

“It’s freezing out there, Gran. The wind chill must be—”

“A man who climbs mountains for fun is worried about wind chill?”

“Not for myself,” he growled. “For you. You could get stranded. You could have a fender-bender. Just last night you were telling me how much you appreciated having a good, reliable driver.”

“Very true. It’s quite a fine idea, in fact. Would you hang up my coat, dear? And ask Janet to brew a pot of tea.” She dropped her mink carelessly on the floor and walked into the living room.

Kurt bit his tongue and started for the kitchen. Just as he pushed open the swinging shutters to call to Janet the side door opened again, and he had to jerk back to prevent his toes from being caught under the edge. Cold wind swirled in, and a feminine voice called, “Mrs. Wilder?”

“I’m just across the hall,” his grandmother answered from the living room. “Come on in.”

A face appeared around the edge of the door. A heart-shaped face with very short auburn hair ruffled around the ears and cheeks reddened by the wind. The young woman from the cloakroom.

Kurt stared at her in disbelief. “Where did you come from?”

She didn’t answer directly. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I mean—right here. I didn’t bang the door into your nose, did I?”

Finally things clicked. What was wrong with him that it had taken so long to make the connection? “I should have known Marian’s ‘little friend’ would turn out to be you,” he grumbled. No wonder she’d looked at him that way last night. She’d been speculating, all right—wondering what his reaction would be when he finally figured out who she was. “Is that why you pulled all that nonsense with the phone number last night? So I’d be surprised when you turned up here?”

She flushed suddenly, violently red. “Look, I’m sorry about the phone number. It was a stupid trick, and if someone took it as a prank call—”

“I didn’t have to dial it to figure out the joke.”

“You didn’t? Then I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. All I did was drive your grandmother home from the student union.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Why?”

His grandmother crossed the hall to the stairs. “Kurt, you said yourself just now that I shouldn’t be driving in weather like this, so Lissa drove me home.” Her voice faded as she reached the top of the staircase.

Kurt stared at the young woman again. “You’re not the friend of Marian’s that Gran invited to tea?”

She shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you. Are you talking about Marian Meadows? I know who she is, but that’s all.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m trying to tell you, if you’ll just listen. Actually, I’m glad to find that you haven’t gone back to Seattle yet.”

“You’ve done your homework, I see. Not that it’s hard to find out where I live.”

Her gaze flickered, and he felt a flash of satisfaction at disconcerting her. But she didn’t explain, or defend herself. “Maybe you can convince your grandmother to see a doctor,” she went on. “I didn’t get anywhere when I tried.”

His attention snapped back to her like a slingshot. “Doctor?”

“She had a dizzy spell. She’d had lunch at the restaurant in the student union. Mrs. Meadows left, and Hannah—”

“You’re on a first-name basis?”

“Your grandmother stayed to finish her coffee. When she stood up, she almost passed out. I tried to get her to go to the emergency room, but she insisted she was fine to come home.”

“So you grabbed the opportunity to drive her out here.”

“She was going to drive herself,” the young woman protested.

“Why not just put her in a cab?”

“She didn’t want to leave her car there to be towed by the snowplow crews. Will you quit yelling at me and think about it? I’m betting that’s just like her.”

She was right, Kurt admitted. His grandmother was perfectly capable of refusing to see a doctor, and of insisting on not leaving her car unattended, of driving when she shouldn’t. And she was behaving oddly—she didn’t normally fling her coat onto the floor.

“Thank you for bringing her home,” he said quietly. “I’ll take it from here.”

But the woman didn’t budge. She looked almost uncomfortable.

Kurt wondered why she didn’t just go. Was she waiting for some sort of payment? Or did she have something else on her mind?

He frowned as he remembered the flash of familiarity he’d felt last night. He’d dismissed that as the look of a woman on the prowl. But had it been more than that? He tipped his head to one side and looked closely. Tall, slim and straight, red hair and big brown eyes, and a smile full of magic…What had his grandmother called her?

A few random words swirled in his brain and settled into a pattern. Magic smile. Lissa. You’ve done your homework….

“Calculus class,” he said softly. “You’re Lissa Morgan.”

It was no wonder, really, that he hadn’t recognized her last night. There was nothing about this slender, vivid woman with the huge brown eyes which even resembled the lanky, awkward girl who was stored in his memory—the one with frizzy carrot-colored hair straggling to the middle of her back. The freshman frump, some of his fellow students had called her—dressed in oversized shapeless sweaters and with her face always buried in a math book.

And yet there was one thing which hadn’t changed. He’d seen it last night when she’d smiled, and that was why she’d looked familiar, despite all the surface changes. Because the only other time that she’d ever smiled at him….

That was long ago, he told himself. Another lifetime, in fact.

Still, no wonder he’d been itchy around her last night. No wonder he’d picked at her, egged her on, found fault with everything she did. His subconscious mind must have recognized her, despite all the changes in her looks.

“So you’re still hanging around the university?” he said. “I figured by now you’d be head actuary for some big pension fund or insurance company or national bank. Or an engineer somewhere in the space program. Or—no, I have it. You must be working undercover at the student union, checking for fraud. Because I’m sure a woman with the brainpower you’ve got would never be satisfied with just running a cloakroom.”

Her jaw tightened, and he thought for a second she was going to take a swing at him.

“She’s not running a cloakroom,” his grandmother said from the stairway landing. “Not anymore. Kurt, Lissa is my new driver. Only I’m going to call her my personal assistant, because it sounds so much nicer. Don’t you agree?”

CHAPTER TWO

IF HANNAH WILDER had pulled the stair railing loose and hit her grandson over the head with it, Kurt couldn’t have looked more dazed. Under other circumstances, Lissa thought, she might have enjoyed watching him turn green. She wondered whether it was Hannah’s announcement or his past coming back to haunt him which had caused Kurt’s reaction.

Then she almost snorted at the idea. As if Lissa Morgan popping back into his life after all this time could have any such stunning effect on him. Frankly, she was surprised that even her name had jolted his memory loose. Any guy who would make a bet with his buddies on whether he could get the most unpopular girl in the class to believe that he was interested in her—and prove it in the most intimate of ways—just so they could all laugh at her for the rest of the semester because she’d been taken in by his charm, wouldn’t bother to remember the details six years later.

Unless she’d been an even funnier joke to him than she’d realized. Unless she’d been an even easier conquest than he’d hoped for.

Which, of course, she had been. Stupid—that was the only word for her back then.

He’d been a senior in college, taking advanced math for the second time to fill out his requirements, struggling to get his grade point far enough above the danger level so he could graduate in a couple of months. So when he’d asked her—only a freshman, but the most advanced student in the class nevertheless—to tutor him, there had been no reason for Lissa to think he might not be telling the truth about his motives….

Stop it, she thought. That was all over. Her days as the frump were long past. If anything, she should thank Kurt Callahan, because in a convoluted way he’d inspired her to lose the frizzy hair and the bulky sweaters and make herself into an entirely new woman….

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….