Millionaire Under The Mistletoe: The Playboy's Mistress / Christmas in the Billionaire's Bed / The Boss's Mistletoe Manoeuvres. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
number of matters but one thing was clear to her—she was glad they’d been lovers. She would always treasure the memory and no matter what the outcome that much at least wouldn’t change.
‘Oh, you’re hopeless, Darcy!’
Hopelessly in love. Darcy felt as though a large fist had landed a direct hit on her solar plexus. Suddenly the missing pieces of the emotional jigsaw fell into place. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she gasped for air like a land-locked fish. If anyone had noticed her condition they would no doubt not have considered it attractive—but nobody did.
‘I have made some enquiries…’
Clare squealed and gave her older brother her immediate approving attention. ‘Why, you clever old thing, you. And…?’
‘He’s a widower.’
‘Excellent!’ Clare exclaimed gleefully; unlike Darcy, she didn’t detect any undercurrent in Nick’s words.
‘Clare!’ Darcy exclaimed, unable to hide her shocked disapproval.
‘There’s no more edifying sight,’ Nick drawled to nobody in particular, ‘than a woman in full pursuit.’
‘I thought hunting was your favourite pastime, Nick…? But, silly me, you’re a man, so that makes it all right, doesn’t it?’ Darcy heard herself perversely defending her sister.
Nick grinned. ‘Sexist down to my cotton socks,’ he conceded good-naturedly. ‘I can’t help myself any more than you can help yourself being scrupulously fair, Darce—even when it’s not in your best interests,’ he added in an amused but not unsympathetic undertone.
‘Thank you, Darce. There’s no need for either of you to look like that,’ Clare insisted with a moody little pout. ‘It’s just such an excellent opportunity for me. It’s not as if I’m going to marry him or anything.’ A naughty grin flickered across her face. ‘Unless, of course, the opportunity arises,’ she added with a husky laugh. She shrugged when neither of her siblings showed any appreciation of her joke. ‘Can you imagine how much free publicity I’d get being seen with Reece Erskine? It could really be the break I’ve been waiting for. It’s perfectly legitimate,’ she announced, a shade of defiance entering her voice.
Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if her sister actually believed that. ‘Dad would go spare if he could hear you.’
‘Well, he can’t, can he?’ Clare pointed out unrepentantly. ‘And what he doesn’t know won’t harm him—unless you tell him…’
‘I can see it would put the spotlight on a brilliant new designer who is just starting out if she was seen in all the right places with someone the media love to write about,’ Nick agreed.
‘Don’t encourage her!’ Darcy pleaded.
‘At last, someone who understands!’ Clare sighed in a long-suffering ‘nobody understands me’ sort of way.
‘But doesn’t it rather spoil your plan if the guy in question bends over backwards to avoid the spotlight?’ Nick wondered.
‘These things have a way of leaking out—you of all people should know that, Nick.’
Darcy, who knew how ambitious her sister was for her business, was shocked by this display of casual ruthlessness.
‘You mean you’d leak things to the Press…? Plant a story…?’
‘Don’t you worry your head about the details, Darce.’
The patronising comment brought an angry flush to Darcy’s cheeks. ‘I think you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself, Clare,’ she bit back coldly. ‘You haven’t even met the man yet.’ If she had her way that situation was not about to change. ‘And there’s no question at all of his staying here. Once Beth and the children arrive, not to mention Gran, we’ll all be doubling up, if not trebling up!’
‘I’ve thought about that,’ Clare replied smoothly. ‘You could share with the children in the attic room, and I suppose under the circumstances I could share with Gran.’
‘That’s mighty big of you.’
‘There’s no need to be like that, Darcy. I think it’s the least you could do—’
‘Whatever gave you the impression that I want to help you? I think what you’re planning to do is callous and calculating…’
Clare looked blankly astonished by her placid sister’s fresh outburst. ‘But you said to Nick…’ She was starting to think Darcy might be sickening for something—it wasn’t like her to be so belligerent.
‘I pointed out that Nick is a sexist pig.’ She paused to glare at her unmoved brother. ‘Which he is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t basically agree with him. What you’re planning to do is cold-blooded and unethical.’
Clare’s lips tightened. ‘I think you’re being very selfish. Mum and Dad invested a lot of money in my business, and I owe it to them to make it a success. I’m not trying to trap the man, but if meeting him happens to oil a few wheels, where is the problem?’ Slow tears began to form in her lovely eyes; she sniffed and one slid artistically down her smooth cheek.
Even though she knew her sister could cry on cue, Darcy knew that it wouldn’t be long before she’d be saying soothing things to drive that tragic expression from her lovely face. The pattern of behaviour had been laid down early on in childhood and was nigh on impossible to break at this stage in their lives. Somehow Darcy always ended up stiffly apologising and in her turn Clare would accept it and emerge looking gracious and generous.
‘Maybe I don’t have your lofty principles, Darcy,’ she added huskily, ‘but I do have fun…and so will he.’
The thought of Clare having fun with Reece made Darcy lose all desire to pour oil on troubled waters.
‘What is it, Dad?’ It was Nick who had noticed Jack’s return.
‘It was your mother.’ Jack smiled a little dazedly at their expectant faces. ‘She’s coming home.’
Darcy closed her eyes. ‘Thank God,’ she breathed. Only just blinking back the emotional floods, she opened her eyes and saw Clare hugging their father while Nick, an imbecilic grin on his face, was pounding him on the back.
‘Did she say why she…?’ Darcy began huskily.
Jack shook his head. ‘No, she said she wanted to talk. That’s good, isn’t it…?’
‘Very good,’ Darcy said firmly, hoping with all her heart that she was telling the truth.
Jack nodded. ‘She’ll be here tomorrow morning.’
Darcy had reached the point when she couldn’t hold back the tears of relief any longer. ‘I’ll go get the tree in,’ she announced huskily.
She was struggling with the evergreen when Nick joined her.
‘Good news…?’ He stood, his back against the garage door, watching her efforts and making no reference to her puffy eyes.
‘The best,’ she agreed.
‘Personally I’m keeping all extremities crossed just in case.’
‘A wise precautionary measure,’ Darcy agreed with a tired smile.
‘About Clare…’
‘I don’t want to talk about Clare.’
‘You know she doesn’t mean half of what she says.’
‘The half she does mean is enough sometimes,’ Darcy responded drily.
‘Things aren’t going as well as she’d hoped with the firm. I don’t know the details, but I do know it’s not good.’
Darcy’s eyes widened in sympathy. ‘I didn’t know.’