A Champagne Christmas: The Christmas Love-Child / The Christmas Night Miracle / The Italian Billionaire's Christmas Miracle. Catherine Spencer
one brief touch of his lips, he’d branded her. In the dark winter night lit up by Christmas lights and shop windows, she looked down at her right hand, expecting to see the burn of his lips emblazoned on her skin for all the world to see.
But her skin was bare.
She knew she’d never see him again. Probably a good thing.
Definitely a good thing.
And yet…
When Alan yelled at her for not magically foreseeing his wishes in advance…when a check bounced in her bank account…when she was forced to watch the man she loved get married to another woman…when she felt helpless, hopeless, invisible…
She could treasure this one magical afternoon when she’d spent the day with a handsome prince who’d been kind to her. Who’d treated her like a princess.
As she walked home, the sleet softened to snow in the dark stillness of winter, leaving scattered, twisted flurries of flakes.
She’d loved Alan Barrington in hopeless silence for two years. But he’d never affected her like Maksim Rostov had. He’d never made her tremble and shake and feel hot all over. Maksim had changed her in a way she couldn’t understand.
But whatever he’d made her feel didn’t matter now. With a sigh that created a puff of white smoke in the frozen air, Grace climbed slowly up the front steps of the three-story town house she shared with her boss.
The fairy tale was over.
ALAN was waiting for her at the door with twinkling blue eyes. He was so boyishly handsome, he could almost be called pretty. Beaming with excitement, he dragged her into his reception room.
“You got home just in time, Gracie! I have a present for you!”
He placed a plane ticket into her hands. She stared down at it, and the sparkling white lights of his elegantly decorated Christmas tree seemed to whirl around her in the front room of his Knightsbridge town house.
“Merry Christmas,” he purred.
Sucking in her breath, she looked up at him. And to think she’d wondered in her darker moments if he intentionally used her own feelings against her, taking advantage of her crush to avoid having to properly pay her. But with this gift, there could be no doubt that he truly cared for her…otherwise, why would he have done this?
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I wanted so much to go home for Christmas. But I didn’t have enough to—”
“I know, Gracie,” he said with a big smile.
“Thank you, Alan,” she said, feeling as if she was going to cry. “This means so much to me.”
“On Christmas Eve, as soon as the deal is finished, you’ll fly off to enjoy the sun and surf.” He sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll survive while you’re gone.”
She took a deep breath. “Alan, I have a really big favor to ask you—”
“Oh, no.” He groaned. “Not the raise again. Does it always have to be about money? I’m the CEO of Cali-West and you’re my righthand woman.” He gave her a wink. “Isn’t that glory enough for you?”
His righthand woman, but not the woman in his arms. Grace managed a weak smile. “You said we could talk about maybe a raise or bonus at the end of the year, and I’m really desperate, Alan, because—”
“Sorry, kiddo.” He held up his hand. “That’ll have to wait a bit longer. I’m late for my date with Francesca.”
“But Alan—”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I really promise this time.” He took her hand, and she felt nothing like the painful zing she’d experienced with Maksim. Alan’s hand was just warm and soft. “In the meantime, there’s something I need you to do for me. A teensy, small favor.” He flashed her a big white grin. “Help me get married.”
“Wh-what?”
“Francesca’s having trouble setting the wedding date. So I thought—why bother with a wedding at all? Why not just elope? That’s where you come in.” He gave her a bright smile. “Christmas Eve I want to elope. Scotland. Honeymoon in Barbados. I need you to make the arrangements.”
Alan didn’t realize what he was asking of her. How could he? To him, Halloween night had been just a kiss. To her, it had been the culmination of two years of fantasies. Which was probably why the kiss hadn’t felt nearly as intense as she’d imagined it would. Not even as intense as the way Prince Maksim’s lips had felt against her palm an hour before.
Trying to push the memory of the dark Russian prince from her mind, she took a deep breath. “Are you sure eloping is a good idea? The bride might prefer to choose when—”
“It’s perfect,” he said, frowning.
“All right,” she sighed. She suddenly realized she was still clutching the Leighton bag in her hands. “Here’s your gift.”
“Thanks.” Taking his coat from the hall closet, he slung the bag over his shoulder. He stopped at the door with a wink. “I’ll need this tonight to close the deal. I’ll be getting her something better for Christmas. In the meantime, start working on the elopement plans, will you?”
After Grace locked the door behind him, she turned back with a lump in her throat.
She’d thought buying gifts for his fiancée was bad. Planning their quickie wedding would be a thousand times worse.
It hurt more than she’d expected.
Because she’d spent the afternoon with Prince Maksim, she realized. Because for the first time in years she’d felt the full attention of a man’s eyes on her, the consideration of his touch and regard, and it had brought something to life inside her. Something that wanted to be seen. Something that wanted to be touched. It had felt so good. She’d felt…
Alive.
Now she just felt numb.
Grace went downstairs to her basement apartment. Closing the door quietly behind her, she changed out of her damp clothes. She put on an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants. She heated some leftover takeaway Thai food in her microwave. She sat down heavily on the couch. She turned on the old television. She placed a fork, the food and a diet soda on the coffee table. She got out her laptop to start making elopement arrangements for Christmas Eve, just two weeks away.
But instead of opening her laptop or watching TV, she wrapped herself in the quilt her mother had made her as a child. She sat on the couch and stared blankly at the wall.
He was really going to marry Lady Francesca Danvers. The vicious, skinny, gorgeous heiress who always got away with her bad behavior because she was so beautiful that men put up with it. Men would put up with anything to be with a girl like that.
While Grace was such a pushover she couldn’t even make Alan listen to her beg him for an advance. Not even though her family’s security depended on it.
Tears fell softly onto the frayed fabric of the quilt. Why hadn’t she found out until that morning that her father’s life insurance money was gone? Why hadn’t she known her mother had been keeping their financial difficulties secret? And why couldn’t she stop loving a man who so plainly saw her as nothing but a secretary?
She jumped when she heard a loud knock at her front door.
Fiercely wiping her eyes, she wrapped her mother’s quilt over her shoulders and rose from the couch. Alan had likely forgotten his key again and wanted to go up through her apartment. Her nervous heart beat faster. This time she would make him listen. I need an advance, she practiced in her mind. Please, Alan, I need $10,000 right away or my family