Misfortune: Christmas With Scrooge Read online

  Happily, she sailed into Cara's office and gave a good morning greeting before grasping the door handle of Dexter's office.

  The secretary had been engrossed in typing out a dictation, and only caught the tail end of Laura's greeting. Alarmed, she pulled off her headphones and called out, “Wait, Laura, you can't go in there!”

  Too late, the door was open and she glided across the threshold, smug smile firmly in place. She had just crossed the threshold when her feet came to an abrupt halt. Dexter sat comfortably at his desk, minus his suit blazer, and tie loosened at the collar. He was looking up at a very beautiful, very bleach blonde seductively perched against the edge of his desk, two long shapely legs straddling the arms of his chair. Even from her distance she could smell the woman's heady perfume and its lethal effect.

  Laura felt the blood drain from her face, felt a cold chill engulf her, and thought perhaps she was going to be sick right on the threshold of Dexter's office.

  “What the blazes do you want now?” Dexter's angry voice drew her attention. “Cara, isn't it a practice in this office to buzz for callers?”

  Laura watched as he continued to sit there, obviously enjoying his position far too much to bother getting up.

  “Excuse me.” She at last found her voice, surprised at the controlled tone it held. “It's obviously a bad time. I'll come back another day.”

  Dexter watched as she turned leisurely on her heel and left his office. It piqued him she had not been effected by what she walked in on. He wasn't sure why, but he definitely felt she should have appeared at least angry or upset, not this apologetic, uncaring woman.

  True, she really didn't have anything to feel jealous over; she simply walked in at a bad moment. Bridget was always showing her affection in this lurid manner, and if he had any heart he would actually enjoy her unwanted attention. At the least, his male urges should have shown a spark of interest; after all she was a very beautiful, very desirable woman who was more than just willing. But, as always, she left him feeling cold and disgruntled.

  He found himself in the process of brushing her legs away, as he would have done moments before Laura made her unexpected appearance, and got to his feet. Damn the woman, when she walked in he felt a spurt of haughtiness that at last this was what it would take to get her out of his life, and for good. However, the only thing that came out of her mouth, was a promise of returning. Now he had to go, stop her, and reinforce what she walked into, really was what it wasn't. Lord, he confused himself!

  Ignoring Bridget's cry of abandonment he rushed out of his office in pursuit of Laura. He found her just as she was in the act of boarding the elevator. With a determined gesture he reached out and intervened the doors closing with his arm. She turned around startled, and that was when he felt a blow directly to the pit of his stomach.

  The color had returned with a vengeance to her pale skin, her beautiful green eyes sparkled like emeralds from the pool of tears flooding them. That uncharacteristic, far from needed emotion of wanting to comfort, had him regretting his decision to come after her.

  Gathering up his dispassionate attitude, he said impassively, “I thought I told you not to come back here.”

  She swiped angrily at a tear. “No, that's not what you said.”

  His brows dipped toward his nose. “Pardon?”

  The elevator door bucked against his hand. “Would you kindly release the door so I may continue downstairs?”

  He gestured past himself with a sweep of his hand, indicating for her to exit the elevator before him.

  “I'm not coming back out.” Stubbornly, she remained where she was.

  He scowled at her before boarding the elevator and allowing the door to glide shut behind him. “Happy?”

  It was sarcastically snapped but Laura felt far from it. She couldn't remember feeling this miserable since—no, she absolutely refused to give Dexter the receiving end of an emotion equal to the death of her father. He most definitely did not deserve it.

  With a purposeful sigh, she reminded herself what Dexter O'Reilly was good at. “You said not to come back to your office unless I had some real business to deal with.”

  His look turned interested. “All right, what have you got?”

  “Money.” It was blandly stated, the way she felt. The smugness, the gloating she had been looking so forward to, found no place in her heart.

  He looked at her, waiting for her to continue and when she didn't he persisted, “Exactly how much? I can't imagine you raising much money from—”

  Sticking her hand into her handbag she withdrew a wad of cash and checks, secured tightly in an elastic band. “This isn't all of it. I kept some back to pay prior bills, but I'd like to invest most of this.”

  He let out a small whistle as he retrieved the bundle and began to flip through it with his thumb. “Now you're beginning to make some sense.”

  She watched as he reached out and pressed the button to the tenth floor, a feeling of gloom shadowed her heart. The only time he wanted anything to do with her came with a price.

  “They were charity donations. Tax right offs. Is that what you meant when you said I wasn't thinking big enough?”

  “Basically. The type of clientele you should be looking for, wouldn't be showing up in a bingo hall.”

  “But they did.” She pointed out, the beginning of pride slipping in.

  He glanced down at her and their eyes locked before he turned away muttering, “You were lucky this time.”

  “Why didn't you just tell me this in the first place?”

  “I've told you from the beginning, I think your shelter is a business disaster and you should close down.”

  “So you hoped I would fail.”

  “I can't do all your thinking for you, if you plan from going bankrupt you're going to have to start using your head.”

  “What if I just hire someone to do my business planning for me? Like you.”

  He snorted. “You couldn't afford me.”

  “You're that valuable?”

  “Yes, but you couldn't afford anyone. Lady, look at the business you're running. You're not exactly running an enterprise here.” The elevator came to a stop and Dexter stepped to the side to allow Laura to proceed him. He noticed the leather binder still tucked under her arm. “What else have you got in there?”

  Reminded, she slipped her hand back in and retrieved a small bound binder. “I thought maybe you might need my accounts book.”

  He let out a loud snort before snatching the book from her hand and flipping the pages disgustingly. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he proclaimed, “These are a mess. It’s no wonder you haven’t been able to get organized.”

  At this, Laura felt her anger grow. “I do the best I can. I have more pressing matters to deal with than the day-to-day balancing of my accounts.”

  “Now that.” He pointed an accusing finger toward her. “Is the kind of irresponsible remark that levels you incompetent to run a business.”

  “So you think my business ethics need to be polished up, that doesn't mean I won't make it.”

  “It damn well guarantees it! This isn't a board game, you don't get to pass GO and collect $200. You need a financial plan. You need something firm and concrete.”

  They had stopped walking, coming to a halt at the end of the long carpeted corridor. “But that's where the difference comes between my organization and all the others you deal with. Nothing is firm and concrete in running a homeless shelter. It is built on the shaky grounds of the vulnerable spirits of these girls. How can I be thinking of the bottom dollar of my bank book every month, when Darcy's baby is crying non-stop because she has a wet diaper and we can't afford to buy any more. Or Kelly can't go home because her bastard of a father beats her. Then there's Ingrid whom I seem to forever discharging out of either the hospital or police station. We don't have the money for bail but I'll be damned if I'll leave her there. What these girls need is love and support, is it my fault it comes with a price tag?”


  He reached up and ran his hands through the thick dark locks of his hair. “This is exactly what I mean. Everyone comes first. Hell, Laura, that's not how to run a business. If you don't think of yourself first, there won't be a business.”

  She stared at him, an ugly heaviness weighing her heart. “I was wrong about you. I thought you simply had a cold heart, now I realize you just don't have one.”

  She turned away, disgusted. “Let's get this over with.”

  She thought she heard him sigh before following her down the corridor.

  When they entered his office, Bridget stood up from the chair behind his desk, bringing them both to a halt. The woman had been completely forgotten the moment Laura said the word money. Dexter grimaced as he approached the blonde model.

  “You'll have to leave Bridget, I've got business to deal with.”

  For the first time, Laura approved of the crude tone of voice. There was an instant dislike for the woman who flaunted herself across Dexter's desk, and from the look she was now giving Laura, the feeling was mutual.

  “Pooh, Dexter!” She pouted, producing full red lips. “I've been looking so forward to spending some time with you. Can't you cancel?”

  “Goodbye Bridget.” Then, only because Laura was watching intently, he added, “I'll call you.”

  He immediately regretted it though as the woman's face lit up tenfold. “Really? When?”

  Sounding more aggravated than he pleased, he growled, “When I've got the time.”

  This seemed to appease the woman who smiled happily and came over and planted a long wet kiss on his mouth. Laura looked away, not sure why the sight was so unsettling.

  At last the kiss ended and Bridget stalked off proudly, angling Laura a look from the corner of her eye as she left. Laura watched her leave, then turned her attention back to his desk. Across from it, Dexter had put on his business armor once more before dropping down into the oversized office chair behind him. She couldn't help but smirk; a bright red smudge smeared his otherwise perfect upper lip.

  He noticed the glee in her eye. “What?”

  Instead of answering, she reached over and retrieved a tissue from a box on his desk. Her intention was too simply hand it to him, but found herself instead leaning across the polished wooden surface. Perplexed, he watched her movements skeptically.

  Then, unexpectedly, she reached up and wiped the smear of lipstick from his startled lip. His reaction was surprising, full of deride and disgust. With a jerk, his head snapped back as if she had literally shocked him with an electric current, his features scarred in revulsion.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Offended, she dropped her hand. “Your girlfriend left a smear of lipstick.”

  “She's not—” he snapped, then caught himself, “—going to get away with that.”

  Laura frowned, then sat back in her seat. “For a girlfriend, you sure don’t treat her nicely.”

  “And I suppose you are an expert in the field of dating?” When she only made a face, he continued, “Too bad you couldn't make a business out of it.”

  “I happen to be very good at what I do. The girls trust me, that's very important.” A thought occurred to her. “Is that why you won't invest in my shelter. You think I can't do the job?”

  “Only where it comes to the financial aspects.” Vividly relieved they were back on a subject he felt a hundred percent more comfortable, he reached up and wiped annoyingly at the smudge of lipstick. More so to rub away the feel of Laura’s touch.

  “I think I managed quite well at Bingo Night, even if you won't admit it.”

  “I have my doubts you could pull it off again,” he mumbled more to himself, as he began concentrating on the small book containing the inapt expenditures of her daily accounts.

  “Isn't coming here today a good financial move?” Why was the need to have his approval so important?

  He stopped reading long enough to look over at her. “I'll give you that. It's about the only sane move you've made.”

  She sighed, giving up. What was the use? He simply would not give her credit where credit was due. Instead she sat back in her seat and observed him as he swiveled his oversized chair around and faced a computer perched behind him. His dark brooding face was immersed in the complicated program flickering onto the monitor, leaving Laura an inconspicuous chance to study his profile.

  His scowl deepened as he stared in confusion at the screen.

  “What’s wrong? Is it that bad?”

  He grunted, “Yes, but that isn’t the problem. We had a new computer program installed on the mainframes throughout the building and I’m still trying to get a grasp on it.”

  He reached for the phone and pressed the intercom button. “Cara, I think I locked up my screen again. Can you have Daniel come up?”

  Meanwhile, without thinking, Laura immediately got up and came around his desk to help. It was a natural reaction. Whenever someone needed something, she instinctively wanted to do anything in her power to help. Which was why she probably chose psychology as a major back in university.

  He looked startled at her unexpected presence, so close when she kneeled next to his chair and narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar looking program on the screen. Her brain went into automatic processing mode, trying to identify and execute. Regardless of the fact she knew zero about computers.

  “Hmm, what if you select the proem icon?” She pointed to one of the many small squares on the screen with the word LAUNCH on it.

  “Do you know anything about computer programs?”

  Abashed, she admitted, “No, not really—”

  “Then I suggest you don’t touch anything. These programs are highly complex and expensive.”

  Chastised, she backed away the same moment the door to his office opened. Laura glanced over her shoulder and was surprised to see Daniel Keller enter. A smile immediately crossed her lips. “Hello, Daniel, what a surprise!”

  He glanced at her taken aback, confusion slightly creasing the corners of his eyes.

  “Laura Witherow,” she offered. “From the bingo charity event last night.”

  His stance immediately relaxed and he returned her smile. “Of course. I trust you had a successful night?”

  “Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I was just having Dexter—” She glanced at him and noticed a look of alarm in his eyes, before quickly suppressing it from Laura’s gaze.

  Snapping, he said, “Let’s get on with this. I have a mountain of workload backed up.”

  She frowned. What was that all about?

  “I’m certain this won’t take long,” Daniel assured him and approached the computer. As he bent over the monitor, he shot over his shoulder to Laura, “By the way, I’m not sure who donated the blueberry pie, but I took a piece home last night and it was divine.”

  Laura beamed, pleased. “Really? That was my contribution.”

  He stood up, pushing his glasses into place, momentarily abandoning his task. “Is that right? Well you did a fantastic job. I so rarely get a blueberry pie made with real berries so it was a real nice treat.”

  Chuckling, she agreed. “Those canned fruit pies can’t, in all sincerity, call themselves pies. Not to mention, nine out of ten of those pies also use frozen pie crusts. It’s disgraceful.”

  His eyes lit up. “You made the crust from scratch as well? It really had a real nice taste to it. Some kind of kick to it—”

  “You noticed!” she exclaimed excited. “That’s because I decided to add a pinch of mint extract—”

  “Ok, look here, we are here to fix a computer glitch, not exchange recipes,” Dexter’s irate voice interrupted them.

  Daniel made an apologetic face then quickly turned back to the computer. “No harm, Dex, you’re just on the preface screen. Just hit the LAUNCH icon and that will bring you back to the main page.”

  Startled, Laura beamed inwardly but couldn’t help shooting a smug brow at Dexter who only scowled in return. “I’ll reme
mber for next time. Thanks Daniel.”

  “Sure thing.”

  When Daniel didn’t make for the door as pronto as Dexter would have preferred, he glanced up at the computer engineer and said, “That’s all. You can go now.”

  Daniel shot his brows high, grinned, then sauntered for the door. “Nice meeting you, Laura!”

  “You too, Daniel.”

  When he left, she turned her amiable face back to the scowling man opposite her and sighed. Right, she reminded herself, time to switch gears. Daniel was so pleasant and refreshing, she almost forgot she had to be on her guard around Dexter’s brooding self.

  Repressing her smile, she returned to her chair and presented him with her best somber persona. He shot her one more annoyed look, before returning to the computer program. Her eyes involuntarily shifted back to his face and sighed silently. A fresh grimace appeared on his face while staring at the screen, and Laura feared this time had more to do with her finances than the new computer program.

  The habitual firm tautness of his jaw had her suddenly pandering how he would appear if he allowed himself to smile. If she were an artist she would take his likeness to the canvas and capture the image that disturbingly came to mind. A fiery little warmth unexpectedly shot down the arch of her back and had Laura instantly sweeping the image aside. Something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on, aroused a sensation she was too ignorant to name. True, she plainly discerned his animosity, however, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what those long sinewy fingers pounding away at the keyboard would feel stroking her skin. She blushed heatedly at the unexpected vision,

  “I'm creating a budget report based on the figures in your account book.” He glanced at her, paused, and then asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Your cheeks are all red.”

  Of course this observation only made her cheeks grow even more flushed. “I’m fine. It’s just warm in here.”

  “The air conditioning is on.”

  Irritated, she sighed and gestured toward the screen, wanting to change the subject. “You created a budget report, you were saying?”

  He studied her curiously for a brief second, then shifted his gaze toward the door Daniel had earlier exited. His eyes appeared to darken momentarily before he squared his shoulders, then turned his attention back to the screen and shifted all at once into his business persona.