Page 32 of Millionaire Under the Mistletoe

Again that smothering sense of guilt closed in on him. She shouldn’t have borne it all alone.

He’d tried to help—to ease the family’s precarious financial position and give Miranda and her brother some sort of education. And now he was determined to help her get her catering business off the ground. But nothing could bring her father back.

He reached out and closed his hand over hers. “Let me help you.”

She jerked away, clearly recoiling from the idea…from him.

He gave her a moment, then said, “You blame me for killing your father, so why is it so hard to let me sponsor you?”

“And make it easy for you? Throw money at the problem and your conscience is clean?” Her eyes sparkled with what he hoped was anger and not tears. “I don’t think so.”

He couldn’t bear tears.

“My conscience will never be clear,” he confessed.

She blinked frantically, then her shoulders slumped. “I wish Dad were here. Lately I’ve been wishing for that a lot.”

Her raw admission caused an ache to splinter deep in his chest. He again tightened his hand around hers. She started, but didn’t withdraw this time.

“I’m sorry, Miranda—more than you’ll ever know.”

Her eyes were full of anguished shadows. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

He glanced at the list. “Call those names. You’re going to be a success. And don’t think what I’m doing for you is unique. I often give someone a break. And that’s what we do with our company scholarships, too. Adrian’s got a real chance to get one of those. He’s hardworking and smart. No reason why he shouldn’t.”

Her eyelids lowered, veiling her gaze. “I appreciate your nominating Adrian. Now that he’s finished school, he’s going to have to think hard about his future.”

“He’s a big boy now. He has to make his own choices.”

Her lashes fluttered up and she gave him a rapid, indecipherable glance, then sighed. “You’re probably right. But I’ve been so used to looking out for him. Which brings me to something else I have to discuss with you tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“Flo.”

“Your mother?”

She nodded. “She’s been running up accounts all over the city. And the stores are letting her do it because they think you’re guaranteeing her expenditure. You need to write to them so it can stop.”

His fingers played with hers. “I can afford it.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then I’d lose my self-respect. Please, Callum, let them know. I don’t want to be further in your debt. It’s going to be hard enough paying you back as it is.”

“You don’t have to pay me back.”

“Of course I do.” Cent by backbreaking cent.

A frown darkened his expression. “That’s not what I ever intended.”

“I know.”

“So why don’t you forget about it?”

She’d thought she could. But how could they ever move into any kind of relationship—even an uneasy friendship—if she owed him money? She’d forever feel indebted to him, some kind of charity case. She needed to be able to face him as an equal. The news that he’d broken up with Petra had caused her heart to leap. For a brief moment she’d entertained a wild hope of more than friendship…then she’d doused it.

She freed her hand from his. “I can’t.”

Originally it had been her hatred of Callum that had had her refusing his help. She’d wanted him to feel responsible—guilty even. But then she’d discovered he’d already spent so much she hadn’t known about—on her, on her family—because he really had felt guilty about her father. And clearly still did. It didn’t sit well with her that for almost three years she’d cursed him, hated him, wished that lightning would strike him.

Besides, if she accepted his money, Callum might view her in the same way that he must see her mother—pretty, but fundamentally a parasite.

“There’s an easy way around all this,” he said.

---