The Millionaire's Miracle (1 of 2 free samples)

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COPYRIGHT
The Millionaire's Miracle by Cathleen Galitz. Copyright 2007 by Cathleen Galitz.
All Rights Reserved. Sharing not permitted.

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THE MILLIONAIRE’S MIRACLE

Cathleen Galitz

This one is for Mom for showing us how to live with faith, dignity and unwavering love.


ONE

Gillian Baron formed a fist, lifted it in the air and let it fall to her side—twice—before finally forcing herself to rap on the door of the upscale apartment.

Even then she had to fight the urge to run away like a naughty child, who’d pulled a prank on the neighbors.

Considering that this portal to the past had never been closed to her before, knocking on it now shouldn’t feel so surreal.

Maybe he isn’t home....

Gillian leaned forward on the balls of her feet and assumed the ready position.

Ready for what? To bolt again? To run away from all that had once been good and true in her life? Back when life had been as close to perfect as humanly possible and she’d had the key to this man’s home—and his heart.

Before everything went so terribly, irreparably wrong.

Before he’d come to hate her.

Sighing in relief at her good fortune to avoid the awkward encounter she’d been dreading, Gillian turned to go.

“I tried,” she said, rehearsing what she would tell her sisters when they demanded why she’d failed to speak to him. “Really I tried.”

The belated sound of footsteps from inside the apartment caught Gillian midstride.

“I’m coming,” rumbled a deep voice.

How she hated being here, dredging up old memories and wallowing in a sea of what once was. Hated dragging Bryce back into the complicated mess that was her life. Hated feeling so terribly vulnerable and weak-kneed after coming to terms with her own solitude at long last.

She doubted he would believe that she was here only on behalf of her father. With typical arrogance, he would more than likely misconstrue her presence on his doorstep as a ploy to finagle a way back into his life. Her pride already sorely tested, Gillian prepared to have the door slammed in her face.

When it finally swung open, Bryce McFadden stood before her in just a pair of faded jeans. His heavy-lidded eyes snapped open in recognition. A flash of something tender streaked across those blue orbs before dark clouds shadowed them and the perfunctory greeting on his lips froze.

“Hell—”

“O?” Gillian finished, hoping that was the intended salutation rather than a deliberate invective. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Seeing him stand at the door half-dressed with his hair bed-tousled and wearing a look of confusion on his unshaven face, she hoped it was just his sleep she’d interrupted and nothing more intimate.

Not that it mattered to her one way or the other.

Still, her stomach rolled as all logic ceased. Dropping her gaze from the silver-blue eyes that were pinning her down, she trained her own on his bare chest, where a mass of curly blond hair dusted its smooth surface. It turned a darker shade just below the sternum before eventually disappearing under the band of his unbuttoned jeans. Heat infused her cheeks when she realized she’d been caught gawking.

Hooking a lazy thumb through a belt loop, Bryce leaned back against the door frame and proceeded to rake her from head to foot with an overtly masculine gaze, with which she was far too familiar. Gillian reminded herself that pure animal magnetism couldn’t overshadow the fact that this was the singularly most infuriating creature God ever put on this earth. And that she could never forgive him for letting her down when she’d needed him most.

“May I come in?” she asked, feeling more like the Avon lady than someone with whom he’d once had a life-altering relationship.

“Of course.”

As Bryce stepped aside to let her in, Gillian took in his home with a sweeping glance. A big-screen TV, roomy leather couch, matching recliner and exercise equipment saved the place from looking like an efficiency apartment, but the lack of decoration gave it a spartan feel nonetheless. Not a single painting or photograph graced the walls.

Idiot! Did you think he’d keep a photo of you enshrined in his bachelor pad just because you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy your own pictures of him?

“Nice place,” Gillian said, feigning a nonchalance that matched his own.

She noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a Christmas tree this year; a cheerful holiday bouquet on the coffee table was the only acknowledgment that the holiday was only a week away. The arrangement seemed out of place in such masculine digs, but she had to admire his attempt to add color to the austere black-and-white decor that dominated the room. This luxury apartment was nothing like the quaint little Victorian they’d once shared. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought to forget the images of well-tended flower beds, hand-stenciled accents, antique furniture, a cozy little room decorated with teddy bear wallpaper and—

Stop it!

She couldn’t afford to let maudlin memories sidetrack her from the task at hand. Just breathing in and out was proving difficult enough without attempting to battle ghosts at the same time.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.

Grateful for anything to keep her hands occupied, Gillian gave him a tight smile.

“That’d be nice.”

Bryce helped her shrug off the heavy coat, which was more of a necessity in Cheyenne winters than any kind of fashion statement. The small act of courtesy seemed both familiar and unworldly. In spite of the snow falling outside the window, Gillian felt her temperature rise. Standing in this strange living room inhaling Bryce’s familiar musky scent, she could easily recall why she’d loved this man once upon a time. When he left the room to get her coffee, she glanced at the bouquet again, admiring it, and noticed a card sticking out of the blooms. Although Bryce would be back in a minute, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek.

Yes, yes! A thousand times yes!

Love,

Vi

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