The Spirit of Christmas

What an ass.

“Excuse me,” Mary Paige said, scooting her chair back. “If this is only about making money, I’ll have to decline.”

Brennan cocked his head. “Decline?”

Mr. Henry waved a hand. “Rest assured, dear girl. This is not about the bottom line, but the greater good. It’s about what you showed an old bum who had a need. It’s about the milk of human kindness.”

“But the bottom line is important,” his grandson persisted.

Mary Paige directed her attention to the ass. “I’m not interested in tricking people so you can make a buck. It’s deceitful to pretend the holiday is about showing love to your fellow man when you have a different motivation behind it. I can’t imagine something so…”

His eyes clouded.

“Well, let’s just say, I’ll not be part of it.” She turned her attention to Mr. Henry as she rose. Something about Brennan made her uncomfortable. Not just his concern for the almighty buck, but his distaste for his grandfather’s plan. She could feel cynicism sheet off him in waves.

And maybe part of her discomfort was she was attracted to the man…a man who was about as far away from her usual type as she could get. Scary. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Henry, but I’m not interested in being the Spirit of Christmas for Henry Department Stores.”

Brennan stood politely, ever the Southern gentleman, a mixture of triumph and relief on his face. “So you’ll be returning the check, then?”

CHAPTER THREE

BRENNAN WATCHED THE blonde with interest. What would she say at the thought of handing that two-million-dollar check back to his grandfather? Sure, she could buy a man a cup of coffee, but anyone could have done that…even an ax murderer. Here was the litmus test of her character.

Mary Paige shot him a look that curled something in his gut, and he felt the way he had when he’d disappointed someone he cared about. Except he didn’t care about this woman. So why did she make him feel like scum? His job was to take care of his grandfather and this company, and that included safeguarding the bottom line. Lord, she made it sound like it was wrong to pursue profit.

“Of course I’ll give the money back,” she said, picking up her purse. “I certainly wouldn’t keep it if I couldn’t uphold my end of the deal.”

“No, please wait, Miss Gentry,” his grandfather said, standing and waving a gentling hand in her direction. “I think you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with my grandson. Brennan doesn’t mean to come across so harshly. He’s looking out—”

“For this company.” Brennan gave his grandfather a nod that said he could fight his own battles. “I’m sorry if that offends you, but we’re a business and thus responsible to our shareholders and employees to, you know, make a profit—nasty word, though it is.”

She hesitated and he wondered if this was what she’d been after in the first place. Was she faking do-gooder or was she sincere? He couldn’t tell. He’d never been great at reading women. His grandfather alone had raised him and there hadn’t been a steady female influence in his life, so he didn’t always trust the fairer sex. The women he was accustomed to were soothed by pretty words and shiny baubles…and would never give back two million dollars without a fight.

“Please, sit. Let’s try this again.” It was his one acquiescence to his grandfather. He didn’t like the idea of this whole Spirit of Christmas thing, but after hearing Ellen’s take, the idea had rolled around in his head, carving a comfortable nook in his thoughts of the image the company should present and, yes, the profit generated from the way they positioned themselves.

Ellen smiled. “You’re obviously a good soul, Mary Paige, so I know corporate considerations can be, well, conflicting in their intent.”

Mary Paige nodded. “I’m an accountant, Ellen. I understand the concept.”

An accountant? His mind flashed to her tangle of arms and legs in the lobby…and that interesting piece of Lycra. Something about her wasn’t businesslike and he couldn’t see her chained behind a desk tapping on an enormous calculator.

“Oh, really?” Ellen said, eyeing Mary Paige. “Very interesting.”

Mary Paige shifted her gaze from Ellen to the dog. “Listen, I see what you’re trying to do, Mr. Henry, and it’s admirable. It’s actually a really sweet idea, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable in the limelight.”

His grandfather smiled. “Don’t worry, dear. Brennan will be right beside you every step of the way. We’re not throwing you out front to tap-dance. We want the face of MBH beside you, showing all of the country we here in New Orleans believe in good works and good cheer.”

The hell Brennan would be right beside her. He wasn’t sure what the old man had up his sleeve, but if he thought Brennan would gallop all over this city with a silly grin on his face escorting the clumsy accountant as she put on a dog and pony show spreading Christmas cheer, he was certifiable.

In fact, maybe Brennan needed to pursue that possibility. Testing the old man to certify he was missing a few spokes on his wheel.

“Him?” Mary Paige pointed to Brennan.

“Once upon a time Brennan loved Christmas and his goal in life wasn’t to frighten small children.”

Ellen snorted.

“I’m not interested in promo stunts,” Brennan said. “You like that sort of thing, Grandfather, so you do it.”

“If you want to be the next CEO,” his grandfather said, “the public needs to see you as the face of the company. Not me. Besides, I have a full calendar.”

“And I don’t? I’m trying to run this company, and I don’t think the board of directors would appreciate the future CEO gallivanting around trimming trees and singing carols. I need to maintain a stable public image. This is ridiculous.”

And it was. He was not babysitting his grandfather’s project. If the old man wanted a Spirit of Christmas campaign, fine, but it had nothing to do with Brennan. Besides, it was illogical to spring it on him five weeks before Christmas. It felt a day late, a dollar short and very, very nutty.

“I don’t see how standing next to Scrooge here and faking merry is going to help you spread Christmas cheer.” The light from the window caught Mary Paige’s hair, creating a golden curtain around her pleasant face. He really liked the wholesome thing she had going on. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup or any heavy perfumes. When she’d passed him earlier, she’d smelled light and clean, like fresh laundry and sunshine. Like some crap on a commercial…but, he’d liked it.

And she’d just called him Scrooge.

“It will do more than you know, Mary Paige. Ol’ Scrooge here—” his grandfather gestured toward Brennan “—needs to be a poster boy for Henry’s in this city. I’ve seen him put on a smile when it behooves, and it need behoove him now if he wishes to move on to the large chair in the biggest office. The success of this company is not in the bottom line, but in the values we embrace and show to the world. I’ll let it be known here and now that we have genuine concern for our fellow man. If that is the focus, it trickles down into every square inch of every store across the country.”

Brennan had to mull that one over. Maybe his grandfather had a point. Sometimes it was hard for Brennan to see the forest for the bottom line. His goal was profit, but that alone would not sustain the company.

“I want you to understand, Miss Gentry, that this Spirit of Christmas campaign is not about making more money, but rather bringing something back I’ve been missing for so many years in my own life. It has been too long since I’ve felt the wonder of kindness and the generosity of my fellow man. I know change starts with me. I am looking at the man in the mirror each morning and expecting something more.”

Brennan glanced at Mary Paige and he could see the cogwheels rotating through the windows of those chocolate-brown eyes.

“How can I help?” she asked. “By showing up at events wearing my best smile? How is that going to make anyone feel any more charitable toward a fellow human being?”

“I have a hunch about you, my dear.” The confidence in Malcolm’s expression seemed to say he knew something no one else in the room did. “A very strong hunch about what you can accomplish in even the hardest of hearts.” He then looked at Brennan with a sort of gleam in his eye.

Oh, hell, no. If his grandfather had some sort of notion about Mary Paige performing a bypass on the hardened parts of his ticker, he was sadly mistaken. Brennan wasn’t damaged or bitter. He was merely a realist. And he absolutely did not need another woman in his life—not when he couldn’t seem to shed Creighton at the moment. She’d become like a latex coating on his fingers…preventing him from feeling anything. He really wished he’d left her alone. Wished she’d get the message he’d tried to send her many times over the past few weeks.

So even if he felt a weird interest in the accountant, he wasn’t letting his grandfather cook up some crazy matchmaking scheme with a stranger he’d picked up at a gas station.

But this blonde wasn’t dumb. She narrowed her eyes at the old man then shifted her gaze to him.

“This is about Christmas, right? I mean, you’re not trying to give me a babysitting job with McScrooge here, are you? I’m no miracle worker, Mr. Henry.”

“Babysitting?” Brennan echoed, trying not to frown and scare poor misguided Little Bo Peep. “I’m not the one who fell on my ass in the lobby then crawled across a boardroom to fawn over some cur.”

Izzy lifted her head and gave him a doggy glare as if she knew he’d slighted her.

Brennan tapped the arm of his chair. “Someone might need babysitting, but it’s not the guy wearing the striped tie and sitting in this chair.”

Mary Paige blinked at him, making him feel a little childish for being so defensive. What was wrong with him? He never got emotional during business meetings. Of course, this was one of the strangest meetings, but nevertheless, he had to get hold of the situation. No way would he try to convince her to do this. If she refused, it would likely be game over for his grandfather’s little idea. One less headache for Brennan.

“Before we send out a press release or make any further plans, why not do a test run?” his grandfather said, settling back into his chair and folding his hands across his still-flat stomach.