Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire

He was still trying to come to terms with the events of the last hour. If anyone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d be sitting in Innsbruck, drinking tea with a hot chick around midnight, he would have laughed in their face.

Drinking tea was not what Mitchell Brody was known for. But the truth was it was actually about all he could face right now.

For the last few weeks leading up to his diagnosis he’d known something had been very wrong. He’d never felt so tired, both physically and mentally. He’d been beginning to question if he was feeling stressed about the tour. Which was why he’d ended up here, his favourite haunt in the world—and the one place the press hadn’t figured out he owned yet.

His house in Mauritius was regularly buzzed by helicopters. The townhouse he owned in London practically had the press camped outside the front door, and as for the house in LA. Well, it was a stop on one of the ‘houses of the stars’ coach tours. Privacy was virtually impossible.

Which was why he loved Innsbruck so much. He’d bought the house ten years ago under his brother’s name. Tucked up in the snowy Alps, with direct access to some of the best ski slopes in the world. Who could want to stay anywhere else?

He loved the area. He loved the people. Most of all he loved the staff at the nearby children’s hospital. His family had stayed here for just over a year when he’d been six. His father had worked for one of the big pharmaceutical companies that had had business in Austria and the whole family had had to up sticks for a year.

It had been great for two young boys. They’d learned to ski within a few weeks and had never been off the slopes until his brother Shaun’s diagnosis. Then they’d spent the rest of the time in and out of St Jude’s Children’s Hospital.

From the balcony at the front of the chalet he could even see the roof of St Jude’s. It was part of the reason he’d jumped at the chance to build here. Although his house was chalet-style, the expansive size almost made a mockery of that description.

He loved it here. He really did. This was his hideaway. There were people here that knew him as Mitch, the boy whose brother had had leukaemia, and had known him for the last twenty or more years. Shaun’s recovery had been a long process, and even after they’d moved from Austria his family had continued to holiday here twice a year.

Here, he wasn’t Mitchell Brody, rock star. He wasn’t the guy with four homes around the world and a dozen fast cars. He wasn’t the guy who’d fallen out of one nightclub too many, or had needed to be bailed out of jail the next morning. He was just Mitch, who had to queue in the local bakery for his favourite pastry, like everyone else. And he liked it that way.

He liked somewhere to be normal. He liked to be around people who had no expectation of him—where he was just another guy. Somewhere along the line all that had been lost.

With girls too. He’d been the spotty teenager who’d just wanted his first kiss. The young guy who everyone had laughed at for locking himself in his room all the time to practise his guitar.

But practice made perfect. He was testament to that. His last album had achieved platinum status in a matter of hours, with women queuing round the block of the hotel he’d been staying in, hoping for a glimpse of him.

It was amazing what a few years of going to the gym, some filling out and a careless approach to haircuts could do.

But that didn’t help with the girl sitting across the table from him right now, looking at him with those amazing blue eyes. He’d been so desperate to be discharged from hospital he couldn’t have cared less what his nurse looked like. As long as she could get him through the next three weeks, that had been fine by him.

But he hadn’t banked on this. He hadn’t banked on her.

He squinted at her. ‘What did you say your name was?’

She gave her head a little shake and laughed. ‘Samantha. Samantha Lewis. I’m your nurse.’

He leaned back in his chair appreciatively. ‘Oh, yes, you are.’

Her eyebrows arched and she wagged her finger at him. ‘Don’t start with me, sunshine. Don’t you be giving me that kind of look. I’m here to do a job. That’s all. I’m only staying up with you and making you tea so we can check your blood sugar before you go to bed.’

He leaned forward, planting his chin on his hand. ‘Let’s talk about this job. What exactly will you be doing for me?’

He watched her cheeks flush at the way he’d emphasised the word and the way she squirmed in her chair. He liked it. Samantha Lewis was different from the last lot of women he’d been involved with.

Right now, it felt like this diabetes diagnosis was a weight around his neck. Samantha Lewis might lighten the load a little.

‘I’ll be doing exactly what I should be doing. I’ll be helping you monitor your blood-glucose levels, teaching you how to adjust your insulin and how to recognise the early signs of a hypoglycaemic attack. It’s important you have good blood-glucose control. It’ll help you stay independent and reduce the risk of any complications.’

He groaned. She might not look like Dragon Lady, but she was certainly beginning to sound like her.

‘Let’s talk about something else.’ He leaned across the table towards her. ‘Is there a Mr Lewis I should know about?’

Her body gave the slightest backward jerk, as if she was deciding how to answer the question. Then she took another sip of her tea and rolled her eyes at him. Her muscles relaxed a little, as if she was shaking off a little of her tension. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but there’s no Mr Lewis at present. I’m still interviewing possible contenders.’

Oh. He liked that. But she wasn’t finished.

‘So, Mitchell Brody—and is that your real name?—should I expect to find the latest female movie star or model hiding in the one of the cupboards in here?’

He grinned. A sparring partner. Samantha Lewis might even be fun. ‘Yes, Mitchell Brody is my real name. And, no, there’s no females hiding in cupboards, but I reserve the right for that to change.’

Something flitted across her eyes and the soft smile vanished in an instant. ‘Are you expecting someone to join you soon?’

What was that? The tiniest spark of jealousy? He pushed the thought from his head in an instant. Ridiculous. She was his nurse. Nothing else. No matter how cute she looked.

‘No.’ He shook his head and held his hands out. ‘To be honest, this place is my sanctuary. I’ve never brought a female …’ he lifted his fingers in the air and made invisible quote marks ‘… friend back here. Dave’s the only person you’ll find sloping about. Oh, and the local maid service that comes in every day for a tidy up. That reminds me.’ He stood up and walked over to the other side of the table where his phone lay.

‘What are you doing?’

He scrolled through his messages. ‘I got a text earlier and with everything that’s happened I forgot to reply.’ He looked around the room. ‘What do you think? Red and gold? Blues and silver, or purples and pinks? No.’ He gave a shudder at that last one.

‘Red and gold for what?’ She wrinkled her nose up again, it really did define the cute factor in her.

‘The colour of the tree and Christmas decorations. The tree will come tomorrow, I just need to tell them what colours I want.’ He looked around the sitting room. It really was looking kind of sparse. The tree and other decorations would give it a little warmth to match the fireplace that he’d forgotten to turn on.

‘You get someone to bring you a tree and decorate it?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, every year. I just need to tell them what colours I want. What do you think?’

She shifted in her chair. ‘Why are you asking me? It’s your house, not mine.’

She was being a little frosty with him. He’d liked the version from a few minutes earlier. A sparring partner with some twinkle in her eye.

‘Well, you’re going to be here over Christmas too. I’d hate to pick something that made you shudder every time you walked in the door. I usually do this at the beginning of December, but with being ill and all I just kind of forgot about it.’ He walked over to a big empty space next to the far wall. ‘This is where the tree normally goes. They usually put some décor around the fireplace too.’

Her eyes narrowed as she looked around. ‘It depends what you want. Red and gold would give some warmth to the place, but blue and silver would probably fit more with your white walls and pale floors.’

He sat down in the chair next to her and gave her a nudge in the ribs. ‘Yeah, but which one would you like?’

He was teasing her again. Trying to goad that spark back into her eyes.

She gave a little sigh and took the last gulp of her tea. ‘I think I’d probably like the red and gold best.’ She hesitated. ‘But you’re missing out. Putting up the Christmas decorations is one of the best parts of Christmas. Getting someone else to do it for you?’ She shook her head and glanced at her watch. ‘Right, it’s time to check your blood sugar again. If it’s okay, you can do your night-time injection and go to bed. We’ll have a chat about things in the morning.’

Something had just flickered past her eyes. A feeling of regret perhaps? It didn’t matter how much he was paying Sam Lewis, she was still missing Christmas with her family to do this job. Maybe he should give that a little more thought?

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re giving me permission to go to bed?’ He let out a little laugh. ‘Well, that’ll be a first.’

Her cheeks flushed again. She was easily embarrassed. It might even be fun having her around for a few weeks. She might make having diabetes seem not so much like a drag.

He sat down and took a minute to retest himself, turning the monitor around to show her the result of eight. She nodded. ‘It’ll probably go up a little more as you digest your food. That’s fine.’ She stood up and walked over to the door where her suitcase was. ‘Where will I be sleeping?’