A Daddy By Christmas. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ all practical purposes, he’d be her father. He’d spend the rest of his life walking in his younger brother’s shoes.

      If he was lucky.

      “Shall I set up a meeting between you and the estate lawyer?” Mrs. Summers placed a double cappuccino with perfect foam on the desk in front of Anders and took a seat in one of the leather wingback guest chairs facing him. As usual, she held the tablet she used to keep track of his calendar in one hand and a pair of reading glasses in the other.

      “Already done. I saw him this morning.” Anders stared into his coffee. It was going to take a lot more than caffeine to get him through the next few weeks.

      “Oh.” His secretary blinked. “Everything all right, then?”

      Anders took a deep breath and considered how much, exactly, he should share with his secretary. On one hand, she was his employee. On the other, she might be the closest thing he had to a friend now that his brother—who also happened to be his business partner—was gone. Such was the life of a workaholic.

      “Not really,” he said quietly.

      The phone on Mrs. Summers’s desk began to ring, but when she popped out of her chair to go answer it, Anders motioned for her to stay put.

      “Leave it. Just let it roll to voice mail.” He took a sip of his cappuccino. She’d gone easy on the foam this time, and it slid down his throat, hot and bitter. Just like his mood.

      Mrs. Summers frowned. “You’re beginning to worry me, Mr. Kent. Is something wrong?”

       Nothing that a wife wouldn’t fix.

      He closed his eyes and saw the puzzled face of the woman from the animal shelter—her wide brown eyes and lush pink lips, arranged in a perfect O of surprise.

       Marry me.

      God, he’d actually said that, hadn’t he? The past week had been rough, no doubt about it. It was astounding how much a single phone call could change things, could eviscerate your life so cleanly as if it were a blade of some sort. A knife to the gut.

      But until this morning, Anders had been hanging on. He’d had to, for Lolly’s sake and for the sake of the business. Grief was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Not now, not yet. Besides, if he let himself bend beneath the crushing weight of loss, he wouldn’t be able to get back up—not after the things he’d said to Grant the night before the accident.

      Anders and his brother rarely argued, and when they did, it was typically about the business. As two of the name partners in one of the most influential investment banking firms on Wall Street, they always had one another’s back, but that didn’t mean blind support. They challenged each other. They made each other better.

      Their last argument had been different, though. Anders had gone too far—he’d made it personal. There’d been raised voices and slammed doors, and then nothing but an uncomfortable silence after Grant stormed out of the building. It had been their most heated exchange to date, but that was okay. They were brothers, for crying out loud. Grant would get over it.

      But he couldn’t get over it, because now he was gone. And Anders couldn’t even bring himself to set foot in his dead brother’s empty office.

      It was easier to stay on this side of that closed door. Safer.

      Anders had managed to push their final confrontation into the darkest corner of his consciousness that he could find, and at first, it had been remarkably easy. He’d had a funeral to plan and Grant’s in-laws to deal with and a new, tiny person sleeping in his penthouse.

      He was beginning to crack now. That much was obvious. Tiny fissures were forming in the carefully constructed wall he’d managed to build around the memory of his last conversation with Grant. Any minute now, it would all come flooding back. The effort to keep it at bay was crippling, as evidenced by his spontaneous marriage proposal to a woman dressed in a reindeer costume.

      “There are some issues with Lolly’s guardianship.” Anders swallowed. The knot that had formed in his throat during the funeral service was still sitting like a stone.

      Mrs. Summers shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’re her godfather.”

      “Yes, I am.” He’d dutifully attended the church service at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and poured water over Lolly’s fragile newborn head. It had been a done deal.

      Or so he’d thought.

      He took another scalding gulp of his cappuccino. Then he set the china cup back down on the desk with enough force that liquid sloshed over the rim. “As it turns out, the legalities of the matter are a bit more complicated.”

      “How so?”

      “When Grant and Olivia drafted their wills, they made my guardianship of Lolly conditional. The only way I can be awarded full custody is if I’m married.”

      The tablet slid out of Mrs. Summers’s hand and fell to the floor with a clunk. She didn’t bother picking it up. “Married?”

      “Married.” He nodded. Maybe if they both kept repeating the word, the reality of his situation would sink in.

      “But...” The older woman’s voice drifted off, which was probably for the best. Anders could only imagine the trajectory of her thoughts.

       But you haven’t been on more than three dates with the same woman in years.

       But you’re a workaholic.

      And to quote his brother...

       But you’re dead inside.

      “Exactly,” Anders said, because it didn’t really matter which objection caused her hesitation. They all fit.

      “So that’s it, then? What happens to Lolly?”

      “Lolly’s staying put.” They’d take her away over his dead body. He’d made a promise to his brother that rainy day in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and he intended to keep it. He owed Grant that much. It was the least he could do. “I just have to find a wife.”

      The shocked expression on Mrs. Summers’s face gave way to one of perplexed amusement. “Find a wife? It’s as simple as that, is it?”

      “Yes.” He gave her a curt nod.

      Simple was a necessity.

      Frankly, the more Anders thought about it, the more he liked the idea of an arranged marriage. A temporary wife was exactly what he needed. He’d handle it like a basic merger. After all, those were his specialty. No messy emotions, no expectations—just a simple business transaction between two consenting adults.

      Two consenting adults who wouldn’t sleep together or have any other sort of romantic entanglement.

       Maybe I really am dead inside.

      Fine. So be it.

      Maybe Grant had hit the nail on the head when he’d made that astute accusation right СКАЧАТЬ