Season of Joy. Virginia Carmichael

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СКАЧАТЬ rich person’s guilty conscience.

      But there was no way he was going to try to find out what. He had enough trouble keeping the mission afloat without adding a woman to the mix. Even a beautiful woman who reminded him that he might need something more than this place. Plus, with the secret he was carrying around, no woman in her right mind would want to get anywhere close.

      * * *

      Calista stood up, gripping the director’s hand, his movie-star good looks bearing down on her full force. The man should have a warning sign: Caution: Brain Meltdown Ahead. She could just see him in a promotional brochure, that slightly stern expression tempered by the concern in his eyes. He reminded her of someone, somehow.

      But her heart was reacting to more than his wide shoulders or deep baritone. The man had sincere convictions, he had substance and faith. There was nothing more attractive, especially in her job, where image was everything. She wanted to have a purpose in her life beyond making money and losing friends. She wanted to wake up in the morning with more to look forward to than fighting with her board of directors and coming home to a cat who hated her guts.

      She met his steady gaze and felt, to her horror, tears welling in her eyes. She tried to smile and thank him for the chance to work at the mission, but the words could barely squeeze past the large lump in her throat. Heat rose in her cheeks as she saw his look of confusion, then concern. He probably thought she was completely unstable, crying over a volunteer gig.

      She dropped his hand and immediately wished she could take it back. His hand was warm and comforting, but electrifying at the same time. A short list of things she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

      “Let’s go get those papers from Lana, all right?” His voice had lost its brusque tone somewhat, as if he was afraid of causing her any more distress.

      Calista cleared her throat and said, “Lead the way.” She blinked furiously and turned toward the desk, hoping he couldn’t see her expression. If only he hadn’t sounded so sympathetic. If only he was pleasantly distant, the way a CEO is with employees. But he wasn’t like that; he wasn’t like her.

      Grant introduced them quickly. Lana was ready with a stack of papers and handed them to Calista. She could see why the mission had a purple-haired secretary. The woman was efficient and friendly.

      “Tell me when you need me and I can adjust my schedule pretty easily.” Calista bent over to fill out the papers. One of the perks of being CEO was she could take time off when she wanted some personal time. Not that she ever had before.

      Grant’s eyebrows went up a bit. “We’re short-staffed right now and we could really use some help in the mornings. Maybe Wednesdays?”

      “Sure, I can be here at seven.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered if that was too early. Maybe the staff didn’t get here until nine. But Grant only nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting the smallest amount. She wondered for just a moment what he looked like when he laughed...

      Calista’s cheeks felt hot as she dropped her gaze to the papers. Grant turned away to speak to a slim young man who was waiting behind them and Lana took the papers, glancing over them. Her eyes stopped at the employment section. “You’re head of VitaWow Beverages? I could use someone with a knowledge of grant writing.”

      “I’ve written a few grant applications but they weren’t for nonprofits. And it’s been a while.”

      “It was worth a shot,” Lana said, shrugging and stacking the papers together.

      “But I’m sure I could work on whatever you need,” Calista said quickly.

      Lana looked up, and Calista saw genuine warmth in the woman’s eyes. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “We have a grant-writing team that meets on Thursday evenings. There are only two of them right now because it’s the holiday season and everybody’s busy. It would be great to get some of these applications turned in before the January deadlines. Is that a good day for you? They might change the meeting time if you can’t come then.”

      “That’s fine. Thursday’s fine,” Calista said. Any evening was fine. Five years ago she’d been busy with the dinner-

      and-drinks merry-go-round. Once she was promoted to CEO, she cut out almost all the dinners. Of course, after she’d done so, Calista realized her schedule was completely empty. She was friendless and alone.

      “Grant is on the team, too. He can fill you in.”

      “Does the director usually work in the evenings?”

      Lana laughed, a lighthearted chuckle. “You don’t know the man. It’s all about the mission, all the time.” The smile slowly faded from her face. “I know he feels at home here, and we could never survive without him, but I wish...”

      Calista waited for the end of the sentence, but Lana seemed to have thought better about what she was going to say. She regarded Grant, deep in conversation with the young man, and a line appeared between her brows.

      “You’re afraid he’ll wake up one day and wished he’d put more time into his own life, something apart from the mission?”

      “Exactly.” She appraised Calista with a steady eye. “You’re good at reading people.”

      “I suppose I know what that feels like. And you’re right, it’s no fun.” Calista dropped her eyes to the desk, wondering what it was about this place that made her feel she could be honest. She wasn’t the CEO here, she was just a woman who had lost her place in the world.

      She turned back to her paperwork and said, “I can find my way to the cafeteria—”

      The end of her sentence was lost in the explosion of noise that accompanied a horde of children entering the lobby. They seemed to all be talking at once, the polished lobby floor magnifying the sounds of their voices to astounding levels. Just when Calista decided there was no one in charge of the swirling group of small people, two young women came through the entryway. One was short and very young, with a thick braid over her shoulder. The other was a powerfully built middle-aged woman with a wide face and large pale eyes. They were both wearing the mission’s khaki pants and red polos under their open coats. They were laughing about something, not concerned in the least that their charges were heading straight for the director.

      “Mr. Monohan!” A small girl with bright pink sunglasses yelled out the greeting as she raced across the remaining lobby space. She didn’t slow down until she made contact with his leg, wrapping her arms around it like she was drowning. He didn’t even teeter under the full impact of the flying body, just reached down and laid a large hand on the girl’s messy curls.

      A huge smile creased his face and Calista’s mouth fell open at the transformation. He was a good-looking man, but add in a dash of pure joy and he was breathtaking. She tore her gaze away and met Lana’s laughing eyes behind the desk. Of course, the secretary would think it was hilarious how women fell all over themselves in his presence. Calista gathered up the papers with a snap, when she realized she was surrounded. A sea of waist-high kids had engulfed them, with the two women slowly bringing up the rear.

      She sidled a glance at Grant, hoping he would tell them to clear out and let her through. But he was busy greeting one child after another. How he could tell them apart enough to learn their names was really beyond her. They just seemed an endless mass of noise and motion, a whirl of coats and bright mittens.

      “Miss СКАЧАТЬ