Man Under the Mistletoe Page 3

  She could hear the quiver in her voice and knew that silent, implacable man was intimidating her more than any person, or situation, she’d ever had to face before, and he hadn’t done a thing except sit there and watch her. Watch every nuance of expression that crossed her face.

  In the month since Sybil Worth’s death all kinds of rumors had been circulating about the heir who ran the original Worth’s in London.

  Everyone knew that her only child hadn’t been present at his mother’s funeral. Some went so far as to blame his absence on an eighteen-year-old feud that had apparently erupted when he married against his mother’s wishes. Supposedly his wife had died shortly afterward and Sybil had taken his infant son, Colin, into her care.

  In her three years at Worth’s she’d heard a few garbled versions of the story, but all Sabrina knew for sure was that, according to Anya, mother and son had burned up the phone and fax lines in their constant battles.

  “That’s no excuse for this disgraceful incident.” Stevenson pressed his attack.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” Sabrina gave him a level look, deliberately keeping her voice low but firm. “I had no way of knowing that a man who just wandered in off the street and pocketed an expensive piece of jewelry would turn out to be Mr. Worth.”

  Her mouth tightening in frustration, she turned to the man behind the desk. Surely he couldn’t have the same petty mind-set as Walter Stevenson. But the lean, handsome face remained inscrutable.

  She was sure he could see right through her pathetic attempts at composure. The most galling part was that usually she didn’t give two hoots for overbearing, power-hungry megalomaniacs. Pompous twits like Walter Stevenson could fulminate all they wanted and it rolled right off her back. But this man with his silent scrutiny had her more intimidated than she could ever remember being. She hated feeling so unequal and insecure. But she also felt an intense curiosity to know more about the black sheep son.

  Officially, he hadn’t made it home for Sybil’s funeral because he’d been trekking in the mountains of Nepal and couldn’t be reached until he returned to his base camp. By then Sybil had been dead for two weeks. But some preferred to believe that it was because he was still grieving the loss of his wife and had never forgiven his mother for refusing to accept her.

  She had privately dismissed the melodramatic notion. Anya had told her that mother and son argued about more prosaic issues—such as Sybil’s stubborn refusal to change with the times that had sent Worth’s sales plummeting.

  Having met him, Sabrina wondered for the first time if those stories could be true. But no, he was too dark and brooding and hard, without a shred of vulnerability. She couldn’t imagine him pining away for anybody, and yet, what had made him so hard? Was there anything that could pierce that implacable armor?

  “But how could you fail to recognize Mr. Worth?” Stevenson’s voice brought her back to earth with a small jolt of self-consciousness. She had been staring at Michael Worth. Had she taken complete leave of her senses?

  “I’ve never seen Mr. Worth before. If you don’t mind my saying so, there’s hardly a family resemblance.”

  Her gaze flickered up to the portrait hanging on the wall to her right. A society beauty in a bias-cut thirties gown. But even then, Sybil Worth’s blue eyes shone with steely determination. The dynamic woman who, on her father’s suicide, had rescued the store from the depression and gone on to build an empire.

  Her gaze fell to Colin, who shared his grandmother’s blond hair and fine-boned features. Finally her eyes came reluctantly back to meet Michael’s enigmatic stare once more, to the dark, saturnine good looks.

  “To be quite honest, I expected you to be a lot older, Mr. Worth.”

  She saw a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes.

  “But you must have seen Mr. Worth’s photograph in the staff newsletter,” Stevenson insisted.

  Sabrina barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes to heaven. The newsletter was a joke. Nobody wanted to read lectures on punctuality, or could care less about who won the executive golf day. She caught Michael Worth’s steady gaze on her and flushed, praying that her reaction hadn’t shown on her face.

  “Obviously she didn’t, Walter.” There was an edge of impatience in the words Michael Worth directed to the vice president, but those hard, probing blue eyes remained fixed on her, examining her as if she were an insect on a pin. If it were anyone else, she’d take it as a kindly rescue from Walter’s persecution. “How did you come to see me take those earrings, Miss Cates?”

  He wasn’t rescuing her from anything, but launching his own, more efficient inquisition, in a voice as even and unrevealing as his expression. But in spite of feeling so intimidated, a small shiver of awareness trickled down her spine at the sound of his husky voice, with its slight English accent that gave it such a sexy quality.

  “I was following you.” Someone should cut out her tongue.

  “You were?” He leaned forward with quick interest. “Why?”

  Now she’d gone and done it. What was she going to say? Because you’re so cute?

  “Yes, Miss Cates,” Walter Stevenson cut in. “Why?”

  And why didn’t he go look for a job burning heretics at the stake?

  She kept her eyes trained on Michael Worth. “You were acting in a suspicious manner...sir.”

  “Tell me, what exactly about me aroused your suspicions?”

  Her palms were clammy; she surreptitiously wiped them on her knees, trying to still the faint tremor running through her body. Why did he have to be so inscrutable? Why did he have to be so good-looking? Why did he have to use the word aroused, and in that low, husky voice?

  She licked her lips, her mouth having suddenly gone very dry. “Well, you weren’t buying anything, you see....”

  “Surely you don’t suspect every customer who doesn’t buy something, Miss Cates.” Stevenson spit out the accusation.

  His voice was really starting to grate on her nerves, already stretched to snapping point by Michael Worth’s devastating effect on her.

  “But I had no idea that he...that you...”

  Oh, this was too much. In horror she realized that she was near tears. Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut for a second in a desperate effort to rally her depleted defenses. She opened them to see the group of men flanking the antique rosewood desk. She’d completely forgotten their existence. But what mere mortal could ignore Michael Worth’s overpowering aura of strength and command? Everyone else faded into insignificance.

  “Nevertheless, it was a rather inappropriate welcome for our new CEO, don’t you think?” The vice president’s voice had an accusatory ring.

  “Please believe me. I had absolutely no idea. I feel just dreadful about this.” She turned to Jonathan for support and saw the imperceptible shake of his head.

  She knew only too well what he was thinking. He’d told her so many times in the past that if she weren’t so creative and talented, she’d be unemployable, given her unsurpassed knack for attracting disaster.

  “And so you should,” Walter Stevenson insisted.

  “But I still don’t understand why you were following me.” Michael Worth cut through his vice president’s bleating. “We have security personnel. Where were they?”

  “I...I couldn’t find anybody,” she said in a low voice. She’d rather put up with Walter’s badgering, than Michael’s quiet, relentless questions. The last thing she wanted was to get Chuck into trouble.

  “Pardon me, Miss Cates. Could you speak up? I couldn’t hear you.”

  Yes he could. The bastard. He just wanted to put her on the spot. She could tell by the ruthless determination on his face. Well, she’d cowered long enough. She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye, saying as clearly as she could muster, “I couldn’t find any security.”

  “So what were you planning on doing?” The question was softly put, but there was menace behind the words.

  “I was going to keep you in sigh
t, and if you left the premises...” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to expose her stupidity to everyone in the room.

  “Were you planning on apprehending me?” There was a slight quirk to his lips and a subtly mocking inflection in his impassive voice.

  He wanted her to spell it out. He really wanted his pound of flesh, didn’t he? She ground her teeth together, trying to control her mortification and hurt. Hurt? Damn it, she didn’t want to feel hurt, she wanted to feel angry with his high-handed treatment.

  “Did it ever occur to you that had I really been a thief and you apprehended me, I could have done you physical harm?”

  “I didn’t think about it at the time,” she replied, stiff with resentment.

  “Wasn’t that a little foolhardy, Miss Cates?” His keen gaze ran over her, laced with scorn and cynicism. “You must weigh all of, what, a hundred pounds?”

  “A hundred and five,” she ground out, and then realized how stupid that sounded. What did five pounds signify against over six feet of well-muscled, superbly conditioned masculinity?

  A hot flush crept over her skin. Angry as she was, she couldn’t stop her physical reaction to him, and it made her even more furious.

  “And you think you could have stopped me?” Now he was openly mocking her, with a smile that owed nothing to good humor.

  What did this man want her to say? Yes, I’m a complete nitwit! All right, maybe it hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, but for heaven’s sake, she’d been protecting his store!

  Seething with resentment, she could hardly choke out the words. “I was going to try.”

  Maybe she should be like everyone else and shrug off responsibility. This man was making her feel incredibly stupid, for doing what she thought was the right thing.

  “Just hang on a minute.”

  The sound of Colin’s voice startled her, as he pushed through the knot of men. Someone else whose existence she had forgotten until this moment.

  “What did she do that was so bad?”

  Suddenly, in the midst of this agonizing ordeal, she was struck by the only resemblance between father and son. They had the same eyes. The same cobalt blue. Colin’s were clear and blazing now in youthful indignation.

  “She put your father in a very embarrassing position, in front of the whole store.” Stevenson’s round face was beginning to look a little flushed.

  “For Pete’s sake, you act as if she did it on purpose.”

  “My dear Colin,” he broke in, “this has nothing to do with you...”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. If you have to blame anybody, blame me. I was there. I could have told her who he was. It’s not her fault. She was just doing her job!” The boy had come up beside her and put a protective hand on her shoulder.

  She saw Michael’s narrowed gaze flicker to Colin’s grip, then back to her. His face seemed to harden. She didn’t even want to think what could be going through his mind.

  “Thanks, Colin, but it was my fault. I was just too busy playing Miss Marple.” She shifted nervously in her seat, trying to unobtrusively shrug off his hand.

  “According to your file—” Michael leaned forward in his chair and flipped open a folder on his desk “—your job is Display Supervisor and you’ve recently been appointed coordinator of the Santa Claus Parade. Is that correct?”

  His voice was cool and clipped. Once again his eyes dropped to Colin’s hand on her shoulder, then back to her face, but whatever he thought, his expression gave nothing away.

  “Yes.” She nodded, feeling as if the ground had opened up beneath her feet.

  “So therefore it is not your job to be trailing shoplifters around the sales floor.”

  “Someone has to!” Colin gripped both her shoulders and drew her protectively toward him. She strained away from the inappropriate gesture, but his fingers were like steel holding her hard against his hip.

  In an agony of embarrassment, she noticed Michael’s eyes narrow and his gaze shift down to her. Something dark and bleak seemed to cloud his expression for a second and another small shiver raced through her. Surely her imagination was running away with her. What did he have to be bleak about? He had it all.

  Besides, he was the last man in the world she could imagine to be in need of her pity. Especially right now. If anyone needed pity, it was her. She’d always been a renegade in the staid confines of Worth’s, but now she’d really done it.

  Ignoring his son’s outburst, Michael fixed her with a cynical look. “I’m just curious to know...why.” His voice tightened. She sensed suppressed anger and couldn’t understand the reason. “Why you would put yourself in that kind of jeopardy.”

  “Because I thought you were a thief and somebody had to stop you.” Maybe it had been foolhardy, but it was the right thing, damn it!

  “That’s why we have security staff.”

  She let out a shaky breath of relief as his eyes slid away from her to fix Walter with a look that could have peeled paint.

  She almost felt sorry for the obsequious old fool, but profoundly glad that corrosive glance wasn’t aimed at her. The tone of his voice made it clear that heads would roll in that department.

  Suddenly she remembered the dangerous smile on Michael’s face as Chuck escorted him into the security office. She shuddered to think what he’d said to Chuck. At least the security chief could console himself that her head was now on the chopping block, too. In the long line of incidents that punctuated her career at Worth’s, this had to be the most disastrous.

  “However, Colin, you’re quite right.” Michael gave his son a long considering look. Colin’s fingers tightened painfully on her shoulders. As casually as possible, she reached up and nudged his hands away. Michael’s impenetrable gaze dropped to meet hers and held it for what seemed like an eternity. Then he continued. “Miss Cates was just doing her job.”

  She let out an incredulous breath of relief, even as her anger came to a boil again. If he felt that way, why did he put her through the third degree? Just to see her squirm?

  “You’re damn right,” Colin broke in. “And a very good job she does, too, for your information.”

  Sabrina glanced up at him, distracted for a moment from her self-righteous indignation by Colin’s uncharacteristic aggression and rudeness. She darted a look at Michael, holding her breath for his reaction.

  But the granite mask betrayed no response to his son’s outburst. He turned his gaze on her, pinning her to the spot. “I’d like to think that each and every person working in this store would do the same thing you did. But I have no right to expect that level of loyalty. Your personal safety, Miss Cates, means far more to us than a pair of diamond earrings.”

  His words were formal and sincere, but with a trace of irony that told her he wasn’t so much impressed by her heroism as he was marveling at her stupidity.

  “Thank you, Mr. Worth. That’s gratifying to know.” She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye, letting a hint of sarcasm edge into her voice. Whatever he thought of her actions, she wouldn’t be cowed.

  Something dark and dangerous flared deep in his eyes and a small smile curved his lips, setting off a strange fluttering deep inside her. Abruptly she dropped her gaze to stare at her hands clutched tightly in her lap.

  She must be more stressed-out than she had thought. For those few seconds something disturbing had passed between them, some kind of magnetic force pulling her inexorably to him. As if he had the power to bend her to his will.

  For a moment it frightened her. And the acute awareness was only intensified by the sudden heavy silence that had fallen in the room.

  Then Walter Stevenson cleared his throat and she was never so glad of anything than the sound of his fawning pronouncement. “Well, now, after all, Miss Cates, Mr. Worth needs to see for himself how we operate around here.” He put his hands behind him and rocked back on his heels in smug self-importance.

  She shot him a sideways glance and tightened her lips. The old
toad must have picket holes in his rear end from sitting on so many fences.

  “Perhaps this demonstration was a trifle drastic, however.” He forced a dry chuckle and the white-haired suits around him joined in a wave of condescending laughter.

  Sabrina managed a faint smile.

  “On the contrary, that’s exactly what I do want to see,” Michael Worth cut in, shooting her an arch look. “Within reason, that people do their best for the store all the time, not just when they think they’re being watched.”

  She felt the hot flush rise to her cheeks. He’d done nothing but watch her from the moment she walked into the room. It had been the most unnerving experience in all her twenty-seven years.

  Now he closed her file with a decisiveness that told her the interview was over. “You’ll find a token of our appreciation in your next paycheck. That will be all, Miss Cates.”

  Her head was spinning and she felt as limp as a rag doll after the roller-coaster ride her emotions had taken. She rose to her feet, bracing herself against the arms of the chair, determined to gather her wits and leave the new CEO with a more favorable impression.

  “Thank you very much.” It took superhuman effort to stop her hand from trembling as she thrust it toward him. “And I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you to Worth’s.” It was about time she started acting like the professional, capable woman that she was.

  There was a small titter of disapproval around her. No doubt she’d committed a gross breach of protocol, but she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

  After an infinitesimal hesitation, he slowly got to his feet and took her hand in his, wrapping his warm fingers around her cold ones in a firm grip.

  “Thank you.” He inclined his head slightly, still grave, but there was a quiver at the corner of his mouth. Could he possibly be fighting back something as human as a genuine smile?

  His keen gaze and the feeling of his firm, warm fingers were doing strange things to her pulse. She withdrew her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket as she turned away, swallowing her heart.