A Billionaire for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 3)

Heath hazarded a glance over at Aileen, who was leaning a shoulder against the wall near the kitchen, where Fiona was back to her cooking. “Oh, well. Thanks, but we need to get back to Aileen’s apartment. Her brother’s waiting for news about her and I—”

“Nonsense.” Fiona walked out of the kitchen area, hands on hips. “You’re staying for dinner and that’s that. I won’t hear an argument about it. Now sit down and wait like a good boy.”

Aileen shook her head, biting back a grin, and Heath gave up the fight. He limped over to his seat and shrugged out of his coat and scarf while Aileen went into the kitchen to help Fiona. It seemed like a scene right out of the fifties, and the last place he’d expected to find himself tonight. Still, the MacLeans’ place was comfortable and homey and made him yearn for all the things he’d never really had growing up, the things money couldn’t buy—affection, acceptance, easygoing evenings where the whole family was present and no one was checking their phones or t

he latest stock reports or the society pages.

“That injury from your service?” Devon asked, pointing to Heath’s leg.

“No.” He smiled, not really wanting to get into his father’s polo playing for fear it would only isolate him even more from these people. “Broke my leg when I was a teen.”

“Too bad.” Devon focused on his TV show again and soon Heath lost himself in the trivia questions too, eventually even joining Devon in answering the final round. They cheered and high-fived each other and Heath was surprised to find he was enjoying himself more than he had in a good long while.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Aileen called as she finished setting the table. “You guys can come over and take a seat.”

Minutes later they were all gathered around the dining room table. Fiona dished up fresh salad and homemade bread sticks and spaghetti Bolognese, and Heath couldn’t remember when he’d ever tasted anything more delicious, or felt more scrutinized.

“So, what are your intentions with our Aileen?” Fiona asked.

“No intentions, ma’am.” Heath washed down a bite of food with a gulp of water. “I promised Murphy I’d help find her and that’s what I’ve done. He’s been worried sick about her these past few weeks. The way she took off without a word to anyone.”

“It’s called going undercover for a story,” Aileen snapped, giving him a dirty look across the table. “You seem to keep forgetting that I’m a grown woman who can make my own decisions about where I go and who I tell when I’m leaving.”

Trouble was, since that kiss in the park he hadn’t forgotten for a second that she was a grown woman. A woman with soft curves hidden by that ridiculous Santa suit.

Speaking of that suit…

“You guys aren’t curious why she’s dressed up like that?” he asked the MacLeans and gestured toward Aileen with his fork.

Devon shrugged, his concentration on his plate. “Snookie always did have a flare for the dramatic and she’d do anything to get her story. I figure if she wants to dress up like St. Nick then she’s probably got a good reason for it.”

Aileen gave him a take-that stare. “They know what my job entails and they trust me to do it safely and competently. Unlike some other people.”

“What’s got me thinking more, Heath,” Fiona said, gesturing with her fork in his direction, “is what’s got a rich guy like you slumming it down here with us lower East Side types. We ain’t got much and the place is falling apart around our ears. Just last week our heat went out. Had to argue until I was blue in the face with the super to get it fixed. Still haven’t made a dent in the bill yet.” She scrunched her nose and narrowed her gaze on Heath. “But even with our financial issues, we take care of our own. I don’t want’ to see our Aileen get mixed up with some guy who doesn’t have her best intentions at heart.”

“Well, like I said, Fiona. My only intentions are to reunite Aileen with her brother, Murphy, who misses her very much. After that, what they decide to do is none of my business.” He finished his last bite of food then pushed his empty plate away, full and content for the first time in a long time. “Thank you for the meal, Fiona and Devon. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.” Fiona stood and began clearing the plates and Aileen joined her. “You just watch yourself, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.” Heath leaned back in his seat and watched as Aileen placed her handfuls of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink then whispered something to Fiona before going into the bathroom and closing the door. A niggle of instinct bored into his gut, but he brushed it off.

“I’m finishing my show now, dear,” Devon said to Fiona then left the table. Heath was alone. He waited and waited for Aileen to come out of the bathroom, but she didn’t.

His suspicions grew the longer he sat. He leaned forward and frowned at Fiona, who stood at the kitchen sink with her back to him. “Is she all right in there?”

No response.

Scowling, Heath got up and walked over to the bathroom door to knock lightly. “Aileen, you okay?”

Nothing.

Dammit. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Without consulting the MacLeans, Heath pulled a small leather packet from the back pocket of his jeans and knelt to pick the lock. Of all the dirty tricks to pull, this had to be the showstopper. He opened the door to find the bathroom empty and the small window across from the toilet open, leading to a rickety old fire escape outside.

Aileen was gone. Again.

* * *

As Aileen carefully maneuvered down the slick metal ladders of the fire escape, she couldn’t help questioning the wisdom of her own actions. Yes, she needed to get back to work on her story. After all, that’s why she’d put herself in danger in the first place and if she abandoned it now then it would all be for naught.