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

She nodded, aware of Heath still standing close by. Aileen hazarded a glance up at him and found him watching her closely. “I meant what I said, darling. Every word today and every word I said when we were together. My caring was not an act and my feelings for you have only deepened since we’ve been apart. I hope you can forgive me, but if you can’t I understand. You can give me your decision on New Year’s Eve.”

10

Heath stood with his shoulder against the wall, staring out the floor to ceiling windows of the R Lounge at the Renaissance Hotel at the melee below. Thousands of revelers were gathered in the biting cold to watch the huge ball drop from atop One Times Square. The old year was passing and the new was just an hour away. All the guys were here, along with Mel and Shayma, and about two-hundred and fifty other people Heath didn’t know, all ready to celebrate. He should be happy. Instead, he was doing his damnedest to get drunk.

And failing miserably.

Now that he was in his thirties, the allure of getting shitfaced just didn’t hold the same fun as it did when he’d been younger. Not to mention the fact his heart still felt like it had been squashed by a Mac truck. He missed Aileen, dammit. Even if chances were good she’d never set foot in his life again.

“Sorry about giving you a hard time the other day, bud,” Murphy said, coming up beside Heath and clapping him on the shoulder. “It was a shock, you know. Thanks for keeping her safe.”

“No. I deserved it. I should’ve told you sooner that Aileen was fine, but I didn’t. For that, I’m sorry too.” Heath took another swallow from the bottle of stout he’d been nursing since he’d arrived an hour prior. His mind flooded with memories of him and Aileen talking, laughing, snuggling in his bed, and his chest squeezed with yearning. “Won’t apologize for the rest though. I love her, man.”

Murphy gave him some serious side eye, his jaw tight. “Suppose she could do worse than you.”

“She could also do a hell of a lot better.”

“Nah.” Murphy snorted. “Sure, you’re bossy and pigheaded and you could use some serious lessons in beard maintenance if you ever decided to go with the lumberjack look again, but otherwise, you’re okay.”

Heath chuckled. “Gee, thanks. And there was nothing wrong with my beard.”

“It looked like Grizzly Adams on crack.”

“It was a statement against society’s rules about appearance and gender norms.”

“What-fucking-ever, dude. It was whack and you know it.” Murphy shook his head. “Anyway, just take the damned compliment, okay? I give you permission to date my sister, if she ever forgives you.”

And there was the rub. He’d not heard a word from Aileen since that day in her apartment, though he’d seen her exclusive coverage of the new deal between Daveed’s father and EnKor run in this morning’s paper. She’d gotten her scoop, just like he’d promised.

“Yeah.” Heath gave a sad little shrug. “Don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“Me neither, unfortunately.” Murphy took another swig of his beer. “Coen family trait. Stubbornness.”

“Tell me about it.” Heath looked over at his friend. “I had to lead you on all those missions, remember?”

“I remember.” Murphy stared out the windows. “It’s weird, you know? Being a civilian again. I mean I’m happy to be with Shayma and all, but it’s hard transitioning back to regular life.”

Heath nodded. “I was lucky. I had BrightStart to keep me busy. You need to get a job.”

“No shit. Except I have no idea where to start. I figure I can put my SEAL training to good use in security maybe, or law enforcement.”

“If that’s the direction you want to go in,” Heath said, glad for the distraction of a topic not involving Aileen and how much he missed her, “BrightStart is looking for a new head of security.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want any handouts.” Murphy crossed his arms.

“No handouts here. You’ll have to go through the application process like everyone else, interview with HR, all that shit. If you’re the best candidate, the job’s yours.”

“Really?” Murphy asked, smiling.

“Yeah, really.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Heath took another swallow of his drink as Daveed joined them. “What’s up, groom-to-be?”

“I can’t wait to get home and get out of this monkey suit,” Daveed said, tugging at the collar of his tux. “Did you guys see the television hosts set up at the front of the room for national broadcast?”

“Nope,” the guys said in unison.