Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire

An image of Graham as a little boy flashed in her mind. She just

couldn’t believe a man who came from a wealthy background would have been deprived on Christmas morning. There had to be a story there, but she resisted the urge to ask him about it.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ROOM WAS devoid of Christmas decorations.

No tree. No twinkle lights. Nothing.

What was up with that? Maybe they didn’t have a chance to get them out yet. It was still a few weeks before Christmas. Alina’s gaze moved about the room with its immaculate presentation and perfectly arranged wall hangings. It felt cold and sterile.

It was then that she noticed the soft sound of music. She listened closely, expecting it to be a holiday tune. It wasn’t. Interesting. Instead, big band music played. It was nice but not what she had been playing on her radio. From now until Christmas, she was listening to Christmas carols 24/7. There was just something about those festive tunes that put an extra pep in her step.

Graham moved to a small table. She followed, finding two black, thickly cushioned chairs placed on opposite ends of the small table. In the center was a white tapered candle. Its flame flickered. And there were two place settings of what looked to be real china. A private dinner for two?

Alina’s heart pitter-pattered. Was this the way Mr. Toliver conducted all of his meetings? She doubted it. She didn’t see him sitting across a candlelit table from a businessman to discuss a future deal. So why was he treating her different?

Immediately she wondered if he was interested in her. And just as quickly she dismissed the foolish notion. Why would he be interested in her? He didn’t even know her. Worst of all, she was standing in his way of demolishing her apartment building. And she intended to keep on impeding his progress as much as possible.

So what was up with this dinner? Was he hoping some candlelight and good food would sway her? Did he think she’d be that easy? If so, he had another thought coming.

“Mr. Toliver—”

“Please call me Graham.”

His friendly gesture wasn’t going to soften her up. “All right. Graham, I thought you wanted to talk business.”

“As a busy man, I multitask.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Since it is my dinnertime, I thought we would eat while we talk.”

She didn’t know how she felt about sitting down to a meal with the enemy. Still, at last she’d made it past his bulldog of an assistant, who had previously not let her move beyond the reception area. Perhaps some food might make him more congenial.

“Mr.—er, I mean Graham, our business shouldn’t take all that long.”

“Then we should begin the meal.” He signaled to the server standing across the room.

“Please sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her.

Part of her was still hesitant, but she knew it wouldn’t help her cause. And without changing his mind about his proposed building site, she would be homeless in the new year.

She approached him. “Thank you.” As he waited to help push in her chair, she said, “I’ve got it.”

His eyes momentarily widened, but in a blink his reaction faded. “I didn’t expect you to make this easy on me, but do we have to spend the evening in constant opposition? You don’t even know me well enough to dislike me that much.”

It was true. She didn’t know anything about him, except what she’d gleaned on the internet. She hadn’t even found a current photo of him, just something from when he was in college with long shaggy hair and a beard. Now his thick dark hair was clipped short around the sides with some longer curls on top. And his sun-kissed face was clean-shaven. The images of him then and now certainly didn’t look anything alike.

This was the first time she realized how defensive she’d let herself become. She didn’t like the thought that she’d changed so much and not for the good.

Maybe that had played a part in the reason she hadn’t had a date in quite a while. Not that this was a date. Far from it.

She had been once bitten by her ex and now she was twice shy. People she could rely on—people she could trust—were hard to find. And she certainly didn’t trust Mr. Designer Suit with his billion-dollar smile. He would say and do most anything to get her to move. And it wasn’t going to happen—not without a fight.

Graham took a seat across the small table from her. Lifting her gaze, she took in his strong jawline, his straight nose and those very observant eyes. She wondered if he’d been studying her, as well.

When he smiled, her stomach dipped. She caught herself just before she smiled back at him. After all, she didn’t trust him. Not at all.

Or was it herself that she worried about the most. All it took was for him to smile for her to forget that they were here to do business.

“So why do you have to build where the Stirling stands?” She wanted to get to the heart of the problem, hoping to find an alternative solution.