The Millionaire's Miracle Read online

  CATHLEEN GALITZ

  THE MILLIONAIRE'S MIRACLE

  This one is for Mom for showing us how to live with

  faith, dignity and unwavering love.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  One

  Gillian Baron formed a fist, lifted it in the air and let it fall to her side—twice—before finally forcing herself to rap on the door of the upscale apartment.

  Even then she had to fight the urge to run away like a naughty child, who’d pulled a prank on the neighbors.

  Considering that this portal to the past had never been closed to her before, knocking on it now shouldn’t feel so surreal.

  Maybe he isn’t home….

  Gillian leaned forward on the balls of her feet and assumed the ready position.

  Ready for what? To bolt again? To run away from all that had once been good and true in her life? Back when life had been as close to perfect as humanly possible and she’d had the key to this man’s home—and his heart.

  Before everything went so terribly, irreparably wrong.

  Before he’d come to hate her.

  Sighing in relief at her good fortune to avoid the awkward encounter she’d been dreading, Gillian turned to go.

  “I tried,” she said, rehearsing what she would tell her sisters when they demanded why she’d failed to speak to him. “Really I tried.”

  The belated sound of footsteps from inside the apartment caught Gillian midstride.

  “I’m coming,” rumbled a deep voice.

  How she hated being here, dredging up old memories and wallowing in a sea of what once was. Hated dragging Bryce back into the complicated mess that was her life. Hated feeling so terribly vulnerable and weak-kneed after coming to terms with her own solitude at long last.

  She doubted he would believe that she was here only on behalf of her father. With typical arrogance, he would more than likely misconstrue her presence on his doorstep as a ploy to finagle a way back into his life. Her pride already sorely tested, Gillian prepared to have the door slammed in her face.

  When it finally swung open, Bryce McFadden stood before her in just a pair of faded jeans. His heavy-lidded eyes snapped open in recognition. A flash of something tender streaked across those blue orbs before dark clouds shadowed them and the perfunctory greeting on his lips froze.

  “Hell—”

  “O?” Gillian finished, hoping that was the intended salutation rather than a deliberate invective. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Seeing him stand at the door half-dressed with his hair bed-tousled and wearing a look of confusion on his unshaven face, she hoped it was just his sleep she’d interrupted and nothing more intimate.

  Not that it mattered to her one way or the other.

  Still, her stomach rolled as all logic ceased. Dropping her gaze from the silver-blue eyes that were pinning her down, she trained her own on his bare chest, where a mass of curly blond hair dusted its smooth surface. It turned a darker shade just below the sternum before eventually disappearing under the band of his unbuttoned jeans. Heat infused her cheeks when she realized she’d been caught gawking.

  Hooking a lazy thumb through a belt loop, Bryce leaned back against the door frame and proceeded to rake her from head to foot with an overtly masculine gaze, with which she was far too familiar. Gillian reminded herself that pure animal magnetism couldn’t overshadow the fact that this was the singularly most infuriating creature God ever put on this earth. And that she could never forgive him for letting her down when she’d needed him most.

  “May I come in?” she asked, feeling more like the Avon lady than someone with whom he’d once had a life-altering relationship.

  “Of course.”

  As Bryce stepped aside to let her in, Gillian took in his home with a sweeping glance. A big-screen TV, roomy leather couch, matching recliner and exercise equipment saved the place from looking like an efficiency apartment, but the lack of decoration gave it a spartan feel nonetheless. Not a single painting or photograph graced the walls.

  Idiot! Did you think he’d keep a photo of you enshrined in his bachelor pad just because you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy your own pictures of him?

  “Nice place,” Gillian said, feigning a nonchalance that matched his own.

  She noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a Christmas tree this year; a cheerful holiday bouquet on the coffee table was the only acknowledgment that the holiday was only a week away. The arrangement seemed out of place in such masculine digs, but she had to admire his attempt to add color to the austere black-and-white decor that dominated the room. This luxury apartment was nothing like the quaint little Victorian they’d once shared. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought to forget the images of well-tended flower beds, hand-stenciled accents, antique furniture, a cozy little room decorated with teddy bear wallpaper and—

  Stop it!

  She couldn’t afford to let maudlin memories sidetrack her from the task at hand. Just breathing in and out was proving difficult enough without attempting to battle ghosts at the same time.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  Grateful for anything to keep her hands occupied, Gillian gave him a tight smile.

  “That’d be nice.”

  Bryce helped her shrug off the heavy coat, which was more of a necessity in Cheyenne winters than any kind of fashion statement. The small act of courtesy seemed both familiar and unworldly. In spite of the snow falling outside the window, Gillian felt her temperature rise. Standing in this strange living room inhaling Bryce’s familiar musky scent, she could easily recall why she’d loved this man once upon a time. When he left the room to get her coffee, she glanced at the bouquet again, admiring it, and noticed a card sticking out of the blooms. Although Bryce would be back in a minute, she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek.

  Yes, yes! A thousand times yes!

  Love,

  Vi

  Who the hell was Vi?

  Gillian’s thoughts turned catty. Had she misread the name? Maybe it was the Roman numeral six and Bryce was into numbering his women now. Or was that hackneyed expression written in feminine scrawl an acceptance of a weekend getaway or something more permanent?

  The possibility of Bryce actually asking someone to marry him caused the floor beneath Gillian’s feet to undulate. Sternly telling herself that there was too much riding on this meeting to let her imagination get the best of her, she stuck the card back into its little plastic holder before he returned a moment later with two steaming cups of coffee. Her hands shook as she accepted one from him.

  “It’s instant,” he apologized. “Not nearly as good as yours.”

  Gillian felt a stab of regret that lives once so rich had been reduced in a single word to the state of a lousy cup of caffeine.

  Instant coffee.

  Instant messaging.

  Instant gratification.

  Instant heartache.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking both the proffered cup and a place on the couch.

  She was relieved when Bryce chose a seat in a nearby recliner rather than the empty spot next to her. That way she could speak to him without the risk of physical contact.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t the current arcing between them that worried Gillian but the deep emotio
nal response this man evoked in her. ThatVi’s note had the power to send a hot spurt of jealousy coursing through Gillian’s veins was disconcerting to say the least.

  Taking a sip of coffee, Gillian realized he wasn’t lying—it was truly awful. Suddenly she felt inexorably sad to think of him drinking such tepid stuff out of his chipped mug every morning in this sterile place. Especially knowing how much he once savored starting his day with her special brew.

  In bed with her.

  Setting her cup on the table, she watched Bryce rub the stubble on his jaw. She couldn’t help remembering how rough it had felt between the palms of her hands. Not the type to carry on small talk while ignoring the elephant in the room, he looked at her expectantly.

  “Why don’t I save us both the agony of trying to make small talk?” she offered, searching frantically for the right words to do just that.

  “That’d be nice,” he drawled.

  Bristling at the sarcasm in his voice and unable to think of any way to soft-pedal what she’d come here to say, Gillian simply blurted out the reason for her unannounced visit.

  “Stella and Rose want to have Dad declared incompetent.”

  Launching a grenade in the room would have caused a less appalled reaction on Bryce’s face. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his eyes turned the color of polished gunmetal.

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  It wasn’t exactly the first question Gillian was expecting from him, but it was nonetheless a fair one. Who could blame him for not wanting to be sucked into the drama that was her family all over again?

  “By all rights this really isn’t your problem,” she consented, “but it’s not by choice that I’m here.”

  “Has something happened that I should know about?”

  Bryce had always been close to her father, and Gillian knew his concern was genuine. She struggled to explain the situation without somehow sounding as guilty as she felt. It hadn’t been easy pulling her life back together the past two years, but just because her father lived clear across the state and she was keeping limitless hours at work didn’t make her feel any better about neglecting the man who had raised her single-handedly after her mother had passed away.

  “Stella says he’s fallen a couple of times and has been spending money so frivolously and erratically that both of them think he might be suffering from early stages of A-Alzheimer’s.”

  It was hard enough getting the word out of her mouth let alone wrapping her mind around all its awful implications.

  Not having actually seen her father since the last holiday when he’d expressed his disappointment in her decision to leave Bryce, Gillian had to rely on her sisters’ judgment of his current physical and mental state. And while she couldn’t bring herself to believe that either one of them would commit their father to a nursing home just to gain access to his money, she was worried they might be overreacting. Unfortunately their threat to take the matter to court put the onus on her to do something before things got out of hand and irreparable damage was done to the entire family.

  Nothing short of a full-blown emergency would have compelled Gillian to be here otherwise.

  Bryce’s features softened for an instant. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Sorely tempted to seek comfort in his strong arms as she once would have, Gillian instead focused her attention on a tiny run sneaking up the thigh of her black nylons. Self-consciously tugging at her tweed skirt to hide it, she wondered how, after all the trouble she’d taken to make herself look presentable today, she could have missed such a fashion faux pas. It was the kind of flaw that highlighted her own unraveling state of mind.

  She cleared her throat and got down to business. “It turns out that Dad has given both of us equal durable powers of attorney in case he’s ever unable to take care of himself.”

  There was no way Bryce could have faked the shocked look on his face, dispelling once and for all Rose and Stella’s notion that he’d personally masterminded this whole thing a long time ago. The harsh words they’d exchanged during the bitter divorce proceedings created a rift Gillian doubted could ever be bridged. Only after the impact of her announcement sunk in did the irony of it register upon Bryce’s features.

  He coughed up a dry chuckle. “I get it. Your sisters can’t commit the old man to the loony bin unless you and I do the dirty work for them.”

  Unwilling to be drawn into another “discussion” about family dynamics, Gillian tried to keep a defensive note from creeping into her voice.

  “Nobody said anything about a ‘loony bin.’ They have some valid concerns that can’t be ignored,” she stated coolly. “And there are some lovely facilities in the area.”

  “Et tu, Brute?”

  His words hung in the balance like a tightrope walker stranded in the wind between two opposing fortresses. As much as Gillian resented the Shakespearean implication that she would stab her own father in the back, she was worried that Bryce himself would take a similar view of the legal proceedings her sisters were considering.

  Would he be able to separate her from their actions?

  More importantly, would she?

  Bryce stabbed his fingers through his uncombed hair in exasperation.

  “Just what in the hell is it you want from me, Gill?”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked straight into those unforgiving eyes of his. And momentarily lost herself there.

  “I want you to go to the ranch with me. Dad won’t budge from the house until he has a chance to talk to us both together, and my sisters are threatening to initiate proceedings if he doesn’t. My father has promised to abide by our joint decision, which is the only way I see of keeping my entire family from falling apart.”

  Bryce snorted as he dropped his head back onto the cushion of his chair and closed his eyelids. Dark circles hung in half moons beneath them. That he was working too hard came as no surprise to Gillian. She regretted interrupting his sleep on a Sunday morning, but this was the only time she could count on him being home. Besides, as difficult as it was for her to see him, this wasn’t a matter she cared to discuss on the phone.

  When he finally opened his eyes, Bryce sounded every bit as tired as he looked.

  “Suffice it to say I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now. Why don’t I just sign off as executor or whatever the hell it is that John made me, and you and your sisters can divide your thirty pieces of silver however you want?”

  Gillian flinched at his words.

  “You’d really do that?” she asked, feeling strangely disappointed. Here he was offering to do the very thing for which her sisters were so desperately praying, but while they would be delighted with such a decision, this just didn’t feel right to Gillian. She was bound more by her own conscience than the rules of a blind and binding legal system.

  “I’d do anything to be rid of the Baron clan once and for all,” he snapped. “But I would have thought you at least would have the decency to wait until the old man was dead before laying claim to his estate. You know how much he loves that ranch—and how hurt he’ll be by any claim that he’s incapable of running it himself.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Gillian said. The thought of declaring the strongest man she’d ever known to be unfit seemed nothing short of sacrilegious.

  “Your father won’t take kindly to being caged up in a nursing home,” Bryce told her flatly. “He’ll never forgive you.”

  Gillian folded her arms over her chest as if to protect her aching heart and glared at him. “Regardless of what you might think, I’m not any more comfortable with this than you are. If, after seeing him, we’re equally satisfied that he’s capable of looking after his own affairs, that’ll be the end of that. We can both go on with our lives without having to look back on today with regret.”

  Bryce’s harrumph echoed off bare walls.

  Fearing that her courage would fail her, Gillian continued on in a rush. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but
Dad considers you a friend. He trusts you. And despite our past history so do I. Any advice you can offer would be greatly appreciated. Not to mention that you’re legally involved whether you want to be or not. As I understand it, I have to agree to your signing off, and I’m not willing to do that until we talk to my father in person and assess the situation ourselves. Considering this could drag on for years if my sisters decide to take the matter to court, it’ll be the quickest way to get me out of your life permanently.”

  Something ugly and hard leaked into her voice as she couldn’t resist adding, “I’m sure that’s something Vi could appreciate.”

  Looking surprised that she was familiar with the name, Bryce nonetheless conceded the point.

  “Considering that I’ve asked her to marry me, I’m sure she would.”

  A seasoned actress couldn’t have held herself together any better than Gillian did upon hearing that newsflash. Her chest felt as if it were going to implode, and the difficulty she was having breathing had nothing whatsoever to do with the high altitude.

  “Congratulations,” she said with difficulty. Hoping not to come off sounding as pitiful or bitter as she felt, she added, “You deserve to be happy. Really.”

  On some level she really meant it, but her smile hurt.

  “I promise this will be the absolute last favor I ever ask of you.”

  Bryce cut her to pieces with a look of sheer disdain. “I don’t suppose you remember the last favor I asked of you.”

  Gillian gave him a blank look and shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll have to refresh my memory.”

  “It was when I begged you not to divorce me.”

  Two

  “That hardly qualifies as a ‘favor,’” Gillian said angrily.

  Bryce glowered at her. “No more than the one you’re asking of me. I’ve got to hand it to you, baby. You’ve got some gall waltzing back into my life after all this time, acting like a little girl lost and playing on my sympathies.”