at a painting. She couldn’t afford to demand that people appreciate a painting or a sculpture the way it deserved to be appreciated. “Okay, Martina. From now on, I’ll act like a businessman. I’ll be cold, hard, ruthless—”
“Maybe you can just be practical…what’s this?” Martina let out a low whistle.
Ellie glanced up to see her cousin staring down at the contents of a flat jeweler’s box.
“What’d you do, Ellie? Make a withdrawal at the bank?”
Brushing the soft masa crumbs off her fingers, Ellie got up to look in the box. She gasped when she saw its contents.
Emeralds and rubies flashed in the apartment’s dim light, their sparkle silent testimony to their authenticity.
“Good heavens,” Ellie said faintly. “It must belong to that man—Mr. Grinch.”
“He’s not going to be happy when he finds it missing,” Martina observed.
“No, I don’t think so,” Ellie agreed, wondering who on earth he’d bought such a hideous necklace for. His wife? She couldn’t imagine a snooty society maven ever wearing something so garish. A girlfriend on the side? Much more likely, she thought, wrinkling her nose.
She looked at the name of the jeweler on the white satin under the lid. “I guess I’ll have to take it to the jeweler’s tomorrow.” She sighed. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve—she had two houses to clean and her aunt’s and uncle’s party afterward. She really didn’t have time to make another trip up to Michigan Avenue.
It would serve him right if I didn’t return it until after Christmas, she thought, feeling just a little bit grinchy herself.
“This guy must be really rich.” Martina glanced sideways at Ellie. “I wonder who he is.”
“I have no idea.” And she didn’t want to know.
“Mmm.” Martina was still eyeing her. “Some old guy, I suppose.”
“Not really. Thirty, maybe.”
“Thirty! That’s not bad at all. Good-looking?”
“I didn’t think so,” Ellie lied. In fact, her first impression had been that he was very attractive. When she’d first looked up into his concerned face, her heart had given an odd little thump. He’d seemed so friendly, his greenish eyes smiling down at her…until suddenly, for no reason at all, they’d turned a frosty gray.
She’d fumed over his rudeness all the way home. She’d apologized automatically—but really, the collision had been his fault as much as hers. He hadn’t been looking where he was going and he’d been walking very fast. He’d knocked her off her feet, caused her to drop and damage some of her gifts and made her miss her train, as well. He could have at least offered her a ride. Not that she would have accepted, but still…He’d probably been worried that she’d get his fancy limo dirty.
No, he hadn’t been attractive at all, she realized now. “He was big with mean eyes,” she told her cousin.
“Fat?”
Actually, he’d felt like solid steel when she bumped into him. “I couldn’t tell—he had on an overcoat. But he had a Van Gogh sort of face.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Martina asked. “He only had one ear?”
Ellie laughed and shook her head, but didn’t say any more. It was too hard to explain. In her mind’s eye, she could see the man clearly, the heavy eyebrows, the penetrating eyes, the angular features just slightly asymmetrical…
“Hmmph. I don’t know why rich men all have to be ugly as dirt.” With a sigh, Martina reached into the bag again and pulled out the magazine she’d asked Ellie to buy. “Well, maybe not all rich men,” she amended, holding up the magazine to show Ellie the cover. “Garek Wisnewski is a doll, don’t you think?”
Ellie had grabbed the magazine at the store with barely a glance at the cover. Looking at it now, she stiffened.
Dominating the page was a picture of a half-dressed redhead and a man staring angrily at the camera—a man with familiar cold gray eyes below slashing black brows.
The expression on his face had been exactly the same a few hours ago when he’d left her standing in the gutter.
Ellie looked at the headline above the picture.
Main Course: Hanky Panky, it screamed in eye-popping red print. Dessert: Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelor.
Chapter Two
Getting in to see Garek Wisnewski was like trying to get in to see the pope.
Ellie had been worried that the office building might be closed on Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t. Employees filled the marble foyer—at least the part Ellie could see from the security desk near the entrance while the guard inspected her ID. He looked at her license closely, as though he suspected it might