Christmas in the City - Jill Barnett Page 0,12

you have no place to go."

She nodded. "It isn't a claim. It's the truth."

"If that's the case, then this is simple. I'm offering you a place to stay. You, in turn, will attempt to prove your theory correct." He swung his chair around and leaned an arm on his desk, pinning her with a dark stare that could intimidate Saint Peter himself. "Prove to me that there are things in this world that money cannot buy."

"Why? Why this? And why me?"

He leaned back with a bored look that she sensed was calculated. "For entertainment."

"But you called this a challenge."

"It is." He raised the pen and twirled it before his eyes. "You see, while you are trying to show me the things that money cannot buy, I, in turn, will show you just exactly what money will buy. Each of us will be out to prove our point."

"What are the stakes?"

He looked surprised, then laughed loudly and genuinely. There was no sardonic tone to his laughter this time. It had a rusty sound, as if he didn't do laugh all that often.

"Name your price."

She shook her head and gave a short laugh. "You only think in terms of money."

"Name your reward then."

She thought about her circumstances and her goal. This almost seemed too easy, as if his whole plot was playing into her hands.

Perhaps her years in Heaven had earned her a small modicum of divine help.

Perhaps the carriage accident had knocked her senseless.

"Anything?" she asked.

There was something wicked in his eyes when he answered, "Absolutely anything."

"If I prove you wrong, you will—personally, once a week—find and create an opportunity for someone who has no hope. Someone like those people I gave your money to today." She watched for his reaction.

"Fine."

She froze. He had agreed too easily. "What do you get out of this?"

He said nothing but stared at a legal paper in his hand. He seemed to be thinking deeply.

After a long silence, she cocked her head and said, "Mr. Stewart?"

He looked up.

"You haven't answered me."

He gave the paper another look, then seemed to come to a decision and quickly set it aside. "I'll get companionship." His tone was clipped, and he braced his hands on his desk and stood up quickly, then shuffled some papers. "I have an engagement to attend tomorrow night and another a few days later. You will accompany me." He turned away then, his back to her, and he stared out the window.

She watched him standing there stiffly, unwilling to look at her. "That's it? I just go with you?"

"Anywhere I ask."

She stood up. "Okay. We have a deal."

He tugged on the bellpull and the butler entered. He faced the man, but his gaze was on her. "Show Miss Lillian to the gold suite, Gage."

Lilli turned to follow the butler out, but she had the uneasy feeling that she had just jumped in a lake with her hands and feet tied.

"And Gage?"

The butler paused.

"See that she has anything she wishes." He paused, a silence filled with meaning, then added, "Anything that money can buy."

The gold suite was just that—gold. The bed was gold. The walls had panels that were covered in gold-flecked wallpaper and wainscoted in gilt. The high ceiling was coffered and painted with a scene that showed a golden sunrise, and rich golden oak flooring was covered with huge imported silk rugs designed in various shades from deep to light golden yellow. The rug fringe? Golden silk.

Lilli bent down and examined more closely the motif in each rug, half expecting the pattern to be interlocking dollar signs. She straightened, somewhat relieved when she saw only an obscure floral design.

She crossed the room and opened a door that led to a dressing room, three quarters of which was paneled in mirrors, all gilt framed. Through another door with golden handles shaped like dolphins was a private bath of pale yellow marble with gold dolphin fixtures and— "Good heavens ..." she muttered. "A gold sink!" She stared at it and at the gold-framed mirror above it with a dazed look of disbelief.

Then she saw something bright reflected in the mirror. Her mouth dropped open and she blinked twice, shook her head and spun around.

The water closet seat was a golden throne.

One second she gaped at it, the next she burst out laughing, and every time she looked around the room she laughed harder, until finally she had to sag back against the sink.

This had to be a joke. It was too ludicrous not to be.

But