The Mistletoe Kiss. Janet Lee Barton
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“Would you like to come with us?” Millicent asked.
“Not today, I’m going to visit little Marcus. But I’d like to go soon. Let me know when the next one is.”
“I believe there is another in a few weeks, but we should find out more today. We’ll see you this evening.”
* * *
Stephen took off in one direction and Matt and Joe took off in the opposite one. Then they split up at the next corner. Joe worked for Michael Heaton’s investigative-protection agency and needed to finish up some paperwork. They’d all meet up later at the Polo Field for the last game of the season. For now Matt was off to explore the city. He loved looking at the architecture of the downtown buildings, the mansions on Fifth Avenue and the neighborhoods not far from Gramercy Park.
Much as Matt loved working on the high-rises, lately he’d been wondering what it would be like to work on remodeling the inside of an old structure or building new ones from his own design. He didn’t want to work for someone else for the rest of his life, but he’d wanted to get all the experience he could before striking out on his own.
But with all Millicent’s talk of opening her own business, he’d begun to realize he’d like to do the same thing—to be his own boss and be able to work on his own designs instead of someone else’s. He’d put the dream off, but he’d been giving it more and more thought lately.
He was eager to get a look at the photographs she’d taken from the Park Row Building. The views were spectacular, the building was one of a kind and he wanted to see if she’d done it all justice. He knew Millicent was talented but wished she weren’t so independent—way too much so for him to be thinking about her as much as he’d been doing. He didn’t want to have feelings for such a strong-willed woman.
And yet, his chest tightened as he thought of her. In spite of his resolve not to care about her other than as a friend, her smile seemed to shoot straight through to his heart and just touching her hand to help her out of the elevator sent sparks up his arm.
Something about her made him want to be her protector—when she’d declare that was the last thing she needed. Still, as long as he was responsible for her at his workplace, she’d have to accept that he would be looking out for her. She had no choice. And neither did he.
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