Her Mistletoe Husband Read Free Page A

offering her a fantastic deal for cash. At least she’d thought it had been fantastic at the time. Unsettled by the thought, she bolted from the table and ran down the stairs toward her office, barely missing her unwanted guest as he was coming up. “Pardon me,” he said, sidestepping out of her way. She took no notice of him and barreled on, slamming into her tiny office.
    The windowless room was hardly bigger than a closet, bare cement walls and floor, without windows or adornment. When the three sisters first moved into the inn, a small cot had been crammed between the desk and the entry wall, giving Elissa a makeshift bedroom. Now she slept in the room that Helen had first used, then Lucy. The cot was thankfully long gone. In its place stood two gray metal filing cabinets.
    Her secretary’s chair was secondhand and worn, as was her metal desk and fax. But by heaven they were hers—just like her inn—and she loved every scratched, dented inch of each piece.
    With fingers that would hardly function, she dialed her old professor and mentor at the University of Missouri law school. Though she prided herself on her independence, not leaning on anyone, she was no fool. She knew she needed professional guidance in this. And there was no one who knew the law like Dr. Grayson. When he came on the line, she worked to keep her voice even, placid, explaining what had happened.
    By the time she sat down in her creaky chair, she was no longer trembling. Dr. Grayson had always been a calming influence and she felt a flood of relief, knowing that a man of such serene wisdom was on her side.
    â€œSend me everything you have, Elissa. I’ll see what I can find out.”
    She swallowed, her gratefulness making her teary. “Thanks, Dr. Grayson. I’d feel better with somebody who’s up on things to go over this.” Her voice breaking, she winced, then admitted as evenly as she could, “I’m afraid I can’t be objective. This man is trying to take away my life.”
    There was silence for a moment, before Dr. Grayson spoke. “I hope we can find a loophole, dear.”
    There was another bothersome pause and Elissa’s anxiety level soared. “What? What is it you’re not telling me?”
    â€œNothing, dear. Nothing to worry about.”
    â€œDr. Grayson,” she insisted. “Tell me!”
    He cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t have left the law, Elissa. You have good instincts.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt means I do know something that might upset you. And I wish you weren’t so intuitive to sense it.”
    â€œWhat is it?” She felt pain and realized she was digging into her knee with her nails.
    â€œWell...” Her professor cleared his throat again. Not a good sign. “I’ve heard of Alex D’Amour. He’s one hell-on-wheels litigator. You remember that Hildabrant Industries toxic waste suit out in California?”
    She felt a surge of nausea. “He won that?”
    â€œGot a hundred million dollar settlement for the families in the affected area. I’m afraid he may be hard to beat.”
    Elissa closed her eyes and sagged in her chair. “Oh—Dr. Grayson. You have to find something to prove I’m the rightful owner. I’ve put every cent I’ve made back into this place. If I lose it, I’ll have nothing.” Her lips quivered and she pulled them between her teeth.
    â€œTry not to worry. If there’s a way to keep your inn, I’ll find it.”
    She nodded, but couldn’t speak. Her voice was too quivery to trust.
    â€œThis is Sunday, so tomorrow, overnight-mail your documents to me. Okay?”
    She cleared her throat, but her “okay” was fragile, almost undetectable. “First thing.”
    â€œAnd, Elissa...”
    â€œYes, Dr. Grayson?” She toyed with the handle of a mug, half full of day-old coffee.
    â€œTry to have a Merry