Jingle Bell Romance. Mia Ross

herself that their current arrangement was really aimed at making peace between him and his father, she quickly regained her composure and smiled. “Maybe you’ll find some answers upstairs.”

      Turning, she led him to a door marked PRIVATE. Just as he had the morning they met, he reached past her to open it. “Ladies first.”

      On her way up, she flicked on a light switch and was greeted with a loud, “When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?”

      The two phrases rhymed perfectly in a high-brow British accent, and Nick stopped dead, cocking his head with a baffled expression. “What was that?”

      “Shakespeare.”

      “I recognize the line from Hamlet, but who said it?”

      “Shakespeare,” she repeated, continuing up the creaky wooden steps. “Come on and I’ll introduce you.”

      “O-kay.”

      He dragged the word out in a doubtful tone, and she allowed herself a little smile. It was nice to know she could knock him off balance the way he’d done to her. After her disastrous last relationship, being on even footing with Nick made her feel more confident than she had in months.

      The large room mirrored the one downstairs with one exception: it was almost completely unfurnished. The only things she had up here were a few pieces of furniture and the built-in bookshelves full of treasures from all around the world. Ignoring Nick’s shocked look, she strolled to a wooden rod that stretched the width of the generous bay window overlooking Main Street.

      Perched there was an enormous blue-and-yellow macaw who eyed her with what could only be described as fondness. Bobbing his head, he croaked, “Good morn to you, milady.”

      “And to you, sir.”

      “Oh, man,” Nick muttered from a safe distance. “Does that parrot have an English accent?”

      “Actually, he’s a macaw with a Welsh accent.” Julia pushed up the sleeve of her sweater, and the bird stepped elegantly onto her arm. “He’s from Cardiff.”

      The stately bird focused intelligent black eyes on Nick and bobbed his head again. “Greetings to you, sir.”

      “Back at ya.”

      Grinning, Nick joined them by the window. When he picked up a piece of dried fruit and offered it to Shakespeare, the bird replied with something between a cluck and a whistle. “Many thanks.”

      While he munched his treat, Nick ran a fingertip over a brightly colored wing. “How’d you end up with this charmer?”

      “My friend Liam is abroad on a six-month assignment and couldn’t take Shakespeare with him. We’ve always gotten along well, so he’s staying with me. It’s been fun, hasn’t it?” She tickled under his chin, and the bird winked at her.

      “Ah, Julia, shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he cooed, affectionately rubbing his long comb of feathers against her hand.

      That got Nick’s attention, and he gave her a knowing look. “Good ol’ Liam taught him to say that, didn’t he?”

      “Well, yes,” she stammered, feeling herself growing pink again.

      “And he left his bard-quoting buddy with you so you wouldn’t forget about him while he’s away.”

      “I suppose.”

      “And eventually, you’ll have to get together so you can give him his bird back,” Nick continued in the cynical, hard-edged tone she’d heard too often from him. “Clever.”

      Say something, she scolded herself. Tell him he’s got it all wrong.

      Carefully setting Shakespeare back on his perch, she began, “It’s not like that at all.”

      “So you don’t love him back?”

      “Of course not. We’re friends, and I’m pet sitting—simple as that.”

      Stepping closer, Nick fixed her with an unreadable look. “In my experience, nothing between a man and a woman is ever simple.”

      Ordinarily, she wouldn’t engage a near-stranger in a debate over personal relationships. But for this man, with his cool demeanor and jaded attitude, she decided to make an exception.

      Facing him squarely, she returned his glare with one of her own. “I have no doubt you’re very good at seeing the worst in people. It probably serves you well in your line of work but I have news for you. I’m not like most people you’ve met, and your cynic’s routine won’t work on me.”

      “Is that right?” He didn’t come any closer, but even from a distance, it was obvious she had his full attention. “What makes you so different?”

      Refusing to back away even a single inch, she held out her arms. “All this makes me different. If you really want to know more about me, take a look at what I’ve chosen to surround myself with.”

      His eyes held hers, and she got the distinct impression he was trying to read her. Too bad for him, since she’d learned long ago to mask her true feelings with a cloak of impeccable manners. When he finally spoke, his voice was hardly above a murmur.

      “Where is everything?”

      Jolted by the bizarre question, she fought the urge to avert her gaze and back away. The tone in his voice sounded almost sympathetic, as if he’d somehow discovered the secret she’d been keeping for nearly a year. Accustomed to intrusive queries, fending them off had become second nature to her. But now she found herself at a complete loss for words.

      What on earth was wrong with her?

      “What do you mean?” she demanded, firming her chin with determination. “I’m not sure what you were expecting, but this is all I have.”

      Shaking his head, he said, “All you still have. What happened to the rest?”

      “I sold some of my collection to start my business.”

      Folding his arms, he pinned her with a knowing look. “You expect me to believe you never owned full-size versions of all those pieces of doll house luxury you’ve got in miniature downstairs?”

      Julia opened her mouth to object but quickly realized any protest she might offer would be a blatant lie. The trouble was, she knew the truth would be fodder for the serialized version of her life story he wanted to write. So she chose her words carefully. “I had some financial problems.”

      “Which is why you dropped out of sight.” When she nodded, he prodded, “You don’t strike me as the type to gamble or waste money. What did you fall into?”

      “Love.” Hoping to escape the laser focus of those dark, intelligent eyes, she busied herself filling Shakespeare’s water bottle. “In a nutshell, Bernard wasn’t the man I thought he was. By the time I figured out what was going on, he’d used what he knew about me to steal my identity. And most of my money,” she added with a grimace.