Cinderella's Billion-Dollar Christmas. Susan Meier

of money which will completely change your life. You shouldn’t want to get involved with me any more than I want to get involved with you. Which means we shouldn’t even try to get to know each other.”

      She’d thought the same thing herself. Except her thinking had run along the lines of not being able to trust him. And hadn’t she already figured out he had secrets? Though, it did intrigue her that he’d admit there were things in his life that prevented him from even considering a relationship. That had to mean there was more to his backing off than keeping his professional distance. Which was good to know. A woman who had been a little girl in foster care, wishing her next set of parents would love her enough to adopt her, didn’t need to be wondering why he ran hot and cold with her or why he sometimes downright ignored her. Insecurities like that ran deep and popped up when she least expected, but his explanation tamed them.

      She was glad she’d asked. Knowing would keep her from worrying every time he clammed up or ignored her. “Okay.”

      A laugh burst from him. “Okay?”

      “Yeah. Okay. See how easy that was? You told me the whole story and now I understand all the weird things you’ve done since you realized who I was.”

      “I didn’t do any weird things.”

      She raised her left eyebrow as she gave him an “Oh, really?” expression.

      “Name one.”

      “Well, when we met, you talked a lot. Once you found out I was the person you were looking for, you barely said anything. In the diner, you were also kind of funny.”

      He laughed again. “I was funny?”

      “Not hysterical but...” She shrugged. “You know. Silly?”

      “My parents would not believe you if you told them that.” He turned and started walking again.

      She raced to catch up with him. “Which means I have to tell them. If only because they’ll get a chuckle out of it.”

      “You’ll probably never meet them.”

      She sighed. He was back to being careful again. She understood, but if they were stuck together for the rest of the day and he didn’t talk, their time together would be insufferably boring.

      “Are we really going out for dinner tonight?”

      “Yes. One thing about New York City, there are a million wonderful restaurants I can take you to.”

      She glanced down at her worn jeans. She did have one dress packed. She’d planned on using it for the meeting with the lawyer, though. “Just don’t get too fancy.”

      “Maybe we should go look for a dress?”

      “I don’t take charity.”

      “There’s an entire slush fund at your disposal. That’s not charity.”

      “You see things your way. I see them mine.”

      “Look, the bottom line is I don’t want any attention being called to you. Neither does Danny. Dressing to fit in is a good idea.” He pointed ahead of them. “There’s a shop a few blocks down. It’s where I get my mom’s Christmas and birthday gifts. I’m going to have Danny set up an account for you. That way, after tonight, if you feel like you want a dress or shoes or something, you can get what you want or what you feel you need while you’re here. No pressure.”

      “You want me to shop where you get your mom’s clothes?” She laughed. “No thanks.”

      He sighed. “It’s a nice place. It’s got things for younger people, too.”

      “If you expect me to shop there, it better.”

      “It does.”

      She quelled the flutter in her stomach. She longed to look like the woman wearing the pencil skirt and silky blouse...but she also didn’t have any money. Didn’t have anywhere to wear something like that when she got home. Buying pretty things would be a waste. A waste of the money of a man who had hurt her. Money she didn’t want—except to help her dad. She was only here on the chance she was an heir and she could help her parents. They were the ones who’d plucked her out of the system and saved her. She didn’t need fancy clothes. Especially if she wasn’t an heir.

      “But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going shopping.”

      “You never know.”

      “I know.”

      “No. You don’t.”

      She shook her head. For a guy who wasn’t supposed to talk to her, he never seemed to let her get the last word.