A Highlander for Christmas Read Online Free PDF

something else, isn’t there?”
    Maggie shoved her fists into her pockets, frowning.
    “You can’t possibly hope to lie to me, Mag. Let’s have it. All of it.”
    “It’s bills.” Maggie drew a raw breath. “Bills and bills and bills. Thousands of dollars that my father owed. I don’t know how I’m going to pay them off.” She sank into the rickety steel chair and stared blindly out the window while rush hour traffic screamed along Houston Street.
    “You’re sure?”
    Maggie nodded. “He owed money to two auction houses in Paris and a diamond wholesaler in California. I’ve already had three calls this morning from a customs broker at the airport who says he hasn’t been paid for almost a year and he’s going to send men after me. Unpleasant men with accents.” Maggie tried to smile and failed. “Then there are the reporters. They’ve been staking out the building, following me home and ringing the bell at all hours of the night. They want the dirt about the notorious jeweler turned cold-blooded thief—at least that’s their slant on things. But I can manage the reporters. It’s the bills I’m worried about, Chessa. I don’t have that kind of money.”
    Chessa tapped a manicured nail against her jaw and smiled slowly “Then you pay them.”
    “How? I’m barely getting by, considering the bleedingly high cost of materials.”
    At that moment the buzzer rang shrilly. Maggie peered through the peephole and frowned.
    “Ms. Kincade? Margaret Kincade?”
    Maggie didn’t move. “Why?”
    “I have a delivery of roses here. Invoice says they’re for a Margaret Kincade.”
    “Roses?” Chessa hissed. “Open the door.”
    “I didn’t order any flowers,” Maggie said tightly.
    “Must be a gift,” the man outside called. “Look, lady, I’m just making the delivery here, and I need a signature to—”
    “Go away,” Maggie said. “Ms. Kincade’s not here and we both know that you’re not from any florist shop. And you’re not going to get any more pictures—not today or any other day. Not after the lies that you people keep printing. ” Her voice was harsh with anger and pain.
    “Open up, Ms. Kincade. Answer a few questions. We want to know why your father disappeared—and what happened to those stolen gems he was carrying.”
    “ Go away. ”
    Maggie closed her eyes and sank back against the wall. There had already been two reporters at her buzzer that morning. One had assured her he had dry cleaning to deliver, and the other swore he was collecting for UNICEF. Would they ever leave her alone?
    A string of curses drifted past the heavy metal door frame. “If one more reporter tries that, I’m going to use my blowtorch on his face.”
    “Great idea. It will make a lovely human interest piece for the front page. Jeweler rearranges reporter’s cheeks ,” Chessa said calmly.
    “Don’t you ever get upset?”
    “Life’s too short to get upset.”
    “I hate it,” Maggie muttered. “They follow me, they phone me, they harass me.”
    “Face it, love, you’re big news. You have to admit that the publicity has brought us a herd of new customers.”
    “To gawk. To gossip. Not to buy.”
    “They will. We’ve got exceptional merchandise, and they won’t find it anywhere else in New York. They’ll come back,” Chessa said confidently. “And then they’ll buy, trust me.”
    “It might be too late. I won’t have any more designs, not with my inventory liquidated to pay bills.”
    Chessa frowned. “There has to be a way.”
    “You think I should sell my body on Ninth Avenue? I doubt I’d have any takers.”
    “You’ve got those boxes in the safe deposit. You told me your father had been putting away special stones in his vault for future designs. They’ll help you pay his bills.”
    “By selling his inventory?” Maggie pushed to her feet and paced the room with sudden, raw energy. “I couldn’t . They were his favorite gems, the most beautiful stones he’d saved from