Merry and Bright (11 page)

The couch shot straight up from the floor, coming to a hover about two feet above the carpet, causing a handful of objects to instantaneously fly through the air as if hurled by a slingshot—like Scott’s phone, which nearly hit Tim, and . . . the gun, which was yanked right out of Alice’s hands.

It slapped hard to the couch and stuck there.

“Dammit!” Alice yelled as Tim used his leg to trip her to the floor. Still attached to the filing cabinet, he slid down and sat on her.

“Hey!” she yelled, struggling. “I’ll sue you for sexual harassment!”

“I’m gay,” Tim informed her dryly. “I’m more likely to sexually harass Maggie’s hottie than you, trust me.”

Maggie stared at her “hottie”—the one who loved her—her free hand clutching her heart, because it had only just now started beating again. “Did you did mean it?”

Jacob’s eyes softened, and some of the tenseness left his body as he lifted his free hand and cupped her face. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Oh, God. I love you, too.” Her throat was so tight she could hardly speak. “For so many reasons. You say what you think and you do what you say, and you’ve got more logic and common sense in your pinkie than my last five dates combined.”

“Hey,” Scott said, insulted.

Maggie ignored him. “I think you’re the smartest, funniest, sharpest, smartest man I’ve ever met.”

“I could have said what I thought and what I feel,” Scott muttered to Tim. “I could be solid and loyal.”

Jacob pulled Maggie close. On Scott’s desk, her heart monitor was still going nuts. With her free hand, she pulled the vial Tim had given her out of her pocket and smashed it to the floor. “That was the last of it,” she told her soon to be ex-bosses. “I realize you can make more, but if you do, know this—I’ll turn Data Tech over to the FDA, the DFA, the CIA, and the DEA, and whoever else will listen to me.”

“You’re bluffing,” Tim said. “Your work is your life. And without us, you won’t get funding.”

“I’ll wait for the right funding, I’ll find it eventually.”

“It could take years.”

“Maybe.” She looked at Jacob. “But I’ll wait. My life is no longer just my work.”

His eyes were full of affection and heat, lots of heat. “I like the way you think,” he said, as pounding footsteps came down the hallway just outside the door.

Knowing it had to be the police, Maggie linked her fingers with Jacob’s. “This is going to get messy, and might take some time to sort out. After which, I’m going to be unemployed.” She winced. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“I love messy. And I love you. As for the unemployed at Christmas, don’t worry, I have an in with Santa. Have you been naughty or nice?”

“Nice.”

“Well, we’ll have to work on that,” he murmured, just as the police burst through the door.

It took several hours to sort everything out, but eventually, Alice ended up in jail, Tim and Scott lawyered up, and Maggie and Jacob were free to go. Maggie walked out of the room where she’d been questioned and found Jacob waiting for her.

He looked into her face and slowly held up a little bough of mistletoe over his head.

She couldn’t help but smile when she looked at him. “What’s that?”

“A hint of what I want from you.”

“And after the kiss?”

“More.”

“More?”

“I want it all, Maggie. And I’m hoping you do, too.”

“Yes.” And she walked right into his waiting arms.

B
AH
,
H
ANDSOME
!

1

O
utside the weather was as the song went—frightful. Inside, Hope O’Brien looked down at the huge box of Christmas decorations she’d dug out of the cellar of her bed-and-breakfast inn and thought maybe
this
would be the year that Santa brought her something she needed. Money to meet her bills for the month would be nice, or lacking that, maybe an orgasm.

Yeah, now that would be
real
nice.

Smiling at the thought, she pulled out some brightly colored balls and ribbons and—

“Mistletoe!” Lori snatched up the dried sprig, and held it to her chest like it was a bar of gold.

Hope slid her best friend a look as wind continued to batter the small B&B around them. “You’ve been married six months and still drag Ben into the closet whenever you see him. What could you possibly need with mistletoe?”

Lori, also the support staff for the inn, waggled a brow. “It’s for you.”

“You want to kiss me? Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Hope leaned in and puckered up. “Give me your best shot.”

Laughing, Lori shoved her away.
“I
don’t want to kiss you. I want someone
else
to kiss you. A penis-carrying someone.”

“Yeah.” Hope sighed. “I think that ship’s sailed.”

“Honey, you’re twenty-nine. That ship has not sailed. You’re just being a pansy-ass because your last boyfriend stole all your money and ruined your credit before going to jail, forcing you to go begging from your asshole rich stepbrother.”

“Gee, thanks for the recap.”

“And you’re probably also still feeling the effects from your boyfriend before that, the one who stole your self-confidence. What was his name?
Dickwad?”

“Derek,” she murmured.
Derek the Dickwad
. “And you wonder why I say my ship has sailed. Clearly I can’t trust my own judgment.”

Lori’s eyes softened, and she leaned over to squeeze Hope’s hand. “That’s because you don’t trust your heart. Look, you’re pragmatic and tough—you’ve had to be. But let’s face facts. You have a type, and that’s the badasses. Joey, Dickwad . . .”

True. Hope had always been a sucker for the bad boy. Someone had once told her it was from growing up without a father figure, but she didn’t believe in letting circumstance mold her. She was a “be responsible for your own destiny” sort of woman.

Lori twirled the mistletoe in her fingers. “Did you know if you wish on this stuff, it’ll come true.”

“Yes, and maybe Santa’s reindeers will sprinkle magic dust over all the land and make us rich.”

Lori gave her the puppy dog eyes. “Are you really going to suck all the spirit out of the holiday?”

Hope rolled her eyes, but then shook her head. “No.”

“Then
wish
, dammit.”

“Fine.” Hope snatched the mistletoe and closed her eyes. “I wish that the DA would shake my money out of Joey so I can pay back my brother before he calls the loan that’s due on January first, which is in . . .” She mentally calculated.
Oh, God
. “Twenty-one days.”

“Oh, Hope,” Lori said sadly, making Hope realize she was doing it, she
was
sucking the spirit out of the holiday.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s try this.” Hope paused, the only sound being the vicious storm currently rattling the windows. “I wish for someone to hang up all the Christmas decorations for me. And . . . clear them up after Christmas.”

Lori’s eyes were censoring. “Stop thinking of the B&B first; think of you.
You
, Hope. Wish for . . .
sex
. Yeah, now
there’s
something you could use. How long has it been anyway, six months?”

Six months sounded pathetic, but the truth was even more so. She lifted a shoulder.

“
Eight
months?”

Fourteen, but who was counting? Oh, wait. She was. She was counting.

“Give me that.” Lori grabbed the sprig back, once again pressing it to her heart and closing her eyes. In sweet earnest, she said, “Hope’s too busy and stressed to think of herself so I’m doing it for her. I wish for a penis for her. One that’s attached to a man who knows how to use it.”

“It’s no use.” Hope shook her head even as she laughed. “I’m done with badasses, penises and all.”

“A really
good
man,” Lori went on, eyes still closed. “Not a badass, but a kind, gentle soul—but good in bed. I can’t stress that enough.”

“That’s funny.”

Lori opened her eyes and reached into her pocket, from which she pulled out a string of four condoms. “Merry early Christmas.”

“You are not serious.”

Lori merely stuffed them into Hope’s jean pocket.

Hope laughed again, then raised a brow when someone knocked on the front door of the B&B. Though it was only six in the evening, it was pitch-black, with the snowstorm still raging out there. “Huh.”

“Maybe it’s him,” Lori whispered.

“Him who?”

“The man I just wished for you, the one with the kind, gentle soul. And the penis he knows how to use.”

Hope rose from the dining room table where they’d been sitting. She supposed it could be an unexpected guest. She had six guest rooms, and only two were filled at the moment; her guests either in their rooms or in front of the fire she had roaring in the living room. She’d be happier with more paying guests, but what with the B&B being out in the boondocks two hours north of Denver, and the economy in the toilet, things were slow.

Of course now was the worst possible time for her to be slow, what with her bank accounts emptied and all. She was hanging on by a thread—a thread that had come from her stepbrother Edward, a guy who made Scrooge look like Santa Claus.

It was killing her, knowing she’d been forced to borrow from him, but it was also temporary.

As in a lump payment was due to him in LA by January 1 . . .

Twenty-one days . . .

She’d e-mailed Edward—he didn’t do personal contact—to ask for a little teeny tiny extension, but she hadn’t heard back yet.

Don’t go there now,
she told herself, and moved toward the foyer, followed by Lori. She opened the front door and was immediately assaulted by the wind and snow. She squinted past it to take in the tall, dark stranger who was dressed as if he’d just walked off the cover of a glossy man’s magazine.

“Does it always snow like this?” he asked, stomping the snow from his boots, his voice low and husky as if he was half frozen.

Tall, dark and
irritated,
she corrected. “In December, yes. Can I help you?”

He squinted through his glasses past snowflakes the size of dinner plates. “My car got stuck about a half mile back.”

Behind her, Lori gave her a little nudge.
See? There he is, the penis I wished for.

Hope ignored her as she eyed the guy on her step. He had his hood up. Sure his voice sounded fine, even attractive, but that didn’t make him a good guy. Until she saw his face, she wasn’t letting her guard down. “Four-wheel drive?” she asked him.

“No, it’s a rental. I have chains on it, though.”

So he wasn’t a local. “Yeah, not good enough, not on a night like this one.” His clothes screamed big city, from his fancy coat down to his fancy boots. Maybe New York, maybe Los Angeles—either way he was definitely
not
used to Colorado winter driving. “If you’d like to rent a room for the night, I can get you help digging out your car in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

When she moved back and opened the door wider, he stepped inside, giving her a brief impression of a lanky lean build, but not much else. He smelled good, though. Woodsy, citrusy . . . masculine.

He turned to her then and let his hood fall back as he opened his coat, looking at her with a hint of wariness as if he was waiting for something, which came immediately.

Recognition
.

As it hit her, she went still. Danny Shaw, her stepbrother’s CPA. He had a striking face, she’d give him that. High cheekbones, rich mahogany eyes slightly magnified by the sophisticated wire-rimmed glasses on his nose. His hair matched his eyes and was trimmed short. With his coat open, she could see his tailored pants and shirt, both undoubtedly as expensive as his glasses. If she hadn’t known him, she’d have taken another minute to fully appreciate his fine form.

But she did know him, and all the friendly drained from her, replaced by tension. “Did you come to give me an extension?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

She felt the air leave her lungs as if he’d hit her. “Then get out.”

“We need to talk, Hope.”

“No.” She hauled open the door again, ignoring the snow that pelted her.
“Get out.”

“Hope,” Lori murmured. “Who is this, another ex-boyfriend?”

“No. Worse. Meet Danny Shaw, my brother’s lackey. And I still have three weeks left.” She jerked her head toward outside. “Good-bye, Danny.”

“You just offered me a room.” His voice was very distinctive with its low, husky timber, and she kicked herself for not recognizing it sooner. After all, she’d met with him when negotiating the loan from Edward, because heaven forbid Edward get his hands dirty with the details.

And the details
had
been dirty. Edward hadn’t exactly given her a favorable loan. Nope, he’d been less than one step from a loan shark, but she’d figured go with the devil she knew... “I’ve just unoffered the room,” she said, once again gesturing for him to go. “You’re letting out all my bought air.”

“We really need to talk first, Hope.”

“Sorry, but I don’t talk to rat bastards.”

He raised a brow. “Rat bastard is what you call your brother.”

“Yes, and as Edward’s representative, you get the same consideration. Get out, Danny. Go home. Tell him I’ll get him his money on time.” Since he didn’t budge, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door. He stepped over the threshold, then turned back to face her to say something.

But she shut the door in his face.

Danny let out a shuddery breath. Shuddery because he was a minute away from freezing his nuts off. When he’d flown out of Los Angeles that morning, it’d been sunny and a slightly chilly sixty-eight degrees.

Ha. He hadn’t known chilly. He hadn’t known a lot of things, such as how bad the rental car would be, or the depths of Hope’s worry and fear. He wrapped his coat tighter around him and pulled his hood back up before once again knocking on the door.