Some called it a stubborn streak; others cursed his otherworldly luck. Sam was okay with the stubborn part. As for luck — he made his own. From the time he was a small boy, he knew what he wanted. Money. Lots of it.
Not that he grew up poor. His family had been and still was, proudly middle class. His dad went to work every morning at seven, arrived back home no later than six. Dinner was on the table promptly at six-thirty. Mom happily took care of the house, her husband, and their three children. Look up the word traditional, the Laughton family was the quintessential definition.
Sam adored his parents. They gave him a warm, loving childhood. Even the town he grew up in was right down the middle average. Not too big, not too small.
His brother, Ted, married his high school sweetheart; his sister earned her degree, went back home, and now taught sixth grade at the same school all three Laughton children attended.
Sam admired them all, and visited whenever he could. However, it wasn't for him. He wanted money, glamor, and fame. He'd dreamed of excitement, travel, living in luxury twenty-four seven. And women. He wanted beautiful, sexy women on his arm—in his bed.
Next month he would turn thirty. In the twelve years since leaving home, he hadn't just fulfilled his dreams. He lived a life beyond even his teenage imagination.
Sam made his first fortune as a record producer. Artists sought him out; he was known as a star maker. Then he turned his sights on the movie industry. Untested, he knew no one would give him the artistic control he wanted. Therefore, Sam put up his own money to buy the screen rights to the hottest book in the world. In the right hands, Wishes had the potential to be that rare breed, a critical and box office success. Sam believed those hands belonged to him.
Investors weren't exactly lining up to back a first-time producer/director/screenwriter. Sam wasn't discouraged. He sidestepped the usual money resources. He used his considerable charms on anyone who would listen. This was not going to be a cheap production. He only wanted the best. Best locations, best actors, best costumes. Best music. The last item being what brought him to Harper Falls. Rose O'Brian.
Of all the women he knew, she was the only one who could say no with any conviction. She turned down his offer to share his bed. Boy, had that been a surprise. At the time, they were both single, healthy, sexually active adults. He knew that about her because Rose was not a shy little prude. When he asked her to share his bed, she told him in no uncertain terms that she liked sex. Sex with men. She thought he was handsome, and intelligent. Yet she refused. She just didn't want him in that way.
Sam's ego could take a little female rejection. He refused, though, to let her walk away from Wishes. Rose argued that she had never done an entire movie score. She didn't think she was right for the job. He didn't agree. In the end, he got his way. Rose's music turned out to be the perfect complement to his vision. If the critics were right, come February, they would both be rewarded with Oscars.
The last time they met in person was at the world premiere of Wishes. Rose's big ex-football player future husband acted as her very protective escort. Jack Winston trusted Rose. Sam, he wasn't so sure of.
Before becoming a billionaire security mogul, the guy worked in Hollywood as a bodyguard. Sam could take care of himself in a fight. Jack was bigger, but not by much. Still, when he kissed Rose, it was lips to cheek only. He didn't want to find out who was tougher; he had a feeling it wasn't him.
Rose half-jokingly invited Sam to spend Christmas in Harper Falls. The invitation was sincere; she just didn't think there was any chance he would accept. She was right. Under normal circumstances, he spent the holidays with his family. If not with them, skiing with friends. He never went away with a lover. This time of year was always about family, and friends. There were eleven other months to feed his voracious libido.
Sam cleared his schedule, ready to depressurize with his family, when word came from his mother that she and his dad wouldn't be home for Christmas this year. An old Army buddy was getting married. Almost sixty years old, this was his first time down the aisle. Sam's parents wanted to share in the holiday-themed ceremony. They were flying to Boston, and staying until after the first of the year.
Colorado skiing was an open choice. Then he remembered Rose's invitation. To be honest, he was intrigued by Harper Falls. What was the allure? From what he understood, the place boasted an array of people even a city ten times the size would be proud of.
Besides Rose, there were her two best friends. Dani Wilde, a Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer, and Tyler Jones, an artist on the rise. Sam even owned one of her sculptures.
Then there were the two billionaires. They brought a massively successful cyber-security company to Harper Falls. Why? They could live any place in the world.
Sam turned onto the main street. Apparently, Harper Falls shut down during major snowstorms. A few lights, from still open businesses, shined through the blizzard with an eerie glow, but there were no other cars to be seen. People wisely stayed home, out of the weather.
According to his GPS, the turn to Rose's house was at the other end of town. Sam had no idea what the condition of the road would be. She lived on a mountain. He looked around, wondering if one of the lighted windows was a hardware store. A set of chains might be needed to get where he was going.
Sam moved along at a snail's pace, his attention on the storefronts, not the road, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement. What the hell? Reflexively, he slammed on the brakes, the back end of his car swerving left, and then right before the whole thing came to a stop crosswise in the middle of the road. Thank God for small towns and no traffic.
Sam opened his door, sliding out. He hadn't heard or felt a thump. Nor had he seen any more movement. Fearing the worst, he quickly walked to the other side of the rig. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. No blood. No broken body lying in the snow. Instead, he found a big, wet dog.
Unmoving, man and dog stood for several moments, staring at each other. Sam in amazement. The dog appeared to be unconcerned by the narrowly avoided tragedy he was almost a part of. His head cocked to one side, his mouth open in what could only be called a goofy grin.
He sat waiting. Waiting for what, Sam had no idea.
"You crazy mutt," Sam said, shaking his head. "If I hadn't noticed you at the last second, you would have been roadkill."
Sam knelt, his hand checking the dog's neck for a collar. Nothing. He turned, his blue eyes meeting big, brown ones. The dog leaned nearer, practically begging for a pet. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Sam obliged, smoothing back the wet hair on the big guy's forehead.
"Other than being soaked to the skin, you look like you're in good shape. Well-fed. Did you lose your collar and tags?"
Sam laughed again. Did he think the dog was going to answer? The big animal had intelligent eyes, but he doubted speech was among his talents.
"You go on home now. You've had your little adventure in the snow. I'll bet your owner is worried sick."
The dog gave him one more look before trotting off the road and down the sidewalk. Sam stood, his nose wrinkling at the smell of wet dog on his hand. He picked up some snow, scrubbing off a few hairs and the worst of the scent.
Climbing in the Porsche, Sam noticed colored lights outlining the window directly across from him. Peony. Even in the falling snow, he could tell the place would be a cheery haven. The sales clerk might be able to tell him his chances of getting up Crossfire Hill in his four-wheel drive vehicle.
Sam hopped into the cab. Convenient. He could get some information and pick up some flowers. Rose would be his hostess for the next few days. While the gifts he came with were more than adequate, a bouquet was never a bad idea.
Sam parked, turning off the ignition. Getting out of the cab, he didn't notice the big, grinning dog at the end of the block. Sitting. Waiting.
LILA FLEMING KNEW opening the shop on a day like today was an exercise in futility. The street
s were deserted. In all likelihood, they would stay that way until tomorrow when the snowplows cleared the roads. Right now, she could be snuggled down on her couch with a cup of hot chocolate and that new mystery she'd meant to read for the last month.
When she spoke to her brother earlier that morning, Alex told her that's what he and Dani were going to be doing. Snuggling that is. Lila was sure that the lovebirds would find something more interactive to do than read a book.
She asked herself, Why am I standing behind the counter waiting for customers who weren't going to arrive? Because she was restless, that was why. She felt like something was about to happen, something big. What and when, she had no idea. The waiting drove her crazy.
There was always something to do when you owned your own business. Peony. If anyone asked, she always said the shop was what she knew. Back in Oregon, flowers had been the family business. From the time she was old enough to hold a garden hose, she helped water the plants, weed. Later, she graduated to running the cash register.
The sudden death of her mother and father in a plane crash was a shock from which Lila had never recovered. She was in college at the time, Alex in the army. His leave was short, just long enough to arrange the transportation of the bodies from Wyoming, attend the funeral, and jumpstart the sale of the business. At the time, Lila was in no state to take over. She was more than happy not to have the burden.
Sometimes she wondered how she finished school. From the moment she heard about her parents' death, Lila felt like she was walking around in a haze of disbelief. A phone call from Jack Winston was what finally snapped her out of her cloud of gloom.
Jack was her brother's best friend, kindergarten through twelfth grade. Alex joined the Army; Jack went off to play college football. Lila knew they kept in touch. That they talked about her had come as a big surprise. Jack asked her to come to Washington State. He and his business partner, Drew Harper, were moving their company to Harper Falls. It was Drew's hometown; his family founded the place near the turn of the last century. According to Jack, it was a great place to start over.
Lila didn't need much convincing. She needed something new. Something fresh. Flowers were all she knew; it made sense to open a shop. With the help of Jack, Rose, and all their friends, her business thrived from the get go. Last summer when her brother, fresh out of the Army, moved to Harper Falls, everything was perfect. Or rather, it should have been.
It wasn't that Lila was unhappy. She liked her life. Alex was safe, and in love. She had friends. She dated some very nice men. The problem was she once had dreams. Dreams that seemed unimportant after her parents died. Now, four years later, she wondered if maybe she gave up on those dreams too soon.
The bell over the door startled Lila out of her melancholy wanderings. Surprised, she turned to see who was crazy enough to wander out in this weather. She at least had an excuse. Not only did she own Peony, she could close up at any time. Her home was above the shop. At the end of her day, no snow boots were required.
"Good afternoon."
"You think? I haven't decided yet."
"Maybe I can help get you there."
Lila turned. She poured hot cider into one of the cups from a set made as a birthday gift for her by Tyler Jones, Harper Falls' resident artistic genius. It was difficult to believe she knew people like Tyler, Rose, and Dani. They were famous, celebrities. Not only could she wave when they passed on the street, they often stopped to talk. They had dinner together, met socially. They were her friends.
"Take this." She handed him the steaming mug. "Nothing bad can happen when you’re sipping a hot beverage."
"I never knew cider was magical."
"It isn't." She twisted over the counter, coming back with something in her hand. "Unless you add a cinnamon stick. Now," she plopped it into his cup, "protection complete."
Sam laughed. His eyes sharpened with interest when he finally stopped being annoyed long enough to get a good look at the woman in front of him. Curvy. Oh, he liked curvy. A mass of brown hair streaked with gold and dark eyes shot with just a touch of green. She wasn't tall. Then again, she wasn't short. From where he stood, everything was just right.
"I know you."
"Have we met," he asked, certain he wouldn't have forgotten this beautiful woman.
"Nope."
Puzzled, Sam watched as she walked back behind the counter. Nice, he thought, appreciating the way her jeans molded a well-rounded butt. Normally, he was a breast man. When she turned, he couldn't help thinking — JACKPOT. Great ass; spectacularly filled out sweater.
"You do know my friend, Rose O'Brian."
He took the magazine from her outstretched hand. There he was, with Rose, at the premiere of Wishes. In the background, just to the left, the lovely blonde he'd brought as his date. Sweet Serena. The face of an angel, the mouth of a —.
"High class call girl."
"Pardon me?"
Sam looked at the woman in front of him. Was she a mind reader? If he were the kind of man to pay for his pleasure, Serena would have earned every penny.
"The article next to your picture mentions Hollywood's use of high-priced call girls to seal deals. I wondered if that was true."
The look she gave him was wide-eyed, innocent. The sparkle, the twitch of her full lips, told another story. This woman was a tease, in the best sense of the word. He hated when women came on too strong. The excessive compliments, the overly effusive fawning.
Sam liked to laugh. He had a feeling this woman would know just how to make him. He pictured the fun they could have during his brief visit to Harper Falls. Finding a sexy bed partner wasn't on his agenda, but he was flexible. Hopefully, so was she.
"Sam Laughton."
"I know." This time she grinned outright. "It says so right under the picture."
Sam smiled back. Oh, yes. This unexpected holiday just got a whole lot more interesting.
"Will you tell me your name? Or should I just call you gorgeous?"
"No."
"No, you won't tell me your name?"
"No," she clarified. "You can't use any cheesy lines on me. You can flirt. I like that. Save the icky pick-up chatter for when you get back to L.A."
"Paris."
"What?"
"I live in Paris, not L.A."
"Not the point."
"You're right." Lifting a finger, Sam made an x on his chest. "Cross my heart. No cheesy lines. I was serious about the gorgeous part, though. You are. Honestly."
Lila wanted to be cool. Act sophisticated. Not only was Sam Laughton, legendary ladies' man, in her shop, he lived in Paris. And not as in Texas. Her Harper Falls friends may be world travelers, she, on the other hand, was not. Visiting different countries, living in one, was a big part of her set-aside dreams.
"Lila Fleming."
Sam took her proffered hand, shaking it. Normally he would have kissed the back, his eyes locked on hers. Lila, the name suited her, might think such a move icky. He needed to rethink his moves. What worked with other women was not for Lila.
"Rose mentioned you were coming to town. I thought I would meet you at the party she and Jack are throwing on Christmas Eve. Having you come into my shop is a surprise."
"A happy one, I hope."
"Are you kidding? I was bored out of my mind. The snow is keeping everyone where they should be — at home."
"Why aren't you? At home," he clarified.
"I live up there." Lila pointed to the stairs in the back of the shop. "I became sick of my own company, even doing inventory sounded good. I was about to start when you came in."
Sam bit his tongue before he told her he couldn't imagine anyone getting sick of her company. Wow, his lines were cheesy. He realized he was getting lazy, or maybe his success made it unnecessary for him to dig for anything deeper. He liked women. They deserved more effort on his part. Thank you, Lila. From this moment forward, he planned on being more engaged when he flirted, more
thoughtful. Not every woman was the same. This one? Straightforward was definitely the way to go.
"I stopped in to buy some flowers. For Rose."
"That's nice," Lila said. "Most women love getting them."
Most women. But not her, Sam thought. How many unthinking men brought her a bouquet? They would know she worked with flowers all day. She would take them with good grace, of course. Thanking her date, wondering why men had no imagination. What would Lila want? He would have to think about that for a while.
"How did you find me? In this weather, it's a wonder you could see to drive, let alone see my shop, if you weren't familiar with the town."
Lila carried on the conversation with her back to him, her head inside the refrigerated glass case that took up one wall of the shop.
"A dog. He walked in front of my SUV. Luckily, I wasn't going very fast. When I stopped, I was literally facing you."
"That dog?"
Sam looked over at the door to find that dog sitting on the other side. He seemed to be waiting. Well, hell.
"I looked for a collar, tags. Nothing."
"If he's lost, the vet might know him. Or he could have a microchip implanted."
Sam looked at the dog. The dog looked back at Sam.
"Where's the vet?" he asked Lila.
Lila put the finishing touches on the box. A pretty red bow, very festive, then handed it to Sam.
"A mixed assortment. Lilies, tulips, even a few roses. The colors are seasonal. As for the vet? She's just down the street. Unfortunately, like everyone else, she isn't there. She will come in for an emergency." Lila looked outside. "He's wet, probably hungry. Not emergency material."
"It is if some kid is missing his dog. Some Christmas."
Sam expected Lila to brush off the idea. So what if a little kid was worried about his dog?
Lila picked up her phone, did a quick search, and then dialed. She talked to someone Sam assumed was the vet, arranging to meet him at her office.
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