by Karen Booth
Andrew reached out for Miranda’s hand.
“The last two weeks have been some of the best of my whole life. I’m sure that sounds stupid, but it’s the truth.”
She felt her heart flutter in the center of her chest. “It’s not stupid. I feel the same way. I love having you here.” She scanned his face and her knees went weak when he absentmindedly licked his lower lip.
Before she knew what was happening, she felt him lock his gaze on her.
His hand went to her jaw, his fingertips giving the lightest imaginable touch against her neck. “I’m afraid I’m going to make a mistake, Miranda.”
“What do you mean?” She was desperate for the answer, but she also feared it. If he pulled away from her, she might never recover.
“I want to kiss you. But I worry that it’s wrong.”
She didn’t know what to say. She was too relieved that they’d both been thinking the exact same thing. The only thing she cared about was hurrying down this path he’d just set them on.
“Maybe you should just try it and see how right it feels.”
* * *
All He Wants for Christmas by Karen Booth
is part of The Sterling Wives series.
Dear Reader,
It’s time to wrap up The Sterling Wives trilogy with All He Wants for Christmas!
If you’re jumping into the series, it started when a wealthy, enigmatic man died unexpectedly, leaving control of his company to his current wife, along with his two ex-wives. The three women are thrust into a partnership and, ultimately, a sisterhood.
All He Wants for Christmas is the final chapter, centered on Miranda, who has been widowed for a few months. She’s also pregnant with her dead husband’s baby! Miranda is clinging to all connections to her deceased husband, including his estranged brother, Andrew. The trouble is that virtually everyone sees Andrew as a bad actor. He spent years waging war with his brother. For Andrew, walking into Miranda’s life isn’t easy. He’s fighting lies and secrets while trying to build a future. This is a love story between two people who desperately need each other. They just don’t know it!
I hope you enjoy All He Wants for Christmas. Drop me a line anytime at [email protected]. I love hearing from readers!
Karen
Karen Booth
All He Wants for Christmas
Karen Booth is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on ’80s music and repeated readings of Forever by Judy Blume. When she takes a break from the art of romance, she’s listening to music with her college-aged kids or sweet-talking her husband into making her a cocktail. Learn more about Karen at karenbooth.net.
Books by Karen Booth
Harlequin Desire
The Sterling Wives
Once Forbidden, Twice Tempted
High Society Secrets
All He Wants for Christmas
The Eden Empire
A Christmas Temptation
A Cinderella Seduction
A Bet with Benefits
A Christmas Seduction
A Christmas Rendezvous
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com,
or karenbooth.net, for more titles.
You can also find Karen Booth on Facebook,
along with other Harlequin Desire authors,
at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!
For my aunt Judy,
who absolutely loved Christmas
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Claiming the Rancher’s Heir by Maisey Yates
One
Andrew Sterling had nearly forgotten how pleasant November in San Diego could be. As he descended the stairs of his Cessna, a soft breeze ruffled his hair and a strong dose of California sun warmed his face. If he had to guess, it was nearly seventy degrees today. This was a complete one-eighty from his adopted home of Seattle, where the cold and rain was a fixture this close to Thanksgiving. It crept into your bones and your psyche and made itself at home well past Christmas. San Diego was obviously a far better locale this time of year. But this city held too many unhappy memories for Andrew—dreams dashed, loyalties destroyed, love lost and, ultimately, two brothers forever divided. He wouldn’t be staying here long, no matter how nice the weather.
Forever divided. That was the part Andrew was having the hardest time getting past. There was no repairing his relationship with his brother. Johnathon was dead, his life ended three short months ago at the too-young age of forty-one. It was a fluke accident—a line drive on the golf course, straight to the temple. There had been no time to say goodbye, not that it would have been an easy conversation. There would’ve been countless things to say, and even more things to apologize for, which could have only happened after getting past the state of their relationship that day—Johnathon and Andrew hadn’t spoken in over a year. Even worse, Andrew was orchestrating a scheme to kneecap Johnathon’s business, Sterling Enterprises.
He’d had good reason to embark on the secret venture, but that didn’t matter now. Johnathon was gone, and Andrew had to stop the plan he’d set in motion. Defuse the bomb he’d built. Unfortunately, someone else still wanted to light the fuse—Andrew’s one-time ally in the scheme, a man known only as Victor. Victor had been on the wrong end of a multimillion-dollar business deal with Johnathon and he was not the type to forgive and forget. Guilt and regret had made Andrew stop, but Victor didn’t have family loyalty or even a conscience to constrain him. Victor was merciless. If he couldn’t get his revenge on Johnathon, he’d destroy his legacy instead. Hence, Andrew’s open-ended return to the city he could no longer stand.
Andrew strode across the tarmac to the idling SUV waiting for him at Gray Municipal, a landing strip so far south of San Diego it was nearly in Mexico. No one would expect Andrew to come into town via such a remote and admittedly unglamorous location. There were more than a dozen airports closer to the city, with better amenities and far nicer facilities to hangar his plane. But he wanted to slip into San Diego undetected. It was the best way to stop Victor at his game.
It was a half-hour drive to the historic US Grant Hotel, the five-star grand dame of downtown San Diego, but Andrew was not delivered to the front door. Instead, he was taken to the parking garage and used the private entry reserved for dignitaries and heads of state. Andrew was neither, but he did have a security detail and the money that afforded this level of preferential treatment. He and one of his bodyguards, Pietro, rode the elevator up to the presidential suite. It was pure luxury, with its tall arched windows, nine-foot ceiling and impeccable decor, not that Andrew planned to enjoy it. Pietro did a quick sweep of the living area, then headed up to the suite’s second level for a full inspection of the bedroom and bath. Meanwhile, Andrew paced. He was eager to get to work, discreetly find out exactly what Victor was up to, and formulate his plan from there.
“Everything checks out upstairs,” Pietro said. “Would you like me to head over to check on Ms. Sterling?”
“Yes. Just please be discreet. She doesn’t know yet what’s going on.” Andrew swallowed hard, thinking about Miranda, his brother’s widow. She’d played a crucial role in Andrew’s decision to stop the pla
n against Sterling Enterprises. Only she didn’t know it.
Andrew had gone to see her two weeks after Johnathon’s death, and that visit had been nothing like what he’d expected. She’d had every reason to be angry with him or send him away. Andrew had missed Johnathon’s funeral, too shell-shocked to deal with the avalanche of emotions that came with his brother’s sudden death. Instead, Miranda had been welcoming, inviting him into her showpiece of a home. Not that she let him off the hook completely. She told him flat out that his absence at the service had hurt. Andrew did his best to explain, but it was complicated. Then Miranda did what very few people had ever done—she forgave him.
Once the air was cleared, Miranda happily spent time with him, telling him about her life with Johnathon and, most important, about her baby on the way—the child his brother learned of on his death bed. Andrew dismissed the too-shiny version of his brother in the stories Miranda told. Johnathon had always created his own reality, twisting things until he could not be considered at fault. But Andrew did listen carefully when Miranda pondered her future, the one in which her child would never know its father. That part of the conversation had stuck to Andrew like glue. When it was time to go, she hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and referred to him as family. She’d placed her hand on her pregnant belly and told him that she hoped her baby would be part of his life. Even now, over two months later, the entire experience haunted him. He’d always known that family was important, but he’d never seen it. Or felt it. Not like that.
That made his decision for him. He immediately returned to Seattle and told Victor that the scheme to hurt Sterling Enterprises was over. Johnathon was gone and any revenge to be exacted was his. He’d come up with the plan to prevent Sterling Enterprises from winning the bid on a project for San Diego, the renovation of the Seaport Promenade, a large public space overlooking the bay. Andrew had chosen that project for very personal reasons, as he was certain Johnathon had done the same. It had been the site of a particularly painful chapter in the long rivalry between the two brothers—the day Andrew was left at the altar, or more precisely, the Seaport Promenade wedding pavilion.
“Please let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary,” Andrew said to Pietro, forcing himself to shake off the unpleasant memories threatening to take hold.
“Of course, sir.”
“I’d like you and the team to continue surveilling Victor’s home here in San Diego, his usual haunts and the airports, as well. Please let me know if he bubbles to the surface.”
“You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Sterling.”
Andrew saw Pietro to the door, closed the door behind him and latched it, then pulled out his phone to call a woman named Sandy. She’d played a key role in the plan as a mole placed inside Sterling Enterprises to help run the Seaport project aground. Sandy readily agreed to stop when Andrew asked her, but then Victor managed to lure her away with a great deal of money, and she went right back to work. Andrew had never pegged Sandy to be a person who cared only about money, but apparently she was.
Unfortunately, Andrew reached her voice mail. “Sandy. It’s Andrew. Again. This is getting old. You won’t answer your phone and neither will Victor. We need to put this foolishness to an end. If I need to pay him off or buy out your contract, I’m willing to negotiate, but we can’t do that unless one of you calls me back.” He didn’t relish the idea of drawing a line in the sand, but he was desperate to dictate at least a few rules of this game. “And I want to make sure that neither of you are entertaining any idea of retaliating against Miranda Sterling. If either of you harm a hair on her head, all bets are off. This is about business. Nothing else.”
He pressed the red circle on the screen, ending the call. For a moment, he stared at his phone. Thinking. The late-day sun streamed through the window sheers and over his shoulder. His heart began pounding. Had he just made a mistake? Tipped his hand by letting on that Miranda meant something to him?
He sank down onto the couch and ran his hand through his hair. It would all be fine. It had to be. Pietro and his team had eyes on Miranda and her house. She would be safe, and he would fix the problem. Then he could get on with the business of forging a relationship with her and the baby. It might help him come to terms with the death of Johnathon, the brother he’d both loved and hated. It might help him bury so much unhappy history. Right now, it felt like the past was coming back at him, full speed, hell-bent on destroying him from the inside out. He wasn’t about to let that happen.
* * *
After a long day at her interior-design company, MS Designs, Miranda Sterling was nearly home. She pulled her Range Rover into her La Jolla neighborhood, thoughts fixated on her most pervasive fantasy—a generous bowl of lobster ravioli prepared by her personal chef, followed by a leisurely bubble bath in her enormous soaker tub. Pregnancy had its perks. She was going to take advantage of every one.
She turned into her driveway when her phone rang, the caller ID lighting up the screen—Tara Sterling. Tara was a friend and business partner, but she’d also been the first wife of Johnathon, Miranda’s recently deceased husband. Tara and Miranda shared controlling interest of Sterling Enterprises with Astrid, Johnathon’s second wife. Johnathon had willed his shares of the company to his three wives, apparently as a testament to how much he’d loved them all. Johnathon had never been anything short of dramatic. “Tara, hey. I just got home. Is this important, or can we talk later? I’m starving and dying to take off these shoes.” Miranda eased into the first bay of her four-car garage and killed the engine.
“I’m on my way over to your place with Astrid. We need to talk about Andrew.”
Miranda hated the way she kept getting pulled into Sterling Enterprises’ drama. Everyone was convinced that Andrew, Johnathon’s brother, was somehow meddling in the business. Miranda wasn’t convinced. Yes, he and Johnathon had reportedly had a lifelong rivalry, but Andrew didn’t seem nearly as evil as people tried to portray him. “What now? We’ve already talked about this. I have serious doubts about your theory. Do you really think he’s the reason there have been so many mistakes on the Seaport Promenade bid?”
“Yes, I do. Astrid and I are almost to your place. We’ll talk about it more when we get there.”
Miranda didn’t love the way Tara and Astrid invited themselves over with very little notice. It was just another sign that everyone knew she had no life beyond work and the baby. Then again, she loved having people over. Tara and Astrid had become true friends, even if it was an unconventional sisterhood. “I hope you like lobster ravioli.”
“Are you kidding? I love it.”
Miranda made her way inside the house. She’d never get used to how big and empty it felt now that Johnathon was gone. Eight thousand square feet was a silly amount of space for two people to occupy, let alone one person, but she couldn’t bring herself to part with their home. It not only had a breathtaking view of the Pacific, but Miranda had also painstakingly decorated every inch of it. The house brought Miranda comfort on the days when she found it hard to dig out from the depths of her grief, and it made her happier whenever she found the courage to simply look ahead to the good things on the horizon, like Thanksgiving, Christmas and, after that, the arrival of her baby girl.
Miranda popped three servings of the ravioli into the oven, thankful she’d had the foresight to ask for extra. Tara and Astrid arrived mere minutes later.
“Come on in.” Miranda stepped aside as the two women entered the foyer. Tara, with her bright blond bob and determined stride, led the way, followed by willowy Astrid, the natural beauty and former model. As Miranda closed the door, she couldn’t help but notice how she was the short one, especially since she’d kicked off her pumps, while Tara and Astrid were both in heels. At five-seven, Miranda was no shrimp, but the other wives towered over her.
Astrid stooped down and gave Miranda a warm hug. “How are you feeling? Everything good?” A
strid always showed great enthusiasm for the baby on the way, even though she’d suffered years of infertility with Johnathon. Now that she was engaged to Miranda’s brother, Clay, Miranda wondered if they would pursue IVF, or perhaps Astrid would choose to focus on becoming a mom to Clay’s daughter, Delia.
“I’m mostly just hungry all the time.” Miranda waved them both through her spacious living room to the gourmet kitchen, where the heavenly smell of ravioli perfumed the air. “Thankfully, we should be ready to eat in about fifteen minutes. Can I offer either of you a glass of Chablis?” Miranda pulled a bottle from the wine fridge in the center island.
“I’d love one.” Astrid perched on one of the barstools.
“Me, too. But I’d really like to address the Andrew situation right away if we can.” Tara took a seat next to Astrid.
Miranda cut the foil from the neck of the bottle. “Okay. Shoot.”
“He’s back in town. I have a friend who saw him at the Grant downtown. I don’t think we can wait around to see what he’s going to try next,” Tara insisted. She then went on to remind Miranda of the misdeeds they were sure he’d committed, including having someone at the city feed misinformation about the project specs to the team at Sterling. “We need to go on the offensive.”
Miranda poured two glasses of wine, fighting the frustration she was feeling right now. She’d spent some time with Andrew when he’d come to San Diego a few weeks after Johnathon’s death. He might not be perfect, but she didn’t see any way he could be the force of evil everyone else seemed to think he was. “I fail to see where I come into all of this. I don’t even work at Sterling.”
“Exactly why you’re the perfect candidate. He won’t suspect you,” Tara said.
“Plus, you have the best relationship with him. The rest of us don’t know him well,” Astrid added.
Miranda didn’t know Andrew that well, but none of the wives did. Andrew hadn’t really been a part of Johnathon’s life during any of Johnathon’s three marriages. Miranda did have the most recent experience with him, and she did like to think she was a good judge of character. There was a part of her that felt a need to clear Andrew’s name. “What did you have in mind?”
