The Christmas Target

by Charlotte Douglas

  He pulled away and surveyed her face, as if memorizing what he saw. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re sure?”

  The only thing she was sure of at the moment was that she was sorry he’d stopped kissing her. “About what?”

  “No point in us knowing each other better.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s settled.” Before she could register the irony in his voice, he was kissing her again.

  And she was kissing him back.

  With her reason overcome by pure pleasure, she couldn’t think, didn’t want to. All she wanted was more.

  After several moments he drew back again. “You didn’t give me an answer.”

  Disoriented, drunk with desire, she replied, “I did, too. I said, ‘absolutely.’”

  His face lit up like a Broadway marquee. “So you will stay and finish your assignment?”

  She sat up, placed some distance between them and tried to make contact with her brain. It had obviously been hot-wired by too much sensory input. She opened her mouth to correct his misinterpretation, then closed it again.

  She’d enjoyed kissing Ross, enjoyed it more than she’d ever enjoyed kissing anyone. And she was a big girl. If she wanted to stay, to spend some time in the luscious lawman’s arms—although, as he’d said, his time was limited—where was the harm? When her job was finished, the three thousand miles between Miami and Montana would be an adequate impediment to further involvement.

  “I can’t let Max down,” she heard herself saying, although Max was the furthest person from her thoughts at the moment.

  Ross caressed her cheek. “Having you here means a great deal to me.”

  She purposely misread what his words, gesture and facial expression were telling her. “I’ll give Courtney as much attention as I can.”

  Before matters progressed in a direction she wasn’t ready for, she stood abruptly. “Tomorrow’s a working day. For both of us. I’ll say good night now.”

  He pushed to his feet, but she hurried from the room before he could touch her again. She didn’t trust herself to risk another kiss, knowing where it would lead.

  “Sleep well, Jessica,” he called after her as she fled the office.

  She hurried up the stairs to her room, afraid she’d weaken if she lingered. The cloying fragrance struck her the moment she opened the door, and even with the lights off, she knew someone had been in her room.

  Thinking Fiona had changed the flower arrangements, Jessica flipped on the lights and closed the door behind her.

  A crimson splotch on her pillow immediately caught her eye. A huge red satin bow and streamers decorated a spray of creamy-white gardenias nestled at the head of the bed. When she approached, she noticed the card attached with its typed note.

  “Don’t worry, Jessica. I’m watching you. Your secret Santa.”

  Her thoughts flew immediately to Ross, and her heart warmed at the message. When she reached for the flowers, however, she pulled her hand back in alarm.

  They were ice cold. Someone had either just removed them from refrigeration or brought them in from outside. Ross couldn’t have done that. He’d spent the past half hour with her in his office.

  Her heart pounded to an entirely different beat from the one prompted by Ross’s kisses. This rhythm pulsed with fear.

  If Ross wasn’t her secret Santa, who was?

  And why was he watching her?

  Chapter Ten

  “You’re up early.” Ross greeted Jessica when she entered the dining room.

  “Today’s a working day,” Jessica said as coolly as if they hadn’t kissed the night before.

  Maybe that contact hadn’t impacted her as much as him, but he doubted it. He’d clearly felt her response last night, her sudden intake of breath, the quickening of her pulse, the heat of her skin—

  “I like an early start,” she added, dispersing his memories with her practical tone.

  He didn’t know why he felt so happy. A fast-moving cold front was flinging sleet against the windows. He had a list of unsolved crimes as long as his arm. Buck Bender had called the vet to come out for a look at his best breeding bull who was off his feed this morning. And Jessica had just greeted him with the politeness of a stranger.

  In spite of all that, Ross was content, and the source of his happiness had just taken a seat across from him.

  “Sleep okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Jessica replied too quickly, but she didn’t appear rested.

  He wondered what had kept her awake and caused the delicate shadows beneath her eyes, the slight nervous tremor of her hands. Second thoughts about staying in Montana? Regrets over kissing him?

  She wasn’t giving him any clues. She sipped the coffee that Chang Soo had just poured, then looked at Ross. “You know anything about gardenias?”

  “They smell nice. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  Ross studied Jessica, trying to decide the motive for her query. With other women, he’d have considered a comment about flowers an obvious hint, a hope Ross would respond with a gift bouquet. But Jessica didn’t seem the type to make that kind of suggestion. She was too straightforward, not the type to play coy. Gardenias grew profusely in Miami’s climate. Maybe her mention of them was merely a sign of homesickness.

  “Mrs. McGarrett grows gardenias in the solarium,” Chang Soo chimed in.

  “She does?” Jessica said, clearly interested.

  “But they not blooming now,” Chang Soo added. “Maybe next month.”

  The chef returned to the kitchen, and Jessica turned to Ross with a puzzled expression. But before she could speak, his grandmother joined them.

  Ross rose from his seat and pulled out his grandmother’s chair while studying her with concern. “Are you feeling all right, Fiona? You’re never up before ten o’clock. You’re three hours early today.”

  His grandmother shook her linen napkin and spread it across her lap. “I have a great deal to do before we leave for the airport.”

  “Airport?” Ross asked in alarm and turned his attention to Jessica. “Last night you said you were staying.”

  Jessica looked confused. “I did. I am.”

  Fiona made a clucking noise with her tongue. “Jessica’s not leaving, Ross. I am. And I’m taking Courtney with me.”

  “Whoa, doggies,” Ross said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Courtney and I are going to Walt Disney World,” Fiona announced in a don’t-argue-with-me tone.

  “Orlando?” Jessica asked in surprise and threw Ross a searching glance.

  He shrugged with an I-knew-nothing-about-this expression and returned his attention to his grandmother. “Ever think of consulting me before taking my daughter all the way across the country?”

  The edge in his tone failed to rattle Fiona. “That’s what I’m doing now. Consulting you.”

  “After you’ve already made the plans?” Ross said with more heat than he’d intended.

  “My plans can be canceled if they don’t suit you,” Fiona said mildly and waited for Chang Soo to pour her coffee. “But I made them with you in mind.”

  After all these years, Fiona never ceased to surprise him. “I’m all ears,” he said.

  His grandmother leaned across the table and patted his hand, exactly as she’d done ever since he was a child. “I know how much stress you’ve been under lately. With Courtney and me out of your hair, you’ll have more time to concentrate on your investigation.”

  “I like the two of you in my hair,” Ross protested.

  “And Jessica—” Ignoring Ross’s comment, Fiona turned to their guest. “You have work of your own to finish. You don’t need a toddler underfoot.”

  “Courtney’s no problem,” Jessica insisted with such fervor, Ross decided she wasn’t simply being polite.

  “Besides,” Fiona continued, “with some unknown troublemaker stalking our family, Courtney and I both will be safer away from here
.”

  “Safer!” The word erupted before Ross could rein in his impatience. “How can the two of you be safer, an elderly woman and a toddler, alone in Orlando?”

  “We won’t be alone,” Fiona said with a smile that on anyone else Ross would have called smug.

  “Who’s going with you?” he demanded.

  “No one,” Fiona said. “Max Rinehart is meeting us there.”

  “Max?” Ross and Jessica asked in unison.

  Fiona drank her coffee, totally composed in spite of the bombshell she’d dropped. “Along with his oldest son, Fritz, and his wife and daughter, who happens to be the same age as Courtney.”

  “What child wouldn’t want to go to Disney World?” Jessica said. “But Max? That’s not his style.”

  “He only agreed,” Fiona explained, “if Courtney and I promised to accompany him back to Miami for a week. Or two.” She slid Ross a look from beneath half-closed eyelids, as if assessing his reaction.

  Ross didn’t know what to say. “I wanted to be the one to take Courtney to Walt Disney World.”

  “You’ll have plenty of other opportunities,” his grandmother assured him. “She’ll appreciate a trip even more when she’s older. But for now, don’t you agree it’s a good idea to have her out of the house? All these armed guards and strange goings-on can’t be good for her.”

  Ross had to admit Fiona had a point, until a new thought struck him. “What if someone follows you to Orlando?”

  “Has anyone from Swenson County been attacked away from home?” Fiona replied.

  “No,” Ross said, “not that I know of, but—”

  “Then I see no problem.” Fiona rose from the table and called to Chang Soo in the kitchen. “Bring my breakfast upstairs, please. I have to finish packing.”

  She breezed out of the room as quickly as she’d entered, leaving Ross feeling as if he’d been hit by a late-spring twister.

  “Well,” he managed to utter to Jessica, “what do you think of that?”

  “Your grandmother’s a smart woman. Getting away will be good for Courtney. Even a child has to sense the tension around here.”

  There was tension, Ross thought, and then there was tension—the sexual kind, the kind he was feeling right now as he gazed at the woman across from him and wanted more than anything to pull her into his arms and taste her kisses again. But maybe keeping her here was selfish, letting his own needs overrule what was best for her.

  “Would you like to join them?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Go to Disney World?”

  “Sure. Why not? You could serve as a guide. You’ve been before, haven’t you?”

  An attractive shade of pale coral suffused her cheeks. “No, never.”

  “But Miami’s not that far from Orlando,” he said in amazement.

  Jessica shifted in her chair as if the subject made her uncomfortable. “I spent most of my childhood in New England boarding schools and summer camps in the Adirondacks.”

  “And your parents never took you to Disney World?” he asked in disbelief.

  “My parents were always on their honeymoon,” she replied with a forlorn look.

  “A perpetual honeymoon.” The thought made his blood heat. “There could be worse things.”

  “There were. Their honeymoons weren’t with each other. They’ve both been married several times.”

  A light went on in Ross’s head. No wonder Jessica seemed so reluctant to relate to him. She’d never had an example of a loving couple to emulate. Ross, on the other hand, had witnessed the love and devotion of his parents, before their untimely deaths in a ski-slope avalanche, and of his grandparents. He knew that love between a man and woman could be one of life’s greatest satisfactions.

  Then why had he married Kathy, whom he didn’t love? he asked himself.

  The answer was obvious. Because at that time, he hadn’t met Jessica Landon.

  The pain of old memories shimmered in the deep blue of her eyes, and he wanted more than anything to chase away her hurt. “I’ve never been to Disney World, either,” he assured her, neglecting to add that his grandparents had taken him to Disneyland several times.

  “Boss—” Josh Greenlea, the deputy on duty at the house for the day shift, stepped into the dining room. “Carson Kingsley’s at the front door. Says he wants to speak with you.”

  “Kingsley?” Ross asked in surprise. “Is there a problem at his ranch?”

  Josh shrugged. “Couldn’t get more than wanting to talk to you out of him.”

  “Send him in,” Ross said.

  The other night at the Chandlers’ party had been the first time Ross had seen Carson out of the house—except for coming to town to buy supplies—since his wife died. His arrival this morning gave Ross a bad feeling deep in his gut. Something must have gone wrong at Longhorn Ranch. This visit surely couldn’t be a social call.

  When Carson entered the room, however, except for the usual sadness in his watery blue eyes and the stoop of his shoulders, too pronounced for a man not long past fifty, he appeared otherwise fine.

  “Join us,” Ross said, standing and indicating a chair. “You remember Miss Landon.”

  “Ma’am.” Carson acknowledged Jessica with a nod and turned back to Ross. “Can’t stay. Just wanted to bring this.”

  He held out a package, slightly bigger than a shoebox and wrapped in garish Christmas paper tied with a bright red bow.

  Ross’s suspicions kicked in. In all the years Carson had been their neighbor, he’d never come bearing gifts, not even at Christmas. The man must want something.

  “It belonged to Susan,” Carson explained, his voice breaking slightly on his dead wife’s name. “She loved it. And when I thought about little Courtney, spending another Christmas without her mother, I wanted her to have it.”

  Remorse flooded Ross. So many bad things had happened lately, wickedness was all he’d come to expect. Evidently grief had mellowed his crusty neighbor. The older man probably identified with Courtney. Missing a loved one was especially hard during the holidays. Ross always felt the loss of his parents and grandfather more keenly during those times.

  He accepted the gift Carson offered. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you. Courtney will be pleased. She loves presents. Sure you won’t join us for breakfast?”

  The rancher shook his head. “Had mine hours ago, and I still have unfinished chores. Better get to ’em.”

  Without another word, he turned and left the room.

  “What a nice thing to do,” Jessica said.

  “Too nice,” Ross murmured, still perplexed by his introverted neighbor’s change of heart.

  “What do you suppose it is?”

  Ross picked up the package, hefted it and shook it gently. “There’s one way to find out.” Without hesitation, he slipped off the ribbon, then slit the tape along the gift wrap with his table knife.

  “But that’s Courtney’s present,” Jessica protested.

  “If it’s something appropriate,” Ross said, “I’ll rewrap it and let her have the pleasure of opening it. If it’s something she shouldn’t have, I’ll get rid of it. Fiona will write Carson an appropriate note of thanks.”

  He folded back the paper and lifted the lid off the box.

  Jessica, who’d leaned forward for a better view, gasped. “Oh, my gosh. It’s wonderful.”

  Ross looked from the contents to her. “Guess you have to be female to appreciate it.”

  “It’s a collector’s item,” Jessica said. “Worth hundreds of dollars.”

  “It’s just a doll,” Ross said, “but it’s pretty and it looks brand new.”

  “It’s not just any doll,” Jessica insisted. “It’s made by Madame Alexander. Her dolls are all historical or fictional characters. This one’s Betsy Ross.”

  Ross frowned. “I’m sure Carson has no idea of its value. He’s as tight with money as any man I ever met. I guess I should return it and explain.”

  Jessica shook h
er head. “He’s made a generous gesture. You don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  Ross sighed. “You’re right. I’ll rewrap it and place it under the tree. Courtney can open it when she gets back from Florida.”

  “You’re okay with her going?”

  Ross nodded. “Fiona’s right. Courtney shouldn’t be exposed to the troubles here. Disney World will be a nice break.”

  “Max and his son will keep a good eye on them,” Jessica assured him.

  “It was selfish of me to ask you to stay,” Ross said, glad for the opportunity to make amends. “Maybe you should go with Fiona and Courtney. See Disney World for the first time.”

  She appeared confused. “You don’t want me here?”

  “This situation isn’t easy on anyone.”

  Why was he saying that, when more than anything he wanted her to stay?

  Because he cared what happened to her. Cared more than he wanted to admit.

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

  “I told you last night,” Jessica said. “I’m secure enough here with the armed guards you’ve provided. And I’ll be too busy straightening out the mess you call records—” she smiled as if to ease the harshness of her words “—to pay attention to much else.”

  Conflicting emotions pulled at him. He wanted her close, but even more he wanted her safe. He hoped the first would ensure the latter. “Max is lucky to have you.”

  The urge to tug her into his arms swept through him again. He fought against the distraction. If he was going to protect her, he had work to do.

  “I’ll talk to you later.” He stood and headed toward the door.

  “Ross—”

  He stopped and turned toward her. “Yes?”

  “About those gardenias…”

  “Gardenias?” His mind was a blank. Then he remembered their earlier conversation, something about bushes in the solarium, but he had to concentrate on his work. “Oh, yeah. Glad you like them,” he answered offhandedly, his mind flying in a million directions.