Christmas Is for Lovers: 6 Hot Holiday Romances

by Box Set

  Rider’s eyes narrowed as he stared at something over her shoulder. “Hang on. What’s that?”

  Rider studied the wall on the far side of Trish’s head. There was a tiny crack going around in the shape of a doorway. “Don’t tell me they have hidden passages on this ship. That’ll make finding the culprit that much harder.”

  “Hidden passages? What in the world are you talking—”

  “This.” Rider stepped past her, pointing at the crack in the wall. Glancing up at the camera, he judged that even without it being pointed upward and away from the hallway, it likely wouldn’t capture anyone standing where he currently stood. The cruise line really needed to update things. The entire situation could have been avoided if they’d had cameras capable of a 360-degree view.

  “Is that a doorway?” Trish asked, stepping up beside him. Her breathing had quickened, and Rider knew she was as excited about finding a possible lead as he was.

  “No keyhole.”

  “But there’s a place for a doorknob here.” Trish pressed inward on a panel at doorknob height, revealing yet more cracks that Rider hadn’t noticed in the solid-seeming wall. A small square popped outward, swinging on hinges, to reveal a doorknob recessed into the wall. “Probably a storage closet, not a hidden passageway.” She looked up and flashed a grin. “But still a really good find. This has to be why he didn’t come out of the hallway after killing Carl. He hid out here until he could make a clean getaway.”

  Rider wasn’t going to argue with her over the sex of the killer. He’d already pressed his luck as it was tonight, but she seemed to be handling everything in stride. Another point in her favor.

  “They’d keep it locked, though,” he pointed out. “Which means our killer has to be a staff member on the ship and not Bill after all.”

  A noise of disbelief came from the back of Trish’s throat. “You call yourself a PI, and you don’t know that a criminal could easily pick a lock like this? What sort of investigator are you?”

  Rider looked down to find her smiling, proving she only teased him. Obviously, her tired brain was capable of thinking better than she’d thought it was. “We should report this to Barry,” he decided.

  “No way!” Trish shook her head, reaching for the knob. “He’ll just push us out of it. Let’s see if there’s anything in here.”

  To Rider’s surprise, the knob turned in her hand, freely popping the door ajar. “Wait.” He pressed his hand against the doorway, stopping it from opening further. “Let me go. What if he’s still in there?”

  Her eyes widened and she stopped pulling. “I don’t suppose you have your gun, Trench Coat?”

  Rider shook his head. “Stay behind me.”

  For once, she stopped questioning him and stepped aside.

  Knowing any element of surprise was lost if the killer hid inside, Rider flung the door open as fast as he could, letting light from the hallway flood into the tiny room revealed beyond. He peered into the darkness, only able to tell for sure that the area was cramped and full of life vests.

  “This must be where they store these in case of emergency,” he murmured. “It’d be more useful if people knew about it.”

  “Someone knows,” Trish pointed out, reaching her hand along the wall and fumbling her fingers across it. When she finally found a light switch, the sudden brightness momentarily blinded Rider.

  Behind him, Trish sucked in a harsh breath, putting Rider into immediate attack mode.

  Ducking low, he pulled Trish to the ground below a rack of vests. “What?” he whispered, blinking his eyes to clear them.

  Trish let out a shaky breath. “Everything’s fine. I just realized what I actually saw.” She stood, brushing off her slacks and then holding her hand out to help him.

  When Rider stood, he saw what had scared Trish. Sitting in the back of the room, propped up on a broom handle, were the ski mask and trench coat the killer had worn. It looked exactly like a person on a quick glance.

  “Holy shit.” He shook his head. “It’s like he planted it to scare us.”

  Trish slid her arm inside Rider’s, huddling close to him. “I’m suddenly not feeling so adventuresome. This is plain creepy. I don’t think we should walk into the room any further.”

  Rider was glad that wouldn’t be an argument between them because he had been about to suggest the same thing. “He must have had Carl’s body in here for a while, might have even killed him here. It’s better if we don’t disturb any evidence. We’ll tell the FBI about this place.”

  “What about Barry?” she asked. “Do we tell him?”

  Rider wasn’t sure. While Barry appeared to care about the best interests of the passengers, Rider still feared his ultimate loyalties lay elsewhere. Specifically, to whoever owned the ship. They wouldn’t want anything to hold up normal operations or lose them money.

  Would Barry turn any evidence he came across over to the FBI, or would he hush things up by making it disappear? Rider knew he could trust Trish, but anyone else on the boat was a suspect—whether for the actual attack on Carl or as someone who would try to cover it up. Rider couldn’t afford to trust anyone.

  “I think we should keep quiet until we reach Florida,” he decided. “Once we get back into service with our cell phones, I’ll call it in. I’ll explain that we didn’t know who we could trust, so we left it for them to investigate.”

  “But the killer could clean it up in the meantime,” Trish pointed out.

  “He left everything here all day today and left himself visible on the camera while he threw Carl overboard. Don’t forget, criminals are basically stupid and that’s how they get caught. He wants people to know what he did. The mask and coat being staged here is another clue he left about how he accomplished this. I don’t think he’ll touch this room again.”

  She shrugged. “I hope you’re right. There are plenty of killers out there who like to toy with the police, and this one seems to be that type. I’m completely spent. We can discuss it more in the morning and see if we still think we shouldn’t tell Barry. Right now, I have to sleep.”

  Rider nodded, patting the hand that still clutched the crook of his elbow. “I’ll walk you back and check out your cabin before leaving. We can’t be too careful, and I’d be devastated if anything happened to you.”

  Chapter 13

  Trish groaned, trying to hold a pillow tight against her ears. Sara and Malcolm were at it again.

  Giving up, she let go of the edges of the pillow and rolled over to check the clock. Only a little after one in the morning, which meant she’d had roughly three hours of sleep. Enough was enough.

  Trish swung her legs off the bed and turned to bang on the wall as hard as she could. “Knock it off, would ya?” she yelled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

  Sara’s cries softened to something of less volume, as though she’d stuffed a pillow over her face. Not silent, but better than nothing.

  As exhausted as she was, Trish figured she’d be able to sleep through the quieter noise.

  Within minutes of lying back in bed and closing her eyes, Sara’s pillow must have slipped away. The woman started screaming again.

  Considering how long the couple had gone at it the night before, Trish’s only hope was that fatigue would end the love tryst soon. Her trip would be a disaster if she couldn’t sleep.

  The cruise stopped at its first port tomorrow, and Trish’s sister had paid for and planned a day of fun for her—a four-wheeling trip across the countryside to see the wonders of the Dominican Republic up close. It would be topped off with an authentic-cooked lunch at the stopover where the participants would shower the grime accumulated from the muddy roads and interact with the culture a bit. As much as Trish looked forward to exploring, it didn’t sound like much fun if she went on two days of very little sleep.

  Half-heartedly, she tried rapping on the wall again. Either Sara and Malcolm didn’t hear her or they didn’t care. The screams, groans, and cries continued at full volume.
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br />   There was no hope for it. Trish needed rest. Rider had obviously claimed the privilege of being her man for this trip. Surely he wouldn’t object to her sleeping on his couch. It didn’t even matter that she’d have to walk far down the deck to reach him and risk seeing either Bill or possibly Thomas Baker. Anything was worth getting away from the love fest happening next door.

  Deciding it would be awkward to meet anyone while wearing her nightgown, Trish threw on sweatpants and packed an outfit and toiletries in her smallest suitcase. Rider might think she wanted to move in, but at this point, Trish didn’t much care what he thought. She wasn’t there for a booty call, simply sleep. Hopefully, he was man enough to realize that and not get any kinky ideas.

  Not that Trish was entirely against kink with her heroic Trench Coat, but tonight was not the night.

  She snagged the pillow she’d brought from home off the bed and made her way to the hall, rolling the suitcase behind her. Luckily, no one was wandering around. Trish could only hope that Rider had actually returned to his room and hadn’t gone off to the lounge or casino. However, he said he was going to spend the rest of his night alone. Trish had no reason to doubt him.

  Rider had been a gentleman since the second they met, saving her not once, but twice. He didn’t strike her as the type of guy who would find himself a booty call for a quick one-night stand. Unless Trish had widely misjudged him, Rider appeared to be searching for something more meaningful than that.

  When she reached his doorway, she paused before knocking. To her, this was definitely all about sleeping, but what if it seemed like something bigger to him? Trish liked Rider a lot, but she wasn’t ready for that next step. She didn’t want to lead Rider on.

  “Screw it. I need to sleep,” she muttered, knocking before she could lose her nerve.

  After a few seconds, the door swung open. Rider stood inside, illuminated by a single light. His bare torso revealed bulging pecs and a sexy set of washboard abs.

  Trish had to wonder what was wrong with her if she didn’t partake in what Rider offered. He sure had the body most women dreamed of having a fling with!

  “Trish?” He knuckled sleep from his eyes, appearing confused. “What are you doing here?” After a second, his eyes widened, and he yanked on her arm to pull her inside. “And what the hell are you doing alone in the hallway!”

  “Relax, Trench Coat.” She grinned, and the tension behind his eyes disappeared. “I had hoped I could crash on your couch.”

  He studied her face as though looking for more information, but then shrugged, making a sweeping motion to the inner portion of the room as he closed and locked the door behind her. “Did something happen? Why can’t you stay in your room?”

  Trish examined the tiny room, realizing her sister must have paid a fortune to get Trish the enormous balcony suite. Rider’s accommodations were less plush, to say the least. “You don’t even have a real couch.” She eyed the tiny loveseat, realizing that even with her shorter frame it would be hard to get any rest there.

  Rider brushed that away, leading her to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “Why are you here, Trish?” The anxiety had returned to his gaze.

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured him. “But Sara and Malcolm are having another sex-a-thon, and I’m too damn tired and grouchy to deal with it. I need sleep.”

  “Just sleep? Can’t say that I’m not disappointed.” He winked. “I had hoped it was a desperate need to be with me tonight that made you brave the hallways with a murderer on the loose.”

  “I...” Trish hesitated, uncertain what to say. It wasn’t that she had anything against Rider. He was smart, protective, and seemed like a real catch—not to mention sexy as hell. Everything was getting too confused in her brain.

  She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’m not one of those people who function well on less than eight hours of sleep. I’m afraid I can’t make decisions about anything right now. I really do need rest and nothing more.”

  “I know that.” He patted her hand. “Doesn’t mean a guy can’t hope.”

  “Nothing can happen tonight, but I’m not ruling it out in the future.” There, that wasn’t a commitment, but would let Rider know she’d think about it. They still had twelve full days on the cruise if the FBI didn’t shut it down when they returned to Florida midway through. That was a lot of time for them to spend together and decide if they wanted to continue seeing each other once they returned home.

  “Fair enough.” He stood, taking her pillow and tossing it to the head of the bed. “The couch is a no go. You take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t want to put you out. I just wanted—”

  He leaned over, brushing his lips against hers to cut off her protests. “This isn’t up for discussion,” he mumbled against her mouth. “I’m the one who slept last night and has a clear head, so I’ll make the decisions. Get yourself into my bed and go to sleep.”

  The heat coming from his half-naked body made her wish she wasn’t so damn tired. It’d be nice to have him in the bed with her. After all, they didn’t have to be in a committed relationship to explore second base.

  If Rider had the same thought, he didn’t let on, grabbing one of the blankets from the bed and a pillow, then making himself a spot on the floor. He stowed her suitcase away in the closet before lying down. “Goodnight, Trish. Sweet dreams.”

  Knowing it would be pointless to protest about him sleeping on the floor again, she slipped beneath the sheets. The faint scent of Rider clinging to the covers ensured she’d have the sweet dreams he’d wished for her.

  Rider woke to the wonderful, soft sounds of a woman breathing in the same room with him. Not that he wouldn’t rather be in the bed with his sleeping beauty, but it had been so long since he shared space with a woman that this would do for now.

  He had planned to make a move last night and at least get himself in the bed with her. However, Trish hadn’t been kidding about how exhausted she was. Within seconds of lying down, her soft snores permeated the room. While he’d been a touch disappointed, it also meant that she’d be in a better mood today.

  When she’d said she wasn’t the type of person who did well on little sleep, Rider believed her. The way she’d snapped at him last night was definitely out of character from what he’d seen so far. It was good to know that wasn’t her normal state. No matter how attracted Rider found himself to Trish, he wouldn’t saddle himself with a difficult woman who liked to fight.

  Above him on the bed, Trish rolled over. After a few more seconds had passed, she spoke. “I think I died a little. I drooled all over my pillow. How sexy.”

  Rider couldn’t help but chuckle. “You snore too.”

  “Really?” She groaned. “Not quite the side of myself I would have liked you to see if I had any choice.”

  “It’s okay. I thought it was cute.”

  “Cute?” She groaned again. “Cute is a death sentence to passion.”

  Rider sat up, stretching his back and grimacing slightly as a twinge of discomfort shot through it. “Don’t worry, Trish. Cute is a good as far as I’m concerned. I liked having you here with me.”

  “But I’m sure you didn’t sleep well, what with being on the hard ground and me up here sawing logs.”

  “I’ve slept in worse places,” Rider assured her. It was sweet of her to be concerned. He couldn’t help but hope it was because she was starting to feel a connection that she wanted to explore. The fact that he had to get her to fall for him before returning to Washington was never far from his mind.

  “Where have you slept that was so bad?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  That was a good sign. It meant she wanted to know more about his life. Of course, he couldn’t tell her about his time in jail.

  “I spent four months living in the mountains while trying to find myself,” he said, deciding to just skip over the first eighteen years of his life.

  “W
hat? Why would you do that?” She sat up to look at him over the end of the bed. Her hair stuck up in the front and her blue eyes were still bleary with sleep, but Rider found the combination enticing. He could handle waking up to that vision every morning.

  “You sound shocked,” he noted. “It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life after high school. Dad suggested I take a journey of discovery, as he called it. I loaded what I could carry in a hiking pack, and he dropped me off in the mountains.”

  “But why would he do that?” Her eyes were wide with wonder. “I mean, you could have been attacked by a bear or died from exposure! What kind of father tells his kid to go into danger all alone?”

  Rider shrugged, wondering if his father’s parenting style would count against him as far as Trish was concerned. Women always wanted the man who would make a good co-parent. The truth was, Rider didn’t even want children, but there was no way he’d bring that up. He had to be everything Trish thought she wanted if he had any chance of getting Stacy Baker to back off.

  “He knew I’d be okay,” Rider replied. “And he was right. I was in the middle of a clearing, crouched down as I followed the trail of a rabbit I hunted for dinner that night, and it struck me that I enjoyed looking for clues and stalking around in silence. That’s when I realized being a private investigator would be the perfect job for me.”

  Trish patted the bed next to her. “Why don’t you come up here and relax for a bit? I don’t care where you’ve slept in the past, your body must be sore. It’s only a little past six. The ship hasn’t even made it to the port yet, so we have some time before getting off the boat and exploring today.”

  We? Did she mean that she expected him to go with her? That was better than Rider had hoped.

  “What are your plans for the day?” he asked. “My day’s completely open, so if you want company...”