A Bad Boy for Christmas

by Jessica Lemmon

  She made a meager attempt to thwart him, but finally agreed. They carpooled to the mansion, then she went her way: to the library, and he went his: to the indoor greenhouse behind the utility room.

  After a restless night and the frustration mounting from not finding his prey, Connor needed to unwind. Last year, Donovan agreed to let him use this space for growing his patented, prize-winning lavender. Since the local florist had begun requesting it on a regular basis, he’d been tinkering with a way to grow it faster and thicker so as to keep her stocked. The space, filled with old shelves and furniture he’d repurposed, was just what he needed.

  Entering the space filled with the heady, spicy, earthy scent of lavender, as cliché as it sounded, instantly relaxed him. And made him sleepy.

  Stifling a yawn, he drank down some more coffee and strolled through the space, past the shelves lined with various seedlings and starter plants he would nurture through the winter months until spring, then past a pair of antique doors separating the massive box of lavender under the grow lights overhead.

  Then he got to work.

  * * *

  Sofie was leaning on her elbows on Faith’s desk in a threatening manner. “I swear if you do not tell me…”

  Faith laughed. “There is nothing to tell! We had dinner. He drank some of my wine. That’s it. Honestly, he hung out in his truck more than he was in my apartment.”

  “Oh.” Sofie straightened and folded her arms over her chest. “Well, that’s not very fun.”

  “I’m not looking for a fun time with Connor. He’s there to make sure I’m not attacked in my sleep.”

  Her best friend canted an eyebrow. “Yeah, well I wasn’t looking for a fun time with Donny, either.” She smiled sweetly and then returned to her desk. “I meant to ask…when he and I travel to New York in a few weeks, you sure you’ll be okay with the business?”

  “For the fourteenth time, yes.”

  “I’ve never been to a Thanksgiving that lasted an entire weekend.” She screwed her mouth to one side. “And at Alessandre D’Paolo’s mansion. I’m going to have to take my best shoes.”

  Faith smiled. Alessandre was Donovan’s mentor and very close friend, the closest thing Donovan had to family, and yes, ridiculously wealthy. “Relax. You have the shoe thing on lock.” Sofie had a million pair. Give or take a few.

  “Well, even though it’s a holiday, I’ll be available if you need me.”

  “I will call if I need you.” Faith looked up from the list she’d been diligently checking off. “I’m sure our clients will be enjoying their own families as well and won’t need much from their event planners.”

  Sofie chewed the side of her mouth. “But the Kauffman dinner…”

  “I’ve got it.” Kauffman Enterprises was having a fairly small shindig over at the conference center for their employees. “I finished sending the confirmation e-mails last night, finalized the caterer, and had the decorations delivered to the venue.”

  Her friend let out a breath. “What would I do without you?”

  “You’ll never have to know.”

  * * *

  By the end of the day, Faith was beyond ready to go home. She’d had a few unpleasant phone calls, a virtual e-mail apocalypse over balloons—of all things—and had stayed at the mansion two hours later than she expected to.

  It was now after seven, and her stomach was rumbling. Sofie and Donovan had dinner plans, so they’d cut out an hour or so ago. Faith had promised to be out the door right behind them, but she’d stayed to finish up one thing…that had turned into eighteen other things.

  Connor was around here, she knew. He’d vowed to stick to her like Teflon. But also, she swore she could feel him nearby. It was like a weird sixth sense. The air didn’t exactly tingle, but parts of her did.

  Your pheromones.

  Yikes. That was concerning.

  She hadn’t seen him in a while, though. He’d poked his head in the library earlier, cell phone pressed to his ear, and saluted her. Which was beyond sexy. After he sauntered back into the foyer, she’d blinked at the doorway for a few seconds while attempting to unscramble her brain.

  Finished with her last phone call for the evening, she tossed her own cell phone onto the desk, collapsed back on her chair, and blew out a breath.

  About that time, Connor strolled back into the library. “Gonna be much longer?”

  “You don’t have to wait on me. Go if you need to go.”

  “Cupcake, what did I say?” His clenched jaw and stiff posture suggested he was peeved.

  Yeah, she didn’t think that would work. There was more to do, but nothing she couldn’t do from her laptop. She was just being difficult because the idea of sleeping at Connor’s house—with him in it—was making her twitchy. What if…what if…

  She closed her eyes against the images of his mouth on hers and whipped her hormones back to their corner.

  “You don’t go anywhere without me,” continued the brute in charge of her safety. “That includes staying in a big-ass mansion with only Gertie to protect you.”

  “I thought you said Gertie was a good protector?” she countered.

  A low sigh echoed in his broad chest, but when he stepped into the office, his body showed none of his earlier signs of agitation. In that easygoing stroll of his, he approached her and loomed over her desk. “I have a security system in my house. You’ll be safe there.”

  So he kept saying.

  “And quite frankly, I need to sleep. The last two nights I didn’t get much.”

  She stood, ready to give in. She was starving, and more arguing would only further delay her dinner.

  “I need to be sharp so we catch this guy.”

  “Guy?” What was he talking about?

  He came around to her side of the desk and got close. Facing him full on, she got a sense of how broad his shoulders really were. She was slim and small-boned, and Connor was a contrasting wall of muscle; his presence was nothing short of commanding.

  Gently, he took hold of her arms with both hands and frowned. “I didn’t chase off a dog at your house. It was a person. Not sure who. By the time I got out to the grass, he was gone.”

  “A…person?” She felt her heart rate ratchet up, her blood go cold.

  “It’s why I wanted you at my place tonight. Yes, I need to get some sleep, but I also need to know you’re somewhere no one will look for you. I know for a fact someone is lurking around your building.”

  “My gosh.”

  “Don’t want you there without me in case he comes back.” Strong hands squeezed her upper arms in an attempt to comfort her.

  “He?” Even though he was calm and being so careful with her, she still felt as if everything moved around her at warp speed. There was a man—who Connor had seen—trying to get into her apartment. And maybe even trying to get to her. Suddenly, she was taking Connor’s extreme measures much more seriously.

  “If I could skip tonight, I would. But I have to go, Faith.”

  She didn’t have to tip her chin much to look into his hazel eyes. They were right there, almost level with hers. She swallowed thickly. He’d called her by her name instead of Cupcake, and that made her feel the direness of her situation.

  “Tonight, you’re bunking with me.” His face softened, and he gave her a wink. “Up to you whether you want to bunk with me literally or not.”

  Her shoulders dropped as she felt herself relax. He was intentionally lightening the mood. “This isn’t some elaborate scheme to get me into your bed, is it?” Flirting with him eased her tension in an instant.

  “Come on, does that even sound like me?” The corner of his mouth hitched.

  “Yes.”

  His grin remained. “Pizza tonight?”

  “And Devil Dogs. Have you had one yet?”

  “Not yet. But you’re the one with the sweet tooth around here, aren’t you, Cupcake?”

  And he was back. She grabbed her purse and pulled it onto her shoulder, decid
ing to leave her work for later. Even if she had to work the weekend, it would be worth it to have a break tonight.

  “Mark my words,” she said as they walked into the foyer and shut off the lights, “I’ll convert you yet.”

  At the front door, he stood right behind her, his low voice rumbling in her ear and sending shivers down her spine. “I think you might.”

  * * *

  The drive to Connor’s place wasn’t far. He lived just on the other side of the lake, in a building that had several apartments, all on one floor. They walked down the sidewalk into the U-shaped area, each dwelling partitioned off by its own six-foot piece of privacy fence. His was in the back right corner, and behind the privacy fence was a square of concrete with a grill, and the front door.

  “It’s not much,” he commented, echoing her thoughts. He popped open the door and she followed him in. Beyond the threshold, she saw boxes stacked against every wall. His furniture consisted of a recliner, a television…and not much else.

  “I was under the impression you had lived here a while.”

  “Going on two years.”

  Two years? He hadn’t unpacked, hung up any pictures, or amassed any more furniture than this in two years? Looked like temporary housing. A small dinette set stood against the wall next to the compact kitchen. Maybe he had a severe minimalist style.

  “Not expecting to be here long?” She put her purse on the countertop, the sparkling-clean countertop. And not just because it hadn’t been used. There was no dust. The floors were clean. His place may be sparse, but it was also spotless.

  “I’m not here much.” He walked to the front door and pointed out a number pad for the alarm system. “Three-two-eight-four. Key it in, press Enter. Do not let anyone in. I’m not expecting company, and neither are you.”

  He gestured for her to try, and she entered in the code and pressed Enter. The screen read ENGAGED.

  “I’m the only one who knows this code. When I get home, I will let myself in. Hang out, help yourself; I’m going to stay until the pizza gets here. After the pizza’s here I’m gonna run my errand. Be back within an hour. Do not let—”

  “Anyone in,” she finished for him.

  “You’re safe here,” he said, his hard tone softening. “Call me if you hear anything, or even if you think you do.”

  She thought of her apartment. Of the scratching sound she’d heard when she’d been in her bed, covers to her chin, alone. Dread pooled in her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Cupcake, you hear me?” He ducked his head so they were face-to-face, but he didn’t have to duck very far.

  She nodded, focusing on his concerned hazel eyes. “I hear you.”

  Once the pizza arrived, Connor scarfed down three pieces in record time. “Engage the alarm behind me. Do not let anyone in. Call my cell if you hear anything.”

  He was so serious, she said nothing as she followed him to the front door.

  “I have cable. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  In other words, sit down, watch TV, and try not to freak out about the fact that someone was possibly stalking her, and may know where she was right now.

  A shudder crept up her spine and shook her shoulders.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t escape the attention of her protector. He dropped his hand from the doorknob and came back to her. “Look at me.”

  She did.

  Rather than grasp her upper arms this time, he palmed her neck, threaded his fingers into her long hair, and tipped her chin with both thumbs.

  “You are safe. If this alarm sounds, the cops will be called automatically, but they will call me next. Yes, I am being overly cautious. No one followed us here. It’s highly unlikely you’ll have to contend with the alarm.” His eyes warmed the longer he looked at her and he continued to hold her face. “I’ll be back in one hour. You’re safer here than anywhere else.”

  Okay. He was probably right. And she had no reason to doubt him. She nodded to let him know she understood.

  “Cupcake. Breathe.” He gave her a soft smile.

  She blew out a stuttered laugh. “I am a coward.”

  He didn’t laugh with her.

  “No, you’re a woman who is dealing with an unknown intruder. You are not a coward.” He held her eyes a moment longer. Long enough for her to notice the flecks of gold and green mingling in his. “Set the alarm.” A second later, his hands were gone, his body walking out the front door.

  She engaged the alarm, watched out the window as he walked to his truck, and then stood with her hands knitted, wondering how she would make it through the next hour without losing her mind.

  CHAPTER 6

  Connor wouldn’t miss a Friday night with the man who saved his life no matter the circumstances. That included leaving a scared woman at his house right now. But if he’d thought for a second Faith wasn’t safe in his house, he never would have left her. Plus, his buddy wasn’t one for company. He didn’t think Jonas would appreciate his bringing a girl around. Or Faith for that matter, who would have had to sit on a dilapidated couch and listen to the two of them shoot the shit.

  Jonas answered the door, beer bottle in hand, enormous television blaring behind him. He’d started without him. Not surprising.

  Connor stepped inside. Like him, Jonas lived alone. And, like his apartment, Jonas’s place had that not-quite-lived-in look. Boxes lined the hallway, and the only furniture in the living room was the eighty-inch TV and a treadmill behind a lumpy sofa handed down from his sister.

  “What’s on par for tonight?” Jonas asked, making his way for the fridge. “The Avengers? The Hangover? Or do you feel like playing Call of Duty?” The latter was a joke¸ and he made that clear by flashing a smile. Neither of them had any interest in playing war. Not after seeing so much of the real thing.

  Jonas was older than him by ten years, divorced about three years ago, right around the time they were both in Afghanistan together. His wife and young daughter moved across the country, unable to handle him being gone so often.

  It was a reminder to both of them why relationships were so hard for military guys like them.

  Jonas had come back the last time different, quieter. Sadder. Connor always thought his friend was the man he would’ve become if he didn’t have a supportive family. Yeah, he may bitch about his dad, about the family handyman business he didn’t want any part of, but the truth was Mom, Dad, and his two sisters had been what kept him sane.

  Not to say Jonas wasn’t sane, but there was an open wound that hadn’t quite healed yet. Any man would have an open wound after the trauma of Afghanistan, but his wife poured salt into it when she left with his daughter. He may have been contented to morph into part of his sofa and never leave his place, but Connor refused to let him sit here and rot. He came by every Friday if for no other reason than being a physical reminder that Jonas was a hero. If it wasn’t for his friend, Connor would’ve died that day in the desert.

  “Or, hey,” Jonas said, “we could always go for something scary.” He handed over a bottle of Miller and Connor accepted with a smile.

  “Actually, I only have time for a beer or two. Then I gotta bolt.”

  Jonas’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Shit. You got a date or something?”

  “Not exactly. Faith is being stalked by someone I haven’t found yet.”

  “The model?” Jonas waggled his eyebrows in appreciation.

  “Easy,” he warned.

  They both knew she wasn’t a model, but after Jonas had been by the mansion once and caught sight of her, it was the only moniker he referred to her by. She looked like a model so it wasn’t a far-off description.

  “She’s at my place now. Her apartment’s security consists of a deadbolt.”

  Jonas plopped down onto his lumpy sofa and tipped his beer bottle. After he swallowed a drink, he shook his head. “And you’re here with me? That’s fucked up. If I had a woman who looked like her at my house, I wouldn’t leave her to come
see some sorry sack of shit like me.”

  “Yeah, well if that sorry sack of shit saved your life, I bet you’d make time to have a beer with him.” Connor sat on the opposite side of the couch staring blankly at the TV.

  “Tell me about the intruder.” Jonas had a mind for puzzle solving. And since he didn’t get out much—had taken to computer programming from home rather than work outside the home—Connor knew he was probably itching for a puzzle to solve. So he told him the whole thing. The scratches on the locks, the shadowy figure disappearing into the trees, and the fact that Connor didn’t like the idea of Faith staying there by herself.

  Jonas stared through his beer bottle, now forgotten on the battered coffee table littered with magazines, his elbows on his knees as he listened intently. Like Connor, he had a side of him that was all military. That side snapped into place almost audibly when someone—Faith, in this case—was in danger. Frown lines deepened his forehead. “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You did good by taking her to your place. Stay at her place tomorrow night. Sounds like the bastard is getting braver. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was someone she knew.”

  Connor sipped his beer. “I thought maybe a relative of the former owner. She said the guy died, so maybe a grandkid wanting to find a secret money stash in the walls. Prescription meds they kept hidden.”

  But those didn’t add up, either. Because the person trying to break in had been careful. Really careful. Like he was testing his limits and seeing how much closer he could get.

  In agreement, Jonas shook his head. “I don’t think so, man. Is there anyone she might know who would want to break into her place?”

  “She says no. But I’ll ask her again.” He couldn’t imagine Faith having enemies, though.

  “You should.” Jonas reached for his beer and leaned back in the corner of his sofa. He drained the bottle and gestured to the door with the neck. “I were you, I would get my ass home before my supermodel girlfriend conked out on me.”

  “You a love expert now?” Connor stood from the sofa and finished his beer. “I don’t see you with any girlfriends in your house.” He started for the door.