by Gina LaManna
My cheeks flushed a bright red, I could feel it.
Lizabeth leaned forward. “I’m going to go out on a limb here. I bet you didn’t even talk money with Meg or Clay before they jumped on that plane and followed you out here.”
I paused, then shook my head. “Now that you mention it, we didn’t discuss it, not in any specific terms.”
Lizabeth spread her arms wide. “That’s rare, honey. Especially in this town. If the fees aren’t paid up front, loyalty is nothing but a dream.”
“But loyalty alone doesn’t keep you safe,” I said, finally getting up the guts to speak. “Someone who is loyal but completely incompetent still isn’t worth a whole bunch when it comes to your safety, and the safety of your dog.”
“No, but all those things I said you weren’t good at, just now?” Lizabeth grinned. “They are. Your team. I’m not stupid, dear. I don’t want trouble. But I’ve done my research, and Clay is the best informationalist I can find. And when Anthony’s on his game, nobody can stop that man. Same goes for Mack. As for Meg…” She paused, as if considering how to properly vocalize Meg’s positive features. “Well, as for Meg, everyone needs a lucky charm, right?”
I laughed. “She’s more than that.”
“Of course.” Lizabeth’s eyes crinkled in happiness, patting my thigh once more. “I hired Lacey Luzzi Services – a service that is so much more than you alone, Lacey. It’s everything you bring to the table: loyal friends, honesty, expertise in a variety of areas. In fact…I would venture to say we have a bomb expert on the team, judging by the events of the afternoon.”
I hesitated, wondering if she’d managed to put two and two together from what snippets I’d told her about the afternoon’s theater debacle.
“Oh, come on…it’s Meg!” Lizabeth shrugged. “I had a feeling she might’ve put the bomb there in the first place.”
“But how could you know that?”
“Like I said, I did my research. I know she likes to…dabble in firearms.”
“It’s part of the package, I suppose: Lacey Luzzi Services, completely unique.” I gave a nervous laugh. “That’s guaranteed.”
“And that’s why I want you by my side tomorrow,” she said. “Let’s let them wonder why I hired Lacey Luzzi Services.”
“If you’re sure, then you have my word we’ll do everything in our power to make sure things go smoothly.” I gave a firm nod. By the time I raised my head, I remembered one more piece of good news. “Oh! I mentioned it briefly before, but I wanted to see if you minded Anthony coming early. He said he’ll be coming into town tomorrow morning, and he agreed to help us as well.”
“I’ll always welcome another Luzzi.” Lizabeth stood from the bed. “Now, I must get Poopsie ready. She has a fitting tonight. She’s going to wear spectacles tomorrow, don’t you think that’ll be adorable?”
“Spectacles…as in, glasses?” I asked. “They make dog glasses?”
“Well, hers won’t have any lenses in them, but yes. We call them doggles – doggy goggles. They’re all the rage right now.”
“Well that’s…neat.”
Lizabeth tilted her head towards the door. “Barty, I can hear you creeping around out there. Come in already, we’re all done here.”
An embarrassed clearing of the throat sounded from the outside of the room. Then the doorknob turned, and in walked Bart. “I was just strolling past and…oh, never mind.” He waved a hand. “I was eavesdropping and heard you talking about Poopsie’s fitting, and I thought now might be a good time to show you my little surprise.”
“A surprise?” Miss Lizabeth pursed her lips. “For Poopsie? But she already has an outfit. We decided on spectacles.”
“Oh, we’re keeping the spectacles. This is an addition.” Looking up with a grin, Bartholomew gestured behind him out the door. “Everyone needs a date, including Poopsie, the guest of honor. So…without further ado, meet Tupac the Star.”
My jaw nearly hit the floor as my cat wandered in the room. Though his face was grumpier than the grumpiest grumpy cat out there, he didn’t seem to mind the attire all that much. On his head rested a crown – the same crown, if I wasn’t mistaken, that’d nearly been stolen on Halloween. The rest of his furry body was covered by a sailor’s outfit. Tupac the Sailor.
“How did you get him into that?” I looked up at Bart. “He can’t stand being touched, let alone wearing clothes. I once covered him up with a blanket during winter so he didn’t get cold, and I still have a scar.” I shuddered, remembering the moment.
“Told you I’m magic!” Bart did a twirl, ending in a bow. “I thought Poopsie and Tupac could go together.”
I shook my head. “I can’t take care of him while I’m working. It’s too much of a distraction. But if someone else wants to, feel free. Dibs on ten percent of the royalties if Tupac the Cat gets picked up for a movie.”
Lizabeth smiled. “I know an excellent cat handler, I’ll give him a call. It’ll be fun, and the paparazzi will love it. The Internet sure loves a cat picture. Especially a cat dressed like a sailor. Can you imagine?”
“You behave.” I pointed a finger at Tupac. “There’s a lot on the line here, buddy.”
Tupac hissed.
“He really doesn’t like you.” Bart frowned. “I’m going to take him away now before you upset him. It’d be a shame to have him ruin the outfit before we snap a few photos.”
“Hold on, before you go,” I said, raising a hand. “I have one more request, if I may.”
Bart paused, stroking the kitty, who sat very grumpily in the stylist’s arms.
Lowering my voice, I whispered a secret to Lizabeth and Bart. When I finished, Bart was smiling once more.
“I like the sounds of this plan.” Bart looked at Lizabeth. “It’ll be a challenge, but I’m looking forward to it. I can have the requested item ready by one a.m., if that works?”
Lizabeth smiled. “I think that’s a beautiful idea, Lacey. Bartholomew, spare no expense. I want the item wrapped by morning. With a card from Santa Claus. Do you understand me?”
“She will love it,” Bartholomew gushed. “All right, no time to waste. I’m off.”
Lizabeth and I waved to the stylist, who disappeared with Tupac, who growled the entire distance down the hallway.
“I will leave you to get some sleep.” Lizabeth rested a hand against the doorframe. “Do you have everything you need?”
I nodded. “Thank you. For this.” I gestured at the gown, the room, and down the hallway where Barty was working on a special surprise. “Thank you for everything.”
“I enjoy having you here. And I enjoy having your friends here, too.”
“What about you and Harold? Are you sure we’re not ruining your time together?”
“Harold and I are having a wonderful time doing nothing but lounging around, preparing Poopsie for her event, talking and getting to know one another. I’m old, Lacey. I enjoy the simple things.”
“You know, I’m really happy for you both. Harold is a good man.”
“I know it. Lacey, you have a beautiful family. I feel lucky to have experienced a tiny part of it.” Lizabeth raised a finger and gestured for me to do one more twirl in the fancy dress. “And if Anthony doesn’t have a heart attack tomorrow, then he’s not human.”
“You know, this feels a little bit like prom,” I said with a grin, obliging the twirl. “Though I never went to prom, so I wouldn’t know.”
“I always wanted to have a daughter go to prom, so I could dress her up and take photos.” Lizabeth smiled, a twinge of sadness in her gaze. “But I didn’t get the opportunity. If I had a daughter, Lacey, I imagine she’d be something like you.”
I tried to swallow, but it was difficult.
Lizabeth winked. “I know it might be hard to believe, but we aren’t as different as you think, I’d imagine.”
I started to ask what she meant, but I didn’t get a chance to finish.
“That’s all for tonight.” She clapped
her hands. “You, my dear, need your beauty rest, and I need to get back to Poopsie. I probably won’t see you until the event tomorrow, so call me if you need anything beforehand.”
“Have a wonderful night, Lizabeth.” I followed her out the door, closing it behind her.
Halfway down the hall, she looked over her shoulder. I held the door open as she spoke softly. “I think Meg will love the surprise. Goodnight, Lacey.”
As Lizabeth disappeared down the hallway, I closed the door and, with the precision of a surgeon, did my best to remove my gown without wrinkling, tearing, or otherwise destroying the exquisite fabric. Slipping into my regular shorts and tank top, I hung the dress with care, scanning it from top to bottom once more. Classy wasn’t something I’d been called much in my life but, just maybe, it wasn’t too late.
I climbed into bed, turning the radio to a softly crooning Bing Crosby. I struggled to dream of a white, cozy Christmas, which was a difficult task, considering Los Angeles was as dry as could be and bursting full of palm trees. But as one holiday song after the next played, I managed to drift off, my dreams taking me to a land far, far away, where snowflakes swirled, a fire crackled, and mistletoe hung from every ledge, doorway, and overhang. And finally, it felt like Christmas.
CHAPTER 23
Silver Bells tinkled softly in the background when I woke, the room still pitch dark. In a daze, I fought through hazy thoughts to figure out what’d woken me from a deep slumber. It wasn’t until the mattress sank under the weight of a solid body that I knew, even before I rolled over, Anthony had arrived.
“I’m here, sugar,” Anthony whispered as he sank into bed next to me.
His arms encircled my body, holding me tight, his warmth heating up my skin. He’d shed all clothing except for a pair of Armani boxer briefs, and I could feel every contour of his sinewy muscles, the abs that lined his stomach, the biceps that could hold me tight as if I weighed no more than a feather.
“Hi,” I whispered back, rolling over to face him.
It was hard to see his expression in the dark, those beautiful chocolate eyes that had the ability to melt me with one glance, and set me on fire with another. But that didn’t stop my heart from surging with happiness. I leaned in, my lips brushing lightly against his. One of the bed sheets fell over the top of us as we kissed, cocooning us in a private bubble, one so safe, so blissful, I wished to stay here forever.
“I missed you.” His hands ran up and down my ribs, his fingers teasing me with their touch. Goosebumps erupted over my legs as his fingers danced down to the waist of my tank top. “We don’t need this, do we?”
Apparently Bart wasn’t the only magician in town, because in the next two seconds…poof! My tank top disappeared.
“What about that lacy lingerie you were describing over the phone, do I get to see it now?” Anthony’s lips were hot on my neck, his tongue turning my mind to jelly.
I mumbled nonsense, curling my body closer to him, one of his arms wrapping around my lower back. He snapped the elastic on my undies, which were decidedly not lacy. In my defense, I hadn’t expected him for another eight hours, at least.
“These are not lacy,” Anthony pointed out, his voice coarse. “Do you know what happens to liars?”
“Do I want to know?”
Anthony laughed, the soft sound familiar and comforting. “I think you just might.”
“I just want to point out that technically, I wasn’t lying,” I said, nipping his lip. Two could play at this game.
“How so?” Anthony’s fingers magicked off a few more items of clothing not really necessary in the greater scheme of things.
“Because you’ve got me,” I said, my lips smiling against his. “And I’m 100% Lacey.”
Anthony laughed, scooping me up in his grasp, flipping me over and pinning me to the bed. “That is a terrible joke.”
I had a retort ready, an intelligent one, I’d like to think, but it slipped away the moment his lips pressed against my collarbone. And then my chest. And then my stomach. And just when I closed my eyes and his hands trailed across my skin, he stopped.
“Listen here, Miss Lace.” Anthony pulled himself up, looking me directly in the eyes. “Don’t you leave me again, you got it?”
“Or else what?”
His eyes glimmered. “You might be the boss of your own company now, but I’m still the boss of this bed.”
“That’s what you think.”
Anthony groaned. “I don’t think, I know.”
“But—”
My words never formed a sentence. Anthony’s lips crashed to mine, a tangle of heat, a flash of desire. And when that kiss turned into so much more, I wondered if, in fact, that elusive L-word might be looming closer than I’d ever imagined.
** **
“I can’t sleep.” I poked Anthony on the shoulder, an hour after we’d said goodnight. “Are you awake?”
He rolled over, peeling one eye open, glancing at me across the pillow. “I am now.”
Though the bed was comfy and cozy, I couldn’t convince myself to shut my eyes. Anthony’s breathing had come in a loud, steady rhythm, which normally relaxed me, lulling me to dreamland, but tonight I was too antsy. Between Lizabeth, the event, and my feelings for Anthony, I had too much on my mind to consider sleep.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “You can go back to sleep.”
Anthony pulled me closer, his breaths returning to an even rhythm that meant he was on the fast track towards sleep.
I rolled over. And then I flipped back. Then I stretched. Then I flopped a little bit like a fish.
Anthony peeked his eye open. “Are you hinting at me?”
“What are you talking about?” I stared at the ceiling, pretending I wasn’t trying to keep him awake. Fine, it was selfish, but I really wanted some company.
Anthony sat up, pulling the covers with him, his dark hair ruffled under the moonlight. “Fine, I have an idea, since it seems you’ll be flopping around the rest of the night unless I tire you out first.”
“Anthony, that’s not what I meant!”
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that was on the table.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. “What were you thinking?”
“I have a plan.” Anthony leaned in, kissing the back of my neck. “Believe it or not, I have the ability to think about other things than that, you know.”
“You do?” I ruffled his hair. “That’s news to me.”
He winked. “We can do that in…thirty minutes. See? I’m a patient, reasonable man.”
I crossed my arms. “What’s your plan for the next thirty minutes, then?”
Anthony reached a hand out, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Are you interested in putting your gingerbread house together?”
“Really?” I shot up, forgetting about the covers and flinging them from the bed. “Hooray!”
“It’ll be fun.” Anthony sat up, his body like a statue under the starlight. “And anyway, I need something to distract me for the next twenty-six minutes and fifty-four seconds.”
“What?”
“You promised!”
I gave him a squinty eye. “Then you better get building.”
CHAPTER 24
“That went much faster than I expected.” I stepped back, admiring the frame of our sturdy little gingerbread house. “Apparently working with someone who understands physics helps.”
“Physics?” Anthony crossed his arms, also looking at the little candy home. “That’s not physics. That’s just…building a house.”
“Yeah, well my gingerbread homes have collapsed every year since I was six,” I said. “I always had to steal Meg’s.”
Anthony looked at the clock on the kitchen table. “I had to be efficient. You’ve got exactly twelve minutes and sixteen seconds to decorate this bad boy.”
“Or else?” I reached for a tube of frosting.
“Or else this little house is gonna be put on the market with an unfinished basement,
no shutters, and a pile of extra candy in the backyard, because I’m taking you back upstairs. You promised.”
I surveyed the project with an experienced eye. “Okay, then. Do you want to do the yardwork, or would you rather start on the roof?” I looked up at Anthony, but he was giving me a confused, sort of unsure expression. “Or you don’t have to do either, I can wrap things up.”
He coughed. “I’ll start on the roof.”
We worked quietly for a moment, and I became engrossed in laying the perfect path of Red Hot candies as the stone walkway, flanked by a fence of multicolored gumdrops.
“I’ve never seen someone work so hard on a gingerbread house,” Anthony said, breaking the silence.
I looked up, realizing he’d been watching me. Watching as I awkwardly worked with my tongue stuck out of my mouth in concentration. I gave an embarrassed laugh. “It’s stupid. But fun. At least for me it is. If you’re bored, we can stop, or…”
“Why?” Anthony asked. “Why the gingerbread houses?”
“What do you mean?” I feigned ignorance.
“I didn’t pick this out by myself, as much as I’d like to take credit for the idea,” Anthony said. “I asked Meg what you’d like as a gift while you were away. She was vague, but she said you’d appreciate a gingerbread house kit. She wouldn’t explain further.”
I didn’t look up from where I was inserting a candy cane railing. “Why would you ask her?”
Anthony stepped closer. We weren’t touching, but his presence was almost overbearing. “It’s our first Christmas together, as a couple. I asked Meg what she thought you’d like for a small gift. I asked if you had any special traditions.” Anthony hesitantly rested a hand on my shoulder. “Anything special from when you two were young.”
I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I wish you hadn’t asked.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Christmas should be happy. I don’t want to talk about it.”
