Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3)

by Morgan Kelley

  “He said that you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want.”

  She handed it to him and turned. “Help me, please.”

  Curtis did as she asked, closing the clasp on the necklace.

  It hung in just the right spot for the world to see. “Okay, I think I’m ready,” she said, picking up her purse. “Behave while we’re out or we’ll get a sitter next time,” she teased, dropping a kiss to his cheek.

  He watched her leave and wondered if Emma could be cloned.

  * * *

  Greyson was pacing back and forth, wondering what was taking his partner so long. When the women left, they were giggling and smiling like high school girls.

  He wasn’t quite sure why.

  Now Curtis had disappeared, and his Emma was nowhere to be found. He fixed his cufflinks and went to have a seat, and it was then that he caught her from the corner of his eye.

  She looked radiant.

  Emma had chosen a strapless dress in a gold color. It dipped low and touched the floor as she stood there. Her hair was both up and down, curled and teased into some intricate twist that looked ever so elegant. Her makeup was flawless and the bruises had magically disappeared from her body. Emma almost looked regal as she stood there. There was no doubt in his mind, that she was his heart.

  “Did I do okay?” she asked, still not moving.

  Croft moved towards her and closed the distance with his hand out as he was just dying to touch her again. As he approached, he found the C hanging from her neck, tucked into her cleavage

  “Emma, I don’t have words.” His wife would always be the center of his world, but with the way she looked at that moment, the entire universe wasn’t as amazing and spectacular as she was.

  With his help, she turned and he examined the entire view of his wife’s body in the gorgeous dress. It fit her perfectly, and gave little glimpses of her curves and elegant body.

  “You look beyond beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to her ear. “I almost want to take you to our couch and start worshipping my gorgeous goddess from the feet up,” he suggested as his mouth found her ear lobe and began teasing it, just to feel her shake in his arms. “You’re delicious, my sweet Emma.” The scent of lavender invaded his senses and made him crazy.

  “You look handsome as ever, Grey,” she stated, straightening the bowtie on the tuxedo, and then resting her hand on his strong chest.

  It was the absolute truth.

  The dark, fitted tuxedo made him look powerful and dangerous. Emma knew that he was both, and that knowledge heated her body. This man owned her heart.

  Leaning in, she returned the whispers and promised him an amazing night. “May I have a kiss, Director Croft?” she purred as his arms came around her body to anchor her to his frame.

  “Anything for you, Emma. I’d give the breath in my body to see you smile.”

  She didn't wait for more words, she only kissed him. As always, once lips met, there was this explosion of life. Emma couldn’t imagine a day without this feeling or man.

  The kiss was deep and heated, causing bodies to come alive beneath clothing. She rubbed against him seductively, feeling very wild and uninhibited while pressed to him.

  “Emma,” he muttered into her mouth before being dragged back down into the depths of the kiss. His whole body reacted to her beside him. There would never be a more potent drug than his woman.

  “I always want you, Greyson,” she whispered, when she finally broke the kiss. “There’s never enough. The more I get, the more I want.”

  The words stirred his body and heated his blood. “We better go. If you keep kissing me, we’ll be staying home tonight.”

  Yet, neither of them moved from gazing into each other’s eyes. Greyson’s molten gray ones were showing so much want and need, and were cooled when they met the calm emerald green of hers Emma’s.

  Together, they were balanced and perfect.

  “God, will you two get a hotel room?” Briggs said as he walked into the room.

  Emma couldn’t help but giggle.

  Greyson didn't even look around. “Since I live here and you seem to have checked in, you’ve made it one giant hotel.”

  Stepping back from her body, he took his wife’s hand in his. “Let’s go dazzle the important people in Vegas, honey.”

  Emma let him lead her down to their waiting car, greeting the men at the front desk as he stopped to place her wrap around her shoulders. “Merry Christmas,” Emma wished cheerfully, as she exited the building to the flash of lights and yells from reporters.

  Croft pulled her under his arm, making sure no one moved too close to his wife. When they arrived at the black Lincoln Town Car, he helped her in, and joined her with a civil nod to the media.

  Since they were being respectful, so would he. After all, it was Christmas Eve. Once inside, he lounged back, his wife beside him and her hand resting on his thigh. “Do you like the ring and necklace, Em?”

  She touched the jeweled petals of the flower and smiled. “I do. You’ve been shopping at my favorite store again,” she teased. “I know, because I was planning on buying this for tonight and when I went to pick it out, it was gone.”

  “Yes, I know. Whenever you make note of something there, it gets sold. It’s funny how that repeatedly happens,” he laughed, knowing he already made an arrangement with the sales woman. “How about the ‘C’?”

  Emma watched as his fingers touched the letter nestled between her cleavage. As he ran his fingers over it and the soft skin, she shivered.

  “Cold Emma?” he inquired, grinning wickedly. He couldn’t even tell her how turned on he became at her responses to him.

  “Over heated,” she admitted, running her fingers down his cheek and rather roguish scar. “It makes me want to do incredibly wild and crazy things,” she admitted.

  “Oh, well by all means, don’t let me stop you,” he replied, watching her lick her bottom lip.

  Emma climbed into his lap and stared down at her husband. “Know what I like best about you, Grey?”

  “Hmmmmm?” He couldn’t help but stare at the necklace sitting before his face at eye level.

  “I love that you’re a man. One who’s not afraid to be yourself. When you’re all territorial and possessive it turns me on and makes me crazy.” Emma ran her lips across his throat and jaw. Slowly, she began covering every inch of his face as her hands slid into his hair.

  Her words heated him up. “When we go out to these functions and I see you dressed like this, it makes me insane. I see every man staring at you and I want to kick all their asses. I can’t help myself. I want to drag you home and take you over and over again to remind you that you’re mine.”

  Emma grinned. “I enjoy you like that.” Then, she paused, as she noticed the house up ahead. They were almost there.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, worried about her.

  Waiting until the driver was at the door, she whispered in his ear. “This is probably a bad time to tell you I forgot to put panties on under my dress. It looks like I’m a very bad Mrs. Croft.”

  She took the driver’s hand and was gone, leaving him to sit there contemplating her words.

  “Emma!” He wasn’t sure if she was serious or kidding. When he climbed out, she was standing there waiting for him. “Come here,” he practically growled, running his hand down her ass, and she wasn’t lying.

  “Christ almighty! Are you insane?” he hissed in her ear, as his body reacted to the new knowledge.

  She started giggling. “Come along, Mr. Croft. You’re getting red. You better breathe,” she teased, patting his ass under his tuxedo jacket.

  He didn't know what to say. Now, he was stuck thinking about his fiery vixen tormenting him and also praying that all the men there wouldn’t notice his wife’s derriere.

  Yeah, fat chance of that. He might as well have a big old sign flashing ‘check out Emma’s ass’ above it!

  At the front door, it was covered with cheery wreaths
, and one wouldn’t know that just a couple of months ago, two people died there. Obviously, Randall Mason wanted to move forward.

  Before they could knock, the door opened and a butler stood there. “Welcome, and may I take your wrap, ma’am?” he inquired.

  Croft helped her slip out of it, whispering in her ear. “You’re in trouble when we get home. You did this to rile me up and get me worked into a frenzy.”

  “Yes, Grey,” she replied, smiling politely at the man as they followed him to a large room filled with mingling people. Then they were announced.

  “Director and Mrs. Greyson Croft,” his voice boomed.

  Everything stopped as everyone looked over at them.

  Emma caught the measured looks, and this was why she was worried about the bruises and looking like a victim. Everyone in that room wanted to get a look at the woman who escaped a killer. The news had discussed it so much, that she was a walking spectacle.

  Immediately, Greyson took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm as he escorted her into the room. He scanned their surroundings, daring anyone to make a comment to upset his wife.

  Before the waiter could reach them, Randall Mason was there personally with a smile on his face. He greeted her with affection and admiration, “My dear, you look amazing. That dress is becoming for a siren of my era. I am impressed with your impeccable taste.”

  Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I know what you did for me, and I appreciate it, Randall,” she said, dropping a peck on his cheek.

  The man blushed red, touching the spot with his fingertips.

  Croft smiled at the man, playing nice. What he did for Emma was sweet and that in the least bought him pleasantries. Did he trust him? Hell no. Did he have to for now?

  Yeah, unfortunately.

  “Please, may I escort your wife around the room? She’s my guest of honor. Without her, I wouldn’t be here to throw my annual party.”

  Greyson nodded as he stuck close behind them. He was trying not to stare at her bottom, but dear God, it was stuck in his head what was waiting beneath the gold gown.

  As Randall ushered her around, Croft could still feel eyes on them. It didn't take long for them to garner the attention they expected for the evening.

  Commissioner Thomas Booker crossed to him with Trudy following not far behind.

  “Greyson! Son, how are you?” he inquired, hugging the man and patting him on the back.

  “Merry Christmas, Tom, Trudy,” he offered, nodding. “We’re very well, thank you,” he answered evenly.

  “We weren’t sure that you’d be here this evening,” the older man added. “I didn't get a chance to call you when I heard about Emma. It was such a travesty. I’m glad you got her back in one piece. We were worried.”

  Croft didn't buy that for one second. The man was covering his ass big time. Obviously, he believed he’d be too busy to find out about the report.

  “No worries, Tom. I understand. Yes, we have her back and that’s all that matters.”

  Trudy didn't say much, she stood there watching Emma. “Once again that’s an interesting choice in dress. I see she’s still into vintage.”

  It entertained Greyson, as he watched his woman play the perfect wife. She laughed, smiled, did the fake kiss thing as she was still holding onto Randall’s arm. “I happen to love it, as did the media outside our condo. I do believe she’ll be on the front pages once again tomorrow.”

  Tom leaned in to whisper, “She fills it out well,” he teased, winking at the man.

  Here came the irrational need to kill someone. “Yes, she does, but again let me reassure you that Emma is more than my arm candy, Tom. She’s quite talented. Did you know she plays the piano rather well?”

  That had Trudy’s attention. “Oh, as do I. I would love to hear her play sometime.”

  Randall Mason began leading Emma back to her husband, begrudgingly. She was absolutely delightful and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Greyson, thank you for letting me borrow Emma. Everyone is just as enamored with her as much as I am. She is a gem.”

  Trudy took her chance to strike like a waiting viper. “Your husband just mentioned that you play the piano. Randall happens to love classical music. Perhaps, you could show him your skills.”

  Shit!

  Croft had inadvertently thrown his wife to the vicious wolves. Damn Trudy Booker!

  Emma handled it with decorum and couth, not even flinching at the surprise suggestion.

  Randall Mason looked excited. “Would you my dear? I have a baby grand that no one touches. It would be the perfect Christmas gift for me.”

  Emma glanced over at her husband. “May I, Grey?” she asked, demurely. They were in his realm now. He was one of the power players with a bunch of old school men. Wives had a different role here. Tonight, Emma was an accessory, and didn't mind in the least. Who didn't want to drape themselves over Greyson’s arm?

  Since Croft knew what Emma was capable of, he didn't mind. “I think our host has been so gracious that he deserves it.”

  “What sheet music would you like?” he asked, smiling like a little kid.

  Emma took his arm. “I don’t need any, since I play by ear.”

  Trudy looked like the cat that was about to swallow the canary. “This, like her dress, should be very interesting.”

  Croft ignored her. The women weren’t friends. Ever since the last time they spent time together, it wasn’t pretty and ended poorly.

  Randall Mason led her to the piano and graciously pulled the seat out for her.

  Emma could see her husband watching her. ‘This is for you,’ she mouthed.

  Testing a few of the keys Emma closed her eyes and let herself just play. She may be rusty, but she didn't care.

  Croft watched his wife as she began touching the ivory keys of the large black piano. She was leaning over it, allowing the emotion to fill her as she played something achingly beautiful. Her fingers landed correctly every time and the room behind them emptied, coming to watch what was happening in the ballroom.

  As she continued to play, the music moved him. It told a story, and even though he wasn’t a lover of classical music, he was enthralled by his wife. When the tempo changed and became more violent, stormy and emotionally charged, he glanced over at Randall Mason, finding him filled with so much enjoyment. The rest of the room was too, as she held everyone’s attention.

  She enthralled.

  Mesmerized.

  And charmed everyone who was there.

  Just as quickly as the music became charged, it mellowed and became playful, jovial and finally so soft that everyone leaned forward to hear the final notes as Emma ended her song.

  Looking up, her eyes were filled with just as much emotion. As she stood, he rushed to her side and pulled her against his body, while the room erupted in applause.

  Greyson lightly brushed his lips against hers. “You captivate me.”

  Randall was at their side, sniffling. “That is one of my favorites. It is so poignant how the heroine finds love, only to have it stolen away. In the end, when it became so soft, you could feel her slowly slipping into death all alone, because she lost the only love she ever knew.”

  Now, he understood why she dedicated the song to him. “I love you, Emma.” He didn't care who heard it. His wife moved him, nearly to tears.

  Emma laid her head on his shoulder, just clinging to him for the moment.

  “You are a treasure,” stated Randall as Tom Booker and his wife approached. “Any man would be blessed to have you by his side.”

  She lifted her head. “I’m the lucky one.”

  Croft glanced over at his friend’s wife. “Maybe you should go next, Trudy.” He reveled in the woman blanching a pale white.

  Emma gave her husband a pat on the ass in appreciation for what he just did for her. He was her hero.

  “Let us go have dinner!” Randall said, leading the way.

  Greyson lead his wife after him. “
That was amazing. I could listen to you play all night long. We are so getting a piano.”

  Laughing, she whispered in his ear. “We live on the thirteenth floor. How will you pull that off?”

  It didn't matter. It just had to happen.

  So far, dinner was delightful. Emma sat between her husband and Randall. The older man was somehow different tonight. The last time that they encountered him must have been life altering. Before, he was very centered on his money, but tonight he was at peace. Maybe, the man received a dose of the Christmas spirit.

  As the waiters brought out the food, Greyson sat incredibly close to his wife. She was drawing intricate designs on his leg again, and it was making all the blood rush to the lower part of his anatomy. There was something so intimate about having her touching him unabashedly in a room full of onlookers.

  “I thought you both gave up meat?” Trudy said, watching Emma cut into a piece of steak.

  She had for many years after her brother was killed, but with her husband’s gentle help, they had worked back up to almost all foods. “I prefer not to eat meat, but I will when we’re out or at a function,” she answered simply.

  “Ah, you have him beat down already,” Tom Booker said, lifting his glass. “To marriage.”

  Trudy gave her husband a dirty look as he got drunk.

  Emma didn't like the man disparaging her husband. “Actually, Greyson insists I not make a fuss while out. It’s unbecoming to be rude to your host, and I don’t wish to embarrass him. I believe it was you, Trudy, that once told me we are a representation of our husbands and vice versa.”

  He took her hand in his. Emma was defending him by allowing him to be the stronger one in their relationship.

  “So you’re working on a new serial killer case I hear,” stated Booker. “Tell us about it.”

  Emma almost laughed, only because she registered the look in her husband’s eyes. Oh the big scary cave-Croft was about to emerge to club the enemy on the head.

  “I would tell you, but why rehash what you have already acquired the details on? Tom, the next time you need a file or information, it needs to be filtered through me and not my secretary. She’s already been warned.”