The Santa Sleuth

by Heather MacAllister

  Unfortunately, she'd sold them to Global Celebrity, one of Kate's competitors.

  Win some, lose some. Kate mentally shrugged at the memory, though it still stung.

  No sooner had the unlikely pair returned from their honeymoon when Fiona announced that she and her groom were forming a production company. To no one's surprise, the first project was a movie starring Fiona Ferguson.

  Fiona's legendary temper and unpredictability had scared off most directors and producers. This was to be her second chance. A second chance she should be protecting instead of jeopardizing her marriage--and her movie--by having a fling with her leading man.

  Sure he was handsome, Kate supposed, but was he really worth the risk?

  Was any man?

  Luckily for her, Fiona seemed to think so. Kate hunched her shoulders and stretched her arms, one at a time, keeping her camera ready. What was that woman doing? Why didn't she just get in the car and drive away so Kate could climb down off this stepladder and go back to her grungy motel? It crossed her mind that Fiona might suspect photographers were hiding among the citrus trees bordering the villa's gardens and enjoyed toying with them. Only someone with an ego the size of Fiona's would tempt fate that way.

  Gingerly, Kate flexed first one leg, then the other, and wiped her eyes on her bare arm. The sun slid lower in the sky. In minutes, the rays would pierce her leafy cover and shine into her lens making any usable shots impossible.

  A car passed on the narrow, cliffside road behind her and Kate's subconscious noted it. The car wasn't moving as fast as normal traffic, not that this road, winding in the steep cliffs, had much traffic at all. That probably meant another photographer was searching for a spot to spy on the villa. Her own car was pulled well off the road, but not hidden. Any of the paparazzi who covered glittering Capri could figure out she was here. And why.

  Kate sighed. She'd followed Fiona on a hunch, and she couldn't expect to be the only photographer with hunches. But Fiona Ferguson was her specialty. Early in both their careers, Kate had concentrated on photographing Fiona for various celebrity pictorials because of the redhead's innate star quality. The woman was going somewhere and Kate hoped to go right along with her. And, practical Kate also found Fiona's vivid red hair easier to pick out in a crowd than other less flamboyant personalities.

  They'd even become friends for a while--until Kate's younger brother, Jonathan, had come to visit. Fiona charmed him, and then dumped him with a breathtaking callousness that Jonathan couldn't accept and Kate couldn't forgive.

  A flash caught Kate's eyes and she scanned the trees to her left. Was that the reflection of the sun on another camera?

  Or just the fabulous diamond bracelet Fiona wore everywhere?

  Searching the length of the stone security wall, Kate looked for another black lens, looked for another pair of hands. She listened for the telltale click of a shutter and the whir of the auto-advance, and heard nothing but the guard dogs barking in the distance.

  The flash must have come from the diamonds. While she waited for a recognizable shot, Kate zoomed in on the actress's wrist, propped on the car door.

  Gaudy thing, Kate thought as she popped off a couple of useless shots. Useless, because that bracelet, a wedding gift from Fiona's adoring husband, had been well photographed.

  However, Kate brightened, it would prove the identity of the woman in the driveway, should she need to. Gad, look at that display of diamonds--and before five o'clock, too.

  The whir of her own camera automatically advancing to the next frame sounded unnaturally loud.

  For a moment, Kate imagined Fiona might have heard, because she swiveled her head to search the perimeter of the villa's terraced gardens. Kate was yards away, but visible, if one knew where to look and one had excellent eyesight.

  Fiona was staring straight at her ... or it seemed that way. With those sunglasses, Kate couldn't really be certain.

  Maybe Fiona'd take them off ... Kate's finger moved over the shutter release. Maybe Damian was coming out.

  Kate risked lifting her eyes from the viewfinder to observe the whole area. The movement caused the front legs of the stepladder to sink an inch farther into the moist decomposing layer of vegetation at the base of the wall.

  Propping her elbows against the wall, Kate settled in. She'd already had to move the ladder twice. At least it was cooler here than the view she'd found overlooking the swimming pool. That hadn't panned out, though Kate wasn't surprised. The fair-skinned Fiona shunned the sun.

  What a waste to be here on one of the most famous resort islands in the world and not swim in the deep blue waters. Kate could stand a quick dunk. Maybe explore the famous caves. She'd never seen the Blue Grotto--

  Suitcases! At the top of the steps, a chauffeur appeared and carried two matched bags to the car. More followed.

  Kate shot four more frames. Okay, now she was getting something. It meant that as soon as the limo was loaded and Fiona and Damian were driven away, Kate would follow them to the dock--assuming they were on their way back to Sorrento. But they had to be; didn't they have a movie to film?

  Fiona, with another scan of the garden area, ducked into the car.

  Kate sighed, but kept her camera poised. A montage wasn't as valuable as the two stars in the same frame, but it would be worth something to her editor.

  The chauffeur appeared with more luggage. A different set.

  Okay. That would be Damian's. Kate flexed her shoulders and peered through the viewfinder, snapping a picture of the open trunk and all the luggage. She'd get what pictures she could here and then race them to the marina. Rather than taking the ferry, they were probably leaving by private boat. She might get the two of them together there.

  The dogs were still barking, louder now. Something had set them off. Another photographer? Reporters?

  Rats, the beasts were coming her way.

  At least she was on the other side of an eight-foot-high security wall.

  The chauffeur closed the trunk and walked around to the passenger side of the car and stood by the door, his back to Kate. She pointed her lens and focused moments before Damian Carney ran lightly down the steps.

  Kate got off four, maybe five photos of the handsome blond actor, the dogs' barking drowning out the sound of her camera motor.

  Cradling her camera, Kate hopped off the stepladder and snapped on a lens cap, grabbed for the ladder and ran toward her car.

  She emerged from the trees and froze.

  There was her car, all right, but galloping toward it were two Doberman pinschers. What were they doing outside the wall?

  Kate judged the distance to her car and the rate of the Dobermans' approach and realized they'd all arrive at the same time. Great. She could either tumble down the cliffs, or scale the wall. Or try to reason with the snarling dogs.

  She hadn't given Fiona enough credit, Kate thought as she raced toward the stone wall. She intended to climb the stepladder and vault over the top of the wall. Technically, she'd be trespassing, but trespassing was better than being eaten.

  Slinging her camera and lenses so they hung down her back, Kate scrambled up the ladder and grabbed the top of the wall.

  "Hey! Over here!" A man's voice sounded over the dogs' yapping.

  Was he shouting at her or the dogs? Kate ignored him, hoping he was the properly horrified owner of the runaway beasts. Hoping that Fiona hadn't sent the dogs to attack her.

  "I've got a car!"

  Bully for him. Kate jumped and swung her leg over the top of the wall.

  "Don't climb over. You'll be trapped inside!"

  Through the trees, Kate saw a black car pulled over to the side of the road. A dark-haired man stood beside the open door and gestured urgently. "Get in!"

  Right, as if she'd run and hop into the car of a total stranger. She'd rather face the Dobermans.

  Waving, Kate swung her other leg over and prepared for an eight-foot drop.

  "What're you doing? Are you nuts?"
>
  He glanced from her to the approaching dogs and then back to her, his face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

  Just as Kate held her camera and scooted off her perch, she registered the fact that the man had spoken in unaccented English.

  She landed and fell forward on her knees, staying crouched and listening. Within moments, a car door slammed and the motor gunned. Seconds after that, the dogs arrived at a howl. She could hear them jumping up and down, barking all the while.

  The front of the villa was deserted, but Kate expected the staff to come running.

  Now, she was trespassing. Now, she could be arrested.

  Yes, she'd underestimated Fiona. Damian must have taught her this trick.

  Kate stood and brushed off her knees. She'd never expected the dogs outside the wall. Either someone had spotted Kate's car, or this was a cautionary measure.

  It was certainly effective. By the time Kate had made her way back to her car, Fiona and Damian would be across the bay in Sorrento.

  And the two of them didn't appear together in one frame of Kate's film.

  Where to now? The front gate, she supposed, even though her car was in the opposite direction. She'd have to hike around. The stupid dogs were still barking and carrying on.

  Setting off at a brisk walk across the terraces, she scanned the villa for signs of life. Somebody had to come for the dogs.

  On cue, a whistle pierced the endless yapping.

  Doomed. She was doomed.

  Halfheartedly, Kate picked up speed.

  But Signore, I'd only stopped my car to answer a call of nature when I was set upon by these vicious animals. The call of nature excuse had worked before, but only with men. Besides, there was the camera to explain.

  Officer, I'm so glad to see you! The view of the marina is perfect from here and I was only taking pictures when I was attacked by dogs. I was so frightened ... Hmm. Maybe not.

  Look, we both know I can press charges against you for allowing your dogs to run loose outside the grounds. How about you forget the trespassing and I won't mention that your puppies escaped?

  The iron grill of the front gate loomed ahead. Maybe she'd get lucky and wouldn't have to talk her way out of anything. There was only an occasional distant yip out of the dogs and the inhabitants of the villa were not in evidence.

  She might make it.

  Cheering up, Kate jogged the last few feet and pushed against the gate.

  It was locked. Of course.

  She gripped the bars and rested her head against them, catching her breath.

  Okay. It could be worse. If she had to, she could wait until dark, then drag the pool furniture over and use it to scale the wall.

  By then, she had no doubt that her rental car would be towed away and traced to her.

  By then, the dogs would be roaming the grounds.

  Kate rattled the gate in frustration. The road was right there. Freedom was inches away.

  All right. She was going to climb the wall. There was bound to be a section with footholds or even a door. Kate took two steps away before becoming aware of another sound.

  In the distance, but growing closer, was the two-toned whine of a police siren.

  And the frenzied yapping of dogs.

  Oh, great. Eaten and arrested.

  Kate took a deep breath. If the police didn't hurry up, there wouldn't be anything left of her to arrest. She could tell the dogs were now back inside the walls and hot on the trail of an intruder--her trail.

  A sirenless black car, probably the local police chief thrilled to have an excuse to hobnob with movie stars, pulled off the road and Kate ran back to the gate.

  "Hurry up, the dogs are coming!" she yelled as the car door opened. At the same moment, she realized that the black car was the same one she'd seen before.

  "I know. I can hear 'em." The man who’d so urgently beckoned to her earlier, now casually emerged from the car, closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed.

  They stared at each other.

  His hair was a little too long, his jeans were a little too worn and his smile was a little too smug.

  He was Kate's only hope. "Can you open this gate?"

  "No."

  She could hardly hear him, what with the sirens and the dogs. "Are you just going to stand there?"

  "That's up to you."

  Kate glanced behind her. Boy, those dogs could run fast. "I'm going to be mincemeat in a minute!"

  He didn't move.

  "Ram the gate with your car," she urged him. "I'll pay for damages."

  "Rescue you, in other words," he said, his smile still in place.

  "Whatever words you want," she babbled. The flashing lights of the police cars were visible. "What are you waiting for ... blood? My American Express card?"

  He opened the back door of the car and grabbed her stepladder of all things.

  "I want you to realize that you need to be rescued and I'm the one who's doing the rescuing."

  ***

  From Undercover Lover, available at amazon.com and other online book retailers

  Excerpt from Princess Charming

  "Mr. Matsuzaka, please accept my most humble apologies." Kyle Stuart simultaneously captured the attention of a hovering waiter and speared his software development vice-president with a start-groveling look.

  "What?" Mitchell McCormick, the brilliant, but oblivious head of software development for Stuart Computers, stopped chewing.

  Kyle directed a significant look at the dripping Mr. Matsuzaka and another at Mitch's elbow, which had sent a carafe of sake splashing into the lap of their host.

  "Oh, hey--did I do that?"

  Kyle nodded and raised his eyebrows, prompting Mitch for an apology.

  "I didn't even feel it. Sorry." Mitch gazed at the mess and resumed chewing.

  Kyle had hoped for more than an ungracious mumble through a mouthful of food.

  A stone-faced Mr. Matsuzaka, now reeking of sake, allowed the waiter to dab at his shirt front. "Please forgive me for placing the sake so close to your elbow."

  Mitchell swallowed. "No problem." He stabbed the thinly sliced beef on his plate with the fork he'd insisted upon and shoved it into his mouth. "This stuff is great."

  Kyle grimaced. Would this meal never end? Mitch was acting out every ugly-American cliché in the book and a few he originated on his own.

  With a sinking feeling, Kyle glanced around the other tables, noting how his upper management interacted with their reserved Japanese hosts.

  Just this morning, Kyle had stressed the importance of tonight's dinner. After all, Matsuzaka Engineering had invited a dozen of Kyle's key executives to meet with them in San Francisco. Even though it meant flying everyone from Jeffersonville, Georgia, the suburban town near Atlanta where Stuart Computers was located, Kyle welcomed the opportunity. Matsuzaka wouldn't have invited them if he weren't seriously considering a joint venture with Kyle's company. Kyle knew the Japanese liked to meet more than half-a-dozen times to get to know prospective business associates and he hoped this dinner marked the prelude to a long business relationship.

  He'd assumed his upper management would be on their best--meaning conservatively formal--behavior.

  They apparently didn't have a best behavior.

  He didn't even want to consider the fact that this might be their best behavior.

  Why hadn't he noticed that socially, Mitch and the others were a little rough around the edges? The engineers preferred their computers to people, but this was business. Did they act this way when they met with clients on their own?

  The tension in the room grew. The Matsuzaka people were graciously reserved and the Stuart engineers became even more awkward and ill-at-ease, perhaps sensing that something was wrong and not knowing what it was. Conversation was nonexistent.

  Mitchell was the worst of the lot. Kyle tried mental telepathy. Staring so hard his eye muscles hurt, he willed Mitch to look at him. Deftly handling a pair of mother-of-
pearl chopsticks, he brought a small piece of the velvety marbled meat to his mouth and savored it.

  Mitchell chomped on, preparing to eat the last mouthful on his plate.

  "Would you care for more?" inquired Mr. Matsuzaka.

  "No, thank you," Kyle said at once. Say no, thank you, Mitch.

  "That'd be great!" Mitch enthusiastically handed his plate to the waiter.

  Their host inclined his head.

  Kyle gave thoughtful and serious consideration to strangling Mitchell McCormick.

  Instead, he faced Mr. Matsuzaka and smiled the patented wide smile that had rarely failed to charm anyone and prepared to salvage the rest of the evening.

  His efforts were sabotaged by Mitch. "Best steak I've ever eaten."

  "I made special arrangements for my honored guests," Mr. Matsuzaka pronounced as Mitch accepted another stark-white plate with thin slices of beef fanning around the edge.

  "Kobe beef is a delicacy in Japan, Mitch." Kyle gave the word "delicacy" a subtle emphasis which he hoped Mitch would hear and his hosts would not.

  "Wonnurful," Mitch said through a mouthful of the thousand- dollar-a-pound beef. "Do they have doggie bags here?"

  Kyle winced.

  At last, Mitch's enormous capacity for expensive beef was satisfied.

  Kyle's attempts to charm Mr. Matsuzaka had been rewarded by a smile or two and he began to hope that this might lead to the long-awaited breakthrough of a contract with a Japanese company.

  "So, hey, let's get down to business." Mitch pushed the plate aside and fumbled through his leather bomber jacket, impatiently loosening the tie he'd been forced to wear to comply with the restaurant's dress code.

  "This has been such an enjoyable evening. Let's save the business for another time," Kyle suggested, hoping Mitch would realize it wasn't a suggestion at all. The Japanese hated to rush business.

  "Huh?" Mitch gazed at Kyle, mouth hanging open. In Mitch's eyes, there was the first inkling that he perceived all was not well, but then he pulled a palm-top computer out of his jacket pocket. "I can calculate the cost figures for your entire system right now."