* * *
Seven o’clock was way too early to get out of bed on what was undoubtedly going to be a crappy day, but Chloe was up anyway, slamming the carafe into the coffeemaker and jabbing the on button. She leaned against the counter, hugging her warm flannel pajamas to herself, and watched it drip.
It was Scott’s fault. Showing up every day at eight had trained her to be awake by seven, ready to shower and brush her teeth and meet him with a smile. He wasn’t coming today—he wasn’t coming back at all—but she couldn’t force herself back to sleep. Her mother never called before ten because Chloe sometimes kept late hours, so she had at least three hours to kill. Alone.
And she was alone because of a measly hundred miles. Because his life was in Maine and hers was in Boston and somehow that had become an insurmountable obstacle.
She knew in her gut they had more than a holiday fling going on. While she couldn’t say how much, she knew he cared for her. Maybe even enough to pack up and move to Boston. But he’d be unhappy there and she knew it. And so would Kojak.
That left her moving back to Maine, assuming Scott was as interested as she thought he might be. It wouldn’t really affect her work, as long as she could get high-speed internet. And she wouldn’t have to sell the condo, at least not right away. Her parents could use it. She and Scott could spend some weekends there.
So maybe she couldn’t get crab rangoon delivered to her front door at three in the morning, but the Monday night beef stew special was good.
Before she could change her mind or talk herself out of taking the chance, she flipped open her phone and dialed Scott’s number. It rang, but along with the standard ring she heard over the line she could make out the cheesy Christmas melody Bethany had programmed on his end.
Weird. She followed the sound to the front door and saw Scott on the other side of the glass, staring at the display on his phone. Then he looked up and saw her.
He’d come back. That had to mean something, though she tried hard not to let hope run away with her emotions. Her pulse quickened as his gaze held hers through the window, his eyes serious despite the smile he gave her.
She closed her phone and dropped it on the side table, then pulled open the door. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Chloe,” he told her as Kojak squeezed past them. “I was working up the courage to knock.”
“I don’t look that bad in the morning.”
“It’s pretty early. I wasn’t sure you’d be up.”
The frigid morning air wafted over her face and froze her ankles, so she pulled him inside and closed the door. “I made coffee. It should be done by now if you want a cup.”
“Well, first I, uh…I brought you something.” He pulled a small, square package wrapped in Christmas paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “It’s…umm…maybe you should just open it.”
She sliced through the paper with her fingernail and peeled it away from the plain white box. When she lifted the lid and unfolded the tissue paper, her breath caught in her chest.
It was a key. Shiny, with well-defined edges, so it was either cut recently or was seldom used.
“It’s a key to my house.” Scott’s voice was a bit tight, as if from nerves, and Kojak made a questioning sound and thumped his tail. “I know we were just supposed to have a holiday fling and I tried but…I think I fell in love with you.”
Chloe’s heart was pounding so quickly she was surprised she didn’t pass out. “You think?”
“I’m pretty sure, actually. I don’t want to let you go, Chloe.”
“I…wow.”
“I know. I wasn’t supposed to. But I think, if you give us a chance, it might be the real thing. I know the distance is an issue, but somehow we can make it work.”
“I was calling you because, even though I said it was only a holiday fling, I think I fell in love with you, too, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least tell you.”
“You think you did, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“I think I’d like to kiss you right now. Pretty damn sure I would, actually.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. She moved into his embrace, sliding her hands under his jacket so she could wrap her arms around his waist. He hugged her shoulders with one arm while cradling the back of her neck with the other, then lowered his mouth to hers.
It was a sweet kiss—filled with the promise of a new future together—and she sighed in contentment against his mouth, wishing it could go on forever.
Kojak, however, had a different idea and kept headbutting her hip until she reluctantly pulled away from Scott. “Yes, Kojak. Merry Christmas.”
As she scratched the dog’s belly, Scott peeled off his coat. And then the flannel shirt he wore unbuttoned over his T-shirt. “You turned the thermostat up again, didn’t you? I swear, I’m going to have to build an addition to be your office so it can be on its own heating zone.”
“Or you could just strip for me. Often.”
When Kojak was content with his greeting and wandered off toward the couch, Scott pulled her back into his arms. “Can you be happy here, Chloe? I know it’s not an exciting place, but—”
She kissed him to shut him up. “I’m already happy here. I’m happy with you.”
“And kids?”
“When the time is right, yeah.”
“A few?”
She laughed and tried to push him away, but he didn’t let her go. “A couple.”
“Several?”
“We’ll see.”
“You know,” he said, dropping his voice down into that sexy bedroom range that made her knees weak, “these are some very sexy pajamas you’re wearing.”
“Mmm…and now that Santa’s delivered all his presents, we’re free to be naughty.”
He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the stairs. “I’ve got all the present I need, right here.”
“This is the best Christmas ever,” she whispered against his cheek.
“Like I told you before, I aim to please.” He paused halfway up the stairs to kiss her again. “Merry Christmas, Chloe. And welcome home.”
About the Author
Shannon Stacey married her Prince Charming in 1993 and is the proud mother of two incredible sons. She lives in New England, where her two favorite activities are trying to stay warm and writing stories of happily ever after. And while her two cats refuse to curl up on her lap and keep it warm while she writes, her Shih Tzu is never far away.
You can contact Shannon through her website, http://shannonstacey.com, where she has maintained an almost daily blog since 2005. You can also visit her on Twitter at http://twitter.com/shannonstacey or at her Facebook page, http://facebook.com/shannonstacey.authorpage, or email her at [email protected].
All She Wants For Christmas
By Jaci Burton
Big Star, Small-Town Christmas
Country singer Riley Jensen would never have returned to her small Missouri hometown if her publicist hadn’t come up with the scheme to tape a Christmas special there. So she never would have known that the man who broke her heart at eighteen—causing her to flee to Nashville—was now a widower with a seven-year-old daughter. Riley has ten years of angst-filled hit songs and Grammy awards to prove she doesn’t need Ethan Kent. But suddenly, she can’t help thinking of all she gave up by running away…
Ethan Kent knew Riley had the talent and the drive to make it as a singer. He also knew she wasn’t going anywhere if she stayed in their nowhere town for him. Then one night and one huge mistake sent her running on the road to fame. Which doesn’t mean he ever stopped loving her…
But with so much separating them, can Riley and Ethan find their way back together one magical country Christmas?
Acknowledgements
To Angela James, a wonderful editor who understands me and knows how to push me to be better. Thanks, Angie!
De
dication
To Charlie. Every day is Christmas because of you. I love you.
Chapter One
“This is your home town? This tiny little blip in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yeah, this is it.” Riley Jensen tensed as the tour bus pulled down Central Street. In ten years, nothing much had changed. The post office was still there and so was the hardware store, the clothing shop that was probably still owned by busybody Charlene Talmage, and the diner on the corner where her foster mother used to drag her on Saturdays so she could gossip with all her friends. The five and dime still stood in the center of all the chaos.
“And you said people wouldn’t come.” Riley’s publicist stretched her long, lithe body across the leather seats and peered out the darkened privacy glass. “The streets are lined with people.” Joann turned to Riley. “See? Your town still loves you.”
Riley sniffed. “My town just wants to be on television and they know I come with photographers and a TV crew.”
Joann tsked. “So cynical for one so young.”
“I’m almost thirty, Jo. I’m hardly young anymore.”
Jo swiveled and gave her an eye roll. “You’re twenty-eight, not anywhere close to thirty, and you’re hardly headed for the rocking chair, so knock it off, put on your biggest smile and get ready to greet your hometown fans. It’s show time.”
Show time. Hometown. She hadn’t been home since she’d bought a bus ticket ten years ago and ran like hell from Deer Lake. And she’d never once looked back, come back or wanted to, until Joann and her agent, Suzie, convinced her—no, forced her—to make this trek in order to film part of the biography special in her hometown.
That they wanted to do it during the Christmas holidays was ridiculous, but whatever. Not that she had any plans anyway.
Why Deer Lake agreed to it considering she hadn’t once stepped foot in this place in the ten years she’d been gone wasn’t because they loved their long lost home town gal. They should hate her for turning her back on them, for never coming back, for never once giving back to the town that had raised her.
Yet here they were, lined up on the streets as if she were Santa in the annual Christmas parade. And she knew why. All the smiles and waves and banners and screams outside the bus were for one thing and one thing only—exposure for the town that sat on the outskirts of the Ozarks. Deer Lake had its quirky charm and a few interesting attractions. The lake for one thing, which was a hotspot in the summer. Tourism would benefit from the exposure, and so would the town.
Jo held Riley’s jacket in front of her. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She slid into the warm suede and took another look at the woman in the mirror. She was so different from the girl she’d been when she’d left ten years ago. Back then she’d been scared out of her mind when she’d bought the one-way ticket to Nashville with nothing but a few clothes in her suitcase, her guitar and the money she’d saved working at both the movie theater and the restaurant.
“They’re proud of their hometown girl, Riley. Grammy Awards, ACMs, CMAs. You name it, you’ve won them all. They know that and they want to celebrate you.”
“They know that and they want to capitalize on me.”
Jo cocked her head to the side, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her lips painted a deep, dark red Riley could have never pulled off. “Girl, you are so mistrustful of your town. Get a grip.”
Riley swallowed past the lump in her throat. She was never nervous on stage. She lived for the spotlight. But facing down a few hundred townsfolk—people she’d known since she was a kid—yeah, that got her knees shaking.
At least she could take comfort in the fact there was a less than zero chance Ethan Kent and Amanda Richfield would be out there. She was positive neither of them would want to see her any more than she’d want to see them.
“Let’s just get this meet and greet over with, okay?”
She took a step toward the door, but Jo put up her hand. “As soon as all the cameras are in place.”
Ugh. She liked doing concerts just fine, loved playing for her fans. But this television stuff was a whole lotta nonsense. And a biography already? Riley thought you had to be old to get a biography. That way you actually had a life story to tell.
Apparently not. One of those true story television shows wanted her biography, claimed she had a rich life history and people wanted to know about it. They’d already filmed some concert footage as well as face time with her at her home in Nashville. She thought the whole thing was ridiculous. She was still single, had no kids, hadn’t been on drugs or been to prison, didn’t hang out at the clubs and party, and spent most of the year on the road. When she wasn’t touring she was in the studio writing and recording music.
Which would make for a pretty boring biography, in her opinion.
But the producers and Jo and Suzie thought where she came from was interesting. Sure, her daddy had died when she was a baby and her momma had run off not long after that, leaving her in the custody of foster care, but that wasn’t much different than what a lot of kids went through. Didn’t make her special. She’d had nice foster parents. No one beat her or abused her. She’d had an okay childhood, and she’d been a damn lucky adult so far, which still in her mind didn’t make for interesting television.
Whatever. They knew better about that kind of stuff than she did.
“Cameras are in place, now, Riley. Ready to rock and roll?”
No. “Sure.”
The bus doors opened and the sounds of screams and applause rose up, filling the bus. Crowd noise typically made her smile and jazzed her up, because that meant performance time.
But today she’d be giving a different kind of performance. Today she’d have to pretend she was happy to be back home again.
Jo went first and moved out of the way and Riley stepped forward, her heart pounding so fast all she could hear was the buzzing of a thousand bees in her head. She gripped the side rail, dizziness making her feel lightheaded.
If she passed out would she still have to do this? Maybe if she fainted they’d drag her back onto the bus and she could go home. The bio producers would rethink this whole thing. They’d call her a silly diva, not worth their time.
Excellent.
Jo gave her an expectant, move-your-ass-off-the-bus look.
You can do this. These people don’t know you anymore. All she had to do was play to the crowd like it was a concert in any city.
She lifted her head, took in a deep breath, and stepped down, becoming Riley Jensen, superstar of country music. She lifted her hand over her head and waved, and the crowd went crazy.
Okay, maybe she could do this as long as she didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She looked over the crowd, not at them.
She was invisible. She wasn’t really here. She was at home watching reruns of Bewitched.
“Riley! Riley! Riley! Can you see me?” Reality intruded and she couldn’t help but hear the high-pitched squeals in front of her. She focused her gaze on the little girl in the front row. Wow, there was a tiny explosion of pink. Bundled up in her pink down coat with her pink hat and pink gloves and matching pink boots, her dark pigtails contrasting against the cotton candy color of her coat, the little girl looked like a tiny fan girl maniac. Riley grinned.
She was such a sucker for kids. She nodded at security, who let the little girl come through. Riley squatted down as the kid catapulted herself into her arms.
“Hi, Riley Jensen! I love your music, Riley Jensen! My daddy and me waited all day for you.” She pulled back and gave Riley a big, brown-eyed grin. “Gosh you’re pretty. I got my nails painted just for today.” The little girl pulled off her glove. “Aren’t they pretty, Riley Jensen?”
And that’s why Riley loved kids. She examined the child’s fingers. “Wow, those are awesome. Pink’s my favorite color, you know.”
“That’s what my daddy says. He knows you. Says you two went to school together.”
&
nbsp; “Is that right?” She scanned the crowd and settled her gaze on a man standing just beyond the little girl, her heart jerking in response.
This—this was why she hadn’t wanted to come back.
Or rather he was why she hadn’t wanted to come back.
He was why she’d run ten years ago. She straightened and looked into the deep amber eyes of the one man she’d never hoped to see again.
Ethan Kent, the first guy to break her heart. Okay, the only guy to break her heart, and the only guy she’d ever loved.
She felt the tug on her coat and looked down at the little girl, who grinned up at her. “Riley Jensen, that’s my daddy.”
Oh, hell.
Chapter Two
Ethan should really learn to say no to his daughter. If he had, he wouldn’t be standing in front of what was essentially the entire town of Deer Lake while facing down the woman who’d left him ten years ago in what had been the biggest scandal of the town. Because Riley had found him in bed with her then best friend, Amanda, who he’d subsequently married, and who had become the mother of the adorable but precocious little minx who’d managed to wriggle her way to the front of the line this morning in order to get the best view of country singing superstar Riley Jensen.
Yeah, hadn’t that been a fun time in his life ten years ago? Scandal, drama and tears, and he’d brought it all on himself.
Despite screwing it all up, though, he’d gotten Zoey out of it, and she was definitely the right thing. He’d never regret her.
But facing Riley again? That he hadn’t planned on. When she got her record deal and hadn’t come home to celebrate it, he figured he’d dodged the big bullet. He’d long ago given up hope of ever seeing her again.
’Til now. And staring at her until she turned tail and ran again probably wasn’t gonna happen, so it was time to man up and say something.
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