“Well, the practice note was a little spiteful and not very nice.”
“And?”
“And I put in the practice note by mistake and mailed it.”
Her friend’s eyes widened. “And this is why you’re crying? Because you sent a jerky note to a jerky guy? Geez, the man should send you a car or something for sending that ring back to him and getting him out of the crapper with his girlfriend.”
“Wife,” she corrected.
“Whatever.”
“But that’s not the worst part.”
“Oh, so there is a worst part?”
“On the practice note, I sort of wrote ‘I love you.’”
Justine made a painful face. “Are you sure? Think—because if you drew a little eyeball with the lashes around it, and a heart and a sheep, men don’t get it. It’s a code they can’t break.”
“Justine, I spelled it out. I…love…you. No pictures, no codes.”
“Oh, geez, Piper, what were you thinking?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I was thinking that I loved him.” She fell against her friend, sobbing.
Justine rubbed her back. “There, there, men are pigs. Just think, you’ll probably live twenty years longer than he will.”
A knock on the door sounded. “That’s our cue, sweetie,” her friend declared.
Piper drew up, dried up and stood up. “I’m sorry, Justine. This is the happiest day of your life, and I’ve been pouring out my pathetic little tragedy.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” the other woman assured her.
“Let’s go get you married,” Piper said, smiling wide.
Another knock sounded, this one louder.
“The bride is on her way,” Piper said loudly.
“Piper, it’s me—Ian.”
Piper stopped, paralyzed. Justine gasped and whispered. “Is that him?”
Her heart beating wildly, Piper nodded, her eyes wide.
“Piper, talk to me,” he said through the door.
She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk you out of making a big mistake.”
“What mistake is that?” she asked, confused.
“Marrying Rich—don’t do it.”
She and Justine exchanged puzzled glances.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Justine hissed.
Piper shrugged.
“Play along,” her friend encouraged, nudging her.
Moving closer to the door, Piper swallowed. “W-why not marry Rich? Are you so disenchanted with marriage already, Ian, that you don’t want anyone else to be happy?”
“I didn’t marry her, Piper.” His voice reverberated, low but clear.
Her heart skyrocketed. Justine grabbed her arm and made a squeaky noise. Piper tried to keep her voice steady when she asked, “Why didn’t you marry her?”
She heard a fumbling noise and a scraping sound at her feet. When she looked down, a folded napkin lay by the toe of her salmon-colored shoe. She bent to retrieve it and unfolded it slowly, recognizing the name of her company printed across the paper, uncovering a reddish stain. At last she revealed a stemmed maraschino cherry, and tears filled her eyes.
“I love you, Piper. Please don’t marry him until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“This is great!” Justine whispered. “Open the door, for heaven’s sake.”
Piper nodded numbly, but her hands wouldn’t move. “I can’t.”
Justine unlocked the door with the flick of her wrist, then pulled open the door. Ian stood in the doorway, one arm on either side. Soaked to the skin, his dark hair hung in his eyes, while water dripped off the sleeves of his black suit. He stared in confusion first at Justine, then at Piper as he took in their respective garb.
“Piper—”
“I told you,” she cut in, trying to keep her voice breezy. “Always a bridesmaid.”
He straightened, his forehead wrinkling. “But I…I mean, you and Rich…and then Edmund…” He gestured aimlessly, his face reddening.
Fingering the cherry, she smiled, telling herself not to get her hopes too high. “Rich and I are not getting married. We’ve never even dated.”
He lifted his hands in the air, then jammed them on his hips. “I feel like an idiot.”
Piper studied the tips of her shoes. “So you want to take it all back?”
Ian was silent so long, she finally lifted her gaze, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes. He reached for her, crushing her against him. “Not on your life,” he breathed before he captured her lips in an urgent kiss.
When he released her, she lifted the cherry to his mouth and pulled out the stem as he clasped the red fruit between white teeth. He slowly chewed and swallowed, then kissed her, sharing the sweetness. Finally he raised his head and laughed. “Hey, what about you?”
“Me?”
“I made a complete fool of myself to prove how much I love you. So, what about you?”
Piper ran a tongue over her tingling lips. “I guess that means you haven’t received the package.”
“What package?”
“Your engagement ring. I found it and sent it to your office.”
He shook his head. “I’ve been visiting my folks, then I came straight here when I heard that—” Ian stopped and grinned sheepishly. “Well, when I thought I heard that you were getting married.”
She grinned.
“So,” he continued with a mischievous expression. “Are you saying that because you returned the ring I’m supposed to believe you’re madly in love with me?”
Embarrassment flooded her. “Um, no, there’s the matter of a note,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck.
“A note?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, rolling her shoulders in pure happiness. “For now, you’ll have to take my word for it that I love you.”
“Marry me, Piper.” His dark eyes shone. A drop of rain trailed off the tip of his nose. His lips parted expectantly.
Piper trembled with desire, love and anticipation of their life together. “Yes, Ian, I’ll marry you.” He whooped and kissed her hard, his tongue seeking, his breath ragged. They parted at the sound of Justine clearing her throat behind them. Piper laughed—she’d nearly forgotten about her friend.
“Nice day for a wedding,” Justine said, smiling.
She and Ian stared at each other, eyebrows high. “Why not?” he finally asked.
“We could have a double wedding,” Justine said, squeezing Piper’s shoulders. “Most of our sorority sisters are here.” Her friend lowered her voice. “Girl, when you go on a manhunt, you get serious.”
Everything was moving so fast. “B-but you’re all wet,” Piper said to Ian, surveying his suit.
“Sort of like when I first met you,” he declared, dishing up a devilishly happy expression.
“Sort of,” she admitted, her head spinning. “But my dress…” She glanced down at the salmon-colored bedspread she wore.
“Don’t worry about your dress,” he teased, leaning close. “I’ll have you out of it in no time.”
Justine picked up her bridal bouquet, divided it and pressed half the flowers into Piper’s hand. “I’ll let the director know there’s been a change of plans,” Justine offered, lifting her skirt and bustling from the room.
“But where will we live?” Piper asked, troubled at the thought of leaving her grandmother, of leaving her job, despite the fact that she loved Ian very much.
“In Mudville,” he said. “There’s a woman there who can vouch for my good intentions.”
She withdrew a single white lily from her makeshift bouquet, inserted it through the buttonhole in his lapel, then frowned. “What woman?”
His eyes grew warm as he settled his arms around her waist. “Relax, sweetheart, I think you’re going to like this lady. She’s certainly anxious to meet you. And wait until you see this incredible house…”
/> If you liked Manhunting in Mississippi, by Stephanie Bond, you’ll love the feature recipe, Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles. This marvelous marbleized dessert is guaranteed to satisfy the most ardent chocolate lover’s appetite. Make Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles tonight and share them with someone you love!
Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles
Cake:
Cream together in a medium mixing bowl:
1/3 cup margarine
1 egg
½ cup white granulated sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract
In a separate bowl, sift together:
¼ cup cocoa
1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup chocolate-flavored dry malted milk
Add dry ingredients to wet, alternately with:
¾ cup prepared coffee (leftover coffee is fine; the stronger the coffee, the more intense the chocolate flavor)
Stir by hand until ingredients are just mixed. Pour batter into well-greased loaf pan or muffin pan (fill cups to halfway level; makes 10-12 regular-size muffins). Bake at 350°F for 25 to 35 minutes until toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Be careful not to overbake.
While the batter bakes, prepare the sauces, one to serve cold, the other warm:
Malted Chocolate Sauce (serve chilled)
Add 1/3 cup whipped cream to ¾ cup chocolate-flavored malted milk; mix by hand or electric mixer until the sauce is fluffy, but pourable. Refrigerate.
Dark Chocolate Sauce (serve warm)
In a medium saucepan, combine over low heat (don’t bring to a boil) until warm and smooth:
¼ cup margarine
½ cup cocoa
¾ cup white granulated sugar
1/3 cup prepared coffee
1 tsp vanilla extract
Serve cake warm from the oven in bowls, top with cold malted chocolate sauce and warm dark chocolate sauce. Garnish with whipped cream and a stemmed cherry if desired. Enjoy!
WRAPPED AND READY
Julie Kenner
CHAPTER ONE
ANNIE SILVER SMOOTHED the skirt of her super-short elf costume, wondering if perhaps she should have changed before the annual holiday party for the staff of Carrington’s Department Store. Except for two other elves and Santa, everyone else wore typical workday attire.
And although Annie had been perfectly comfortable guiding children to Santa’s lap or working the gift-wrap table, now she felt decidedly out of place.
She was pondering the possibility of sneaking off to raid the women’s casual wear department when Faith flounced over, looking gorgeous as usual in a loose red dress that cinched at the waist. In one easy movement, she handed Annie a fresh glass of wine and leaned in close. “It’s not easy being green,” she whispered, then burst into peals of laughter.
“Thanks.” Annie flashed her friend a wry glance. “You’re making me feel so much better. I’m standing out like a sore thumb, and people are staring.”
“No, Paul’s the sore thumb, since he’s Santa and all in red. You can have a green thumb. Except there aren’t any plants around.”
Annie couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Whatever. They’re staring.”
“So what? You look hot. Green, but hot. And isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I suppose.” As she had every year since high school, she’d signed on as a temporary holiday employee because she absolutely adored everything about the Christmas season. This year, though, she was interested in one particular fringe benefit that came with the job—Brent Carrington. He’d never once noticed Annie. Not through four years of high school, not when she’d worked summers during college in his family’s department store, and certainly never at the annual holiday party. This year, Annie hoped that would change.
Faith downed the last of her wine, then smirked. “Oh, please. Could you be more nonchalant? You’ve been planning this for months. You want him.” She stepped back, her assessing gaze skimming up Annie’s body. “And I’d say tonight you’ve got the goods to get him.”
“I hope you’re right,” Annie said, even as her gaze scanned the guests, hoping for a glimpse of the man in question. Come January, Annie was leaving her hometown of Bishop, Ohio, for the Big Apple. But before she left, she intended to give herself the one thing she’d always wanted but couldn’t have—Brent Carrington.
They may have grown up in the same town, but they had never lived in the same world. That was a simple fact of life. Brent was a Carrington—pronounced with nose in the sky and much pomp and circumstance. Annie’s dad drove a truck and her mom waited tables. Their name might be Silver, but their lifestyle sure wasn’t.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Annie said.
“I can.” Faith squeezed her hand, and Annie gratefully squeezed back, accepting some of her friend’s innate strength. “You played by the rules your whole life and it didn’t get you anywhere. Good little Annie who nobody even noticed. And now you’ve finally grown up and decided to go after what you want. It worked for that job in New York, and it’ll work for Brent Carrington, too.”
Annie pulled in a deep breath, hoping Faith was right. She’d always been the good, quiet student. Straight A’s. Doing exactly what the teacher said. No cutting corners. No taking wild risks. She hadn’t even signed up for a pottery class because she was afraid that the grading was too subjective. And if she got a B—or, heaven forbid, a C—she’d lose her chance at a much-needed scholarship.
But while she might have been an academic success, elsewhere, she was a complete failure. Assertiveness had never been her forte, and she’d spent most of her youth on the sidelines. Mentally, she lifted her chin. Maybe the old Annie did, but not the new Annie. The new Annie had been gutsy enough to fly to New York, knock on doors, and wait in reception areas to get the interviews she wanted—and the ploy had worked.
She only hoped her ploy to get a single, passion-filled night with the one man she’d ever wanted would work as well.
A waiter passed by, and Faith grabbed a stuffed mushroom, then gestured across the room with it before popping it in her mouth. “Tha’s him.”
“What?”
Faith swallowed. “Over there. By Santa’s Village. Brent’s here.”
Annie sucked in a breath, a warm flush enveloping her entire body just from the thought of seeing Brent again. She was almost afraid to turn and actually look at him, for fear she’d melt right into the floor.
“Go on!” Faith gave her a little push on the shoulder.
“I don’t think I can.” At the moment, she was having trouble even forcing words past her lips.
Faith rolled her eyes. “Forget nerves. This is your last chance. Brent’s the only guy I’ve ever known you to be truly hot for. You want this, and you deserve it. A last fling before you fly off into the sunset.” She grinned. “So go get him, girl.”
Faith was right; she did want this. She wanted Brent. “Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
Trying to keep her breathing under control, she turned until she was facing Santa’s Village. She didn’t see him, and battled a wave of fear that he’d turned and left after Faith had spotted him. “Where is—?”
And then there he was. The words caught in her throat, and she closed her mouth. He’d moved to a far wall, secluded from most of the revelers, and was leaning casually against it. As she worked up her courage to approach, she let her gaze skim over him, taking in his lean physique and broad shoulders.
The Carringtons had always been the royalty of Bishop, and Brent’s classic features certainly fit that bill. A perfect jawline, now sporting a five o’clock shadow, and ears she longed to trace with her fingertip. Even his hair was perfect—dark brown and in place, except for one unruly bit that hung on to his forehead, as if telling the world that despite his breeding, Brent Carrington had a wild side, too.
But it was his eyes that had always intrigued her. Deep blue, like the ocean. Eyes that could look into a woman’s heart and tell exactly what she needed. He’d ne
ver once turned those eyes on her. Tonight, though, Annie intended to make Brent look at her—and really see her.
Gathering her courage, she approached, hoping against hope that he would at least remember her. She moved closer, imagining that they’d come to the party together, and that he’d signaled for her to return to his side.
Stopping in front of him, she looked up, smiling tentatively. “Hi, Brent.” She’d hoped for a husky, sexy voice, but the words came out in a squeak.
At first, his face registered confusion, and she fought a flash of panic. But then his eyes cleared, and he moved toward her so he was no longer leaning against the wall.
“Annie Silver,” he said, the corner of his perfect mouth pulling up into a smile. “You look fabulous.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers. Then, fortified by the several glasses of wine she’d downed over the last two hours, she pressed on. “Because I have a little something in mind for tonight.”
“Oh?” So far, he hadn’t bolted. Score one for her team. “What’s that?”
“An early Christmas present to myself, actually.” She sucked in a deep breath. Now or never, she thought, drawing courage from the hint of interest she saw reflected in his eyes. “What I want in my stocking is you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“EXCUSE ME?” Brent’s body tightened as Annie’s lips curved around the word you. “I’m your present?” That couldn’t be what she meant. Today simply wasn’t his lucky day.
But she was nodding, and damned if his groin wasn’t tightening in response. Which meant that Brent’s day—hell, his entire week—was suddenly looking up.
“You heard me,” she whispered.
He’d heard her, alright. Hell, every fiber in his body had heard her—and reacted accordingly. He just hadn’t believed his ears. But if he’d heard right, Annie Silver actually wanted him in her bed. Considering the sultry expression in her pale gray eyes and the flush on her cheeks, he was sure he’d nailed the situation.
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