“I'm John's friend, Kincaid Hunter. Call me Kade.”
She slapped a hand over her heart and broke into a smile. “Thank goodness you're not the photographer.” She shocked him with a bear hug. Her bountiful breasts pressed pleasure into him. “I'm Gloria Gibson, the wedding planner and decorator. I've been so busy that I must have forgotten which day you were coming. You and Jason Schuster are the groomsmen, right?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? You better know, cowboy.” She winked, then relieved him of the cranberries he'd forgotten in his hands. “John is so excited about this wedding. He and Dolly and Finn have been through so much. I still can't believe he met her when she was camping last spring out in the woods in a cave. Can you imagine living in a cave in cold weather like this? You ever lived in a cave?”
“No. Lived in a few holes in the ground, though. Mud, bugs, no latrines, bullets and bodies flying—” He shut up. Women didn't want to hear about that stuff.
Indeed, horror painted its pale hue on her face. “Thank you for serving. What did you do?”
An itch prickled the back of his neck. “I'm not in a war zone anymore, so let's leave it in the past.”
Her smile returned. “Put the elf slippers on and we'll get on with decorating. And of course we have to replace the gingerbread that's missing. Who would do such a thing to me?”
She stared at him in a way that said she expected him to answer.
“Ma'am, I'm not a gingerbread detective.”
“Okay, but I may need you to guard the gingerbread the next time I set it out on the table. I can't watch it and also get all this decorating done.”
While he gawked at the green knitted booties in his hands, she hauled a box of decorations from next to the staircase over to one of the trees.
She said, “Poor little Finn. Peter LeBarron felt awful that his own butler had burned down Dolly's cabin out on the farm and then tried to blame it on Finn. You know Peter, right? He's Henri's son.”
“Yeah.” Peter was like a father to Boze. Like Boze, Peter had lost a leg to a war. Peter had mentored Boze when he'd been in the hospital rehabilitating. Both men had received a Purple Heart, among other decorations. Kade had kept to business saving lives with his chopper. Who needed hardware on his chest for that?
Again, he realized he'd been lost in thought because Gloria was rattling on.
“And then the butler tried to kidnap the boy! But what a story this wedding will make in the magazine. It's going to be a happy ending for all of us, but not Leonard.”
“Who's that?”
“The butler. Leonard Moline. He's in prison now making his sugar cookies with a ‘girlfriend’ named Sven.” She laughed again, this time slapping her thigh before she returned to hovering over a box overflowing with Christmas baubles.
He didn't know what else to do but drape the berry strand over the banister then sit on a step to put on the elf booties. He shuffled over to her. She was stretching to reach the top of the tall evergreen tree and not having much luck.
“Let me do that.” When he got close to her, her smells made him hungry. He wondered if she'd made cinnamon rolls, the kind with a ton of orange frosting on top. He hadn't had those in ages.
She said, “No, that won't do,” as Kade began to place the light strand near the top of the tree.
“What's wrong?”
“The strand needs to wind around at a forty-five degree angle, and each strand should be four inches apart. You have them too horizontal.”
He pulled them off and went at it again.
“No, you've still got them too wide. That's five inches, not four.”
“An inch matters?”
She winked. “To a woman, yes.”
When she leaned toward him looking intent on kissing him, he sprang back, but his knitted booties skidded on the polished floor, sending Kade onto his keister. He rolled onto his back, bonked his head on the floor, then lay splayed out, stunned, staring up at the chandelier sparkling like stars.
Gloria knelt by his side, her blinking head mingling with the chandelier. “Whoa, cowboy, you all right?” Her long hair tumbled warm and soft across his face. She whipped it over a shoulder. “Kincaid?”
When she patted his cheeks, he noticed another shocking thing. She had real eyebrows, as in natural, brown eyebrows that were soft-looking, like kitten fur. He had the oddest yearning to touch them with his fingertips, then press his lips on them. The women he dated seemed to dislike their eyebrows. They had them “designed” by an “artiste” at a spa.
But why was he so fascinated by this woman's real eyebrows? Her blinking head? And those breasts ... They grazed his chest in a way that made him want to slip his hands up and ... Stop, you fool!
This must be the nightmare before Christmas. Wasn't there some poem by that name? When he was a kid, his sisters, all older than he, used to make him sit and listen while they read it out loud. Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap ... Ma in her eyebrows and I in my knitted booties...
“Kincaid? Should I run over to the park and get John to help you up?”
“Shit no, I mean, sorry, I'm fine,” he croaked. His head hurt.
She yanked him up, her strength impressing him. “I bet we're about the same weight,” she said. “We'd do well on a teeter-totter. I loved the teeter-totter when I was a kid but I was always the tallest girl in class and the heaviest so I could never find a good partner for teetering. Or tottering.”
What woman talked freely about her weight? And in front of a man? He said, “We called it a see-saw.”
“Too bad the park over there doesn't have one or we could go over there right now and try.” After handing him a pile of light strands, she said, “Here. Untangle those.”
“Sure.”
She began work on the tree across the room from him. “You and John grew up together in Montana, I hear.”
“Neighboring ranches. Near Bozeman. That's where he got his nickname Boze. But I don't get back there much lately. Too busy riding bulls on the rodeo circuit.”
“And you both met Jason in the military. What does Jason do?”
“Jason...” Works for the government. “I guess you could call him a detective.”
“Maybe he can find my gingerbread cookie walls and roofs for my houses. So he's off detecting things now? That's why he's not here yet?”
“Yes.” This line of questioning had his stomach twisting.
“So all of you went to war and became heroes.”
Kade paused in his attempt to deal with the light strand. “What Jase and Boze did was heroic. Boze deserved his purple heart. He lost a leg. Jase met with a few troubles, too. But me? I'm whole in every way.” I'm the strong one of the three of us, the one who has to get Boze to listen to common sense.
After he managed to get the lights untangled, Gloria put a hand on his forearm, making him consider her in a more intimate way. His insides stirred into hot froth. He asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
“Not many men can do what you just did.”
Even through his shirt and heavy sweater her warmth and strength reached him. It was unsettling, as if she'd read his soul. “Not many men can do what? Stay whole?”
“I suppose that, too.” Her soft eyebrows rose. “But I meant the lights. You untangled them without cursing. That takes a big man.”
He chided himself for becoming so serious in his thoughts. He smiled in relief, then took a cocky stance. “These little itty bitty lights are nothing for a cowboy who uses a lariat like it's second nature.”
“So you're good at tying things? When I need you to tie something up for me, I'll come calling.” With her big breath, her breasts strained against the white pinafore.
His hands went sweaty. To change the subject, he pointed to the blinking barrettes. “Why are you wearing those?”
After taking one out of her hair, she laid it in his palm, her touch tickling his rough calluses. His heart thumped. The barrette blinked like a tiny beati
ng heart.
“The kids love them,” she said. “Oh my gosh, look at the time. Those kids'll be here any moment.”
“Kids?” He had a rash already.
Gloria snatched back the barrette and the light strand from his other hand. “Crystal LeBarron's first grade class is coming over. Hurry. I need you to stir the cocoa on the stove for me. Upstairs. You know how to make cocoa, right?”
“Sure, I can manage cocoa,” he muttered, sounding like a confused puppy. He mined his memory for any clue about making cocoa.
Gloria sashayed up the stairs ahead of him. The big, white bow on her apron in back flounced and flapped with each flip of a hip. Her backside was heart-shaped, generous, cushiony-looking. He imagined throwing up the sash and settling down for more than a long winter's nap.
No, wait. That sounds like that darn Christmas poem again. Aarrgh. I'll never get that out of my head. But he wondered, step by stair step, what it would be like with him in his kerchief and her in her cap. Wearing nothing else.
~—~—~—~ ~
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* * *
Chapter 3
All the way up to the family's private kitchen on the mansion's second floor, Kincaid's head spun with visions of Gloria. He even imagined being tied up by Gloria. In reality, Gloria merely tied an apron around him. “Please keep stirring or the cocoa will burn,” she said.
He stirred the milk, cocoa powder, and sugar on the stove while Gloria stacked mysterious rectangles and squares on cookie sheets.
“What are those?”
“The gingerbread walls for the houses. This is what somebody stole from me in the restaurant. I had a stack of them. We'll start putting the houses together tonight. That way, we'll have them done by Tuesday.”
We? This will take from now until Tuesday? Panic stampeded into his stomach. The kitchen counters and oak table were covered with cookies, along with two dozen jars of candies of every kind, including red licorice, raspberry candies, jellied orange slices, gumdrops, and old-fashioned white ribbon candy.
Gloria filled cups and jars with candies, then she put them in several shoeboxes. Each box had a child's name on it. “We'll use the gum drops for shingles on roofs, the licorice sticks cut in two for fence posts, and the ribbon candy atop chimneys to create the fake smoke on the gingerbread houses.”
Taking in the magnitude of her ingenuity, enthusiasm, and all the ingredients, he asked in fear, “How many houses are you making?”
“We're making a replica of the entire town of Moonstone.”
“The whole town?”
“That's why we're assembling them in The Jingle Bell Inn restaurant on the first floor. The town can get involved.”
“But this is a Friday night.”
“That's why it's perfect. Everybody comes here for the fish fry, so it's a perfect night to begin building the town.”
She didn't get it. People went partying on Friday night. Evidently Gloria's assemblage of a cookie town was the entertainment in Moonstone. But he'd be taking Boze snowmobiling and bar hopping.
She said, “We and the children will assemble the first foundations this evening to show the restaurant patrons how it's done. They'll take a house home with them for Christmas. The main buildings like the post office and North Pole we'll save for the wedding reception dinner.”
“In Vegas they have strippers with your steak.”
“You won't make fun of this when the Moonstone gingerbread village appears in Dazzling Woman magazine.” She looked pissed, twisting the apron's skirt in her hands.
“Sorry. Your first magazine gig?”
“No, but Dazzling Woman matters to people who hire party planners. You'll see on Sunday afternoon when we unveil the Moonstone village and the photographer shows up. He's coming every day after that as well to document my entire process of creating magic in this mansion for the holiday and wedding.”
“I probably won't be here that long—”
Gloria gave him the same horrified look she'd had when he'd alluded to living in war-time foxholes. “You're one of the groomsmen. You're staying the entire week. Aren't you? What's going on?”
He wanted to bolt, but that was a tad tough with elf booties on his feet and an apron tied around him. And of course he didn't want the cocoa to scorch. Crap. Boze, where are you? Save me. “Boze and I kid around a lot about me and women. That's all I meant. You'll be doing the unveiling this Sunday while I find myself a good-looking Moonstone woman to shoot some pool with.”
“So you're a playboy. Treat women like candy. One after the other, right? Aren't you something.” Her hard look burned his face. Then Gloria returned to packing goodies. “John would like you to be at the party Sunday night. Why don't you bring whoever you manage to find out in the woods at some dive.”
He didn't like the salty taste of her brow-beating. “You want me to feel bad about having a beer with my buddy instead of putting gumdrops on gingerbread with a bunch of kids?”
“Yes. It's Christmas.” Her rosy cheeks flushed redder with her agitation.
He said with a big fat, fake smile, “I hate Christmas.”
Gloria plunked her hands on her generous hips. “Maybe you wouldn't if you learned what the holiday was about. And it's not about strippers.”
He stirred the cocoa faster. “A holiday is for sleeping in after a good night's screw, lady. Something you need to do so you're not such a tight-ass.”
“You think I need a screw?” she screeched. “You have a screw loose, mister!”
Kincaid was saved by John “Bozeman” Hall limping through the door in his toga and a grin. “Kade, you scoundrel, always charmin’ the ladies. And look at you, sexy as hell in that apron.”
“Boze, you bum!”
They shook hands, then John shucked his costume while Kincaid fumbled to get out of his apron. To his dismay, Gloria had to untie a knot in the bow in back. To his shock she grabbed the band of his underwear and pulled up fast. He winced. She gave me a wedgie!
Nobody in the room had a clue what she'd done. Children tumbled in, along with a big St. Bernard named Herman. Adults followed, including a willowy woman in a pink toga. She had milky skin, shoulder-length raven hair and eyes the color of smoke. Kincaid's breath caught at her beauty.
He shook her hand. “You must be Dolly O'Toole.”
No wonder his buddy was blind to the danger she had in store for him. She'd only recently finalized her divorce from Chicago banker Brendan Kane, but here she was, ready to waltz down the aisle with all her secrets that would tear John Hall apart.
Dolly showed off her ring finger. “I'm the luckiest woman alive.”
“Boze knows how to treat a lady.” The ring had a moonstone surrounded by six diamonds. Boze must've sold a dozen head of cattle to afford that thing.
Boze, now in sweatshirt and jeans, plopped an arm around her shoulders. “Six diamonds for six kids. We've got the next few years planned out.”
When he kissed her on the lips, children in the room chorused, “Yeewww.”
Kincaid turned away from the kiss, too, but that put Gloria in his sights. To his surprise, she was oblivious to him. She was watching the kiss. Her teeth tugged at her lower lip. Those delicate eyebrows played up and down. She heaved a big sigh that thrust her breasts against the apron fabric again. Kincaid had a mind to step over and ... What the heck would I do with all that woman? Why risk another wedgie?
Ironically, the pack of chattering, disruptive children helped Kincaid get his sanity back. He called over the fray to his buddy, “Whaddya say I buy you a drink somewhere?”
Boze didn't appear to hear him. Boze introduced red-haired Finn. Then he introduced every child in Crystal LeBarron's first-grade class, plus curly-haired twins Romeo and Renzo Farina, who were visiting from Italy with their Uncle Nico. Finally, Boze said, “We can talk while we help haul all this stuff down to The Jingle Bell Inn.”
Dolly O'Toole beamed, her smoke-blue eyes shining like the moon. “
Stay for the spaghetti and ice cream, Kade.”
The children bounced up and down, screeching. “S'ghetti and ice scream! We all scream for ice cream!”
Kincaid's ears hurt. Boze wanted six of these things to call his own? He definitely needed saving.
Boze slapped Kade's back again. “You can haul my share of candy and houses down the stairs. My bum leg and knee give me pain in this cold weather. I'd hate to drop Gloria's gingerbread walls. Isn't she just the sweetest thing for doing all this for us?”
“Yeah, Boze.” Sweet, my ass. This woman had ripped off his hat and boots, dumped him on the floor, scolded him, tied him up in an apron, then damaged his family jewels. Not even the best prize-winning bull had ever done all that to him.
But why am I getting all lathered over this? I'm here to rescue Boze. He noticed this buddy had gray hairs and extra lines around his eyes. Don't you see Dolly's doing this to you? Don't you see you're only marrying her and having six kids to make up for that woman and boy we lost in Afghanistan?
Trying to simmer down, Kincaid said, “I'll help you haul stuff. Then, buddy, let's get you a brewsky and catch up. After that, we hit the snowmobile trails.”
Gloria handed Kincaid a box of jars filled with sprinkles and sugar glitter in green and red. “Cowboy, you'll get frostbite out there in no time. Why not stay here where it's cozy and talk over a glass of wine? The LeBarron's wine cellar is extraordinary.”
Kade couldn't picture shootin’ the breeze with Boze over a glass of wine. “Sounds lovely, but—”
Boze said, “A good idea. Might be good to stay inside with a heating pad on my knee.”
Stop sounding old! We're only thirty-two! Kade felt powerless, something he'd hated and avoided all his life. He ached to be riding a bull or talking about it at a Vegas nightclub with Honey-Honesty-Honda-what's-her-face who never talked back or demanded anything of him.
Men Of Moonstone Series Page 7
