On the Naughty List

by Lori Foster

  “Just a log crackling and shifting in the hearth,” Zach said. He placed a strong hand at the base of her bare back. “You’re safe, honey. Go back to sleep.”

  “I don’t know that I can.” She couldn’t believe she’d drifted off in the first place, but she’d been so sated from their lovemaking and the wine, somewhere in the night she’d fallen asleep in Zach’s arms. “What time is it?”

  “Not even midnight.”

  “I can’t believe that storm’s still at it.” She hugged a blanket to her chest, shivering as the wind howled and the windowpanes rattled. “Ghost Storm is an apt name. It’s downright spooky.”

  “It’ll pass.” Zach pulled her back down on the soft pallet. Braced on one elbow, he gazed down into her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  Her sleepy pulse tripped. “You mean about what we did?”

  “Any regrets?”

  Her body hummed in memory of Zach’s sensuous touch. “Only that it ended so soon.”

  He frowned. “You weren’t satisfied?”

  “I was,” she teased. “But that was then and this is now. Call me shallow, but the way those flames are dancing over your hunky body I’m feeling sort of frisky just now. Plus, I could use a distraction.”

  “From the storm?”

  From my thoughts. Now that she was awake, her mind churned with the realization that she’d fallen in love, true love, with Zachery Cole. Maybe she’d always loved him, but it hadn’t fully blossomed until they’d made love. She didn’t want tonight to end and yet she knew it would. The question was, what would tomorrow bring? Dare she hope for a Christmas miracle? For a happily ever after with her tortured best friend. “I never knew it could be like that. I mean, it’s not like I’m a virgin, but I’ve never felt that kind of connection. That kind of intense pleasure. I mean I had three orgasms. Three.”

  He grinned. “I know. I was there.”

  “Was it good for you?”

  “Never better.”

  Maya’s inner thighs tingled when he hovered and soul kissed. Amazing how he could fire her up with mere kisses.

  “Maya.”

  She blinked up at his handsome face, her stomach fluttering with a thousand butterflies.

  “I don’t know about the future, honey. I can’t think beyond now.”

  She brushed her fingertips over his worried brow. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Or the day after.” She could sense his doubts and concerns, and even though she didn’t have all the answers herself, she did at least have faith in their deepening relationship. Something this good, this special, couldn’t be doomed to failure. “I’m thinking you’re the one in need of distraction now.”

  Heart full, Maya rolled on top of Zach and rained kisses down his chiseled torso. “Let’s see if I can top never better.”

  * * *

  Zach’s eyes flew open, startled by a sound. No. Not a sound. A presence. He reached for the handgun he’d hidden nearby. He hadn’t mentioned the weapon to Maya. She wouldn’t approve. But Zach believed in the right to protect. He wouldn’t think twice about defending Maya. Yet when he trained his Glock on the shadowy figure sitting in a nearby chair, Zach’s heart seized. “Ben?”

  “Yo, dude. I’ve already been shot once.” He waved off the revolver. “Do you mind?”

  Zach lowered his weapon and looked down at Maya. She was fast asleep. He looked back to Ben. Still there. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Dressed in bloodied cammies, Ben motioned to Maya. “She’s something special.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I’ve been watching.”

  “From where?”

  Ben pointed up.

  Zach licked his lips, raised a brow. “From heaven? What are you now? An angel?”

  “A messenger.”

  Heart pounding, Zach spared Maya another glance. She hadn’t budged. She didn’t hear them talking? Of course not. Because he had to be freaking dreaming. He looked back to his dead friend. “I’ll bite. What’s the word?”

  “Don’t be a wuss.”

  Zach laughed. “That’s the message from above?”

  “In a nutshell.” Ben leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and affording Zach a better look at his grease and blood–smeared face.

  Zach felt sick and mesmerized at the same time. “Are you going to haunt me, Ben?”

  “Nope. This is a onetime visit. I saw you screwing up and begged for this chance. A chance to say thank you and good-bye, and to give you a kick in the ass. Step up to the challenge, Zach. There’s more than one way to make this world a better place. Just ask Maya.”

  Sweating now, Zach palmed Maya’s shoulder, hoping to connect with reality. Oh yeah. She felt solid and warm, which freaked him out all the more. He’d played along with Ben, thinking he was dreaming, but if he was awake … He glanced back to Ben, but the angel, the ghost, the messenger, whatever … was gone.

  Zach fell back on the pallet, temples throbbing.

  He closed his eyes, willing his nerves steady. Maybe he’d been hallucinating. Too much cheap wine. A bit of bad chowder. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Dead was dead, right?

  He rolled away from Maya, toward the comfort of the fire. He wondered if Marx kept any hard liquor in this cabin. He could sure use a shot. He opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with his mom.

  “Holy hell.”

  “Don’t curse in the presence of women, Zachery.”

  “Sorry.” His long dead mother was lying on her side, propped up on an elbow. She hadn’t aged in fifteen years, and she was still wearing her waitress uniform. “How can you be here, Mom?”

  “You needed me.”

  “I’ve needed you lots of times.”

  “Not like tonight.” She pushed up a couple of inches and looked over his shoulder. “I always liked Maya.”

  Poleaxed by the surreal feeling of being caught between reality and a dream state, Zach flashed back on the holiday movie he’d watched with Maya. He knew Maya thought he was cynical. Had he twisted things in his mind so that he was Scrooge, putting Ben and his mother in the roles of the ghosts of Christmas past and present?

  Damn.

  “Do you have a message, Mom?” he asked, wanting to hurry this nightmare along but at the same time wanting her to linger.

  “I do. But not for you. For Maya. Tell her I said you’ll make beautiful babies.”

  “Mom—”

  “I love you, Zach,” she said, and then she was gone.

  * * *

  The next time Zach awakened, sunlight was spilling through the cabin windows and Maya was looking down at him with a big, cheery smile. “Merry Christmas, Zach.”

  He smiled up at her sweet face, palmed her cheek to make sure she was real. “Merry Christmas, Maya.”

  “Storm stopped. At least the wind died down. I’m almost afraid to look outside. There could be six feet of snow out there.”

  “I doubt that, although the drifts could be fierce. I’ll check it out.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, experiencing a moment of pure joy, before pushing to his feet. Though he managed a poker face, his muscles ached and his leg hurt. What bothered him more was the fuzzy feeling in his head. “Remind me to steer clear of that brand of wine in the future.”

  “Are you feeling hungover?” she asked as she pulled on her undies and jeans. “You didn’t have that much.”

  “Not hungover, but, I don’t know. Disconnected. Groggy. Had a couple of weird dreams.”

  “Want to talk about them?”

  “They’re sort of fuzzy. Maybe some fresh air will help.” Zach dressed quickly, angling his head when he heard a rattle and a hum.

  “Is that the generator?”

  “Sounds like it’s trying to kick in.”

  “That would be awesome.” Maya pulled on that reindeer sweater and whisked into the kitchen area. “I think I saw some oatmeal and coffee. I’ll see if I can whip us up a quick breakfast. We’ll need energy
to dig out. Oh, and maybe we should call Daniel. See if he can get someone up here with a plow and—”

  “Maya.”

  “What?” She turned away from the cabinets and teetered into Zach.

  He steadied her, frowned. “Are you babbling because you’re excited about Christmas Day? Or because you’re anxious about us?”

  She smiled a little. “Both?”

  “Like you said last night, we’ll sort things out today. Or maybe tomorrow.”

  “No rush.”

  He grinned now. “Liar.” Backing away, Zach nabbed his walking stick and limped toward the front door. “Make that coffee strong!” he called over his shoulder.

  He stepped onto the porch and shoved on his shades. Unlike yesterday, the sun was beaming full out. There was a lot of snow, but nothing like what Zach had expected. Had it blown and drifted on the other side of the cabin? Navigating knee-deep snow, he rounded to the back …

  And saw an old white-haired man leaning over the generator. He was dressed in hunting garb and sporting a scowl. Zach recognized him from the photographs inside. “Roscoe Marx?”

  “As you live and breathe.”

  “I thought you were in Canada until after Christmas.”

  “So did I.”

  At first Zach thought Marx was hunched over the generator, but on second glance he looked plain crooked, his posture bent at an unnatural angle, sort of like a question mark. Zach looked over the brim of his glasses for a clearer look, but the glare off the glistening snow was blinding. “Name’s Zachery Cole.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant. United States Marine Corps.”

  Zach pulse thrummed. “Not anymore.”

  “Once a Marine, always a Marine, son.”

  “I know the code.” Zach shifted his weight, frowned. “How do you know me, sir?”

  “Let’s just say we’re kindred spirits. Or at least we will be if you maintain your present course. You can languish in the past or grab the future by the horns. Choose wisely. I did not and look how things turned out for me.”

  Was he referring to his hermit-like existence? What the hell? Who was he to advise …

  A shiver stole down Zach’s spine as words echoed in the back of his brain.

  Don’t be a wuss.

  You’ll make beautiful babies.

  “Lookin’ a little green there, soldier,” Marx said.

  “Bad storm. Rough night. Spent it in your cabin. Coffee?”

  “I like it strong.” Marx went back to tinkering with the generator.

  Zach heard a pop and a whir as he rounded the corner. What the hell was going on? He ambled back into the cabin, anxious to check in on Maya. She was sitting in a kitchen chair, holding her phone and looking stunned. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “My phone. I have a signal. I called Aunt Helen to check in and she told me … well, I mean it’s just awful. And on Christmas Eve, no less.”

  Zach’s stomach turned.

  “Roscoe Marx was killed last night in a car accident.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Maya couldn’t figure Zach out. His giddy mood was plain weird. She hadn’t expected him to break down over the news of Roscoe Marx’s demise—he didn’t know Marx. She didn’t know Marx. They’d never even met. Naturally, with that kind of emotional distance it was easier to disconnect. But at least she was sorry Marx had died. Zach had looked shocked for all of five seconds, and then he’d gotten a goofy grin on his face. He’d swooped her into his arms and spun her around with a childlike glee that reminded her of the scene in A Christmas Carol where Scrooge rediscovered the spirit of Christmas. She would have been charmed and thrilled if not for the inappropriate timing.

  Zach had hurried her along, saying Marx wouldn’t want them missing Christmas Day with the Coles. Which didn’t sound to Maya like the Roscoe Marx Daniel had described—the same grump who’d left the rude letter for the Cupcake Lovers. Regardless, it was difficult not to be affected by Zach’s lightened heart.

  Presently she and Zach were backtracking through the forest. Although there was a lot of packed snow, the trek was easier since they weren’t being slammed by wind and flurries. Maya could actually see where she was going, and the scenery was magical, to say the least. A veritable winter wonderland.

  “I was thinking of maybe moving back to Sugar Creek,” Maya blurted as they neared the snowbound Hummer.

  “I was thinking of moving down to Orlando.”

  Her heart nearly burst through her ribs. She touched Zach’s arm, urging him to stop. “What’s going on with you?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Maybe later. I need to simmer on this a little more.”

  “Simmer on what?”

  He tugged on her Santa hat, then shrugged. “A Christmas miracle?”

  “Okay. You know what? You’re freaking me out. This isn’t you talking.”

  “Not the old me, no.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s more than one way to make a positive difference in this world. You’re doing that with Cupcakes & Dreamscapes.”

  She palmed her brow. “You want to make cupcakes?”

  “I want to make a difference. Thought I could hang out with you while I figure out how.”

  “Hang out?”

  “Marry me, Maya.”

  Knocked dizzy, Maya slumped against a tree trunk.

  Zach moved in, bracing his arms on either side of her head. “Mom said we’ll make beautiful babies.”

  Something Daisy Monroe had said about Zach and Giselle. But Zach’s mom is dead. “When did she say that?”

  “Last night.”

  “What? In your dreams?”

  “Something like that.” He kissed Maya then. One of those kisses that shimmied throughout her entire body, leaving her weak-kneed. He served a death blow with a breathtaking smile. “Marry me.”

  Maya gave him a whole five seconds to take back the proposal. He didn’t. “Okay. You know what? I’m going to say yes, because I think you’ve gone a little screwy and you need someone to look after you.”

  “Any other reason?”

  Heart full, Maya pushed her hands through Zach’s messy hair and rested her forehead to his. “I love you, Zachery Cole.”

  The besotted look in his eyes seduced her soul. This time Maya initiated the kiss and she was certain the heat they generated would melt a path leading them back to Sugar Creek.

  Instead a car honked breaking the silence, if not the magic.

  Still holding Maya in his arms, Zach eyed the logging road. A monster vehicle with a plow was pushing its way toward the Hummer. “Looks like Adam’s truck.”

  A dark-haired woman shoved her body out the passenger window and waved. “And G,” Maya said with a smile.

  “Ah, Giselle. The woman who talked you into penning her letters. Remind me to thank her.”

  “For misleading you?”

  “For gifting me with the woman I love.”

  HAVE YOURSELF A CURVY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

  Sugar Jamison

  Chapter 1

  I Don’t Want a Lot for Christmas …

  Sleigh bells ring. Are you listening?

  Dina Gregory had heard that song no less than twenty-six times on her five-day bus ride from California. Twenty-six. Freaking. Times and now it was stuck in her head like some kind of brain-eating ear worm.

  A beautiful sight. We’re happy tonight. Walking in a winter wonderland.

  She had never thought about winter being wondrous. Or beautiful. She had always thought it cold and dark and depressing. That’s why she had escaped to LA for two years. But as she walked up the steep driveway to the Windermere mansion she had to amend her thought. A fresh snow had just fallen, leaving the trees and ground covered with beautiful, shimmery snow. There were no footprints or tire tracks to muddy it. It was beautiful. The stuff that Christmas cards were made of.

  And if she weren’t cold, pissed
off and carrying a twenty-pound baby, she might be able to enjoy her surroundings more.

  “Ma?” Her ten-month-old son, Dash, touched her cheek, pulling her out of her head for a moment.

  “It’s okay, lovey,” she said to him as she held him a little closer to shield him from the wind. “We’re almost there. Just a couple million more feet until we reach the top. Hopefully Mommy won’t have a heart attack before we make it. I’m not sure what these people were thinking when they built this place. Surely a moat would have been good enough to keep the riffraff out. Or a dragon. I think building a house on top of a mountain was just a way to keep chubby people out. They should just have a sign that says: ‘No Fat Chicks Allowed.’ But they don’t know your mommy, do they, baby? They’re not keeping me out.”

  Her son grinned at her, one of those happy baby grins, like he knew what she was babbling about, and it kicked her in the heart. Good God she loved him. He was the reason she was here. He was the reason she had spent five days on a bus with people who looked like they had just been released from mental institutions. He was the reason she was huffing and puffing her out-of-shape ass up this steep hill. He was the reason she kept going.

  There were just thirteen days until Christmas. Normally the holiday would pass as just another day to her, but this year was different. This year was special because it was Dash’s first Christmas. She didn’t want anything for herself. Somewhere along the line material things stop mattering. If she had one wish it would be to give her son the world.

  That’s why she was back in New York, a place she had been too afraid to show her face in the past year and a half. Her family lived just a few towns over, but she couldn’t face them. Not after what she had done. The best gift she could give them was to never darken their doorstep again. But she would gladly darken Windermere’s doorstep.

  She was here to face Dash’s father. Virgil Worthington Rowe. The man who knocked her up and disappeared the day after she told him about it.

  Asshole.

  At first she didn’t bother tracking him down. The pregnancy had been a wake-up call for her. The thirty-four years of her life before she became pregnant with Dash had been spent partying too much, destroying too much, not caring enough. Dash had changed all that. He made her want to become a better person. He made her want to stand on her own two feet.