The Cop Who Stole Christmas (Tall, Hot & Texan)

by Christie Craig

  She padded through the living room. The chill of the wood floor came against her bare feet, but shoes were a habit she kicked off when inside.

  She hesitated before turning into the kitchen. Her heart pumped in her throat. The house felt too quiet.

  “He’s not there,” she muttered and forced herself to move. Forced herself not to listen to creaks of the heart coming on.

  • • •

  Mark watched Jake put the phone on speaker and dial Mrs. Curley’s cell number. She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Curley?” Jake glanced at Mark.

  “Who’s this? My caller ID says the Attalla police.”

  “I’m Detective Jake Baldwin,” Jake answered. Mark eased himself into the chair across from Jake’s desk.

  “I’m broke, can’t donate to your charity.”

  “I’m not calling for donations. It’s about your ex-husband.”

  “Was he drinking and driving again? He can rot in jail.”

  Mark glanced at Jake. Mrs. Curley was either a damn good actress or she didn’t know about her husband’s disappearance.

  “No, ma’am,” Jake said.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Your ex-husband didn’t show up for work, and when a friend of his went to his apartment, she found a large amount of blood.”

  “Blood? Is he okay?”

  “He’s missing. So we can’t be sure of that.”

  “What are you saying? I mean, what do you think is going on?”

  “We’re not saying anything. We hoped you might be able to tell us where he is.”

  “No . . . I’m at my mom’s in Dallas. I haven’t spoken to him since Friday.”

  “Do you know where he could be?”

  “No. Wait, he’s dating some college kid who works at his grocery store, but . . . I don’t know her name or anything.” She sighed. “Should I come home? If you think something has happened, maybe I. . . Oh, God, you don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

  • • •

  “This is crazy,” Savanna muttered to the dark house. She saw the empty floor and couldn’t look away. Sighing, she went to the counter and hung on. She was going to beat this. She had to.

  Her stomach grumbled. Probably from nerves, but since she’d hardly eaten today, she decided hot chocolate might hold her over.

  She reached in the cabinet where her Christmas mugs were stored. She saw the Santa cup—the one like Mark’s. Even though the handle had broken, she hadn’t been able to throw it away. It had been the cup her mom gave her on her last Christmas. She passed her finger over it, vaguely recalling the laughter they’d shared. Then she reached behind it for the one that played “Jingle Bells” every time she picked it up.

  Adding a double portion of marshmallows, she went to sit on the sofa. She’d only drank a couple of sips when her doorbell rang. Mark had obviously forgotten to call.

  She didn’t care, the idea of not being alone really appealed to her. Moving to the door, she peeked out just to be sure. All she saw were flowers. He’d bought her flowers. Her anticipation blossomed as she opened the door. But as soon as she did, and the flowers lowered, Savanna saw her mistake.

  It wasn’t Mark Donaldson at her door.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Mark pulled into his driveway, he spotted the Porsche parked in front of Savanna’s house. Did Bethany drive a Porsche? Then he noticed someone stood on her porch. Not just someone. Juan Ardito.

  Unsnapping his gun holster, he bolted across the street. By the time he got to her front lawn, he had his hand on his gun. He heard Savanna’s voice and realized her front door was open. Hadn’t he told her to stay away from this guy?

  Savanna stood at the door in front of Don Juan, who held a big bouquet of flowers.

  “Hello,” Mark announced himself.

  Juan turned. Mark kept his hand on his gun. The flower-toting man didn’t make any sudden moves.

  Savanna’s gaze shifted to him. Relief flashed in her eyes. “Mark,” she said.

  “Can I help you?” Mark slipped between the huge bouquet and Savanna. With the tension easing from his shoulders, Mark dropped his hand from his gun.

  “I brought Savanna flowers,” the man said, calmly.

  “Yeah, well, since you’re still a suspect in her ex-husband’s murder, it isn’t wise for her to accept them or for you to be here.”

  “I’m not a suspect.”

  “Yeah, and I’m not a cop, either.” He pulled out his badge and flashed it.

  The man went speechless.

  “So, adios.” Mark shifted back, bumping into Savanna.

  “I’m sorry,” Savanna said over his shoulder. “Thanks. We’ll talk when this mess is cleared . . .” Mark shut the door. “Up.”

  Frowning, he turned around. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?”

  “I thought he was you.”

  “That’s why you have a peephole,” he said, annoyed she’d told Juan they’d talk. Was she interested in Don Juan or just being polite?

  “I used the peephole. All I saw were flowers. And I thought you’d brought me flowers.”

  Shit! Should he have brought her flowers? “I didn’t bring . . . I was working a case. Sorry.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t mean . . . I wasn’t expecting you to bring ’em, but you’d mentioned buying flowers today at the shop.”

  He nodded. “Well, you shouldn’t open a door without knowing who’s on the other side.”

  “I figured that out as soon as I realized it was him.” She didn’t sound angry at his unsolicited advice, but she wasn’t remorseful either.

  “Did he say anything to frighten you?”

  “No. I was just nervous because you told me the police still suspected him.”

  “You should be nervous,” he said. Then he realized he wanted to start over. This wasn’t how he’d planned the evening. He’d wanted to grab a quick shower and then show up and pull her in for another hot kiss.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, trying to change the subject and the mood of the evening.

  “Getting there.”

  He noted she’d changed clothes. Even this far away, he could smell her shampoo. “Have you decided what you’d like to eat?”

  “The Chinese place around the corner is good.”

  “You want to call it in while I shower?”

  “Sure. I have their number on speed dial. What do you like?”

  “Cashew chicken. Egg rolls. Fried rice. And whatever you like.” He moved a little closer. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  She smiled. “Can you bring Boots when you come?”

  “I don’t know, after sleeping with me, I think he might want to stay.” He smiled. He recalled she might be nervous about being alone in her house. “Would you like to come over to my place?”

  “I’m fine. I have to learn to deal with it,” she said.

  He admired her for not completely lying. She was having a hard time, but was determined to overcome it.

  “Okay, but lock the door and don’t answer to anyone. Unless it’s me.”

  “What about our Chinese food delivery?” she asked.

  “I should be here before they deliver.” He gazed at her mouth.

  Moving in, he lowered his head and his lips met hers. He’d meant the kiss to be simple, like the one they shared at the florist, but something happened. He wasn’t sure if he’d done it, or if she had. But soon, their tongues were dancing and they were both holding on to each other. She felt good. So good, the need for a shower seemed like a distant memory.

  The ring of her phone was a little like a cold shower. They pulled apart. She reached for her phone on the coffee table, turned it off, and then looked up at him. “Bethany. I’ll call her back.”

  He nodded. The taste from her kiss lingered in his mouth. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Chocolate?”

  She stared at him a second, confused then smiled. “Hot chocolat
e.” She picked up a cup from the coffee table. “Jingle Bells,” started playing from the dish.

  “Musical cup?” His body hummed from the kiss.

  “Christmas cup,” she said.

  So she had a thing for Christmas cups, did she?

  They stared at each other, the tension sweet, but slightly awkward. “I’m going to go shower, I’ll be right back. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

  Her eyes widened. “To the shower?”

  He grinned. “Well, you could, but I meant just to my house.”

  She cut her eyes toward the kitchen. “Seriously, I’ve got to get over it. I live here.”

  “Okay. . But order the food. I’m getting hungry.” Yet he wasn’t as hungry as he was eager to get his hand under that cotton T-shirt, or to slip those jeans off her curved hips. It was going to be a quick shower.

  • • •

  When someone knocked, she looked through the peephole. It was Mark. The few minutes he’d been gone, she’d spent trying to decide if there was a downside to letting this happen. And yes, she’d found a few, but the upsides won over. Mainly, she was tired of being alone.

  She opened the door. He held her cat in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Thankfully, Boots was the kind of cat that went limp when you picked him up.

  Mark studied her. “Did you look through the peephole?”

  “Yes.” She reached out and took the cat from his arm and gave him a good scratch under his chin. Boots immediately started purring.

  “Good.” He leaned down and kissed her quickly.

  He tasted minty fresh. Boots wiggled in her arms.

  “I need to go back and get his litter box.”

  “Oh, there’s another one in the extra bedroom. We can get it later.” She set Boots down.

  He nodded. “I brought a semisweet Riesling. I think it would probably go with Chinese, but my wine matches are sometimes off.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She took it from him. “Food should be here soon. You want to start with wine?”

  “Sure.”

  She started into the kitchen. And stopped when the image flashed. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s okay,” he said softly.

  “I know.” She let go of a deep breath.

  “We could go to my place.”

  She leaned her head back against his warm chest and looked up at him. “He took my first house from me. He took my car. He even robbed me from being able to grieve in the right way for my mom. I’m not letting him take this house.” She closed her eyes. Guilt whispered over her heart. “I’m sorry. It’s not nice to talk badly of the dead.”

  “I didn’t hear anything bad,” he said. “Just honest.”

  “I really didn’t want him to be . . . hurt. I just wanted him out of my life.”

  “And for good reasons,” he said.

  She walked further into the kitchen and grabbed two wine glasses from a cabinet. “I’m breaking one of the big rules.”

  “What rule?” She noticed how good he looked. His blond hair appeared a little darker, as if still wet. He wore faded jeans and a dark green t-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders. She had a quick mental visual of him without it. Her heart raced a bit faster when she realized she’d probably be seeing that again tonight.

  “Don’t talk about your ex on a date.”

  He shrugged. “I think our situation is different considering . . . everything.”

  “I guess.” She grabbed a wine opener from the drawer.

  “Here. Let me do that.”

  She watched him open the wine and suddenly the question hit. “Have you ever been married?”

  He looked up. “No.”

  “How did you escape that?”

  “By the skin of my teeth,” he said.

  “You were engaged?”

  He nodded.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He arched a brow. “What was that rule about not talking about exes?”

  She frowned. “It’s just . . . you know all about me.”

  He unscrewed the cork from the wine opener. “Let’s just say she didn’t like my chosen career.”

  “She didn’t want you to be a cop?” All of a sudden she remembered. “She wanted you to be a lawyer.”

  “Yup.”

  She bit down on her lip. “Was she afraid you’d get hurt working as a cop?”

  “I think she was afraid having a cop for a husband was below her standards.”

  “So she was rich, huh?”

  “Not really, but she wanted to be, hence her reasons for wanting me to become a lawyer.”

  “Sorry.” Then the question just slipped out, “Did you love her?”

  He reached for the glasses and filled them. “How about we nix the talk of exes and talk about ourselves.” He handed her a glass.

  “Okay.” But she couldn’t nix the feeling that he might still be in love with someone else. Was that not another downside? “Why did you want to be a cop?” she asked, when the silence grew.

  He sipped the wine. “Well, I didn’t like politics, didn’t want to wear a suit and tie and argue cases in a courtroom, and yet I still wanted to help people solve their problems.”

  “Do you solve people’s problems?”

  “Yeah. Well, sometimes I do.” He frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I also get an inside view of some seedy sides of life. But there’s generally someone involved who doesn’t deserve the bad crap happening to him or her. And when that’s the case, it sort of feels good.”

  “So, what do you do when you’re not playing cop or restaurant entrepreneur?”

  “I don’t do much at the restaurant. I just helped Ricardo get the startup money.”

  “Were you two close when he worked for your parents?”

  “Yeah. We lived in Venezuela. He was our cook and part-time chauffeur. He used to take me and my friends around for joy rides. He taught me how to drive.”

  Savanna got the feeling Ricardo was more of a parent than the ones Mark was born to . “So, what else do you do for fun? Sports? Read?”

  “I’m like all guys. If it has a ball involved I’m interested. Football, soccer... Jake and I meet up for some basketball a couple times a week.”

  “So, you and Jake are really good friends, too?”

  “Yeah, but he’s a pain sometimes. He married Macy about three months ago. He met her right after we hooked up as partners. She’s good for him.” He took another sip of wine. “She said she’d like to meet you. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “That’d be fun.” She turned her glass in her hands. “And books? Do you read?”

  “I love a good book. I’ve read all the Harry Potters and James Pattersons. And the first four chapters of that Shades book.” He made a funny face. “I still don’t get why you women would like that.”

  She laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, I never finished the first one either.”

  “Good.” He smiled. He gazed into her eyes. “Oh, and lately I’ve had this crazy fascination with my neighbor.”

  “Really?” She found it easy to get lost in his light green eyes.

  “Really.” He inched closer. So close, she could smell the shower-fresh scent on his skin. He leaned down. His lips brushed against hers. After a few seconds, he put his glass down and took hers and set it down, too. He held her so close that there wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t press against an inch of him. His hands came around her waist and his fingers slowly moved under her sweater to touch her bare skin. She couldn’t remember a simple touch feeling so seductive. All she could think about was his hand on other body parts. Her breasts felt tight, swollen.

  She let her own hands wander, slipping her fingers under his T-shirt to touch his back. He moaned. His knee came between her thighs, pressing against some very sensitive areas.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  They pulled back, both a little breathless. “I’ll bet that’s our dinner,�
� she said.

  “Yeah.” The doorbell rang again. He passed a finger over her lips as if to collect the moisture his kiss had left. “We should probably open the door.”

  “Probably.” She grinned.

  She followed him into the living room. He walked to the door and then glanced back. “See? This is how you look through the peephole.” He pressed an eye to the tiny hole. “It’s a Chinese guy with carry out, or I wouldn’t open the door.”

  She grinned. “But in all the movies, he’s usually the guy with the gun.”

  “You can’t believe anything that happens in the movies.”

  He opened the door and pulled out his wallet. When he was told the dinner was already paid for, he looked back at her and frowned. She just shrugged.

  He gave the guy a bill from his wallet. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like a twenty. No doubt the guy was going to be doing cartwheels when he left.

  He took the bags and shut the door. “Why did you pay? I’m the one who suggested it.”

  “You paid for last night’s dinner.”

  “It was free,” he said.

  “Right, I saw the tip you left.” She waved to the living room. “Set it on the coffee table and I’ll get us some plates.” She left to get the dishes.

  “No,” he said when she handed him forks. “When you eat Chinese, you eat with chopsticks.” He pulled out the two plastic covered chopstick sets.

  “I’m terrible at using chopsticks.”

  “You just haven’t had anyone teach you.”

  He showed her how. And she still sucked at it. He fed her and she tried to feed him. They laughed when most everything she tried to feed him ended up on his T-shirt. “I’m ruining your shirt,” she said.

  “We could both take our shirts off,” he said with a sexy twinkle in his eye.

  She elbowed him.

  “I guess that’s a no.”

  She finally caught a piece of chicken with the sticks and made it to his mouth.

  They ate, they kissed, they drank wine. And they laughed a lot. Savanna realized how long it had been since she’d had this much fun. Or this much fun with a guy. She had her friends, but this was different. This was flirty fun.