A Perfect Holiday

by Riley Murphy

  A Perfect Holiday

  Riley Murphy

  Copyrights

  A PERFECT HOLIDAY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  A PERFECT HOLIDAY Copyright © 2013 Riley Murphy

  Cover design by Viola Estrella

  Book formatted by Dee Tenorio, Laideebug Digital.

  Laideebug Digital is only responsible for the formatting, the content of this work is purely created, owned and supplied by the author.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. The author does acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The author does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for third-party Web sites or their content.

  All rights reserved worldwide. This book is licensed for your personal use only. No part of this work may be sold, manipulated, or reproduced in any format without express written permission from the authors, except for brief quotations embodied in or reviews.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors' rights. Purchase only authorized editions

  Dedication

  To each and every reader out there. Thank you!

  Because of you my characters can breathe. A good thing, as without breath my stories would only be words on a page.

  And speaking about words on a page, I want to give a big shout out to Dee Tenorio.

  Without my formatter extraordinaire, those words on the page would look like a jigsaw puzzle.

  Acknowledgements

  Lillie, thanks for making this one pretty…oh, and for not laughing at all my misplaced commas. FYI? I close my eyes and toss them down. Does that surprise you?

  Honey, yes I did. I wrote about our Christmas craft volunteer day. You know better than to dare me.

  Big hugs to my gang. You know who you are. Also know I love you guys to bits.

  And as always, to my dad…I miss you, but I'll see you after.

  Chapter One

  Perfect. Riker stared at the locked iron gates and made his decision. He hated to bother his apartment manager at this late hour, but he didn’t have a choice. He’d walked home from the bar after his brother had commandeered his SUV earlier tonight to pick up a special order, so in terms of viable options, he was screwed. Caleb was probably halfway to Jacksonville by now with both his truck and house keys.

  And, just when he thought this forced sabbatical couldn’t get any worse?

  It did.

  “Hell.”

  He wiped his brow and took a deep breath before he sat down on the cement wall and searched through his phone contacts. Finding her number, he dialed.

  “Mrs. Malloy? It’s Riker Mitchell. Sorry to bother you this late, but I need get into the complex.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Riker Mitchell. I don’t have my keys.”

  “To just the complex or your unit as well?”

  “Unit too.”

  “First time I go away in seven years and someone gets locked out. Doesn’t it figure?”

  Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he winced. “You’re away for the holidays?”

  “No, my niece’s wedding. Stupid time to tie the knot, but then, I says to myself, her hubby won’t be forgetting to buy her an anniversary gift every year like mine did, will he?”

  She paused as if she was expecting him to agree or something and when she remained quiet he figured he’d better answer, “Sure. I mean, ah, no.” Couldn’t he catch a break here? All he wanted to do was get into the AC and down a bottle of ice cold water. This Florida heat was relentless. Here it was late December in the wee hours and he was perspiring like a pregnant nun at the confessional.

  “You still there? Here’s what you need to do. You know that big rock by the second iron scroll on the left? Do you see it?”

  He got up and had a look around.

  “Oh, come on now boy, it’s easy enough to spot. It’s the only plastic looking rock in the garden.”

  “Got it.” When he turned it over to get the key out his fingers slid through—no, he didn’t want to know. What he wouldn’t give for a foot of snow right now and the need for gloves.

  “And don’t be tossing that rock back into the garden either. One of my old tenants did, and that’s how it got chipped. It needs to be gently returned and strategically placed, you hear me?”

  He grunted, watching the clump of plastic teeter in the cedar mulch. With or without the chip, that sucker wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “You already threw it, didn’t ya?”

  He couldn’t help it, he grinned. Malloy was his favorite kind of old woman. Crotchety meets a big heart when needed. The combination reminded him of his late grandmother and because of that he came clean. “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Well, you can buy me a new one.”

  “Look, I’ll buy you anything right about now if it will get me into this place before I sweat my bal—ah, my face off.”

  “I told you to get a haircut.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t going to be drawn into that conversation again. “About my unit key?”

  “Oh, you got a pen or something to write with?”

  “No.”

  “Never mind. Just let yourself in and then go up to the second floor. Two B. That’s where Sidney Capp lives. She’s got my master set.”

  He let the gate creak open as he wiped his hand on his jeans. “The school teacher? Doesn’t she hit the hay early? Why didn’t you leave the keys with that randy couple? They’re always up at this hour.”

  “Randy couple? Look, I don’t know about them. You and her are the only ones there this weekend on account of the holidays. If you had a way to take down her number I’d just as soon give it to you.”

  “You said two B, so just tell me and maybe I’ll remember it.”

  She rambled off the sequence but half of it was lost when the gates clanged shut. Clearly he’d be arriving at Ms. Capp’s door unannounced. Again, perfect.

  Knock, Knock.

  Sidney sat straight up. She muted the TV and scowled. It was eleven thirty on a Friday night. She wasn’t going to answer the door. The complex was deserted. Hadn’t Martha told her she’d be alone except for maybe one other resident around the place this weekend?

  “Ms. Capp? Sidney? This is Riker Mitchell. I just got off the phone with Ms. Malloy and she said you had the set of master keys. I need them. I’m locked out.”

  Now Sidney wasn’t one to believe in miracles. But it was the holidays and Riker “dreamy playboy” Mitchell knocking at her door? Right up there with God arriving to shake her hand and the Red Sox’s winning another World Series. Grabbing the remote, she pressed the pause button and listened. This really was too good to be true. Maybe she’d been fantasizing again.

  “Ms. Capp?”

  And that would be a no, as not one fantasy she ever had of him sounded this sexy. The guy’s voice belonged on late night radio. Late, late, late night when all his female listeners were lying in bed either boosting battery sales or straining ligaments in their fingers. Yep, he had that kind of effect on any woman not currently dead. Fortunately for her? Last time she checked she was breathing. Brushing a hand down her cotton shorts she paused to tug the hem of T-shirt before she fluffed her hair. This might be the opportunity she’d been waiting for. Maybe—one quick check down and she deflated. Forget the lame Star Wars shirt. What did that matter
when there was a puddle of dried chocolate sauce with Twizzer shavings embedded in it? Gah, right above her left breast? The good one. Well, not the breast, but the bra cup holding it as she had a bum elastic strap on the right side.

  “Hello? I see the light on and I heard noise. I know you’re up.”

  Of all the nights…she wanted to punch the wall. Whenever she’d dreamt of this moment—a scenario she’d planned a thousand times in her head where he came to her door— she’d imagined herself in sexy lingerie, evenly tanned with those extra five pesky pounds she normally carried melted off her. Reality weighed heavy and her shoulders started to dip, but then she took a look around and reasoned. The lighting was dim at moment. Maybe she could—nope, there was no getting around the brown blob that looked like she took a direct hit from a multi-colored paintball pellet.

  “Ms. Capp?”

  Screw it. As a kindergarten teacher she’d had worse things sticking to her chest. A sudden flashback of tiny rabbit turds hanging off her cable-knit sweater one spring came to mind. Yeah, after the petting zoo debacle this was nothing.

  Just be smart. Witty. Original.

  “What’s the password?” Okay, what the hell was with that shit? Sure, she was stalling for time as she slipped her arms out of each sleeve hole so she could turn her top around, but seriously. Password?

  “You want a…?” He started to ask and then mumbled more quietly, “Password? Malloy didn’t give me one.” Louder he said, “Mrs. Molloy didn’t—”

  The moment she swung the door open he stopped talking and she got her first look at him. Yep, it was him all right. Six foot four, dark hair, dark eyes, well-muscled, sun kissed skin, still no wedding ring, rugged, delicious, no lipstick on his collar, scrumptious and hot. Hot. Hot!

  When she finally stopped devouring him and looked up, he gave her a bemused smile and let that honey coated voice pour all over her. “Hi, Sidney.”

  She wasn’t going to put her hands over her heart, but she felt like it. She wasn’t going to swoon, but she could have. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself… Please God, don’t let me mess this up. Drawing on all her strength she put as much confidence as she could into a casual grin, which was darn near impossible with the drool getting in the way of her trying to be cool, and said, “Hi. I was kidding about the password.” She stepped back and would have invited him in, but then she caught sight of the TV and nearly swallowed her tongue. Holy hell. Pulling a bouncer-esque move, she blocked his way. Then inwardly groaned as he stumbled back. Think. Fast. “Ah, you said something about keys? For your unit?”

  No Nimrod, he’s asking for keys to someone else’s apartment. He’s a polite and considerate thief.

  “Yeah, my brother needed my truck and unfortunately, my way to get in went with him.”

  She almost asked him to produce his driver’s license so she could learn more about him, but one glance at the frozen vision on the TV stopped her. “Oh, I’ll um, you stay right there. Right there,” she held up her hand and patted air, “and I’ll get the, ah, key for you. Don’t move, okay?”

  “Sure, but shouldn’t I come it? Your AC’s escaping.”

  “Not to worry.” She felt bad about being rude as she left him to hurry up the hall toward her bedroom, but in this instance it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t dare draw attention to the corner of her living room where her TV was. Thankfully, the flat screen was against the back wall so he’d not only have to come into her place, he’d have to walk around the door to see it. A break for the weak-side. Wait…

  Lumpy chocolate splat. Lumpy chocolate spat. Lumpy chocolate splat, sounded off in her head like that kid doing the Red-Rum chant in The Shining.

  “Careful,” he said when she pretended to trip and fell against the wall, trying to walk backward in order to hide the mess.

  Real smooth, Sid.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but continued to do the new strut, titled “the smear”, with her back against the drywall so he wouldn’t see the crusted chocolate as she made her way to her bedroom. Why did she drink that syrup right out of the jar tonight? You needed sweet after the bag of salt and vinegar chips you scarfed down, remember?

  She groaned. Right.

  With her room in sight, she pushed off the wall and practically dove in. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. You got this. She exhaled slowly and let her lids flutter open until she caught sight of her purse. Normally she loved her big bag, but not tonight. It was the enemy as time was of the essence. She dumped the whole thing upside down on the bed and shook out the contents. Spying the huge pink flamingo key ring she snatched it up and rushed to the entrance.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she called and held up the enameled bird. “You’re three A?”

  Why she bothered to ask was a mystery. Riker had to be three A. He rented the penthouse apartment right over her unit. It was the only top-floor condo on this side of the building. So large it spanned the distance over the two units on either side of hers as well.

  “Yes.”

  When that smoky baritone voice reached her she shivered. The sound did awesome things to her insides. Her pulse raced and she refused to believe it was the sugar. No—she bit her lip as she fought to get his key loose without breaking a nail—it was his presence that had her all fired up. One stealthy glance toward the front door and she wished just maybe he’d stick around longer than a mere few hours. The complex always seemed more alive and exciting when he was in residence.

  What was she thinking? He liked leggy blondes with beach ball breasts and perfectly vacant stares. She couldn’t she compete with that. She had regular sized knockers and an M. Ed from Florida State University. Kind of hard to pull off busty or stupid without expensive medical procedures. Did they even do lobotomies anymore?

  “Do you need some help?” Riker saw her struggling with the keys and made the offer. He was dog-tired and still sweating his ass off even though the cooler air from her place breezed over him. Her AC was nowhere near as cold as he kept his and just thinking about that made him anxious to get upstairs where he knew his was cranking. Her place smelled great though. Orange and cinnamon. Nice—he sniffed—hell, the scent reminded him of Christmas and home. Memories the unseasonably warm weather lately had killed. “Do you want me to see if I can do it?”

  “No, I’ve got it. I’ll just be a second.”

  He took another deep breath, hoping to recapture that little bit of nostalgia when he spotted her dining room chandelier. It wasn’t so much the hanging light itself, but the things dangling off it. Angels. And not the ethereal kind either. There was a fat one holding a harp, a skinny one wearing glasses and when he saw the mop-headed blonde one in the red and yellow poke-a-dot bikini he found himself smiling. He liked the winged chicks. Shifting, he tilted his head to get a better look at Sidney Capp. The few tenants he’d spoken to around here always referred to her as a “sweetheart”. He thought it was because she taught kindergarten, but maybe not. There was something about her. He recalled how squirrely she’d been at the door and now watching as she fought with the keys, he decided maybe she was much the same as those ornaments. Quirky. Yeah, and probably an angel too. That sobered him right up.

  Angels were off his list. He’d been there and done that and it hadn’t panned out for anyone. Especially him. He rolled his shoulders and shifted to turn away when he caught an image out of the corner of his eye. At first glance he’d though it was a graphic picture hanging on the wall, but then when he looked closer he realized it was a mirror. A mirror on the wall that reflected the image from—get the fuck out here—her TV. Miss quiet and keeps to herself kindergarten teacher—the woman he’d just determined to be a quirky angel— watches porn?

  He eased the door opened wider and peered between the wall and the frame. Yessiree, she was watching naughty all right. Hardcore shit if the frozen image on the screen was any indication. Damn, that young woman was swallowing some pretty impressive—

  �
��I got it. Oh, and I’ve also included a key to the pool gate. I know how much you like to do your twenty laps in the middle of the night when you can’t…”

  Watching porn wasn’t her only form of late night entertainment it would seem. “Can’t?” He took the keys from her and while he waited for her to finish that sentence which wasn’t going to end well for her, he gave her the once over.

  She was cute. Really cute with big eyes, pert little nose and nice mouth. Lips that were wide and full which only made him think about the image on her TV.

  “Is that my phone?” He almost laughed. The comical way she cocked an ear, twisting back toward the master bedroom, but keeping her eyes on him, was priceless. “Phooey, it is—”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Oh,” She leaned back farther and almost fell. “Yes, I hear it vibrating in the bedroom.”

  He couldn’t contain his grin now. Judging from the porn, she might not be an angel but she was definitely quirky in an adorable way. “Are you sure it’s your phone?”

  “Yup, gotta go. Thanks for stopping by.”

  Riker stared at the door for a good thirty seconds before he realized she’d slammed it in his face. And there was nothing adorable about that. Intriguing? Sure. Interesting? Moderately. A fucking turn-on? Absolutely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shut out by a woman. He shook his head and closed his fist around the keys. Her dismissing him shouldn’t matter, but it did.

  He was halfway up the stairs to the third floor when the raw image on her TV came to mind. Did the little kindergarten teacher watch skin flicks for real, or was it a fluke? A bad pause in an erotic romance of some kind?

  Tumbling his apartment deadbolt, he decided. He’d seen plenty of R rated movies and nary had a one highlighted that kind of talent. That kind of action was triple X all the way. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up though. She probably had cable and stumbled on that channel by accident.