by Conn, Claudy
“You just made it in time, I see.” He held his arm out, letting her know they were going into the office, the door latching behind her with a click.
“You have a present for me?”
“That I do, actually. Many.” He nodded his head in the direction of the conference table, filled with gifts of various sizes.
“Explain.”
“It has come to my attention that giving you two gifts but only letting you have one might be considered bad manners.”
Her cheeks flared. Who knew about their naughty nice game? Mr. Butler? Mrs. Jones?
“And who brought this to your attention, Mr. Northrup?”
“I did.” Cheeky bastard was grinning from ear to ear. He stalked forward before slamming his lips to hers, stealing her breath away. Her body melted into his.
“Well, if you have it on such good authority …”
“Exactly.” He kissed her forehead before grabbing her hand and leading her to the head of the conference table where the largest of the packages sat. It was wrapped in paper filled with little naughty and nice lists, Lacey’s name written in marker under each of the nice columns. He had put time into this one. Not that he didn’t in the others, but this took an extra step and it had her loving it already.
“That is an awful lot of naughty gifts.” Her eyes stayed glued to the nice gift as she spoke.
“Eleven by my count.”
“And is the plan to open them up all at once?” Her eye still fixated on the nice gift. She was worse than a small child. She forced herself to look at Marcus, not that it was a hardship. The man was sex on a stick.
“Not at all. I was figuring you could open up my nice gift for today first and then I would fill you in on the rest of the plan.”
Her greedy little hands couldn’t pick it up fast enough. She opened up the box to find a swim suit, sunscreen, sunglasses, a towel with her name embroidered on it, and a pair of fancy flip flops. It was a beach in a box … in winter.
“I don’t get it?”
“A Christmas vacation.” She went to speak and was stopped with a finger at her lips. “I thought we would spend Christmas with your mom and then take a week in the sun, at which time you could open your gifts. They might be best opened in private. Nancy promised to visit with your mom daily, and with all of her new therapies, she is going to need her sleep.”
All of her arguments were gone before she could fully form them. He had thought of everything from her mother to her skin cancer prevention. She grabbed the smallest naughty gift and shook it. “Bullet?” She watched the tension she had missed leave his shoulders. He was worried she would say no.
“Maybe.”
Score. It so was. She had had one in the past and loved it. The possibilities once a second person got in the act were endless.
“Oh my goodness, this is a … never mind.” Butt plug it was. She had to be careful what she asked or hinted for because this man made it happen. His chuckle told her he pretty much knew all that was going on in her head. “The answer is yes. How can it be anything other than yes?”
“Mr. Northrup, Mrs. Jones asked me to remind you the reveal is starting in five minutes.”
Lacey was beginning to hate that intercom, although come to think of it, it was a much better option than a secretary who barged in.
“Thank you, Sally.”
“We have to go.” She sounded dejected and quickly slapped on her professional happy face. This was important to Mrs. Jones, and therefore it had to appear as if it were important to her.
“I know, but I there are so many better things I would rather be doing right here.”
She grabbed his arse for good measure.
“Behave or I may present you with a naughty gift in front of everyone. Mrs. Matchmaker, I mean, Jones might not take kindly to it.” No. No she would not.
Epilogue
The fire burned brightly, the tree off to the side forming the perfect Christmas backdrop. The room could have easily been modeled off of a Christmas card.
“Beautiful, what has your mind wandering so?”
She nestled in beside Marcus, his arm wrapping around her side.
“Just thinking about how amazing this Christmas was.”
They had spent the day with her mother opening gifts, signing carols, and cooking, as a result consuming mass quantities of holiday goodness.
Her mother, after a year of very intense therapies, was living in a true assisted living facility. She had friends, was walking without even a cane, and if her progress continued the way it had been going, she might be able to move to the apartments with the least amount of assistance soon. And all of it was paid for by the benefits the lawyer had helped her file for, mixed in with a decent down payment that barely touched the money of her settlement. Her progress was nothing short of miraculous.
“It was almost perfect.”
With that, he moved faster than she thought possible and was now on his knee in front of her holding two packages. Naughty or Nice.
“This is how it started just over a year ago, my love. Which do you pick?”
Decisions. Decisions. They were both identical in every way except the label, and Marcus was so up to something so she had to pick correctly. His eyes followed hers as hers went back and forth between the two options.
If he was being nostalgic, she had picked nice first. Yes, nice it was.
“I pick nice.” She reached for it and he pulled it just outside of her grasp.
“Are you sure?”
“No,” she conceded. “Yes. Just give me the package.” The man was infuriating at times. Smexy and sweet and considerate, but infuriating.
She ripped open the paper before she could second guess herself, and in the box she found a smaller box, a smaller velvet box. A ring box. He was on his knees and she held a ring box. Holy cannoli. She cracked the lid to see a diamond ring. Not just any diamond ring either. She recognized this ring from the painting in the entry way. He had given her his grandmother’s ring.
“Yes.” The word fell from her lips and she meant it. She was his with or without a ring, but if he was offering, she was accepting whole heartedly.
“Hold your horses, woman. Let me propose first.”
She dropped her head as if she had felt some remorse, which she in no way did. From the sound of his teasing, her early yes relieved a whole lot of stress, so double win. Like she would ever turn down the man that had stolen her heart.
“But of course. Carry on.” She feigned nonchalance, but the tears in her eyes were traitorous little things.
“Lacey, from the time I first saw you, I was mesmerized. Not just by your beauty, but by the fire I saw in your eyes. I wanted to ask you out right then and there, but I was the boss and you were so into rules.”
“I really was.” She laughed. He had known her so well even before he actually knew her.
“And then Mrs. Jones meddled her way in, the wonderful woman. And I got an excuse to spoil you. Even if you would never be mine, I could make your days a little brighter.” He had spoiled her too, completely and utterly. “Then something astonishing happened: you blushed. Not just any blush either, you blushed in desire … for me, and all bets were off. I set out to make you mine, and by some twist of fate, you let me.”
He took the ring from the box and placed it on her trembling finger.
“Lacey, I love you with all that I am. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She leapt into his arms, knocking him on the floor before peppering with kisses and chanting, “All the yeses.” She was his one hundred percent.
“So that’s a yes.”
“That’s a heck to the yes.” She kissed him soundly before asking the burning question on her mind. “Before I tackle you further and demand you make my body sing the way my heart is, riddle me this: what would you have done if I had picked naughty?”
“See for yourself.”
She tore open the package, and in place of the ring, there was a note on a fol
ded up piece of paper. “Santa says you have been very nice this year and you are not to be given a naughty gift at this time.”
“You are a clever, clever man.”
“That I am.” He cleared his throat and now donned his work voice. “Now, can we get back to you tackling me and begging me to make your body sing?”
She didn’t need to be asked twice.
About the Author
Filled with the desire to write books she wouldn’t want her mama to know she read, much less wrote, Ever Coming was born.
Ever Coming is the secret pen name of an international best-selling author who simply wanted some heat with her sweet romance. When she is not reading and writing, Ever is usually found enjoying time with her kids and husband.
Visit her website at www.evercoming.com .
Also by Ever Coming
Panting for her Panther
Breathless for her Bear
Riding her Unicorn
Dreaming of her Wolf
Needed: A BBW Vampire Blood Courtesans Romance
Getting Bear
The Mommy Porn Chronicles
Sating Sarah (Book 1)
Mastering Mary (Book 2)
Doing Daisy (Book 3)
Getting Gia
A Perfect Holiday
By
Riley Murphy
Dedication
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 thing
s 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?”
