New Year’s Negotiation: January 1st

by Allenton, Kate

  Copyright © 2018 by Kate Allenton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About the story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About Kate Allenton

  Books also by Kate Allenton

  About the story

  New Year’s Negotiation

  When Detective Elizabeth Cross’s high school crush and star of all of her what-ifs shows up at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve ready to take her on a trip down memory lane, she’ll have to decide if this is a second chance at having her happily ever after or the start of another broken heart.

  New Year’s Negotiation

  January 1st

  Kate Allenton

  One

  “It could be worse.” I peeled the lid off of the old-fashioned tin containing the mysterious, magical fruitcake that had been sent in my name to my mother’s address. Of all places. I’d lived in Beaufort, North Carolina all my life, but hadn’t lived with my mother in almost a decade. I’d thought the treat might have come from one of her many friends, until I read the enclosed card. It claimed magic and love. What a crock.

  I bet if I went to Delilah’s Cove, I could solve their mystery of the sender. All I’d need is a lie detector and a few minutes of the suspect’s time.

  The four little bottles of bourbon already told me a bit about the sender. They had to be old enough to buy it. However, no matter who the sender, these little bottles would come in handy. Especially on New Year’s Eve. Taking the tin, I grabbed one of the small bottles of booze and headed out onto my patio. “At least I won’t starve.”

  I sat in the well-worn patio chair, propped my bare feet on the cold metal railing, and paused to inhale the salty ocean breeze. My condo with the view of the beach was my happy place, and the only way I could unwind after a day dealing with criminals and miscreants. Pinching off a piece of cake, I tossed it into my mouth and moaned. Turning my gaze to the decadent dessert, I eyed it with a new appreciation. It was not just free food. It was delicious free food.

  The partygoers in Times Square were cheering as “Auld Lang Syne” played on the television I’d left on inside the condo. Another year gone and another year I was ringing it in to the sound of breaking waves on the beach below. That was my favorite sound. The one that calmed my soul.

  The moon sat high in the cloudless evening sky. Fireworks continued to burst in the distance, giving the partygoers reason to cheer. New Year’s Eve was a fabulous night for people-watching, and this year was one of my favorites. Technically, the clock had struck the new year five minutes ago, but the drunk people on the beach didn’t care, and they entertained me.

  The partygoers were scantily dressed for a night out on the town, in search of creating their own fireworks with whomever they’d shared that perfect stroke-of-midnight New Year’s Eve kiss. Bottles of champagne waved in the air as they stumbled down the beach celebrating the birth of new promises.

  I pinched off another bite of fruitcake before uncapping the whiskey and taking a long, hard sip, letting the burn slide down my throat. “Happy New Year to me.”

  My doorbell chimed, startling me. I slipped my feet off the railing, slapping them hard on the concrete patio. No one ever visited this time of night. Probably a couple lost in their drunken haze wondering why their keys wouldn’t work in the condo lock. I carried the fruitcake and whiskey inside and placed them on the counter before peering out the peephole.

  Deputy Jack Stine stared back at me. “Detective Cross.”

  Hanging my head, I flicked the locks and pulled the door open. I peered up at him, trying hard to mask my annoyance. It was only five minutes after twelve, and I wasn’t scheduled to work for another two days. “I’m off the clock, Jack.”

  “Yeah, well, I have one in custody on a charge of public intoxication, and I was doing you a courtesy by bringing him here instead of letting him spend the night in jail.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked, hoping beyond all that he wasn’t about to tell me that he had my brother in cuffs the night before his wedding. That might be hard to explain to his bride-to-be or, worse, our mother.

  “He says he belongs to you.” Jack yanked a man in handcuffs into my view. “Do you know this guy?”

  Defense Attorney Ben Michaels stood in the doorway and lifted his cuffed hands in a begging kind of way. My brother’s best friend, my high school crush, killer of dreams, and star of all my what-if’s. It might not have been my brother, but seeing Ben was almost as bad. He was my brother’s best man. His brown hair was mussed as if he’d spent the entire night with someone running her hands through his tresses. Probably had. His wrinkled suit looked as though it had lain for hours on the bedroom floor.

  As frazzled as he appeared, his absence at the wedding would come with all kinds of harsh arguments if my mother knew I could have prevented him from going to jail.

  “Never seen him before,” I said and slowly started to shut the door.

  “Elizabeth Nevada Cross, I’m going to tell your brother about that time in the pool house.”

  “Blackmail is against the law, Counselor,” I said, reopening the door and leaning against the wood. Making him sweat out my decision might just be the highlight of my entire year. “Besides you wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, I would.” His head bobbed, making his dark strands fall into his eyes. “Or, worse, I’ll tell your mother.”

  “Sounds like he knows you outside of the courtroom, Detective,” Jack said.

  “Family friend,” I grumbled, holding Ben’s gaze. A piece of pink glitter sparkled in his five o’clock shadow as my gaze caressed his pitiful state. Whatever strip club he’d taken my brother to, it seemed Ben had partaken in the fun.

  “I have a ton of reports to write up from this crazy night. Do you want this guy or not?”

  “What exactly did he do?”

  Ben groaned and looked as though he were ready to pass out standing upright.

  “He was stumbling down the street claiming he’s decided to get married.”

  The liar. Ben Michaels wasn’t the marrying type. He was the prime example of a player. Living in a small town had its perks. My favorite restaurant knew me by name, we were friendly with our neighbors, and apparently, criminals and coworkers alike knew where I lived.

  “Fine. I know him,” I said, shifting the door farther open.

  Jack sighed in relief and removed the handcuffs, giving Ben a shove inside my apartment. He tripped over the doorsill, and I caught his arm, righting his stance before he took us both to the ground.

  “What did he blow on the breathalyzer?” I asked with curiosity. Ben was a guy who liked to stay in control. The fact that he was smashed confused me. The fact that he claimed to be getting married was totally unbelievable, even if he’d knocked someone up. He still wouldn’t tie the knot. He just wasn’t the settling-down type. Weekend dad, for sure, the kind of man who’d jack up his kids on sugar then send them home to mom.

  “One point two.”

  “Impressive for him. He’s not much of a drinker.”

  Jack grinned and gestured behind me. “If you let him go now, his limit would be even higher, considering the way he’s guzzling your alc
ohol into his system. He’s all yours, Detective.”

  “Yes, I am,” Ben announced, lifting the empty bottle into the air and gyrating his body as if to say “come get me.”

  Kicking his ass to bed was all he was going to get from me. Ben pinched off a piece of my fruitcake and tossed it up into the air, catching it in his mouth. He swallowed and gave me a cheesy grin.

  Just freakin’ peachy.

  Two

  I had no more than shut the door and turned to lock it than Ben had found his way out onto the patio and was leaning over the balcony railing. Granted, it was only a six-floor drop, but even a daredevil like Ben might not survive.

  I grabbed the back of his dress shirt and pulled him back to safety before shoving him into one of the chairs.

  He smiled up at me with lustful glassy eyes that matched the Caribbean ocean. “You need to learn to live a little, Lizzy. You know, that’s why we were never a thing.”

  “And you need to grow up,” I answered, plopping back down in my seat. My quiet night of letting the drunken party people entertain me from afar had gotten a lot closer to home this time. I was now officially on babysitting detail. Next year I wasn’t answering the door unless it was Gandhi himself, wanting to watch the festivities from my patio. “So, you want to tell me what happened?”

  “What makes you think anything happened?” he asked, rising from his seat and heading back inside to the kitchen. This time I followed, locked the French doors behind me, and moved a chair in the path. Not that Ben couldn’t move the furniture, but the scratching wood against my tile would act like my own personal warning.

  Ben grabbed another bite of my fruitcake and tossed it into his mouth.

  “It’s dangerous to eat my dessert, especially that one.” I sauntered into the room and took the tin from his hands. “It’s magical.”

  “You need some magic in your life.” He chuckled and pinched off another piece, holding it to my lips.

  “I’m not eating that. There’s no telling where your hands have been.”

  A sensuous smile played on his lips. His devilish gaze drifted down to my lips. “Eat it, and I’ll tell you why I drank.”

  I raised a brow and remained unmoving.

  “You know you want to.” His square jaw visibly softened as hints of humor surrounded the fine lines around his mouth. “But don’t bite me.”

  “You promise you’ll tell me what happened?” I needed to know. Not because I cared, but because I needed answers to tell my brother before Ben passed out.

  “I promise,” he answered.

  I licked my lips and slowly opened my mouth. His gaze followed every move. Ben visibly swallowed before placing the fruitcake on my tongue.

  I lightly closed my teeth on his finger and winked, reminding him that I wasn’t above inflicting pain.

  He pulled his fingers away and licked them as I chewed.

  “Lindsey broke up with me,” he said before heading toward my bedroom.

  “Who’s Lindsey? I thought you were dating someone named Sue.” I quickly followed behind him and watched as he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, and slid the material down his arms.

  Ben might have worked behind a desk, but apparently, he didn’t miss any days at the gym. He was downright mouthwatering as I watched the way his muscles bunched with the slightest movement. There was a tingling in the pit of my stomach I couldn’t ignore, and I licked my lips before I even realized what I’d done.

  When he reached for the button on his pants, I rested my hand over his, stopping him. “Those stay on, or I’ll call Jack to come back and pick you up.”

  “Spoilsport.” Ben sighed and plopped face down on my bed.

  “Now who’s Lindsey?”

  “My assistant’s best friend. We dated for two weeks.”

  He went through women like I went through gallons of my favorite ice cream, and just as fast. “What happened?”

  “Your brother’s bachelor party. That’s what happened.”

  “Okay. What about it? It wasn’t a secret you guys were going out tonight. Unless you did something stupid, like sleep with a stripper, then I don’t see the problem.”

  “I messed up.” Ben rolled onto his back to face the ceiling. “When I got home, she was waiting at my place to surprise me. It’s probably better this way. No reason to string her along.”

  More likely, she’d been there to see if he returned home alone. Ben didn’t like clingers, and it sounded like whoever this Lindsey was, she was getting a bit too close.

  “She found the picture.”

  “You’ve got to be a bit more specific.”

  “You know the picture. The only one of just the two of us. You have a copy.”

  My heart threaded. And I ignored the heat claiming my cheeks. I knew the picture. My copy was tucked away, and I only pulled it out during times I needed to remember that there was more to life than criminals and thugs. “Still not seeing the problem.”

  “You remember it, don’t you?” He lolled his head in my direction. “The one of us on the beach.”

  “Did you tell her that was a million years ago? We were eighteen. Why would she get jealous anyway? You’ve known her two weeks. I think I’d be more worried that your girlfriend was going through your things unless, of course, you gave her a key. You didn’t give her a key, did you?”

  “Hell no.” He gruffed. “But she knows where I keep my spare.”

  “Breaking and entering is a crime, and so is trespassing. You can press charges.”

  “You’re missing the point. She was jealous over our picture.” Ben grabbed the extra pillow on the bed and cradled it against his chest as he rolled onto his side. “Besides, she’s very astute.”

  “Big word for a drunk guy.”

  “Everything is big on me, darlin’, or have you forgotten?”

  I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. It was too late in the evening for this conversation. “If you aren’t going to explain, then I’m going to bed.”

  “She said I never looked at her the way I was looking at you.”

  “We had a summer fling before you left for college. We were young and stupid, and unless there’s more to this story that you aren’t telling me, I still don’t see the issue besides her being all stalkerish and going through your things.”

  Ben’s eyes started to drift closed. “I told her I’d never look at her that way because I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Sure you haven’t. Ben Michaels was going to drive me to drink. He’d grown from the scruffy teen that I’d fallen in love with a decade ago into one hell of a sexy bastard. It was no wonder he had his choice of women. Even drunk and passed out on my bed, it took all of my reserve not to climb in next to him. He was one tall drink of iced tea on a hot summer day. Looking at this man would always be a guilty pleasure, but like with everything sinful, he, too, was hazardous to my health.

  Three

  This was a prime example of why I locked my phone and my Glock in my gun safe when I was drinking. Using either as weapons promised unfavorable results if I ever got sloshed. No drunken booty calls to old exes and no shooting them.

  I grabbed one of the blankets from the closet and lay down on the couch. It was better this way. He’d sleep off the alcohol and forget we’d even had that conversation come morning. But I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Instead, I’d tease him mercilessly. I needed a few hours of sleep before all the wedding chaos started tomorrow. I set the alarm on my phone and got comfortable. Somewhere between replaying his words and two in the morning, contemplating all of the what-ifs, I dozed off.

  The sweet aroma of bacon and pancakes pulled me from my slumber. The scent of my favorite childhood breakfast prompted memories of lazy Sunday mornings when my mother cooked for me and my brothers and all of our friends. It wasn’t often I indulged in the luxury of a home-cooked breakfast. Mine consisted of a prepackaged muffin on the run and sometimes not even that. I enjoyed my sleep too much to get
up and cook. I grabbed my phone to check the time and groaned. I still had three hours before I’d need to hit my first snooze button.

  “It’s eight a.m.” Ben’s voice was silky and smooth, nothing like the slurred mess from only hours ago when he’d professed his love. I sighed.

  “It wasn’t a dream?” I asked, sitting up on my elbows and turning toward the kitchen. “I thought for sure the fruitcake was laced with something illegal, and you were one big hallucination.”

  Ben had already showered and dressed. How in the world had I slept through that? He looked delectable and remarkably at home with a rag tossed over his shoulder as he moved throughout the kitchen.

  “Sorry to disappoint, princess.” The twinkle in his eyes and playful smile claimed otherwise.

  “The last time you called me that, I pushed you into the deep end of your mother’s pool.” I slowly sat up, mourning the hours of sleep I’d never get back. “Why are you awake?”

  “I’m a morning person. Always have been.” He rounded the kitchen bar and set a plate and cup of coffee on the table in front of me before kissing my forehead. “And if you recall, I got you wet that day, too.”

  Yes, he had. I remembered all of the passionate summer nights we’d shared, but it hadn’t taken long for those memories to be replaced with lonely nights in which I’d waste precious sleep waiting for his call after he’d left for college. Not that I was about to rehash my broken heart. That was years ago. I’d seen him plenty of times since, and our time together was nothing more than a faded memory.

  I grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate and chewed. “Where did this food come from?”