Unwrapped Bundle with You Don't Know Jack & Bad Boys in Kilts

by Erin McCarthy

  “I got it,” Christian told his father, who looked loathe to stand up.

  He gave Alison a horsey ride on the way to the door, wondering if one of the neighbors was stopping by with more cookies. They had enough for the entire state already, but Mrs. Morris next door did some rocking raspberry bars.

  But when he flung open the door, he froze. It wasn’t Mrs. Morris. It was Blue. Standing there on the stoop in her velvet jacket, her hair dusted with fresh falling snow, her eyes wide, phone clutched in her hands. A taxi sat in the driveway, still running.

  “Blue. Hi,” he said, bending down and shaking Alison off his back, his heart pounding. She had shown up, proving him completely wrong, and hope started to swell inside him.

  “Hi,” she said. “I . . . I came to say thank you for the snow globe.” She rubbed her lips together nervously. “It’s beautiful, Christian.”

  “You’re welcome. I wish I could have given you more.” He wanted to reach for her, but at the same time, knew this was her move.

  “You’ve given me more than you can imagine.” She swallowed, hand nervously tucked into the front pocket of her jeans, other hand clutching her phone like a lifeline. “And, I would like to see you again if that offer still stands.”

  Hope burst into full-fledged glee. Christian nodded. “Hell yes.”

  “Okay. Good. That’s good.” She stood there, still looking awkward. “I wish I had something to give you for Christmas.”

  Christian burst into a grin. “This would be a perfect time to kiss me,” he told her. “That’s something you can give me.”

  Blue shocked him by suddenly launching herself into his arms, like she’d just been waiting for the invitation. Arms around his neck, she kissed him relentlessly, both of them pouring their emotion into the hot and passionate embrace.

  He only came to his senses when he realized Alison was tugging on his leg.

  As they managed to pry themselves apart, Blue whispered in his ear. “I want to be with you. Is that insane or what?”

  “Totally insane. And I’m crazy desperate to be with you, so I guess that makes us a good fit.” He patted Alison’s head absently and stared intently at Blue. “So are you going to Miami tonight or are you going to send that taxi away and come into the house?”

  He’d gotten more than he’d ever expected, a possible future with Blue and he was thrilled, but damn, he wanted her to come into the house and make his Christmas complete.

  Blue stared at the man in front of her, a little girl clinging to him like a monkey, and felt things she’d only ever dreamed she could feel. Hell, yes, she was coming into the house. She wasn’t stupid enough to walk away from him twice in one day.

  Turning she waved off the taxi then grinned at Christian. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

  Leaning down, she smiled at the little girl. “Hi, I’m Blue. What’s your name?”

  “Alison.” She looked up at her uncle. “What did she say her name was?”

  Blue laughed, knowing she was about to spend the next ten minutes hearing that from a whole round of relatives.

  A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway behind Christian, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Christian, who’s at the door?”

  Christian glanced back, grinning. He reached out and took Blue’s hand and pulled her into the house. “Mom, this is Blue. My girlfriend.”

  And Blue decided maybe Santa didn’t suck so much after all.

  Santa in a Kilt

  DONNA KAUFFMAN

  Chapter One

  Finally, she was his to claim.

  The doors of the ancient abbey were opening and everyone was waiting, with collectively drawn breath, for the bride and groom to make their exit as man and wife. But Shay Callaghan’s attention wasn’t on the heavy, weather-beaten doors, creaking loudly as they were dragged the rest of the way open by two of his fellow islanders. Nor was it on the couple who were due to pass through them at any moment.

  Instead, his attention lay across the wide, cobblestone path . . . on the maid of honor, Kira MacLeod. In fact, he found it impossible to look anywhere else.

  “There they are!” someone shouted.

  The abbey bells began to peal as Shay’s best mate stepped through the doors and, in a move that was purely Roan, swept his bride up into his arms and shouted, “Please, everyone, make way for Mr. and Mrs. Roan McAuley!”

  “And the crowd went wild,” Shay murmured beneath his breath, though his lips twitched in a hint of a smile, and he clapped along with everyone else as a cacophony of shouts and cheers went up. Shay stood alongside his other best mate, who was also the best man, Graham, each of the men decked out in their formal clan tartans. Shay in the Callaghan forest green and deep blue, and Graham sporting the MacLeod brighter green and blue, shot through with red and gold.

  Shay was sincerely happy for Roan, as he had been for Graham, when he’d tied the knot but a few months past. Shay simply didn’t see that same future for himself. As a divorce attorney, he knew where that trail ended, more often than not, and it was not a path he was willing to embark on.

  Roan carried Tessa down the stone steps and past the wedding party. As it had been with Graham’s wife, Katie, Tessa also made a stunning bride, with her vivacious red curls and expressive face. A face that she turned toward her best friend, Kira, as she passed by, mouthing something Shay couldn’t see, before swinging her gaze back, and aiming it, surprisingly, toward him. Despite Tessa’s perch aloft in her husband’s arms, she managed to pin him with her bright blue gaze for a brief but very specific moment as she bounced past. Shay couldn’t tell if it was a look of gauging . . . or warning, not that either made any sense.

  But before he could sort it out, the couple had passed by and everyone in the party filed in behind them. Everyone but himself. He stood back, and apart, as he often did, his gaze easily tracking Kira in the crowd.

  Roan had had a thing for her once, which was why Shay hadn’t made his own interest known. Or so he’d told himself. Not that Roan had ever done anything about his attraction. Kira had been back on Kinloch for almost two years now, and Roan had been content to keep things platonic. But everyone knew he’d been interested.

  No one had known of Shay’s interest. But then, very few knew much of anything that crossed Shay Callaghan’s mind. Or resided in his heart. He was a man who chose his words carefully and spoke when it mattered. He was also a loyal friend, a trusted confidant, and a calm head in any crisis. And that was all anyone truly needed to know, aye?

  But, the thing was, watching Roan and Tessa together now, their smiles, their laughter, simply the way they looked at one another, he understood. Kira hadn’t been the one for Roan. And, quite simply, Tessa had. Roan certainly hadn’t wasted a moment once he’d met her. He’d known Tessa less than a few months and not only had he immediately gotten involved with her . . . he’d married her!

  And now, without the friend code of honor standing in his way, Shay was clear to pledge his case. He was quite good at pledging cases.

  But he remained where he stood. Because looking at her, as he was now, seeing her eyes shining so brightly, smiling with such sincere joy, her heart so open, so readily apparent to anyone who wanted to know what lay inside . . . he knew, deep down, in that place that made no rational sense, but was all the more truthful because of it, he knew. Kira MacLeod might not be The One for Roan McAuley . . . but Shay was as certain as he’d ever been that if he were to ever have a One, she would be it.

  Which was the problem entirely. Because Shay Callaghan didn’t believe in The One. Not rationally, anyway. Certainly not forever and always.

  And Kira MacLeod was absolutely a forever and always kind of woman. She deserved no less . . . and so very much more.

  The abbey bells continued to peal, filling the brisk November afternoon air with their loud, raucous clanging, joyously announcing that another brand-new union had been formed within its ancient walls. Walls that, if they could speak, would give test
imony to the hundreds of forever and always vows to which they had borne witness.

  The entirety of the island’s small population crowded around and behind the bridal party as they pushed forth out into the grassy field that lay between the crumbling abbey and the single track road that led back to the village proper. It was full-on cacophony, with the bells ringing and the noisy, happy shouts reverberating through the late afternoon air.

  For Shay, all of the unleashed energy and din served to create a bubble of sorts, one that encapsulated him, in that exact moment in time, blocking out the rest of the universe, and the reality of the world outside that bubble. It was, perhaps, the only moment when he could step aside from all that he knew to be true, all that he’d witnessed firsthand . . . and allow himself to believe, for the tiniest and purest of moments . . . that it actually made any sense for a man to consider cleaving himself to a woman in any way beyond the physical.

  And, while still safely cushioned inside his fairy-tale bubble, he couldn’t help thinking that any length of time the gods saw fit to allow him to be cleaved, in any way, to the sweetness of soul that was Kira MacLeod, was worth the ripping heartache and devastation that was almost certain to follow taking such an insane leap of faith.

  “Do you want a lift into the village? You could ride along with us.” Graham stepped beside him as the throng moved beyond them and toward the roadway, where long lines of cars and all manner of conveyances had been parked.

  “Hmm?” Shay responded absently, unwilling as yet to have his tantalizing bubble burst. He hadn’t even been aware that Graham had hung back as well, he’d been so caught up in his thoughts.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Pop. Shay felt a distinct deflation in the general area of his heart, but it had been, after all, just a momentary fantasy. He calmly shifted his gaze away from the crowd in general, and Kira in particular, thankful for Graham’s furrowed brow. Nothing like the scrutiny of a close friend to help realign one’s priorities. “No,” he said, easily. “And thanks, but I’ll meet you there in a wee bit.”

  Graham’s look of concern didn’t ease. If anything, it deepened. Which was annoying. Perhaps Shay wasn’t hiding his uncustomary rioting emotions as well as he’d assumed. He needed to get a grip, and quickly. Retreat, and regroup, that was the best move.

  Instead, a quick thump of anxiety beat sharply inside his chest when Graham’s intent gaze—and no one was so intent as his science-minded friend—shifted with laser-like accuracy from Shay . . . to the retreating, beautifully gowned, and quite lovely form of one Kira MacLeod.

  “Perhaps you were hopeful of a different kind of lift?”

  Feeling a little rattled now—first Tessa, now Graham—and further annoyed with himself because of it, Shay jerked his attention from where it had once again strayed to Kira, back to Graham—only to find amusement crinkling the corners of his best friend’s eyes.

  His first instinct was to defend Kira, but he tamped that down. He’d apparently given enough away already. “I—have work to do,” he said, intending to sound as if he were merely distracted by a case, which wasn’t at all a rare thing. Only the look on Graham’s face made it clear he knew the real distraction was presently carefully picking her way across the stone-filled field. “I need to drop by my offices.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “I’m trying to avoid a trip back to the city this coming week, and it would be helpful if I could get these briefs done and faxed so they’re already waiting on the appropriate desktop start of business tomorrow.”

  “It’s barely three in the afternoon,” Graham said, steadily, the light of amusement not dimming in the least, but perhaps increasing, as the corners of his mouth quirked now as well. “Surely you have time to hoist a glass and say a few words before attending to the needs of those trying to undo what was so beautifully done here today.”

  Whatever was left of the bubble now lay empty and flat at his feet. Not a surprise. Bubbles were meant to pop. He just didn’t know why the prick had carried such a particularly painful sting this go around. His expression smoothed further. “You do know I truly wish you and Katie, as well as Roan and Tessa, all the happiness in the world,” he said, never more sincere. “Nothing would make me happier than to watch you grow old together and bounce many a rosy cheeked grandbaby on your aging, knobby knee.”

  Graham merely cocked a brow. “But?”

  “But, I have work to do. I can’t help that it happens to be what it is. It’s what I do. Everyone deserves to have their needs well-represented, no matter the situation involved.”

  “And you do it quite well, solicitor.”

  Shay merely held his gaze evenly, said nothing.

  “Is there some rule,” Graham went on, his gaze still as intent as ever, “against enjoying oneself, simply for the moment? Not every quest for pleasure has to end in a lifelong commitment.”

  Shay stifled a sigh. This wasn’t new territory. “In the city, I’d agree. Which is why, as you well know, I conduct that part of my life there. Here on Kinloch, however, we both know the truth of it,” Shay said, and knew Graham understood his meaning. It was, in fact, the irony of all ironies, to his mind. While Shay spent at least half of his time in Edinburgh devoting himself to tearing asunder the unions made in holy matrimony . . . here on Kinloch, nary a single soul had ever divorced. Not ever. Not once. For all of the four hundred recorded years in the history of the isle. “I’ll meet you all later, and raise my glass then. Several in fact, to be sure.”

  He moved past Graham, expecting his friend to shrug off the exchange and let him go. Graham and Roan both ribbed him on many an occasion about his mysterious paramours in the city, waxing ridiculously rhapsodic about the life of debauchery and decadence they were certain he must live there, to counterbalance the life of a monk he lived on Kinloch. He let them have their ribald fun, knowing he’d have his own opportunities for giving back as good as he got. Which he did, in his own dryly acerbic way. It was the way of old friends, and he normally didn’t mind it in the least. But he was thankful, on this day, to have it over with.

  So, it surprised him when Graham spoke again, earnestly this time, without a hint of humor in his tone. “Shay, I know you spend a goodly amount of time as an intimate witness to the worst of what a man and woman can do to one another. But you were raised, for most of your life, here, an equally intimate witness to the glorious best of it. And though I’ve not been long in their ranks, I can tell you, you cannot even imagine the true gloriousness—”

  “Graham,” Shay said, a surprising note of warning creeping into what was normally his smooth, some would say relentlessly even tone. “Please don’t proselytize the sanctity of the glorious union to me of all people.”

  Now it was Shay’s turn to be surprised, as a very rare, hard light came into his friend’s eyes . . . and a warning note echoed in his words. “Oh, I’m no’ preaching for you to join us, mate. That is a decision each man makes for himself. I’m merely reminding you there’s a balance of good to evil. And, perhaps, a bit of cautioning as well. Kira might share your desire for a brief crossing of paths, I’m no’ to say. But given her heart has already been trod heavily upon once, you wouldn’t want to be the man to do that to her again.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Shay felt his fingers curl into his palms. “What kind of man do you take me for? Why do you think I don’t start things here, with any woman?”

  “Kira is no’ ‘any woman,’ ” Graham replied.

  “My point exactly.” Shay was stunned, actually, at the force of anger that rose inside him and he fought to control his tone. “I’m afraid, however, I’ve missed yours entirely.”

  “I’ve been observing the way you look at her, mate. And I’m well aware of that look and the feelings that accompany it. I daresay our friend Roan could weigh in on the topic as well. At great length.” His tone eased along with the hard lines around his jaw. “And I know ye’ve no reason now, with Roan wedded, to satisfy yourself wi
th looks alone.”

  “I—”

  “What I’m sayin’ to ye is that I’m the first one to applaud a man following his heart and going after what he wants. But you’ve made it more than clear that ye dinnae believe a lifetime spent with one woman is possible.”

  “I’ve made it clear that I see how it’s more often impossible than not for two people to forge a lifelong commitment to one another, no’ that I personally disapprove of it. Big difference.”

  “And yet, the tie that binds those two ideas together is that ye dinnae personally believe it to be possible. For you. And, given her past, I’d say that she deserves a man who not only knows his intent, but fully believes he can back it up, with all that is in his heart.”

  “And I believe I told you that I’ve no plans to conduct myself otherwise. No’ here.”

  “As I said, I’ve seen the way ye look at her. The fact that you’ve been at all obvious in your interest says a great deal.”

  “I have no’ been obvious. I’m the least obvious man on this island.”

  “Not to those who know you best. And I’m only speaking from personal experience. I know what it is to try to deny that interest. You’ll tell yourself you can walk away, keep a distance, no’ act on it. But the last barrier you had to hide behind just walked out those abbey doors.”

  Shay didn’t bother to argue that point, because he couldn’t. “So what was all that about not all pleasures have to lead to lifelong commitments? One minute you’re encouraging me to go after a quick roll, the next—”

  “I was testing the waters. I wanted to see your response.” His gaze took on even greater directness. “And now I have. I canno’ speak for Kira. As I said, perhaps that’s all she’ll be wantin’ from ye. But I’m no’ just concerned for her welfare here . . . I’m concerned for yours.”

  “I can take care of myself, Laird MacLeod,” he said, adding a pointed note to that last part.

  Graham ignored it. “All I’m trying to say is, even if she’s on for a simple roll, no matter what ye tell yerself you’d settle for, I think you’ll end up wanting more. Perhaps more than ye bargained for. I know the look,” he repeated, then smiled. “Intimately. I’m saying this because I know you to be an honorable man, Shay Callaghan. One of the finest I’ve ever had the privilege to know and it’s with pride I call you my friend. And ’tis only because I’ve been where you stand right now that I felt duty bound to make sure ye were thinking with all you have up here”—he knocked Shay on the forehead with his knuckle—“before you act on what’s pounding in here.” He aimed his knuckle at Shay’s chest, but backed up a step and let his hand drop to his side. “Because you’re going to act on it, my friend. Today, a fortnight from today, I canno’ say. But as long as the two of you are on this isle together, you will.”