by Debbie Mason
Cat walked over and shoved her sister’s head between her legs. “Just breathe. Not like that,” she said when Chloe started braying like a donkey. Dammit, she was not letting her suck her back in. Chloe was a hypochondriac. There was nothing wrong with her. Cat removed her hand from her sister’s head and crossed to the makeup table, opening a drawer to take out a brown paper bag. As soon as Chloe put it over her mouth and nose, her breathing evened out.
Lowering the bag, Chloe lifted pleading green eyes. “Kit Kat, I know you have much more important things to take care of, but”—she swallowed convulsively, rubbing her chest—“I have a physical scene this afternoon. And after my spell, I worry about my heart. I’d hate to think how guilty you’d feel if I dropped dead when you so easily could take my place.”
As Cat opened her mouth to say no, Chloe continued. “I don’t like to bring it up, but…” She brought it up all the time. Her sister was a delicate flower with the mind of a Venus flytrap. “If you hadn’t been so greedy in the womb and sucked up all the oxygen, I wouldn’t have been born with a hole in my heart. So the least you can do is this one small favor for me.”
Chloe wasn’t exaggerating. Much. She had been born with a hole in her heart and spent the first month of her life in a NIC unit. Up until the age of four, she’d been in and out of the hospital before the hole closed on its own. When they were growing up, their parents had overprotected Chloe, treating her like an invalid. In Cat’s opinion, that had been more damaging than the hole had ever been.
She supposed she shouldn’t cast stones. Like her parents, Cat enabled her sister, too. And while intellectually she knew she was making matters worse, emotionally, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Which was the reason why, an hour later, she awkwardly lowered herself into the stylist chair wearing a tight black pencil skirt and black bustier.
“Wipe the smirk off your face, Ty,” Cat said, adjusting the satin top.
“Moi, smirk? I think not, my darling pussy.” Ty, in his uniform of skinny black pants and tight T-shirt, grinned at her in the mirror. “If you’re going to keep doing this, you should consider extensions.” He tugged on Cat’s wig, and it slipped to the side. In her senior year of high school, Cat lopped off her long locks after another episode of trading places with her sister had gone horribly wrong.
Tutting, Ty reached across her for the bobby pins.
The hairstylist was one of her favorite people on the set of As the Sun Sets. She’d miss him when she left. But he was about the only thing she’d miss. She didn’t like Hollywood. Or Hollyweird, as she thought of it. “This is the last time.”
“That’s what you said two weeks ago.”
“I quit, Ty. Today is my last day on the set. I’m heading home on Monday.” She winced when he jabbed her scalp with a bobby pin.
“I nearly lost my lunch.” He patted her head. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”
“I’m serious. I’m leaving.”
Pressing his palms together, he rested his chin on the tips of his manicured fingers and looked at her mournfully through large, square, red-framed glasses. She sighed. She loved him, but he was as much a drama queen as her sister. “I’m going to miss you, too. But I’ll see you in a couple of weeks when you come to Christmas.”
When Chloe heard the production team was looking for a location in the mountains to film their holiday segments, she’d suggested their hometown, putting them in contact with Madison McBride, the town’s mayor, who offered free room and board to sweeten the pot. It didn’t take much sweetening after the production team got a look at Christmas.
Nestled in a valley at the foot of the Rocky Mountains, the small town was a nature lover’s dream. Cat was proud of her hometown with its friendly people and old-world charm. But it was the recently completed Santa’s Village that had sealed the deal.
Ty swept the back of his hand dramatically across his cheek. “Who is going to vet my dates and make sure I’m safe? And who is going to let me cry on their shoulder when I get my heart broken?” He wrapped his arms around her neck, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Pussy, you can’t leave me.”
One of the crew walked by with George, the classically handsome man who played Chloe’s on-screen husband, Byron Hart. “Chloe, remember?” Cat whispered. No one could know she was taking her sister’s place. Cat wasn’t a member of the Screen Actors Guild.
He straightened, fluffing her hair. “You’re leaving because your sister is such a biatch, aren’t you?”
“No, it’s time for me…” The set manager called Chloe’s name. “We’ll go out this weekend. I’ll bring Chloe along. If you give her a chance, I think you two could be friends.”
He flipped up his hand. “Just because I’m a fairy doesn’t mean I have a magic wand that will turn your sister into you.”
Cat rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.
“Hang on.” Ty grabbed her arm and shoved two more bobby pins in her hair. “Be careful. Brunhilda attacks you in this scene, and after your sister pushed for the change that cut down her on-air time, she won’t hold back,” he said, referring to the redheaded actress Molly. She’d tried out for the part of Tessa Hart and ended up with the lesser role of Tessa’s backstabbing sister Paula.
Cat thanked him for the warning and headed for the set. Walking without tripping in the mile-high shoes was one thing; walking with the elegant grace of her sister, another. Ten minutes at the most, Cat reminded herself, and she’d be out of here for good. The thought lightened her step as she walked onto what served as the foyer of the Hart mansion.
She smothered a gasp when her heel shot out from under her on the polished black-and-white marble, clamping a hand on her head to keep her wig in place. Once she regained her balance, she made a show of checking her shoe.
“Tessa darling, are you all right?” The silver-haired Byron called down from the top of the ornate wooden staircase.
Cat frowned. Tessa darling? Then shrugged. What did she know? Maybe he liked to get into character before taping. She acknowledged his concern with a small wave and took her mark, mentally going over the scene she’d practiced with Chloe earlier.
All she had to do was keep Molly from pulling off her wig. Piece of cake. Cat had a black belt and had aced her defensive tactics training. But when the bell chimed and she opened the mansion’s door to the redhead, Cat had an aw-hell moment. She’d never fought in heels on a slippery floor. She contemplated kicking them off when Molly launched herself at her, which wasn’t in the script, at least not yet. Ducking, Cat raised her arm to block the woman’s red talons. Molly kept coming, pushing Cat totally off her mark. Why today of all days did the woman decide to improvise? They were supposed to have their come-to-Jesus moment at the front door, not in the middle of the foyer.
Lines, Cat reminded herself. Just say Chloe’s lines. “Paula, what’s wrong? What…” She trailed off, following the direction of the redhead’s gaze to where the large crystal chandelier swayed drunkenly over her head.
Grabbing Molly by the arms, Cat spun them out of the way. A gust of air brushed against her back as the chandelier crashed to the marble floor.
Shouts went up from the cast and crew as they converged on them. The director in his yellow Hawaiian shirt pushed past the crowd of people. “Chloe, are you all right?”
“I’m good,” she assured him.
“So am I, Phil,” Molly said, glaring at Cat before storming off the set.
The director’s gaze followed the other actress before he returned his attention to Cat. “Quick thinking, Chloe. Well done.” He patted her back then moved from her side, waving over the set and crew managers. “Would someone like to explain to me what the hell happened here?”
That’s what Cat wanted to know. Glass crunched underfoot as she went to crouch beside the chandelier and examine the brushed silver chain links. The wire had been cut. Cat looked up at the ceiling. Her plan to leave her sister’s employ was now on hold.
* * *
&n
bsp; Special Agent Grayson Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a vacation. To his way of thinking, the bad guys didn’t take a holiday, so why should he? But his last case had changed his mind. He was skirting the edge of burn-out. It was the only explanation he could come up with for his epic screwup. He’d put not only the operation on the line, but his life.
Valeria Ramos had played him, and he hadn’t discovered it until it was almost too late. A gorgeous brunette with a killer bod, she’d passed herself off as a victim when in truth she was the head of the drug cartel. The memory of how badly his instincts had failed him grated. They’d never failed him in the past. Forget that he was damn good at his job, for a guy who’d grown up around actresses, he should’ve been able to make Valeria from day one. So, yeah, he needed a couple of weeks off to decompress and get his head back in the game.
He propped his bag and skis by the door of his Beachwood Canyon home, anxious to get out of the smog-filled city. The mountains were calling his name. He’d get his thrills and chills on the Black Diamond slopes instead of on the job. Whatever tension remained at the end of the day, he’d burn off with a ski bunny or two or three. It wasn’t as if he had someone to come home to. He’d learned the hard way that his job wasn’t conducive to long-term relationships. Or maybe it was just him.
As he opened the panel to activate the alarm, his cell rang. He thought about not answering until he saw who it was.
“Mr. Alexander, Linda Hanson from Shady Palms. Your grandmother has gone missing again.”
And he knew exactly where she’d turn up. He should’ve moved. He angled his security cam at the street. Sure enough, a yellow cab was pulling into his driveway. “She’s here, Ms. Hanson. I’ll have her back to the home within the hour.” If he had to tie her up to get her there. He wondered what her story would be this time. Last month, she was sure the nurses were drugging her.
The woman on the other end of the line cleared her throat. “Mr. Alexander, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The previous administrator was more willing than I am to look the other way. Dame Alexander is a disruptive influence. You’ll have to find another facility—”
Yeah, right. Shady Palms was just one of many retirement homes his great-grandmother had terrorized in the past five years. And he should know, since the duty of taking care of GG fell on him. Not on his cousins or his father or his aunt and uncle—him. In a voice infused with as much charm and warmth as he could manage given his frustration, he said, “Linda, we’ll discuss this when I get there. I’m sure we can come to—”
“No we won’t, Mr. Alexander. All your charm and good looks will be wasted on me. I’m too old to be swayed by a handsome face.”
He was wondering if his badge and an imaginary infraction might do the trick when a five-foot-nothing, immaculately groomed, older woman with a white angora cat tucked under her arm scowled up at the security camera.
“Grayson, I know you’re there. Let me in,” Dame Estelle Alexander commanded in an upper-crust British accent, lifting her cane to knock on the door.
“Linda, I’ll…” He blew out a noisy breath. She’d hung up on him. At the insistent rapping, he jerked open the door before Estelle bashed it in. “GG, you promised you weren’t going to run away again.”
She batted him out of the way with her cane and sniffed. “I didn’t run away, I escaped. They’re trying to kill me.”
He wouldn’t be surprised if some of the staff at Shady Palms wanted to kill her. He’d felt the same on occasion, as he imagined her last four husbands did. His great-grandmother was a drama queen and a royal pain in the ass.
“Don’t keep the young man waiting, Grayson.” She lifted her haughty chin at the sixty-something man standing at the door with… four suitcases at his feet. Gray briefly closed his eyes before digging his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. The man gave him a commiserating smile and handed him the cat’s pink princess bed.
“Thanks,” Gray muttered, tucking the bed under his arm as he hauled the luggage into the house. Piling the bags by the door, he turned to break the news to his grandmother. “GG, I’m heading out of town, so you’ll have to stay with…” He cursed under his breath and strode to his bedroom. “Do not put that cat on my bed.” Of course she did exactly as she pleased and put the long-haired animal on his black comforter. “GG, you know I’m allergic to—”
“It’s all in your head.” She waved a dismissive bejeweled hand, then turned to open his drawers. “Where’s my luggage?”
“I’ll get it,” he muttered and closed the door. Leaning against the wood-paneled wall, he took his cell from the pocket of his leather jacket and called his cousin India. He’d had it. Someone other than him was taking care of GG. He needed this vacation. And it was about time one of them stepped up to the plate. His call to India went straight to voice mail—with a message that said she was in London. At the beep, he said, “Indy, how many times do I have to tell you not to let everyone know you’re out of the country? It’s not safe. Call me as soon as you get this.” He paused; his cousin never returned messages. “GG is dying.”
He called his aunt and uncle and got their voice mail with a message informing him they were on safari in Africa. Of course they were. He left them the same message he left their daughter. He didn’t even bother calling his father. He’d get no help from that end. The only time Gray heard from the Eighth Earl of Waverly was when he needed cash.
He called Indy’s brother Jamie, relieved when an actual voice came over the line. “Hey, Jamie. I need—”
“Hey, Gray, my man. I was just picking up the phone to call you. I’ve got a job for you.”
He never should’ve told Jamie he was taking a few weeks off. His cousin provided security for the rich and famous. “No. I’m leaving for Bear Valley in twenty minutes, and GG’s here. You have to come and get her.”
“She run away from Heaven’s Gate again?”
She’d been in Heaven’s Gate two years ago. “Yeah, and you’re up. I tried to get your sister and parents, but they’re out of town.”
“I’d like to help you out, but Lacy and GG don’t get along.”
“Who’s Lacy? Never mind, just come and get your grandmother.”
“Seriously, bro, I can’t leave her with Lacy, and I’m heading out of town on a job. Which is why I need your help. I just got a call from the producers of As the Sun Sets. They’re worried about the safety of their star Chloe O’Connor, and I’ve agreed to provide security and find out who’s behind the attempts on her life. They want—”
Gray disconnected, thumbing through his contact list as he walked to the front door. There had to be a distant cousin on here somewhere. His cousin called again. Gray didn’t answer.
Jamie texted. I’m calling my marker. You owe me.
As much as Gray hated to admit it, he did owe him. Jamie had heard a rumor about Valeria Ramos’s previous relationship with one of his former clients and passed it on to Gray. The information had changed the focus of his investigation and saved his life. He walked to the bar in the corner of his living room, poured himself a scotch, and called his cousin. “All right, I’ll do it. But as soon as I wrap up the case, you’re taking GG off my hands.”
Once his cousin agreed, reluctantly of course, he gave Gray a brief rundown on the cast and crew. Gray relaxed for the first time since GG pulled into his driveway. He’d wrap the case up in a couple of days at most, and GG would no longer be his problem. He already had his primary suspect: Chloe’s sister and the beneficiary of her will. Cat O’Connor.
ALSO BY DEBBIE MASON
The Trouble with Christmas
Christmas in July
It Happened at Christmas
Acclaim for
The Christmas, Colorado Series
IT HAPPENED AT CHRISTMAS
“4 Stars! Take another trip to Christmas, Colorado, and you’ll be guaranteed a wonderful time.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Debbie Mason give
s the reader an excellent love story that can be read all year long… You must pick up It Happened at Christmas.”
—NightOwlRomance.com
“A passionate, liberal environmental activist and a straight-arrow conservative lawyer looking to the senate set the sparks flying in this nonstop, beautifully crafted adventure that skillfully unwraps a multilayered plot, adds an abundance of colorful characters and a familiar setting, and proves in no uncertain terms that opposites do attract.”
—Library Journal
CHRISTMAS IN JULY
“A heartwarming, feel-good story. I have not read anything written by Debbie Mason before, but now I have to read more of her books because I enjoyed Christmas in July so much.”
—HarlequinJunkie.com
“Debbie Mason’s books are the type of books that leave you with a warm and fuzzy feeling… Christmas in July is a great read.”
—FreshFiction.com
“4 Stars! A quintessential romance with everything readers love: familiar and likable characters, clever dialogue, and a juicy plot.”
—RT Book Reviews
THE TROUBLE WITH CHRISTMAS
“A fun and festive tale, flush with small-town warmth and tongue-in-cheek charm. The main characters are well worth rooting for, their conflicts solid and riveting.”
—USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog
“4 Stars! This is a wonderful story to read this holiday season, and the romance is timeless… This is one of those novels readers will enjoy each and every page of and tell friends about.”
—RT Book Reviews
“The lovers are sympathetic and well drawn… Mason will please fans of zippy small-town stories.”
—Publishers Weekly
“I’m very impressed by [Mason’s] character development, sense of humor, and plotting… Ms. Mason wraps this book up as if it were a very prettily wrapped package. Why not open the pages and have a Christmas present early?”
