Harlequin Holiday Collection

by Leslie Kelly

  “Holly, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Zach’s tone told Holly she wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell her. Well, she hadn’t liked much about her day. Since this morning, she’d gone from nervousness, to worry, to shock.

  And when Zach had held her in his arms, to flat-out lust.

  What could he possibly say that would be worse than what she’d just told him—that she and her family had been hiding a body?

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “We dated for a long time,” she replied. “I think I’d recognize a Zach-imposter, even if we haven’t seen each other in eight years.” Given the way her entire body reacted around Zach, she felt sure she could recognize him after eighty.

  “I told you I was a reporter…I didn’t tell you I am a newspaper reporter.”

  Not following, Holly waited for the rest.

  “I’m a writer working the crime beat. I don’t work for any TV station or travel show.”

  Holly gasped. Everything they’d done today—thinking he was here to do the feature on the inn had been for nothing?

  Seeing her expression, he raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t even realize for a while that you thought I was a TV reporter here to do a story on this place.”

  “And when you did realize it?” she asked, her tone icy.

  “By then,” he replied, “I’d decided I wasn’t leaving until there were other people around. I thought a dangerous criminal might be headed this way.”

  “Did he say dangerous?” Nana asked, sounding more titillated than frightened.

  Zach glanced at the elderly couple seated at the table and at the maid standing by the sink. Then, finally, back at Holly. “The dead guy in your pantry is a thug named Leo Meaney. He and his partner, Fred Kipling, are wanted armed robbers and are on the run. I’m following the story.”

  Feeling the strength leave her legs, Holly sagged against the counter.

  “The owner of that tree lot caught Kipling there last night and chased him off with a shotgun. I had assumed he’d hidden something in the tree.”

  “He had,” Holly whispered. “His accomplice.”

  “Exactly. I bet they were meeting up to divide the take, had some kind of disagreement and Kipling killed him. When the owner of the tree lot showed up armed, Kipling did the first thing he could think of.”

  “Shoved his little buddy in a twelve-footer and put the whole thing through the tree binder.”

  “Exactly. When he found out you’d bought the tree, he must have panicked.” Zach stepped closer, reaching up and brushing a strand of Holly’s hair off her face. The warmth of his fingers reassured her in a way all of his words had not. “I’d originally worried he’d follow his stolen goods up here…and that you might be in danger.”

  Oh God. A killer might be coming after them. Stunned, Holly slowly began to quiver. “You can’t be serious.”

  Zach reached for her, both hands comforting, strong and confident on her shoulders. Lending support—and making a promise. You’re going to be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you. Releasing her, he murmured, “that’s why I didn’t tell you the truth right away.”

  Though she knew she should be angry at him for his deception, Holly couldn’t be. She, after all, had been hiding much more than that from him. Namely, a body.

  “Do you think…” She cast a quick look at her grandparents, wanting them out of the inn. “Regina, maybe you could take Nana and Grandpa down into town….”

  “Absolutely not!” Holly’s grandfather replied. “A Cavanaugh would never run.” Her grandmother nodded so hard in agreement that her blue-tinged hair came down from its tight bun.

  She should have known. These two would probably love the chance to take a frying pan to the head of an attacker.

  “Actually,” Zach said, “I suspect things aren’t as dangerous as I’d thought. Stolen jewels would be worth Fred Kipling’s time and effort and that’s what I figured was in the tree. But a dead accomplice whose body he has to figure has already been discovered, probably would not.”

  Feeling hopeful for the first time all day, Holly nibbled her lip. “You really think so?”

  “I do. When Kipling went back to the lot and realized the tree where he’d stashed the body was gone, I’m sure he took off. I’ll bet he’s a few states away by now.”

  Holly certainly hoped so. Especially because, right at that moment, someone knocked on the front door. Everyone in the room flinched, but a quick glance out the side window confirmed the presence of a TV news van.

  Perfect. The travel show crew had finally arrived.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the next hour, Zach kept his promise to Holly. He guarded her secret—the dead guy in the pantry—while a crew from the show Weekend Getaways scoured the inn.

  Damn, he hoped Holly hadn’t been exaggerating about how critical this interview was. Because every instinct was telling him he should have picked up the phone and called his buddy, Detective Mark Santori. He could already picture the conversation…dead criminals didn’t fall out of Christmas trees every day.

  “You didn’t let on that you’re not a paying guest, did you?” Holly’s grandmother asked as Zach walked into the kitchen. She sat alone, repairing more of those crystal ornaments.

  He’d allowed the old woman to talk him into playing the part of guest for the cameras. In truth, that was only a slight exaggeration—he wasn’t planning on leaving this place until he was sure Holly was safe. And until he’d helped her out of the mess she’d created with the authorities by not reporting the body right away.

  And until after he’d figured out if the feelings he was experiencing for her were reciprocated.

  He had known from the second she’d answered the door that he still wanted her. He’d known from the second she’d kissed him that she wanted him, too.

  But until that moment in the kitchen when Holly had melted against him for support, he hadn’t realized that he still felt so much more than simple lust.

  But did she?

  “It sucks that we don’t have any guests here, talking up the place.”

  Aside from the incongruity of the word “sucks” coming out of an elderly woman’s mouth, Zach couldn’t help agreeing.

  “Or at least lying around, making the rooms look occupied.”

  The old woman sounded a little too self-satisfied during that last bit. As if she had something up her sleeve. “What are you up to?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “You go on, keep playing a satisfied visitor. Reading a book by the fire in the study would be a nice touch.”

  She was trying to get rid of him again. He’d been sticking close to the body, both to ensure that the TV people didn’t stumble across it and to make sure no one else touched the corpse. But he’d let himself be talked into saying a few words to the reporter, a perky blonde named Candy, leaving Holly’s grandparents alone briefly. Now, her grandfather had disappeared and Nana looked about as innocent as one of the robbers.

  His palms started to sweat. “What did you do?”

  She shrugged but didn’t look up.

  Zach glanced toward the pantry. He almost knew before he strode over and yanked the door open that it would be empty. Well, except for plenty of cleaning supplies.

  Just no dead Leo Meaney.

  Somehow, Holly managed not to shriek when she walked out onto the sunporch and saw the room was occupied. She swallowed the sound, wondering how the dead burglar, last seen in her pantry, had gotten out here.

  He was lying on the chaise lounge, a blanket tucked around him. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes and he looked like a vacationer enjoying an afternoon nap—as long as one didn’t notice the stiffness of his form or the slightly blue tinge to his skin.

  “Whoops,” she whispered, grabbing the perky reporter, Candy, by the arm. “A guest is napping. He’s, uh, been ill and we shouldn’t disturb him.”

  �
�Really? I thought I just saw him snoozing in a room upstairs. He must move pretty quickly for someone who’s sick.”

  Oh Lord, that must have been when Holly had been posing for some pictures in the lobby. Candy had gone wandering—and her grandparents had obviously been doing some, uh, redecorating.

  “He looks so peaceful, maybe we could get one shot—”

  “No!” That came from Zach, who’d followed them onto the porch. He met her eyes, silently offering his support. “The man said he wished to maintain his privacy. He wouldn’t sign a release to be photographed.”

  Candy shrugged. “Too bad. But I do understand.” Offering Holly a huge smile, the reporter followed Holly back inside then added, “well, I think we’re finished. I have to tell you, The Hollyberry Inn is absolutely delightful.

  “Thank you so much,” Holly replied. “This means the world to us.”

  As she led the woman out, warming under even more compliments, Holly could only think of what would happen as soon as the news van pulled away. Zach had promised to help guard the body until after the interview.

  But now the interview was over. It was time to call the police. And face the music.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Look, Mark, I know you’re mad, but I swear to you, Holly and her family never had any intention of not reporting this. They were just…delaying a little while.”

  Detective Mark Santori, who Zach had befriended shortly after he’d begun covering the crime beat in Chicago, continued to scowl. He’d had that expression on his face since the minute he’d arrived a half-hour ago, having come down from Chicago after Zach’s call.

  Zach was just glad he’d come, not only because the local cops were inexperienced in dealing with murder, but also because he knew Mark to be a reasonable, laid-back kind of guy. As laid back as a Chicago detective could be, of course.

  “Is there any particular reason the body was moved after it—” he consulted his notes, “—fell out of the Christmas tree?”

  Zach and Holly exchanged a glance and he saw the question in her eyes. How much detail should they go into? Would a potential foreclosure on the inn and a single chance to save it with a story on a popular travel show make any difference to an angry cop?

  In this instance, knowing the angry cop was a decent man, Zach thought yes. So he told Mark the whole story, stressing the very real possibility that Holly’s elderly grandparents could lose the home that had been in her family for a century. And that the Cavanaughs had genuinely believed the guy in the tree had died in some kind of freak accident—they’d never imagined he’d been murdered.

  Sighing heavily, Mark ran a hand through his dark hair and then shook his head. “Okay. I guess it wouldn’t be too obvious to a civilian that Meaney had been suffocated.” Grinning wryly, he added, “Though I’d really like to know what kind of town this is if guys routinely do stupid stuff like diving through tree binders.”

  “Thank you,” Holly murmured. “I really am sorry for the trouble we caused.”

  Mark shook his head once. “Meaney and Kipling caused the trouble. You just got sucked into it. I’ll try to smooth things over with the department.” He smiled broadly. “The local guys are already laughing about it. I guess you’re well-liked.”

  Mark Santori was the kind of guy women typically melted over, but Zach happened to know he was very happily married and expecting his first child. Good thing. Because if he thought his friend was trying to hit on Holly, he might seriously have to belt him.

  True to his word, over the next couple of hours, Mark got the police’s attention off the game of body-mover and onto the crime itself. The tree lot owner had verified Fred Kipling’s preoccupation with Holly’s Christmas tree and there was a lot of circumstantial evidence. When they found Kipling—and the diamonds—they should have enough to nail him for all his crimes. And, hopefully, any potential evidence lost because of the body’s travels wouldn’t matter.

  Hopefully.

  By 5:00 p.m., the body had been taken away and all the officers had left except Detective Santori. After he’d been persuaded to pause for a cup of Nana’s famous cider and ginger cookies, Zach and Holly walked him out. Though they’d invited him to stay for dinner, he said, “Sorry, I’ve got to swing by a tux shop and get fitted. My brother Nick’s getting married in a couple of weeks.” A tender look appeared on his face. “Plus, I don’t like to leave Noelle alone at night, now that she’s seven months along.”

  Thanking him again, Zach and Holly watched Mark pull away. Zach couldn’t help thinking for a moment about how much his friend had changed in two years. From a determined bachelor to a married father-to-be, he seemed entirely happy. All because he’d met the right woman.

  Well, Zach had met the right woman once, too. But he’d been stupid enough to let her believe the worst of him and get away. Now that he had Holly Cavanaugh back in his life, however, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

  It was time to confront their past.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Though everything had been taken care of and the danger was over, Zach didn’t leave. Holly kept waiting for him to—knowing there was no reason for him to stay. Unless, like her, he was wondering what their unexpected reunion meant.

  He’d loved her once and she’d loved him. They’d just been too immature to deal with it. She’d been nineteen and determined not to let sex ruin their relationship, hoping to avoid the inevitable heartbreak her parents always seemed to be going through. He’d been an oversexed almost-twenty-year old who got tired of hearing no.

  But now she was no longer a virgin and there wasn’t a woman on the planet who’d say no to this man.

  “What a day,” her grandfather said after they’d all finished dinner.

  Nana nodded in agreement. “Time for bed, I think.” It was only eight o’clock, but since Reggie had left an hour ago, Nana had been not-so-discreetly trying to get Holly and Zach alone together. Holly didn’t argue.

  After the elderly couple left, Zach said, “Let’s go into the living room. I’d like to see that tree by firelight.”

  That sounded…romantic. Holly gulped, not sure she wanted romance with Zach. Sex? Oh, yes, she’d decided that hours ago. She wanted to take him, have him, savor him in all the ways she hadn’t eight years ago.

  Her body she’d share. But she didn’t want to risk her heart. Because while she’d gotten over her certainty that sex equaled problems—and she was certainly no longer an innocent girl—she still came from a pair of extremely selfish, self-absorbed, commitment-phobic people. And Zach had already cheated on her once when she’d thought he loved her.

  A sweet, tender evening in front of the Christmas tree sounded emotional. She only wanted physical. “I don’t think so.”

  Zach’s eyes widened in surprise. But she didn’t let him argue. Instead, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pushing him until he was backed against the refrigerator. His mouth opened and Holly leaned up to cover it with hers. She thrust her tongue against his lips, demanding entrance, and he gave it to her with not a moment’s hesitation. The kiss deepened, insistent and hot and was so good she wondered how she’d survived for eight years without his lips.

  Zach’s strong arms encircled her body, tugging her up closer. Every inch of her was pressed against him and Holly writhed, loving the heat, the intensity, the friction. As they continued to kiss—wet and deep—Holly reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging it free from his jeans.

  Hissing against her mouth, he let go of her long enough to help. Holly trailed her fingers over his rippled stomach and broad chest. She’d noted the changes in his body earlier, but until now, as she watched him tug the shirt over his head, she hadn’t dwelled on just how wide his shoulders had become, nor had she realized that the smooth, boyish chest was now thickly roped with muscle and sprinkled with sexy dark hair. She tangled her fingers in it, reaching to brush the tips of her fingers over his dark, flat nipples.

  Touching wasn’t enough, so
she replaced her hands with her mouth.

  “Holly,” he groaned as she tasted him. “God, it seems like I’ve wanted you forever.”

  “Me, too,” she said, reaching for his belt buckle. Her fingers almost shook as she unfastened it and then unbuttoned his pants, strained tight against his erection.

  For her. All for her.

  Holly could hardly wait to see all of him. She and Zach had shared many intimacies. She’d never taken him into her body, but they had definitely explored other sensual delights. Now that she’d seen other men, she was dying to find out if her memories of him—his breadth, his power—were true, or merely a product of her heated dreams of something that had never been.

  Before she could satisfy her curiosity, though, Zach pushed her hands away as if he couldn’t take much more. She liked that she had power over him, but she had to admit that he had just as much over her. When he touched her, every cell in her body surged up to accept the pleasure.

  Zach tugged her sweater off then deftly unfastened her bra. Groaning as her breasts were freed, he cupped them, tweaking her nipples, making her quiver. Murmuring something sweet and sultry, he bent down to taste her, sucking gently. She groaned and twined her hands in his hair, giving her the deeper caress she needed.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” Zach whispered against her skin.

  She shook her head. “No. Here. I want you to take me right now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She’d never been more sure of anything. She’d take him wildly—satisfy the lust that had been banked for years but never fully satisfied.

  And leave her heart entirely out of the equation.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, reaching into her pocket and grabbing a condom she’d tucked in there an hour ago. “I am definitely sure.”