Secret Santa

by Fern Michaels

  Books by Fern Michaels

  The Blossom Sisters

  Balancing Act

  Tuesday’s Child

  Betrayal

  Southern Comfort

  To Taste the Wine

  Sins of the Flesh

  Sins of Omission

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  About Face

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  Christmas at Timberwoods

  The Godmothers Series

  Classified

  Breaking News

  Deadline

  Late Edition

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  The Sisterhood Novels

  Gotcha!

  Home Free

  Déjà Vu

  Cross Roads

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  eBook Exclusives

  Fancy Dancer

  Texas Heat

  Texas Rich

  Texas Fury

  Texas Sunrise

  Captive Innocence

  Anthologies

  Secret Santa

  A Winter Wonderland

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  Coming Home for Christmas

  Making Spirits Bright

  Holiday Magic

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  Books by Marie Bostwick

  Between Heaven and Texas

  Ties That Bind (Cobbled Court Quilts #5)

  Threading the Needle (Cobbled Court Quilts #4)

  A Thread So Thin (Cobbled Court Quilts #3)

  A Thread of Truth (Cobbled Court Quilts #2)

  A Single Thread (Cobbled Court Quilts #1)

  On Wings of the Morning

  River’s Edge

  Fields of Gold

  “The Presents of Angels” in Snow Angels

  “A High-Kicking Christmas” in Comfort and Joy

  Books by Laura Levine

  This Pen for Hire

  Last Writes

  Killer Blonde

  Shoes to Die For

  The PMS Murder

  Death by Pantyhose

  Candy Cane Murder

  Killing Bridezilla

  Killer Cruise

  Death of a Trophy Wife

  Gingerbread Cookie Murder

  Pampered to Death

  Death of a Neighborhood Witch

  Killing Cupid

  Books by Cindy Myers

  The View from Here

  The Mountain Between Us

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  FERN MICHAELS

  Secret Santa

  MARIE BOSTWICK

  LAURA LEVINE

  CINDY MYERS

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Books by Marie Bostwick

  Title Page

  Mister Christmas

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  The Yellow Rose of Christmas

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nightmare on Elf Street

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  One More Thing

  Room at the Inn

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Copyright Page

  Mister Christmas

  FERN MICHAELS

  Prologue

  December 18, 2013

  “You can’t be serious?” Claire said, though deep down inside she knew he was as serious as the disease with which he claimed to have been recently diagnosed. “Christmas is one week away. I promised my brother I’d spend the holidays in Colorado with the family this year.” Claire O’Brien paused as she listened to Donald Flynn’s litany of reasons why it was imperative she come to Ireland, first thing in the morning. Lastly, he explained to her that it was a matter of life and death, that his disease was fast-moving, and there wasn’t much time left, though she didn’t believe him. She’d just spoken to him last week and he hadn’t even hinted he was ill, let alone about to meet his Maker. “I’m ill, Claire. Can I count on you?”

  She’d said of course.

  No, he had something up his sleeve. She was far from naive. Living in the land of glitz and glamour had wizened her real quick-like to the ways of the rich and famous. Claire O’Brien was used to all sorts of people. Demanding. Spoiled. Rude. Whiny. But this? She wasn’t sure what to call it. A plea maybe? She’d met Donald Flynn four years ago, when she was introduced to him at a party given for the firm’s newest partner, Lucas Palmer. According to managing partner Brock Ettinger, Donald had been completely taken with her and had requested that all of his financial dealings be turned over exclusively to her.

  And now he was dying, or so he says. “Bull. He’s up to something.”

  Requesting her presence immediately, and she detested flying. Donald certainly didn’t sound ill, or fearful. Just his usual commanding self. Though Claire had to admit, she truly liked the old guy even if he was a bit demanding at times.

  As she calculated the necessary changes to her schedule
, she realized that she would be lucky to catch a flight by midnight. Hopefully, some airline would have an international flight available on such short notice. Though she hated the thought, as much as she wanted to spend the holidays with her family, a part of her was almost relieved knowing she had a good reason to bow out, albeit with her usual excuse. Of course, the flying part wasn’t good, but it is what it is.

  Work, her usual excuse. And always valid.

  Her family was used to it by now. Ever since her niece Shannon died from a rare blood disorder, something called thrombocytopenia, she no longer enjoyed her family visits. There was always that little something that seemed to be missing when they were together. Of course, it was Shannon. Her jolly bantering whenever they were together. As the firstborn grandchild, Shannon had been the life of the party, the link in the chain that bound them together, the one who made sure that they all had wrapped gifts under the tree exclusively from her. If someone felt the least bit cranky, Shannon had always made it her job to cheer them up. Shannon had always been the life of the party since day one, when she’d wrapped the entire O’Brien family around her tiny, pink finger. So if she was completely honest with herself, and she tried to be most of the time, she was actually grateful for Donald’s request. Before she had a chance to change her mind, she scrolled through her BlackBerry for Patrick’s phone number.

  “Hey, sis,” Patrick answered, not bothering with hello.

  Caller ID, Claire thought. Sometimes a good thing. Sometimes not so good. The personal etiquette of phone calls no longer existed in today’s high-tech-oriented world.

  “Hey, yourself,” she replied, knowing she was stalling. She couldn’t just blurt it out. “So, how’s the family?” Lame, Claire, lame.

  “Why do you want to know?” Patrick asked.

  Darn! He was onto her already. She could hear the telltale indications of an inquisition in his voice.

  She might as well get it over with. “You know how much I want to spend the holidays with you guys, right?” She paused, waiting for him to agree with her.

  “No, but I suppose you’re about to tell me?” he shot back.

  “Patrick Edward O’Brien! Stop being such a shit. This is hard enough as it is. Look, I just received a call from a major client. He’s near death and has requested my presence. You know, the will and all.” At least she guessed it was about his will, but Patrick didn’t need to know that. She held her breath as she waited for him to reply.

  “Really, Claire?”

  “Of course, really! I wouldn’t lie about something so important. I am ashamed of you, Patrick. You ought to know me better than that by now.”

  She heard his chuckle and knew she’d gotten through the worst of the conversation. “What I know is you’re an attorney who, it just so happens, has a way with words. So, seriously, little sister, is your client really at death’s door?”

  Attorney-client privilege prevented her from explaining further. “That’s what I’m told. You know I can’t go into details about my clients. I really wanted to see you guys, but this is my bread and butter. If I don’t hustle my rear over to Ireland, I could be out of a job.”

  Claire heard his sharp intake of breath. “Ireland? Did I hear you correctly?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Coming from a big Irish family that had never had the opportunity to travel across the pond, she had expected precisely this reaction. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you did.”

  “Then I say go for it even though Stephanie and the girls are really looking forward to your visit. Stephanie has a secret, but you’ll just have to wait to hear what it is.”

  “Stop it! I hate it when you do that,” Claire said, truly meaning it. Patrick had a way of saying things that irked her to no end—or rather a way of not saying them. “Spit it out.”

  “No can do. You’ll just have to wait until your next visit.”

  “I’ll call Stephanie myself. I am sure she won’t make me come all the way to Colorado just to hear a little secret. And for the record, I do not know what that saintly woman and those two precious girls see in you.”

  More chuckling across the phone lines. “They adore me, what can I say? Of course, the feelings are mutual. Seriously, Claire, can’t you reschedule this trip until after the holidays? We were really looking forward to seeing you this year. I know it’s hard since Shannon’s death, but the rest of us seem to manage to get through the holidays.”

  To be sure, he was right. It had been over five years since her niece’s untimely death. Claire remembered all too well the utter shock she’d felt upon hearing the news. Even worse, she’d died on the day she was due to graduate from high school. She’d be out of college now had she lived. Claire’s eyes teared up just thinking of the loss that Colleen and Mark, her sister and brother-in-law must feel. Seeing how they’d suffered, Claire avoided committed relationships like the plague. Of course, Patrick had as well, but then he’d met Stephanie, a young woman with two daughters. They’d married three years ago and had yet to have children of their own.

  Children of their own!

  “Stephanie’s pregnant!” she blurted out. “Patrick? Is this the secret you’re not telling me?”

  More laughter. “Hey, I’m not saying another word. When you get your client’s affairs in order, come home and find out for yourself.”

  “That is so not fair!” Claire said, sounding as though she were still in high school. “I’m going to call her myself as soon as I hang up.”

  “She’s been sworn to secrecy, just so you know. And Stephanie is my wife; her loyalties lie with me.” More cackling across the lines.

  If she thought he could see her, she would roll her eyes and stick her tongue out like she did when they were kids; but they were adults, and she would do the adult thing.

  “You are an asshole, Patrick O’Brien.” There, now that was the adult way to handle her older brother.

  “Some may agree with you, but don’t count my wife as one of them,” Patrick cautioned her. “She’s loyal to the end.”

  “Yes, Stephanie’s a gem. She had to be to marry you. So, you won’t give an inch?” Claire waited, hoping he’d cave, but her brother was as stubborn as she was. An Irish trait the entire O’Brien family shared.

  “Not even a centimeter,” he said.

  “Then what am I supposed to tell the girls, and the rest of the gang?” Since she had planned on spending Christmas with the family, she had all their gifts wrapped and stuffed inside three extra suitcases in preparation for her flight to Colorado. Now, she’d have to mail them, and most likely, at this late date, they wouldn’t arrive until after Christmas.

  “The truth, just like you told me. You have a wealthy client who just happens to be dying. How convenient for you,” Patrick said a bit smartly.

  Damn!

  “Look, this isn’t funny. I have three giant suitcases stuffed with presents for the entire family. I had every intention of spending the holidays in Colorado. I miss my family. Plus, I am long overdue for a vacation.”

  “Look, I understand. Really I do, it’s just the rest of the gang. It’s just difficult for them to understand why you always seem to be too busy to spend time with them, especially the kids,” Patrick said, then added, “And us.”

  Claire wanted to choke Patrick but couldn’t. Did he really believe this was her choice? Surely he remembered how terrified she was of flying? Thoughts of spending hours in the air, with nothing but miles of water between her and land, almost caused her to refuse to make the trip. But unless she was prepared to lose Donald as a client, she really didn’t have a choice. Damn Patrick for making this harder than it already was.

  “I’ll make you a promise. The second my work is finished, I’ll fly straight to Denver from Ireland. Deal?” she asked.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. For now, I won’t tell the others you’re traipsing across the pond. Is that a deal?”

  Unsure of how long Donald would need her to remain in Ireland, though clearly it
couldn’t be more than a couple of days, she readily agreed to delaying news of her trip to Ireland to the rest of the family. “It’s a done deal.”

  Pressing the END button on the phone, Claire could only hope to keep her promise. It was that magical time of year, a time to enjoy and to cherish those whom she loved so dearly. If she broke her promise, Patrick would taunt her for the rest of her life.

  Decision made, she quickly dialed the number for the travel agency the firm used. Twenty minutes later, she had a reservation to leave for Ireland in four hours.

  Chapter One

  By the time she arrived in New York City, Claire was beyond exhausted and just a wee bit tipsy. She’d been so nervous on the flight from Los Angeles, she’d had one too many glasses of wine in hopes of calming her nerves. It hadn’t helped.

  After going through Customs, with a two-hour wait before her flight to Dublin, Claire found a vacant spot at one of the many bars at JFK. Knowing she would regret it, she hoisted herself up on the barstool and, in doing so, managed to get her shoe caught on the footrest at the bar, where she proceeded to lose her four-inch heel. Horrified because she did not have access to another pair of shoes—in her carry-on she’d packed only a book and a travel pillow for her trip—Claire crammed her foot in the shoe where the spiked heel dangled from the sole.

  “What’ll you have?” A twentysomething good-looking bartender asked her as she adjusted herself on the barstool.

  “Uh, something that’ll wake me up.”

  “Coffee?”

  “No, I meant something that will make me sleepy.”

  “Long flight?” the bartender asked.

  “Yep,” Claire said somewhat woozily, then hiccupped. “Just came from LA, and now I’m headed to Ireland.”

  “I’ll fix you up then. I know the perfect drink. Once you’re on board, I promise you will sleep like a baby.”

  “I’ll have that then,” Claire said, not really caring what it was as long as it knocked her out. She did not like to fly. Period. It was not natural. If humans were meant to fly, they would have been born with wings.