by Debbie Mason
This was the first time Chloe had called Cat by her nickname in a week. She didn’t want to ruin their progress by stating the obvious, but it had to be said. Carefully, of course. “That’s wonderful. It’s what you’ve been working toward. As long as they’re not casting the part for another year, you should definitely audition for the role.”
Her sister chewed on her thumbnail. “No one needs to know.”
“Chloe, you have an exclusivity clause in your contract. You can’t—”
“I know, I know. And why Helga locked me into a five-year contract without removing the clause is beyond me,” she said, referring to her agent. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
Ever since Dame Alexander had arrived on the scene, Chloe had grown increasingly dissatisfied with her role as Tessa Hart. Some distance from the older woman would be good for Chloe. Cat would be glad to be rid of her, too, at least for a couple of weeks. Dame Alexander had taken an instant dislike to Cat, but there was no doubt she loved Chloe. Probably because they were so much alike.
And it didn’t help that Chloe had been angsting about her age since their thirtieth birthday. It was something Cat thought about, too, not that she’d reinforce her sister’s concerns with her own. She rubbed Chloe’s shoulder. “You’re only thirty-one, and you’re America’s sweetheart. Offers will be pouring in once your contract’s up.”
“Do you really think so?”
That was the thing about her sister, despite two daytime Emmys and thousands of adoring fans, Chloe didn’t see what everyone else did. She still saw herself as the pudgy little girl with the lazy eye and overbite, who no one ever picked to be on their team. Which was probably one of the reasons Cat always forgave her. “I know so.”
Chloe smiled. “Are we friends again?”
She bumped her shoulder against her sister’s. “Yeah, we are.”
As the limo passed through the wrought iron gates and drove up the circular drive, Cat leaned forward. Colored Christmas lights were strung along the roof line and around the windows of the Southwestern-style bungalow. Black iron planters filled with poinsettias lined the flagstone path and steps leading up to the dark Spanish-style doors framed with boughs of evergreen. “Looks like Mom decorated without us.”
“Good. It takes forever to put up the lights.”
“Hey, I love putting up the lights.” Cat had never missed decorating the house for the holidays until she moved to California. Last year, because of a snowstorm, they’d arrived just in time for their brother and Skye’s Christmas Eve wedding and their niece’s birth.
“Of course you do. You’re as Christmas-obsessed as the rest of them.”
“Since when did you become a Scrooge?”
Chloe shrugged, her eyes downcast. Before Cat could question her sister’s reaction, the limo pulled to a stop, and their mother flew out the front doors. Wearing a pair of low-riding jeans and a plaid flannel shirt with a red vest, her toffee-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail and a wide smile on her pretty face, Liz O’Connor looked a decade younger than her sixty-one years. Paul McBride, her husband of a few short months, stood in the doorway with an indulgent smile on his face. At sixty-five, with only a touch of gray at the temples of his dark hair, the man still turned the heads of women young and old.
The couple looked incredibly happy and in love now, but for a while there, it seemed unlikely they’d ever walk down the aisle. Her mom had been best friends with Paul’s late wife, and Paul had been best friends with Cat’s dad. But even though their spouses had been gone for years, it had taken time for them to get past their guilt over moving on with each other—time and a little help from the matchmakers in Christmas, namely Dr. McBride’s aunt Nell.
Chloe flung open the limo’s door, her white fur coat billowing behind her as she raced into their mother’s open arms. “Oh, Mommsy, I’ve missed you.”
Cat got out of the car, hanging back to watch the two women she loved most in the world embrace. Her throat tightened as the fear she’d been fighting over the last week swamped her. If something happened to Chloe, her mother would never recover. None of them would.
“Get over here, darling.” Liz drew back from Chloe, motioning for Cat to join them. She did, taking comfort from her mother’s familiar light floral scent and the strength and warmth of her arms, her sister’s smile.
Everything would be okay. It would be easier to protect Chloe in Christmas. Cat wasn’t alone here. She had friends she could trust to help her figure out who wanted her sister dead. Whoever was after Chloe was on Cat’s turf now.
Paul came down the steps and wrapped his arms around the three of them. “Welcome home, girls. Your mother’s spent the last two hours at the front window, waiting for you to arrive.” He kissed Cat’s and Chloe’s foreheads, then gently tweaked their mother’s ponytail. “Get in the house. It’s freezing out, and I don’t want my girls getting sick,” he said as he went to help the limo driver with the luggage.
Liz sighed. “We better do as he says. You know what he’s like.”
Oh yeah, Cat knew exactly what he was like. Dr. McBride had a tendency to be an overprotective worrywart. She thought it was sweet. Her mother, not so much.
The three of them walked arm and arm up the steps. “Were you able to find everything I asked for, Mommsy?”
“Yes, I got every single item on your list. But I have to tell you, I’m a little nervous about the party. We’ve never entertained royalty before.” Her mother turned to Cat, who’d stopped moving. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
Cat stared at her sister. “You never said a word about a party to me, Chloe. It’s too much work for Mom. We have to cancel—”
“Don’t be silly. The invitations have already gone out. Everyone in town is excited to meet Chloe’s boyfriend the duke, and his manager the duchess. I can’t cancel now.”
Cat covered her mouth with both hands, breathing slowly in and out.
Her sister’s tinkling laughter came out on a puff of frosted air. “Mommsy, Harry’s a lord, and his manager is a dame.”
“Duke, lord, it’s all the same. They’re royalty.” Her mother frowned at Cat. “You have to stop worrying about me. You’re getting as bad as Paul.” She released the same girlish laugh as Chloe. “The poor man, I’ve been running him ragged. I made him paint the guest rooms and great room. I want everything perfect for their stay.”
“What… what are you talking about? Whose stay?”
“Why, Chloe’s boyfriend and his manager, of course. Your sister’s invited them to stay at the house. Darling, what’s… Paul, hurry, there’s something wrong with Cat.”
* * *
The high beams of the Range Rover Grayson had rented lit up the circular drive as he drove through the wrought iron gates of the O’Connor ranch.
Estelle leaned forward to peer past the wipers clearing the snow from the windshield. She waved her arm, the smell of moth balls wafting from the floor-length sable coat she’d insisted he get out of storage. “You play your cards right, my boy, and this could all be yours.”
“GG, this is the last time I’m going to say it. I am not interested in Chloe.”
Grayson didn’t know why he’d brought her along. Oh, right, he did. No one else would take her while he was away. Somehow he had to convince her to stop with the matchmaking. Living under the same roof with Cat for the next ten days was going to be tough enough. Never mind Chloe. But since he was being paid to protect the actress, he had no choice. Now that they were on location, it’s possible the would-be killer’s MO would change.
He no longer considered Cat a primary suspect. Yesterday morning, he’d showed up early and caught her skulking around the set. He’d hung back to see what she was up to. She took down spy cameras she’d obviously installed on the individual sets. It was a good idea. One he should have thought of himself. But clearly from her disappointed expression, she wasn’t any closer to solving the case than he was. He’d missed his chance to talk to her. She a
nd Chloe left for the airport directly afterward.
Maybe it was a good thing that he did. His immediate reaction had been that they work together. They had a better chance of solving the case that way. But he had to make sure he hadn’t misread her intentions. That there wasn’t another reason for her to be covertly keeping an eye on the set. He couldn’t show his cards just yet.
“You’re interested in the other one.” His grandmother sat back with a huff. “Well, you mark my words, my boy, you’re making a mistake. If you were thinking with your head and not your”—she cleared her throat—“Cat O’Connor would be at the top of your suspect list, not Molly. But now that you’ll be spending more time with them, you’ll see that I’m right. Chloe’s the perfect woman for you. And she’s rich.”
He had to distract her. Give her something to keep her busy. “I don’t have time to get involved with anyone. Nor do I want to. You’re here to help me with the case, GG. I’ll expect a daily report, so keep your eyes open and your hearing aids on.”
“I’m way ahead of you, my boy,” she said as she removed a watch, a pen, and what looked like a tracking device from her purse.
Pulling in behind a red pickup, he turned off the engine. “Where did you get all of this?”
“I ordered it online at Spies Are Us.” With a smug smile, she held up the watch. “This is a camera, and the pen is a voice recorder.”
He had no idea she even knew how to get online. “How did you pay for it?”
“I used your credit card.” At his groan, she added, “Don’t worry, I already expensed your cousin. You wouldn’t have to worry about money if you set your sights on Chloe. This is all hers, you know.”
“I highly doubt that, GG. She has a brother and sister.”
“That’s what she told me. And unlike her sister, Chloe doesn’t lie.”
Before he could respond, the doors of the stately bungalow opened and Chloe rushed down the steps, dark hair gleaming, a white fur coat around her shoulders. People started pouring out of the house behind her. An older woman with a red streak in her white hair held one end of a banner while two older men held up the other. The sign read WELCOME, YOUR HIGHNESSES, and in the background he heard “God Save the Queen” playing.
His grandmother beamed. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
* * *
The woman with the red streak in her white hair, Nell McBride, hadn’t left Grayson’s side. “So, your manager, what’s her story?” Nell asked, lifting a glass of eggnog at GG who sat holding court in an armchair beside the floor-to-ceiling limestone fireplace. Surrounded by a crowd of people who hung on her every word, she was in her glory. And occupied, which was good. Chloe sat on a stool beside her, which was even better.
“Estelle has many stories. You should join the others. I’m sure you’d enjoy hearing her tales.” And he could escape.
Nell pursed her lips. “Tall ones, no doubt.”
Obviously not an Estelle fan. Grayson wondered if it had anything to do with the two older men who’d been doing his grandmother’s bidding since they’d arrived.
“I can spot a flimflammer from a mile away. You better be careful with that one, Harry.” Her brow furrowed when his grandmother and the tall, older man in the green plaid shirt shared a laugh. “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll keep an eye on her for you.”
Just want he needed, another seventy-something woman keeping an eye on things for him. And he’d bet his last dollar that Nell McBride could teach his grandmother a thing or two. He’d have to be careful around her.
Nell gave him an up-and-down look. “So, which one are you interested in?”
“Pardon me?”
“Chloe or Cat, which one of our girls does it for you?” He frowned, pretending not to understand what she meant. “Ah, haven’t made up your mind yet, have you? Don’t worry, I can help you out. I’ve known them since they were in diapers.”
He had to shut her down. He didn’t have the patience or energy to deal with another matchmaker. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for a relationship, Ms. McBride. I’m busy with my career, honing my craft.”
“Chloe,” she said with a smirk. “She’s the one for you. I thought Cat at first, but you’re a bit of a fuddy-duddy, and you’re an actor.”
Two older women joined them, saving him from a response. One was tiny and heavily lined, the other tall with a white streak in the front of her long, black hair. It took some time for them to rise from their curtsies. Once they did, they extended their blue-veined hands and smiled. “Your Highness.”
He didn’t think he’d survive ten days of this. He’d been bowed and scraped to all night. “Please, call me Harry. And there’s no need to curtsey,” he said as he bent to kiss their hands.
“Thank you, your lordship. I mean, Harry.” The tall one tittered. “That accent of yours must make all the girls a little giddy.”
Nell rolled her eyes, then introduced him to her friends. “Harry, this is Stella Wright and Evelyn Tate. They work with me at the Christmas Chronicle. Our town’s newspaper.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies.”
“Oh, he’s so polite,” the tiny one, Evelyn, said, patting her chest. The three of them had on Christmas sweaters. “Did you ask him?”
“It’s Chloe.”
“Oh, I’d so hoped it was Cat. That horrible man broke her heart. She’s such a good girl. She deserves to find a nice young man. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Estelle asked him hopefully.
“I’m afraid Ms. McBride misunderstood. Cat and Chloe are lovely women, but I’m not interested in either one of them.”
“But surely a handsome young man such as yourself—” Stella Wright began, only to be cut off by Dr. McBride who came up from behind Grayson and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Now you ladies leave poor Harry alone. Grace needs a hand.”
Grayson was impressed. No sooner had the words left Dr. McBride’s mouth than the three older woman toddled off to the kitchen on a mission. “Well done,” he said.
Dr. McBride chuckled, reaching for a glass of eggnog from the server’s tray. The woman wore a uniform of black pants and a white tuxedo shirt. Cat would have been wearing the same outfit if not for her mother interceding on her behalf. A server had called in sick, and Chloe had tried to guilt her sister into taking their place.
Grayson looked around the room. The elusive Cat was nowhere in sight. She’d barely said more than ten words to him all night. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her since Phil, Molly, and George left to check in at the lodge twenty minutes ago.
“Years of experience dealing with my aunt,” Dr. McBride said, handing Grayson the glass. “Who, I imagine, was up to her matchmaking tricks again.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact she was. But as I told your aunt, I’m not interested in a relationship at the moment.”
Dr. McBride’s eyebrows drew together. “I was under the impression you and Chloe were dating.”
Now, this was awkward. Chloe had made it clear she wanted a relationship with Grayson, but he’d shut her down. Politely, of course. He wondered what Cat thought when she’d heard of his supposed relationship with her sister. “Cat is…” Bloody hell, he needed to get the woman out of his head. “Chloe is a remarkable—”
Dr. McBride pinned him with a stepfather’s protective stare, causing Grayson to second-guess his response. Remembering his first impression of Paul and Liz, he cocked his head. “I say, your wife is looking a little peaked, don’t you think?”
An anxious expression replaced the protective one, and without another word, Dr. McBride headed for his wife. Grayson set his glass of eggnog on a nearby table and sprinted for the mudroom off the kitchen, then out the side door without stopping for a coat.
He heard Cat’s laugh before he saw her. “Let me guess, you got cornered by the matchmakers from Christmas.”
Chapter Eight
Grayson turned to where Cat sat under a red wool blan
ket with her boots propped on an outdoor brick fireplace. “How did you know?”
She tipped her steaming mug in his direction. “No boots, no coat, and a panicked look on your face. Seen it before.”
“Mind if I join you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Suit yourself.”
Not exactly an enthusiastic invitation, but he’d take it. “Thanks.” He pulled a green Adirondack chair beside her and settled in. Propping his shoes next to her boots on the brick ledge, he smiled and rubbed his arms. “Chilly, isn’t it?”
Her long lashes fluttered against her pink cheeks as she briefly closed her eyes, then passed him some of her blanket. It was warm and smelled like Cat and wood smoke. “Thank you.” He rubbed his hands together and nodded at her hot chocolate. “I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to sharing, would you?”
“I came out here to enjoy some peace and quiet”—she reached beside her chair, handing him a thermos—“so no more talking, okay?”
A woman after his own heart. He made a zip-it motion with his fingers and unscrewed the top of the thermos, taking a sip. He choked.
She sighed, leaning over to pat his back.
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You could have warned me it was spiked.”
Sitting back with a smile on her face, she closed her eyes. He gave his head a slight, amused shake. It wasn’t often a woman ignored him. Then again, Cat was an unusual woman. A stunning woman and difficult to ignore, he thought as he took the opportunity to study her unobserved.
The crackle and pop of the fire drew his attention to the flames shooting toward the boundless night sky. He tipped his head back, admiring the stars that looked as though they’d been punched into black velvet. Breathing in the crisp, cold mountain air, he felt more relaxed and settled than he had in weeks. If he had to blow his vacation time on a job, at least it would be here instead of LA.
He sensed her looking at him. “Hard to resist its spell, isn’t it?” she said when he met her gaze.
“Very.” And he wasn’t referring to the stars or the quarter moon hanging suspended over the snow-covered pines. “But then, why would one want to?” Because he hadn’t figured her out yet. Didn’t know if he could completely trust her. It’s something he needed to find out. For the case, he reassured himself.