Snowbound at Christmas

by Debbie Mason

  “Kit Kat, I need to talk to you.”

  She bowed her head, giving it a slight, frustrated shake. “Chloe, it’s late. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “I’m on London time. And I need—”

  Harry removed her hand from his mouth and whispered, “Do not give in to her.”

  She gave him an I’ve-got-this smile. “Well, I’m not. I’m tired.”

  “You don’t sound tired. And it’s important. I know I wasn’t very nice earlier, but I’m scared. I don’t have anyone else to talk to. Please, Kit Kat. My heart is acting weird. It keeps skipping a beat.”

  She glanced at Harry and made a face.

  He sighed, then leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers. “You’re a pushover. One I’m very fond of. I’ll go now, but first thing tomorrow, we talk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Early the next morning, Cat was in the barn mucking out the stalls. Her mother had called to ask if she’d mind. Their ranch hands had been cast as extras for the scene being filmed today. Of course sister dearest hadn’t been asked to help. She was snuggled under the blankets in Cat’s bed, snoring away. At least one of them was getting some sleep. Cat’s sympathy for Chloe’s imagined heart attack had evaporated around two this morning. If Cat hadn’t been on a high from her romantic interlude with Harry, her sympathy well may have run dry earlier. But even the memory of their hot make-out session couldn’t withstand the shot of good old-fashioned guilt her sister had delivered.

  Chloe was delusional… and relentless. Every time her sister brought up Harry, Cat changed the subject. But Chloe kept sliding him back into the conversation. No matter what Cat said, her sister held fast to the notion Harry was the one. Chloe’s one, not Cat’s. Maybe if her sister hadn’t just lost her dream role and Cat hadn’t messed up at yesterday’s taping, she would have told Chloe the truth. That while Harry might not be Cat’s one-and-only yet, there was a possibility he could be.

  She didn’t know how Harry would feel about it, but until Chloe was in a better place, this thing they had, whatever this thing was, had to be kept between the two of them. She smiled at the thought of long walks in the snow and kissing under the mistletoe. And then she remembered he’d be heading back to California in less than a week.

  She stopped shoveling and leaned against the rail. Well that just stole the fun out of sneaking around. Their relationship was doomed before it got started. Maybe she was the one who was delusional. The man was ninety-eighth in line for the British crown. Chloe would fit right in with the royal crowd, but Cat wouldn’t.

  No doubt his friends and family were as snotty as Dame Alexander. It was probably for the best he was leaving soon. They’d keep it light, enjoy each other’s company for a few days, and then that would be it. He’d be her rebound guy. She hadn’t had any interest in dating until Harry, so all in all it was a good thing. Like Ty said, she could use some fun.

  A warm, wet puff of air brushed Cat’s cheek, and then her knitted brown hat disappeared from her head. “Hey,” she laughed, turning to see Bandit, a gorgeous black Appaloosa with white spots on his hindquarters, happily chomping on it.

  Cat stepped onto the bottom rail of the stall and tugged on the hat. Blossom, a brandy-colored thoroughbred, nudged Cat’s hand as though telling her to back off. The two horses were inseparable. It’s why Cat had felt comfortable putting them together while she cleaned Blossom’s stall. They were rescue horses, and a wedding present from her brother to his wife Skye.

  Since Skye had convinced their mother to get involved with animal rescue and retraining, at least half of the fifteen horses in the stable were now rescue horses. A gorgeous bay-colored stallion over seventeen hands double-kicked his stall. A recent addition, he was aptly named Blackheart. Even Skye was having a hard time getting through to the animal. Bandit had been as difficult, so she imagined her sister-in-law would eventually win the stallion over. But that was one stall Cat wouldn’t be cleaning today.

  “I’ll get you both an apple once I’m done here. Now give over,” she said, tugging her hat from Bandit’s mouth. “Good boy.” She patted his muzzle, then grimaced at the condition of her hat. She tossed it on the bales of hay stacked to the right of the stall. Picking up her shovel, she surveyed the state-of-the-art stable. Being here, being home, reminded her of what was missing in California. This was the life she wanted. And if she accepted Chance’s offer to work for him, she could have it. Once Chloe’s would-be killer had been caught, she’d give the offer some serious thought.

  At least with Chloe back from London, Cat could now devote herself to the investigation full-time. She planned to confide in Harry this morning. After he talked to her about whatever he’d been putting off. She wondered if, once he woke up to the cold light of day, he’d have second thoughts about them, too. Looked like she was going to find out sooner rather than later; she heard him talking outside the barn.

  She frowned. It was Harry’s voice but without the accent. He sounded tougher, edgier—a little like Rand Livingstone. Snippets of his conversation reached her as he entered the barn. He leaned against the door with his leather-clad back to her.

  “Trust me, Jamie. Cat didn’t have anything to do with the attempts on Chloe’s life. I know I did, but that was before I—”

  Her knees went weak, the shovel hitting the ground as she reached for something to hold on to.

  Harry, or whoever he was, slowly turned. His eyes met hers, and he briefly closed them. “Jamie, I have to go.” He shoved his phone in the pocket of his leather jacket and started toward her. “Cat, I can explain.”

  She stared at him. “Who are you?”

  With his wind-blown hair and his jaw darkened with stubble, the angles of his face appeared sharper, the scar bisecting his dark eyebrow standing out in stark relief. He looked dangerous, all predatory male, as he stalked toward the stall. Nothing like the gentle, kind, and funny man she’d come to know. A man she thought might possibly, in the not-so-distant future, be the one. Her one. Just like she’d thought Michael was.

  Her stomach cramped, and she leaned heavily against the rails. She wanted to hit something, scream at her stupidity for not listening to her gut. She’d known all along he wasn’t who he pretended to be. She raised a gloved hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

  He stopped a couple feet from the stall. “Cat, listen to me. I—” His pale blue eyes roamed her face, then he nodded a couple times as if he realized any attempt to placate or con her would fail. “I was hired by a security firm to protect Chloe.”

  As far as she knew, no one had been suspicious about the accidents, so why… “Who hired you?”

  “The executive producer. Chloe’s agent found a threatening note in her dressing room about a month ago.”

  “What? Why wasn’t I informed? Her agent knows I act as my sister’s bodyguard, as well as her manager. If they would have brought me in—”

  “They were afraid, if Chloe found out, she’d refuse to work. They couldn’t afford for that to happen.” He took a step closer, reaching for the stall door. “Cat, I wanted to tell you. I was going to—”

  As she thought about the brief snippet of conversation she’d just overheard, she took a step back, bumping into the wall. “You thought it was me. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You thought I was behind the attempts on my sister’s life.” She glanced away, then looked back at him as she realized it was even worse than that. “You used me. That’s what last night was about. Why you pretended to be interested in me.” And she’d fallen for it. Just like she’d fallen for Michael.

  “No, dammit.” He threw open the gate and was on her before she could move. He grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a light shake. “It wasn’t an act. I didn’t play you, Cat. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “You honestly expect me to believe that after you—” He cut her off with a word-stealing kiss. Every single thought flew out of her head at the feel of his mouth crushing hers. It wasn’t like last night when
he explored her with a heated tenderness. No, this kiss was angry, passionate, frustrated. He pressed against her as though to offer more proof that he was interested. And he was very interested, and maybe if she trusted him, she would be, too. A small voice in her head said that she could, but it was the louder one of past experience that she listened to. She moved her hands between them and pushed him away.

  He tore his mouth from hers, staring down at her. His eyes a fiery blue. “Don’t do this.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. “I may have been pretending to be a British lord to get close to your sister, but I’m still the man you kissed last night, the man you wanted. Just like I knew you were you when you were pretending to be Chloe.”

  “Who are you… the real you?”

  His gaze slid to the left, then back to her. “Grayson Alexander.”

  She forgot about the evasive slide of his eyes when she heard his last name. “Wait a minute. So Estelle is actually related to you?”

  “Yes, she’s my grandmother. And she really is a former Broadway star, who at the moment thinks she’s Miss Marple. She’s also as big a pain in the ass as your sister.”

  Trying to keep a straight face after the Miss Marple reference, Cat said, “You brought your grandmother on assignment?”

  “My cousin owns the security firm, so I have some leeway. And I couldn’t find anyone to look after Estelle while I was away.”

  She had to admit that it was kind of sweet that he’d brought his grandmother with him. Something the man she thought of as Harry would do. Her guard lowered a bit. “So Estelle is faking her accent, too?”

  He angled his head. “Now that you mention it, I guess she is. She was born in the UK, but her family moved to the States when she was five. Although, like your sister, she had a thing for British aristocrats and married three of them, one of whom was my grandfather. I think she liked the titles and the accent more than she ever liked her husbands. Her marriages never lasted more than two years.” His mouth kicked up at the corner as he looked down at her. “Don’t try to hide it. I know you want to smile.”

  “Fine.” She bared her teeth. “Happy?”

  “No.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not until I get a real one. I want to see your adorable dimple.”

  She touched her cheek. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know she had a dimple, but she never gave it much thought. She should have, since her sister’s was barely noticeable. And that small indent could have easily given Cat away on the set. Obviously she hadn’t smiled or it would have. “Is that why you thought I might be me and not Chloe, you noticed my dimple?”

  “No. I didn’t look at your sister the way I looked at you, so I just assumed I hadn’t noticed.” He stroked her cheek and smiled. “There it is.”

  “Stop it,” she said, fighting a laugh, her earlier anger and hurt subsiding into a wary acceptance. It helped that Grayson Alexander was, of course, as hot as Harry, and his sense of humor and warmth seemed to be real as well. She kind of hoped the things that annoyed her, like his habit of saying jolly good and the way he crossed his legs like a girl and raised his pinkie while drinking tea, were part of his act. She liked Grayson’s sexy, casual look better than Harry’s put-together one. And his real name did it for her, too. Geez, could she be any more superficial? Or distracted from what really mattered?

  He smiled down at her. “So, are we okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.”

  “How good?” He stepped into her, wrapping his arms around her. “Last night good?”

  “I don’t know. I liked Harry, and you’re not him anymore.”

  “Harry was an idiot. But just for curiosity’s sake, how much did you like him?”

  “A lot.”

  “Good. You’ll like me even more.”

  “You’re—” She went to say “cocky,” but once again he stole the word by slanting his firm, warm lips over hers. And this kiss was even hotter than the last. Though it wasn’t angry or frustrated. More like the kiss of a man trying to make a point. And he made it very well. So well she thought he might be right and poor Harry didn’t stand a chance against Grayson Alexander. Which was a little scary because after a lot came love, at least for her it did. And she wasn’t ready to trust her heart to a man she’d met five minutes ago.

  As she took two steps back, he released a frustrated groan, one she echoed in her head. “We have to talk before Chloe comes looking for us, Grayson.” Her voice was a little breathless.

  “I like hearing my name on your lips.” He didn’t release her, drawing her closer. “Only next time, I want to hear you moaning it.”

  Didn’t seem to matter whether he had an accent or not, every word out of his mouth sent a warm tingle to her girl parts. It’s like he had them on speed dial. But he’d just given her the opening she needed. “Well, if there’s going to be moaning, it has to be done quietly. Chloe can’t know there’s anything going on between us.”

  “I disagree. Look, Cat, I don’t know why, but your sister…” He scratched the back of his neck. “She acts like there’s something’s going on between us. I’m sure GG, my grandmother, isn’t helping matters. But I’ve made it clear to Chloe that I’m not interested. Maybe if they realized we were together, they’d back off. And I have to tell you, I’d be a happy man if they did. They’re bloody exhausting. Annoying, too.”

  “Trust me, if you think they’re exhausting and annoying now, I guarantee it would be a hundred times worse if they thought we were…” She trailed off, unsure what they were doing.

  He cocked his head. “I think the word you’re looking for is dating, love.”

  Love? Hmm, so that hadn’t changed, either. “We’re dating?”

  “We would be if we weren’t sneaking around. So the sooner we catch your sister’s would-be killer the better.”

  Cat moved out of his arms and reached for the shovel. “I hope you’re having more luck with that than me.”

  “I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He looked from her shovel to his feet and raised his boot. He grimaced. “You might have warned me you hadn’t finished this one yet.”

  “City boy,” she scoffed. “I have four more stalls to go. Grab a shovel, and we’ll talk while we work.” She was kind of teasing, maybe testing a little, too.

  Michael hated the ranch. No, she reminded herself, he’d loved the house and the six hundred acres they owned. He just didn’t want to have anything to do with the running of it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d contacted a real estate agent after their first visit to get an evaluation of its worth. Grayson had already spent more time in the barn than Michael had in the two years they were together.

  Bandit shoved his nose into the stall, nuzzling Grayson’s hair. He smiled, patting the horse’s muzzle. Blossom, feeling left out, did the same. “Beautiful animals.”

  “They are, and they like clean stalls, so are you going to help or not?” She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped he’d say yes until it looked as though he was trying to get out of it.

  With one last pat to both Blossom and Bandit, he walked over and took her shovel. “I may live in LA, but I’m a country boy at heart.”

  Grayson wasn’t kidding. He actually seemed to like getting dirty and spending time around the horses. And she had to admit, it was a pleasure watching him work. He was in great shape, and it showed. It wasn’t until they’d finished up the last stall that she realized they hadn’t even talked about the case. They’d spent the entire time talking about the ranch and her hometown.

  “Thanks, you were a big help,” she said as she filled the buckets with hay.

  “Anytime. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself as much.” He grinned. “Who knew shoveling shit could be so much fun.”

  She laughed, handing him a bucket. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

  He closed his hand over hers and said, “I enjoyed spending time with you,” and leaned in and kissed her. This time she was the one who groaned in frustrati
on when he lifted his mouth. “Hold that thought until tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “We have to be in town in an hour and a half. If you’re okay with it, I thought that since I can handle Chloe’s security, you could use the time to search the rest of the cast and crew’s rooms at the lodge.”

  She should be okay with it. Grayson obviously was more than capable of keeping her sister safe. But Cat had spent a lifetime protecting Chloe, and the thought of leaving her sister’s life in the hands of a man she didn’t know that well made her nervous. Then she remembered he’d have backup. She told him about Chance and Gage’s involvement, and while they fed the horses they talked about the case. Sadly, Grayson wasn’t any closer to solving it than she was. But they did agree that Molly, Sam, and George were the most likely suspects. And Grayson did have one piece of evidence she didn’t—the letter.

  “So when exactly did the agent find the letter?”

  “The twelfth of November. The same day the banister gave way. They didn’t take the threat seriously until two weeks later when the chandelier fell.”

  Now it kind of made sense why he’d initially considered her a suspect. Since she’d been the one playing Tessa Hart in both incidences, her absence on the sidelines would have been noted. “Do you have a copy of the letter?”

  He nodded. “In my room. But basically it said ‘I know what you’ve done and you’re going to pay. I’m going to destroy you like you destroyed me, you greedy bitch. You think you got away with it, but you didn’t. I’m the judge and jury and your sentence is death.’”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Kind of dramatic and over-the-top, but we’re dealing with actors, so it’s to be expected, I guess.” That was one more check in the Grayson box: at least he wasn’t an actor. Though he certainly could be one given what she’d seen of his abilities over the past couple weeks.

  “What we need to find out is which of our suspects has the strongest motive. Something must have happened a few weeks prior to the twelfth to trigger the death threat.”