Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend

by Ashley Jennifer

  “Some partner you are. I think this calls for a celebratory drink, don’t you?” Noah rose from the chair and stretched.

  Noah headed out of the office toward the library where he kept his special stash of bourbon. The massive stone fireplace gave off a the right amount of heat to stay warm on a cold day like today. The sound of crackling wood sang in his ears, celebrating his new deal. The scent of leather bound books, paper, and smoke filled the air. He took out a crystal highball glass, splashed in two fingers of bourbon, and lifted it to his nose. The sting of well-aged cognac rose to his nostrils. The burning liquid slid down his throat with ease, warming his belly, and he moved toward the screen monitoring his front gate. He had one in every room, just to be safe.

  Son of a bitch.

  He stared in shock. The woman was sitting in a beach chair in front of the metal gates. Her face stubbornly faced the camera, but even with the grainy feed, he noted the paleness of her features, the chattering of her teeth, the slight tinge of blue in her lips, and perhaps a few ice crystals hanging on her lush eyelashes. She wore a plain black wool jacket, and a red scarf was doubled around her neck. Red gloves donned her hands, but they were fisted tight. Her body shook with unconscious tremors, braced against the icy fury of the gusting wind. And damned if she didn’t even duck down for protection when the wind howled, but managed to keep her gaze trained on the camera as if to tell him she intended to freeze to death rather than leave.

  “Charles!”

  His butler appeared moments later. “Yes, sir?”

  “She’s still outside. If she doesn’t take cover, she’ll have frostbite. Call the police. They can escort her out of here.”

  “I did. She’s not on your property, so legally, there’s nothing we can do.”

  He stared at the camera for a long moment. Frustration coursed through him. Damn her. He couldn’t allow her to freeze in front of him. She’d played her hand well, and rarely did he lose a round of poker.

  The snow fell. The wind blew. And for the first time in years, Noah made a decision to allow a stranger inside his sanctuary.

  Fine. She wanted to see the beast in the castle. He’d make sure she never forgot the experience.

  “Let her in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Coldness washed through him, and the familiar numbness took away any lingering memory of pain and shame. The fire had left him with nothing anyone in the town below would consider human.

  Just like, he liked it.

  Chapter Three

  Joey was going to die.

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up from her numb lips and escaped into the biting air. Her face hurt. Her fingers throbbed with a combination of heat and cold that nearly made her weep. Her feet had long been numb in her boots. She feared if she tried to move them, a toe might literally snap off.

  This had been a stupid plan, but what man lets a woman freeze to death? Noah Elliott had refused to speak with her when she’d called. He refused to respond to her email messages. And now, he refused to let her in from a sure death.

  There was no way she could get past the gates, and the police had threatened her with trespassing if she stepped foot on his property. With precious time ticking away, she’d figured she’d set up a beach chair in front of his security gates and not move. In her bag, she packed protein bars and water. She’d layered up with double socks and long underwear but after hours sitting unmoving in the cold, mother nature had definitely won this competition.

  Along with Noah Elliott.

  The man honestly didn’t care if she got frostbite and died. Unfortunately, this only made her so damn mad, she’d decided to play a ridiculous game of chicken to make her point.

  Now she was going to die right in front of his house and Owen wouldn’t get his wish.

  Her foster mother had warned her about her stubbornness. She only wished it generated more body heat.

  Joey reached for her phone to call emergency services to save her since she couldn’t move, not even the scant few feet to actually get arrested.

  As she fumbled for the phone, a loud squeaking noise interrupted her thoughts, followed by the mountain shaking. The gates were opening.

  Her frozen mouth gaped. Like in a movie, the massive gates slowly parted, inch by inch. She forced her numb limbs to move before he changed his mind. Leaving the chair and her car, she gripped her bag and began making the slow ascent toward the mansion. Blinking against the furious hammering of snow, she stretched out one foot in front of the other, climbing higher and higher, in what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was less than a ten minute walk, until she was finally on a walkway.

  Joey had no time to take in the stunning landscape bathed in pure white as she kept her head down, fighting the wind working against her. As she arrived at the mansion, the heavy wooden double doors opened, and a tall, white haired man dressed in an impeccable black suit stood before her. “Good evening, Madame,” he said in a deep, cultured voice. “Please come in. Let me take your coat. I’ve made tea and coffee, so you can warm yourself by the fire.”

  She tried to speak, but her teeth chattered so rapidly it was impossible. He helped her remove her coat, hat, and gloves, and quickly placed a thick afghan around her shoulders. Joey buried herself in the blessed warmth, beginning to shake harder. “Th-th-th-thank you.”

  “Your boots too, Madame.” She pulled them off, and he deftly gathered up her pile of wet gear and her purse. Joey tried to ask why he was taking her purse, but she was still unable to form words. “I’ll be with you shortly. Please make your way into the sitting room and sit by the fire.” He motioned toward the room on the right, and then disappeared.

  Still shaking, she pulled the afghan tighter around her body and stepped into the sitting room.

  Wow.

  High backed velvet red chairs lay in a perfect half moon around a massive brick fireplace. Her bare-feet padded over a richly detailed Oriental carpet in burgundy and royal blue. The glittering crystal chandelier hung from an arched ceiling in clear glass. Joey tilted her head up, and it was as if stars floated down from the sky. Gold and taupe textured wallpaper cloaked the room in pure royalty.

  She sat gingerly on the winged back chair, stretching out her hands and feet to the crackling flames of the fire. The numbness had finally began to melt away. A burning sensation rushed to her limbs, causing her to wince a bit, but it didn’t bother her one bit. She’d done it. She’d entered the mansion and she hadn’t died.

  Joey figured that was enough of a victory for now.

  She sat, content, though a tad frightened, noticing the gorgeous gold candlesticks and matching mantel clock.

  Suddenly, her skin tingled as she sensed another presence in the room. She turned around, and came face to face with a beautiful black lab, poised in the doorway. Tail wagging, head cocked, the dog studied her in perfect silence, assessing her presence, but obviously not a dog to be feared. A smile curved her lips. “Hey boy,” she said softly. She turned her palm upwards. “Maybe you can help me finally meet the mysterious Noah Elliott. Tell him I’m not here to make any trouble. I’d just like to talk to him about something very important.”

  “I’ve known you for a few seconds and you’ve already lied to me. You’re nothing but trouble, lady.”

  She sucked in her breath. The dog responded to the dark, timbre of the masculine voice with a more vigorous wagging tail and his paws pranced with excitement. Her body responded to the voice in a similar fashion. As if waking from a long slumber, her tummy slid and tumbled, and her entire being stilled, then sighed in exquisite pleasure. A voice like that could be bottled and sold to women like the genie’s lamp. It was a voice meant to whisper naughty, dirty things to a woman in the deep of the night, and then follow up with some naughty, dirty actions.

  Heart beating with anticipation, she waited to see the man attached to the voice.

  She felt his steps rattle the floorboards.

  Joey thought she’d been prepared to meet
Noah Elliott, but nothing in her mind matched the actual moment.

  As he entered the room, he was surrounded by shadows and darkness. A silhouette of a man who was pure energy. Dressed in black, his staggering height only added to the element of power. Long, lean legs that carried the silhouette with grace and style. The black turtleneck only emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and the massive cut of chest. Hands on his hips, he cut a figure of pure intimidation and sexual male prowess, something Joey had never experienced. He slowly stepped from the shadows. Her breath caught in arrested fascination when she gazed upon his face.

  Half of it was brutally scarred, though the flesh, healed over, appeared smooth, but puckered with deep pockmarks. The color of a deep blush ran from his left brow, down his cheek, and continued under the jaw. A black patch covered his left eye. The right side of his face remained perfectly untouched, making the overall impression of his face even worse. The duality of beauty and monster; of hero and villain, would force an onlooker to glance away in confusion, as if not knowing what side to respond to. His right eye was a dark brown, with hints of green around the pupil, giving him an almost eerie piercing look. His lips were thin, yet defined, with just a touch of plumpness in the lower center. The right half of his jaw held dark stubble, but the left remained hairless. He wore his dark hair cut short, which only emphasized the brutality of his features. The top left of his ear was shorn off. The bottom half was a twisted, angry red blob of flesh.

  “Speechless already?” His gorgeous voice held a tinge of bitterness. “Are you going to cower after such a brilliant display of courage out there? Come now, my sweets, I expected more of you. You’ve made it past the gates and into my lair. I only hope you were smart enough to tell someone where you were going.”

  She remained silent, studying him while her brain clicked rapidly, putting the pieces together as she always did when first meeting someone. He must have thought he spotted fear in her gaze because he gave a mocking laugh and shook his head.

  “Ah, told no one, huh? That makes things more...interesting. Of course, we’ve already taken your phone. There will be no calls or pictures allowed in my lair. There will be no leaving until I allow it. I hope battling the storm was worth the result of your stakeout. I’ll allow you your questions, but don’t expect many answers.”

  Interesting. As he spoke, he seemed to battle the need to scare her with a deeper torment buried within that he refused to acknowledge. There had been kindness once; she could feel it deep in her still slightly cold bones. Had his softer emotions been burned away from the fire, leaving him damaged both physically and emotionally? He reminded her of the many children she tried to place—desperately in need of nurturing, yet their pain forced them to turn away from the world in a desperate attempt to save themselves. But now wasn’t the time to analyze this fascinating man. She had a job to do, and she’d better get to it.

  Joey tilted her head. “Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, Noah Elliot. Maybe try an evil laugh or perhaps a snarling growl? That might scare me. Just a little. Or not. And just a note for future reference, the next time someone actually makes it into your lair: Ditch the dog. It only makes you look like a softie, especially when he looks at you with those big puppy eyes. Now, snakes are scary. You can wrap one around your neck when you make your ominous entrance.”

  He actually took a step back. Surprise glimmered within his one eye before the emotion was snapped away. Good. She managed to keep him off balance. Already, Joey sensed he needed a consistent challenge and battle of wits or he’d dismiss her in a few seconds and bury himself back in his lair, whatever that really was. He was going to listen to her plea. He wasn’t her last hope.

  He was her only hope.

  “I use Sammy as bait.” His voice chilled. “I enjoy surprising my victims. It’s more fun.”

  “Oh, I’m so scared.” She dropped to her knees and held out her hands. “Come here, Sammy, you big ferocious beast, you.”

  The dog needed no other prompting. He trotted over, tongue lolling, and sat politely in front of her to receive affection. She scratched behind his ears and his belly, laughing as his leg thumped madly when she found the sweet spot.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice filled with a bitter emotion she’d heard one too many times from hardened teenagers and adults beaten down by various situations.

  “Josephine Whitman. Joey for short. I’m a social worker in Starlight Bend and I need your help.”

  “Then you’ve come to the wrong place. I want nothing to do Starlight Bend, or anything else for that matter. You’ll need to find someone else.”

  “Unfortunately, there is no one else, Mr. Elliott.”

  “There is always somebody else. You’ve come to the wrong place.”

  “No. I’ve come to the perfect place.”

  Pure anger flashed in his unpatched eye. She braced herself to be tossed out into the cold, but thankfully, the white haired man came striding into the room with a silver platter. “I’ve brought you some tea and coffee, Madame, along with some blueberry scones baked fresh this morning. Are you feeling better?”

  “She doesn’t need any tea, Charles. Ms. Whitmore is leaving.”

  “I’d love some tea, thank you so much. You’re very kind, unlike someone else in this room.” Joey smiled at the butler and watched him set up the tray with delicate china teacups, silver plated kettles, and a plate of scones. Linen napkins bound with yellow flowers and a delicate vase holding a pink rose adorned the tray. She felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale and decided she didn’t want to go back home. Not yet. She also figured that Charles had more command over the master than Noah wanted to let on. She planned on using that.

  Noah made an attempt at a deep-throated snarl, but she took the cup Charles handed her without a flinch. “Now, that was an impressive growl, Mr. Elliott. Well done. Before you throw me back out into the storm, I will just ask that you hear me out. No interruptions until I’m done. Isn’t risking frostbite worth a few moments of pleading my case?”

  Joey pretended to be relaxed, but her heart was galloping with trepidation. It wasn’t his face that scared her, not at all. It wasn’t even his intimidating presence or his seductive voice.

  It was her reaction to him that had her downright fearful. That shivery, breathless sensation inside she’d never experienced before, but heard her friends talk about. The craving to dig deeper, unearth his thoughts, his secrets, his heart, and share it all. She felt a deep connection to him, as if they’d met once before.

  It was silly. Joey didn’t believe in fairy tales or happy-ever-after. She believed in hard work, good intentions, kindness to strangers, and making the best of every situation. But she was a grown up, not a child, and she knew and accepted the realities of life.

  Children didn’t have that knowledge. Not yet anyway.

  Noah had been traumatized by his past. However, he had decided to shut himself in rather than fight through it. She did wonder why he didn’t have anyone who’d stood up for him or stood by him after the fire.

  She wanted to know so much more about the man, but she also wanted to make sure Owen got his carnival. So, she sipped her tea, ate her scone, and waited for him to make his final decision on if he was going to hear her out, pretending not to have a care in the world.

  Noah sat down, Sammy lying at his feet. Actually, over his feet.

  Charles nodded and disappeared.

  And Joey hoped she’d be able to convince him to do something extraordinary.

  ~~*~~

  The woman was either mentally challenged, or stupid, because she should fear him. He’d taken her purse, with her keys, and her phone. She had no way out, unless he let her. Yet there she sat, unfazed by his grotesque appearance, nor intimidated by his anger, nibbling on a her pastry and sipping her tea like she was visiting the Queen. He’d seen grown men tremble in fear when they first looked upon his disfigured face. He’s watched children cry and hide behind their mothers cal
ling him the boogieman. He’d watched old friends glance away with cloying pity, unable to look him in his single eye.

  It hadn’t been the fire that almost destroyed him. It had been his so-called friends and community turn away with a viciousness that turned his stomach. Once the lawsuit had been filed, he’d been swarmed nonstop, picked apart in the papers and social media and on television. He’d saved those two teen boys who shouldn’t have been in that café smoking in the first place. He’d always believed goodness could battle evil, but after he watched the greed and avarice of his rural community blossom, he’d lost not only his hope, but his will to fight for them anymore.

  He decided to settle the lawsuit and walk away from everything.

  Noah studied her, his gaze raking away the surface and trying to unveil what was hidden beneath. She was a plain little thing, though something about her was striking. Perhaps it was her sheer grit. Her brown hair was medium shade, with no dazzling highlights or expensive cut. The strands were pin straight and fell to the top of her shoulders. Her eyes were the same color, and bit too wide so it gave her a doe-like expression. Her features were sharp, from the straight blade of her nose, cut cheekbones, and pointed chin. Her lips were a bit too full for her small face, so she seemed dwarfed by mouth and eyes. Her figure was slight and petite, with no killer curves or personal style. Her clothes were as plain as her—basic jeans and pink cowl sweater. No jewelry or bling. Not much make-up. Her entire presence seemed to melt into the background of life, happy to blend in without notice.

  Yet, she spoke with a confidence that intrigued him. She didn’t back down, even when she first saw him. There had been no horror or judgment in her gaze. There had just been...acceptance.

  How odd.

  Of course, she wanted something from him, so there was that.

  He reminded himself of the pain he’d suffered, not just physical from the fire, but pain from the actions of his own community. He refused to open himself up again only to be humiliated. Certainly, he wouldn’t allow a slip of a woman to do that to him.