A CHRISTMAS COLLECTION

by Wilton, Patrice

  “No. I’m not around much. Wouldn’t be fair to keep one in the house all day, and I’d be afraid to leave it outside in case it was mauled by a bear.”

  “What about you? Ever worry about getting mauled by a bear?”

  “Nope.” She fluffed her purple spikes, sitting back against the couch. “But I’m not tied up. A dog would be.”

  “Got a point there.”

  After he finished his beer, he stood up and found a bathroom down the hall. Gave him a chance to check out the floorplan, which was similar to the other cabin he’d been in last summer when the youngster almost drowned. He returned to the living room, where Ally had turned on the TV. Living out in the boondocks, she only got a few channels, and was watching an old episode of Law and Order.

  “That’s a good one,” he said, settling down beside her and kicking off his boots.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice pitched higher. “Why aren’t you leaving?”

  “Told you, I’m doing my job. To serve and protect.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really? I mean really? You plan on hanging around all night?”

  “Yup. You got any blankets? Maybe an extra pillow?”

  She got up and stomped out of the room, coming back a few minutes later with a comforter and pillow, which she tossed in his lap. “There. Enjoy the couch. I’m going to the backroom to do some photo editing.”

  “Cool. I really need a hobby. Can I come and help?”

  “No,” she snapped. “Find your own way to unwind.”

  He chuckled and her shoulders relaxed. “What do you recommend?”

  “Well, there are lots of places to go hiking around here,” she said. “You could get yourself a Fitbit and knock yourself out.” There was a twinkle in her eye and he decided he liked her sass. She was not the stereotypical victim afraid of their own shadow.

  “Got a feeling you’d like that, at least the last part.”

  She burst out laughing and then left him alone. “Night.”

  He made his bed on the couch, turned off the TV and lights, and settled down for the night. The couch wasn’t big enough for a guy his size, and he thought about the bed Ally would be sleeping in, wondering how much room there’d be. Single bed? Queen-sized? Not that he would ever find out, but the question remained.

  During the restless night, he had turbulent thoughts about Ally—wondering about her childhood, her parents and how one man could rip her life apart. She’d been going to college, and she might be married right now, have children of her own. Instead she was holed up in a remote cabin, in a pristine town that looked like a Hallmark card. She was a talented photographer, but her talent would go to waste. If she made a name for herself, she couldn’t fly under the radar.

  Perhaps that’s exactly what had happened. Maybe her jackass of a boyfriend had discovered her whereabouts from the photos she’d sold.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was still dark when Ally opened her eyes—the clock on the nightstand read six a.m. She yawned and hit the pillow, tucking in to go back to sleep. She’d been wide awake for hours, but had finally drifted off somewhere past midnight.

  Ian! She’d forgotten about him. Would he still be hanging around or had he taken the hint and gone home? She doubted it—he’d been determined to stay. Sheesh! Last thing she wanted was to face him this morning with her bed-head hair, and gnarly breath.

  She desperately needed to pee and would brush her teeth and hair before checking on her uninvited guest. Might make some coffee, and get him on the road early.

  She slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the bathroom down the hall. A light was on, but she supposed that the chief might have left it burning during the night. It was strange sharing space with someone after being on her own for so long. She lifted the hem of her long flannel nightgown and sat down on the commode.

  The shower turned on. Screaming, she jumped off the toilet and whipped the shower curtain back, her adrenalin rushing through her as she prepared to fight for her life. “Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh!” Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened in shock.

  Chief Brown stood under the stream of water, facing her. He tried to cover himself but his hands weren’t adequate. Either he had a morning hard-on, or he was very happy to see her, but one thing was for sure: he was a big man all over.

  She backed away, found the towel rack and tossed him the biggest one she could find. “Good God, Chief. What are you doing in my shower?”

  “Do you mind turning around?” He grabbed hold of the towel, but in doing so he’d exposed himself completely. “And could I have a little privacy?”

  Mortified, Ally bit her lip to keep from laughing hysterically. Oh, my! This was quite a man standing nude in her tiny shower. If only she had her camera, she could capture his image perfectly. Not that she was likely to forget. Turning, she raced down the hall back to her bedroom and quickly put on some clothes. She still needed the toilet, but it would have to wait. She wanted to be properly dressed when she met him next.

  Ian finished his shower and waltzed into the living area in boxer shorts, with the towel draped over his neck. The rest of his clothes were on the sofa. Either he was bluffing, or totally unabashed. He didn’t look at her, but continued to dress. Jeans came on first, then the blue shirt.

  Ally busied herself making coffee and tried not to look, but she kept sneaking peeks at his broad V-shaped back, and when he turned around she caught a glimpse of his manly chest. A patch of dark curly hair narrowed down to his belly button, and she certainly knew what kind of package he carried below! She’d missed his fine-looking chest this morning in the shower. Wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t seen a naked man in the flesh in years.

  She giggled and darted a look in his direction. He caught the look and stepped toward her. “You were expecting someone else in the shower?”

  “No, no, of course not! I wasn’t expecting anybody. The shower wasn’t on. Thought you were still sleeping. Obviously you weren’t.”

  “Yes. Obviously.” He pulled a coffee mug down from the cabinet behind him and filled his cup, drinking it black. He leaned against the counter and looked at her over his mug. “So. You see anything interesting?”

  “You might say that.” She tilted her chin and met his gaze head on. “More than I expected, anyway.”

  He snorted, and coffee flew out of his mouth. He grabbed a paper towel and cleaned up after himself.

  “Well, try to contain your excitement,” he said calmly. “I think I know how your stalker might have found you. If it is your stalker.” He told her about the idea that had come to him during the night. “Have you sold your photos to anyone other than the locals in Heaven?”

  “A couple of tourists. Not much.”

  “What about the craft shop? Has Jennie sold any of your work?”

  “A few pieces. You think the link came from there?”

  “Might have. But how would someone identify the pictures as yours if they happened to run across it? Is your style that unusual?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I really started this as a hobby back in college. I was studying biology. Didn’t expect to make a living doing this.” She took a sip of her coffee, then put the cup down. “I never used to sign anything, for two reasons. One because I didn’t intend to sell anything, it was just for me. And two, because I never wanted my name on anything. My real name is Allison Cornwall. When I moved away I started calling myself Ally Holmes. It was my mother’s maiden name.”

  “Which name is your legal name?”

  “Cornwall. I used it to secure the lease, and to open a bank account. But both of them are in Philadelphia. The leasing company and my bank. Figured that was far enough away from here. I don’t have anything to tie me to Heaven.”

  “You said you didn’t use to sign your photos. Now that you have them for sale you do?”

  She nodded. “Just my initials. I use AHC. Didn’t figure anyone would trace me that way. My middle name is Michelle, but very few
people outside my family know that.”

  “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and thought about it for a few minutes. “Well, we don’t even know if this is your old stalker, or just some kid messing with you. But hopefully we can draw a print off the bulb and go from there. Meanwhile, just be extra cautious.”

  “I will be. You want some bacon and eggs to go with your coffee?”

  “You go shower. I’ll make it,” he answered.

  She didn’t argue, but took her cup of coffee with her, wondering why her pulse was racing like she’d run a mile. Not from fear, either. Ian Brown.

  Ally stripped in the small bathroom, showered, brushed her teeth, and put on a little make-up. She felt more in tune with her feminine self than she had in a long time, and if a glimpse of a man’s anatomy had done that to her, well, she wasn’t going to complain. She wasn’t a nun, even if she lived like one.

  When she came out wearing a pair of tight fitting jeans and a pink long-sleeved tee, her skin was glowing and scented by a body lotion she’d been given last Christmas and had yet to use. She sniffed the air, getting a whiff of bacon, and her mouth watered.

  “Smells good.” She nipped a piece of bacon that was lying on a paper towel and bit into it. “So you cook? But no hobbies. Not one? How about crossword puzzles?”

  “Nope,” he swatted her hand away when she reached for another slice of the crisp bacon. “Go sit. I’ll serve you.”

  She refilled her coffee cup before taking a seat at the table. “So what do you do all day?”

  “I work. Put in twelve hour days.”

  “Yeah?” Her shifts at the bistro ran from 11-ish to 9-ish, with a two hour break, which was a full forty hours, with plenty of time for her photography. What did he do for twelve hours in Heaven? “I dig that,” she said in a slow tone. “There’s a lot of crime going on here, and you’ve got to put away all those bad criminals.”

  “Protect and serve. Yup. That’s what I do.” He grabbed two plates and placed them on the table.

  “Well, I’m very grateful to you. Especially for the breakfast. Don’t remember when someone besides Nick cooked for me.”

  “Well, thank God for Nick.”

  “Amen to that. I don’t cook. Much anyway.” She shrugged and dipped her fork into the scrambled eggs. “But I get lots of leftovers, and I know how to use the microwave.”

  “I knew you were more than a pretty face.”

  She crossed her eyes. “You think I have a pretty face?” she teased.

  “Not now,” he said, lips curving in a smile. “But most times.” He sat across from her and picked up his silverware.

  “Hmm. That’s interesting.”

  “Why?” He shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, chewing deliberately.

  “Just is. I never thought of myself that way. And I have a very good eye.”

  “You have two very good eyes.” He held up two fingers in a peace sign. “Quite beautiful in fact. Exactly what shade are they? Sometimes they look green, other times brown. Mysterious.”

  She laughed, uncomfortable. “Now you’re just trying to soften me up.”

  “Why would I do that? After seeing me in my birthday suit today, you’re going to be begging me to hang around more often.” He waggled his bushy brows. “All women do.”

  “So not true. You’re just being cocky.” She tilted her head and put a finger to her lips. “Was that…you know, a morning thing?”

  “What’s a morning thing?” he asked, biting into a slice of bacon and maintaining eye contact.

  She cleared her throat and gestured toward him. “The arousal.”

  “I wasn’t aroused.” He winked.

  Her eyes widened. “Now you’re bragging, and falsifying the evidence.”

  “Do we really need to have this conversation?”

  “No, but you started it.” It was nice to see Chief Brown squirm—she was beginning to think nothing flustered him.

  “I did not.” He leaned back in the kitchen chair, studying her.

  She shrugged. “Well, whether it was you or me, it makes no difference. Now that we’re on the subject, I wanted to ask you something.” Her face heated but she forged ahead. All in the name of art, of course. “Would you pose for me, nude? A photo shoot.”

  He’d taken a sip of coffee, now he choked and sputtered. “Hell no! Why the hell would I do a fool thing like that?”

  “Why not?” she asked. “No different than being an artist’s model. I’d have you posed just so, allowing your anatomy to be exposed in an artistic manner.”

  He scoffed. “This isn’t art you’re talking about. It’s pornography.” He shook his head. “You’d probably put it on YouTube or E-bay.”

  “You mean Facebook? Why would I put it on E-bay?”

  “Because you’d make a ton of money, that’s why. A guy like me, naked, hell, you could really rake in the dough.”

  She burst out laughing. “Okay. No nude photo. You can keep your dignity. I’d hate to have a bidding war on my hands.”

  He gave her a wicked grin. Very sexy. “Or you might want it framed to keep as a memento for yourself.”

  “I would do no such thing.” Her face must be as purple as the tips of her hair by now, considering the heat radiating between them. To give herself time, she purposely dropped her paper towel on the floor. After she’d retrieved it, she stood up and removed her plate from the table. “Well, this has been an entertaining morning I must admit. But if you will excuse me, I need to do a few things before going to work.”

  “I need to leave anyway.” He carried his plate over to the sink and left it there. Obviously the cook didn’t clean up after himself.

  He gathered up his few belongings, locked his revolver in his holster, and put on his heavy coat. At the door he paused to look at her. “You take care, Ally. I mean it.”

  “You too, Chief Brown.”

  “I’ll check around the house again before I go—and I’ll see you later.”

  “I hope to see more of you too,” she said saucily, giving him a big wink.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ian was grinning like he’d just captured the world’s worst drug lord single-handedly during the short ride from Ally’s to the station. He felt young and randy as a teenager, neither of which he’d ever be again. Still, sharing breakfast this morning had been fun. They’d flirted, for heaven’s sake. All that silly talk about her having him pose nude—it had been sexy, and definitely flirtatious.

  Did he want her in his bed? He looked deep into himself and couldn’t find the answer. He had nothing against good sex, which he hadn’t had in a while. Good sex, bad sex, he hadn’t had any sex. So, yes, he missed it.

  But Ally was a nice girl with a troubled past and he had to be very careful who he played around with. He had a reputation to uphold, and as police chief he couldn’t bed the single women in this pretty town if he had no intention of taking it a step further.

  At least that was the way he figured their situation, he couldn’t be sure about Ally’s way of thinking. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met—and he’d met many characters in his time on the force. Women tougher than her, scarred by life. Ally had been hiding for years from a creep and yet she retained an air of innocence; no pretense, or trying to be coy. She just said whatever came into her head without a whole lot of filter.

  He liked that about her. Similar to the way she captured light with her camera to show the world beauty in the starkness of nature.

  Ian liked a lot more, like the curve of her hip in those jeans she’d worn this morning, but he needed to push those thoughts from his mind and get back to work.

  When he arrived at the station Finn had his feet up, a can of soda in front of him and a half-eaten chocolate glazed donut on a napkin, scanning the pages of a girly magazine. He tried to hide it when Ian entered, but nothing escaped the chief’s trained eye. The flush of guilt up the younger officer’s neck was another clue.

  “Anything good in there?” Ian asked,
hanging up his coat.

  “Not sure what you mean, Chief.” Finn stuffed the magazine in his top drawer. “I was just going through the calendar of events taking place here this month. There’s a lot going on—we might need extra security.”

  Ian poured himself a black coffee and leaned on the desk. “Didn’t know Playboy kept a record of our social events here in Heaven, PA. Nice of them to take an interest.” He sipped his coffee, his eyes still on Finn. He got a kick out of making the boy squirm. Kid needed to toughen up and grow a pair. He’d be eaten alive in any decent-size precinct in America.

  Finn’s face turned bright, painful red. “Sorry about that.”

  “I don’t care what you read on your free time, but in the office, stick to your car mags, okay?”

  He nodded.

  Ian went back to the subject of crowd control. “You don’t think you, me and Stuart can handle the throng of people?” Ian asked. “I’m not expecting any trouble.” He sipped the hazelnut roasted brew. “You know something I don’t?”

  “No, sir.” Painfully polite, he forged on. “I’m just thinking about all the tourists—I talked to Maggie at the chamber of commerce and she said that all of our inns and hotels are full.” He sat up straight, the office chair creaking. “There are so many holiday festivities—we have the open air market during the weekends, several concerts going on and a live Christmas pageant. We’ve never had one of those before. It’s a lot of things for us to monitor.” His voice strengthened as he gained command of the subject. “Especially if we have some psycho dude running around threatening one of our locals.”

  “We still don’t know who put the skunk on the steps, but we might be one step closer.” He went into his office, found the plastic bag with the blood stained bulb where he’d dropped it on his desk and handed it to Finn.

  “Ally’s light in her laundry room had been tampered with last night. It’s the entrance she uses from the carport. I happened to drive by to check on her and found her sitting alone in the dark with a rifle in her hand.”