by Barbara Lohr
With a chuckle, Harper gave Esther another careful squeeze before releasing her. The bathroom really was a priority. “Oh, I won’t, Mama. I most certainly will not.”
“And you’ll come to visit with Bella and Pipsqueak? You’re always welcome, you know.”
“Why, of course we will.”
Her slim shoulders straightened. “Then that’s settled. Because we miss, well, that hound and everything.” A puppy at the time, Pipsqueak had been given to Bella as they were leaving the funeral for Cameron’s father.
Nodding slowly, Harper said. “Right. I know.”
Ten minutes later, she was in Cameron’s arms dancing to an old tune about love being wonderful, wonderful. “I’ve had orders from your mama who is now my mama.”
His chuckle tickled her chest. “What’s that?”
When she tried to shake a finger at him, he grabbed it. “None of those highfalutin’ ways, mister. I’m having none of it.”
Harper loved the shocked look on his face. “Good God, you even sound like her. Is that what she said?”
Harper nodded, knowing it would always be fun to shake him up like this.
“So you’re ganging up on me. That gives me the chills.”
“Yes, it should. And you’re giving me chills right now. A different kind.” She melted against him. Felt the firm chest, his thudding heart and the muscled arms around her.
Holding her so close that her skirt would be wrinkled, he whispered, “I can warm you up. Later.”
“Can’t wait.” She giggled. “Cameron?”
“What darlin’?”
“The music stopped.”
He looked around, his cheeks reddening. “Well, damn.”
Their laugh was shared by the people around them. Her brothers loved it, and she recognized her brothers’ guffaws. Since so many folks had plans for Christmas Eve, the guests said their farewells early. Julep gave her a tight hug.
“Any news?” she asked, fluttering her lashes outrageously.
“Later,” Harper whispered. She wanted to hold this secret to her heart for a little while.
They kept dancing. Settling against him, she felt so grateful. Finally, all the pieces of their lives had fallen into place. Harper made a special request for Christmas songs and when “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” came on, a sigh swept through the remaining group.
“So, what do you think, Mr. Bennett?” she teased, tightening her arms around his neck. “Are our troubles out of sight?”
With a mischievous smile, he twirled her around. “Oh, darlin’, I don’t know. Sounds way too boring for us.”
“And that is one of the many reasons why I love you,” she whispered.
Epilogue
Three days later, the guests had gone and the house felt empty. They’d given Connie and Jack the week off, partly so they could have total privacy. The weeks leading up to Christmas had been so rushed that they’d had little opportunity to enjoy the season. This would be a wonderful break in routine, days of unwinding and nibbling on leftovers, if Harper could stomach them. The three of them were sprawled out in the TV room watching the latest Star Wars movie, when Harper realized she’d forgotten one thing.
“Bella, have you found the green pickle on the Christmas tree yet?”
Harper glanced at Cameron and he nodded. They’d talked about this earlier and agreed.
Bella brought her head up with a jerk. “Oh, my gosh. I completely forgot about the pickle. Do you believe it?” She sounded so adult that Cameron and Harper both laughed. Dashing out the door, they had trouble keeping up with her.
The three of them paraded down the hall until they stood in front of the beautiful tree, still splendid with white lights and the dizzying color scheme of lime green and aqua that everyone claimed to want for next year.
“I want to keep our tree up forever,” Bella said so seriously they broke into laughter again. “Can we, Daddy? Mommy? Wouldn't that be great?”
“That would be a fire hazard.” Cameron checked the freshness of the needles but they still bent easily. “After New Year's, we'll have to take the tree down.”
“Maybe you'd like to wait until then to find the pickle?” Harper dangled the possibility before Bella, knowing what her reaction would be.
“No, no I don't want to wait.”
“And why is that not a surprise?” Cameron teased from the side of his mouth.
“Okay, then.” Harper waved a hand toward the tree. “Have at it but don’t knock anything off, please.” The next few moments were filled with Bella's frantic hunt. Of course, Harper had buried the green ornament deep among the boughs, low enough so Bella could reach it.
“Look, I see it!” Bella plucked it out, dangling it from her fingers. “Do I get an extra present?”
“The last thing you need,” Cameron said in a voice so stern, he almost sounded believable.
But Bella knew better. “Pretty please with whipped cream on top?” she pleaded.
Walking over to the mantle, Harper took a gift from among the magnolia leaves, where she’d hidden it two days ago. The little box fit perfectly in Bella's outstretched hands. The box may have been small and wrapped in silver foil, but the red bow was huge. Excited, Bella could hardly undo the bow. In the end, she slipped the ribbon off and opened the box. “What the heck?” Puzzled, she lifted out the ornament of a baby in a cradle. “What is this? Just another ornament? But it’s so late.”
“Would you like to have a little brother or sister?” Cameron asked.
Her eyes grew larger. “You mean, a baby like Christie has?”
“Could be.” Harper knew it was early in the game, but what better gift could they give Bella?
“When?”
“Next summer,” Cameron told her. “You’ll have to be very good. Help your mom with some things.”
So that’s how it was? Sounded good to her. “We’ll have to make some calls tomorrow,” Harper said, watching Bella hang the ornament at the very front of the tree. “Before she tells the world.”
Whipping around, Bella trotted off down the hall. “Pipsqueak! We’re going to have a baby!”
“What a Christmas.” Settling onto the Victorian sofa, Harper was so glad Cameron had agreed to switch out the furniture for something more comfortable. “Now we can relax.”
But he started laughing. “What?” She poked him in the arm.
“With you? That will never happen.” The finger he ran down her cheek sent shivers through her body. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d break out that Catwoman costume. Remember the dance you did that first night?”
Oh, he really was something. “Private show?”
He nodded slowly.
“There’s always New Year’s Eve.”
“I’ll wait. Come ‘ere, darlin’.” The grin was naughty. And the kiss? Oh, so nice.
THE END
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Finding Southern Comfort
If you haven’t yet read Finding Southern Comfort, here is an excerpt showing how Cameron and Harper met when she was hired as the entertainment for a bachelor party at his mansion.
Cameron watched the taillights of the limousine pull away. Limo service was the only safe way home after a bachelor party, an unwritten rule in their group. But he’d never offer to host one of these parties again. Just not his thing. Unbuttoning his shirt, he welcomed the cool breeze. He didn’t know whether to laugh or put his fist through a wall.
Stripper, my ass. Not that she didn’t look hot in the Catwoman costume. And the hair? Definitely a turn-on. But something felt off. Any minute he’d expected to have to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Cameron fought the mental picture that brought a warm rush.
Turning back to the house, he yanked his shirt tails out of his slacks. Was she one of the local college girls? Something
admirable about that. He’d put himself through school washing dishes, valeting cars, bartending, and just about everything in between.
Gutsy girl who drew the line at stripping. At least she had principles.
The beat up car parked at the corner caught his eye. Really? Irritation made his head throb. People were always leaving their junkers on the street. Looked like this one had a license plate.
“Daddy?”
He swiveled. Inside, Bella gripped the banister at the foot of the stairs, a small pale figure in her yellow Tinkerbell nightgown.
Smiling at his four-year-old daughter, he stepped back inside. “Why aren’t you asleep, sugar?”
“Too much noise, Daddy.” She rubbed a small fist into her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” When he scooped her up, Bella felt so frail. His heart turned over. “You should stay in the air conditioning. Too much pollen out here.”
Batteries of tests and the doctors still didn’t know what made his daughter wheeze and turn pale. Scared the hell out of him.
At the end of the hall, Connie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Connie, can you take her back to bed? I have a situation outside.”
“You bet. Come here, you little munchkin.” Connie opened her arms and he handed Bella off. The dark rings beneath his daughter’s eyes wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
“Night, Daddy.” Bella leaned over for a kiss, her wiry dark hair smelling of baby shampoo.
“See you tomorrow, darlin’.” He watched them mount the stairs before stepping back outside and pulling the door closed behind him. The car was still there. His loafers scuffed the warm pavement as he walked down the middle of the road. When he got closer, a head of thick sherry-colored hair eased its way up. Mardi Gras beads dangled from the mirror.
Perfect. Just perfect.
“Why are you still here?” he asked when he reached the open window. “You can’t park on this street overnight.”
Her back was toward him. Was she slipping the damn mask back on? When she turned, those green eyes sparked. “My car wouldn’t start.”
What a surprise. “Have you called a service station? AAA?”
“I’ve left messages for a friend. Somebody will call back.” Her hands white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Any minute now.”
Jamming one hand through his hair, Cameron stared down the dark, empty street. Thank God his neighbors were well asleep by this time. A clunker was a red light for everyone, and he didn’t want them calling the police about his stripper.
Well, the girl who wasn’t a stripper.
Maybe he should just let the police handle it. Wasn’t she loitering or doing something illegal?
Then he saw the inhaler on the seat.
Damn. But not a total surprise.
“Give me a minute.” He headed back to the house.
“Look, you don’t have to do anything.”
Like hell he didn’t. He broke into a jog.
Two minutes later, he pulled his Porsche up next to her beat-up piece of crap. Leaning over, he pushed open the passenger side door. “Get in.”
Mumbling something under her breath, she got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. As she slid into the Porsche, she gave him the name of her street. Then she folded her hands into her lap like a school girl, a Coach bag plopped at her feet. Must be a knockoff.
He pulled away. For a while, all he could hear was the sweet, low rumble of the car. Time for some music and he punched buttons until Billy Holiday filled the small car with “The Very Thought of You.”
“Oh, I love this song.” When she leaned forward a little, her reddish brown hair fell over one shoulder. The curls looked soft, like Bella’s. She started to hum along.
“So, do you do this often?” he finally asked.
“Have a broken down car? Not if I can help it.”
“No, I mean do you work for Party Perfect often?”
What he could see of her face turned sad. “Just worked some children’s parties for him.”
“Worked? As in the past?”
The soft hollow at the base of her throat pulsed. “Right. I just quit.”
“Sorry. You didn’t really do anything wrong. I mean, your kicks were good.”
He caught her eye. They both burst out laughing, probably thinking of that bowl of pretzels.
“I am so sorry about your trophies.” Her luscious chuckle hit him right in the gut.
“Not the first time they’d been knocked off that shelf.” Damn, he needed to laugh. His latest restoration deal had fallen through that afternoon. He hated the thought of the wrecking ball taking that house down. For him every old structure in Savannah carried a precious piece of history. The stripper who didn’t strip was just a bad end to a bad week. “Trophies only matter the day you win them. Besides, the football only broke off one of them. It’s been glued before.”
“Well, I won’t be dancing on bars anytime soon.” The sadness in her voice tugged at him.
She must have unzipped her costume to get some air. When she leaned forward and peered out the front windshield, he tried not to stare at the dusky valley between her breasts.
“Stop. Right there.”
He jerked his eyes away. “Look, I didn’t mean anything.” What was wrong with him, ogling her like that?
But she wasn’t looking at him. She was stabbing one blue-tipped finger at an older home with a serious lean. The building was like so many in this district of Savannah. Rundown. Probably cut into four different apartments. He pulled to the curb. She cracked open the car door. “Thanks so much for the ride. I hope I didn’t ruin your party, Mr. Bennett,” she added softly.
“You did fine.”
“Yeah. Right.”
What was he saying? She was terrible. But damn, that pinched look around her nose, the trembling of her soft lips—she was killing him.
She reached for her handbag and make-up spilled out. They both grabbed for it and their heads bumped. Her hair brushed his cheek, unleashing a crazy warmth that took him by surprise. Totally inappropriate for so many reasons.
“Sorry. I am so clumsy tonight. Thank you.”
When he handed her a lipstick and a comb, their fingers touched and sparked. Damn. She sucked in a quick breath. He sat back. She stepped out until all he could see were those long legs.
“Well, thanks.” One hand on the top of the car, she leaned forward.
“No problem.” He trained his eyes on the empty bucket seat. It was hard.
“Good night, then.” She pushed off and began to walk away.
Something purple on the floor caught his eyes. “Wait. You forgot your inhaler.” Scooping it up, he handed the device through the open window.
“Thank you.” She curled it tightly into her fist, backing onto the curb. “Aren’t you going to take off?”
“Just waiting to see you in.” This wasn’t the safest neighborhood.
“Right. That’s nice.” As she turned, her boots crunched on the gravel. She looked absurd and hot as she took the stairs with that tail swinging behind her, whip tucked under one arm. Took her a little time to work her key. The front door stuck but finally gave way to a hip. After she banged it shut behind her and the porch light was turned off, he eased away from the curb. The feeling that dogged him all the way home was ridiculous. Why did he care if the girl needed help? He had enough on his plate.
But Cameron knew what it felt like to have no place to turn.
* Continue reading Finding Southern Comfort.
The Southern Comfort Christmas
Copyright © 2016 Barbara Lohr
All rights reserved.
ebook ISBN: 978-1-945523-00-7-
Print ISBN: 978-1945523-01-4
Purple Egret Press
Savannah, Georgia 31411
Cover Art: The Killion Group
Editor: The Editing Hall
Dedication
For my husband Ted, who is my southern comfort.
Licensing
All Rights Reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems. With the exception of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, this work may not be reproduced without written permission granted by the author
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places in the book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity of real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Other Books by Barbara Lohr
Windy City Romance
Finding Southern Comfort
Her Favorite Mistake
Her Favorite Honeymoon
Her Favorite Hot Doc
The Christmas Baby Bundle
Rescuing the Reluctant Groom
Man from Yesterday
Summer Riptide
Coming Home to You
Always on His Mind
In His Eyes - Coming Soon
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Romance Writers of America and Central Ohio Fiction Writers. My core of fellow writers have been invaluable to me. Also a huge thank you to the writers on the Yahoo loops that share their wisdom. To my Street Team, the women who give me advice and input, there whenever I need you, a huge thank you. As always, I’m grateful to Kim Killion for covers that rock and to Chris Hall of The Editing Hall for her input and editing skills.
For my daughters, Kelly and Shannon, reading has always been a shared joy, from Judy Blume to Janet Evanovich. I am thrilled to have you as my “advisors.” My grandchildren, Bo and Gianna, bring me such joy and of course pop up in my work. To my husband Ted, words aren’t adequate to thank you for your love and support. You’re my rock who steps into the role of computer guru when emergencies arise. May we have many more wonderful years together that include trips to Leopold’s for ice cream.