Holiday Spice & Everything Nice

by Conn, Claudy

  I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I know I threw my arms around him. I know he hugged me like he would never let go.

  I know at some point we both realized my parents were sitting on the couch watching us with keen interest.

  I turned, and I must have been pink because my cheeks were burning, and said, “You remember … Wade Devon … of course.”

  “Well, of course,” my father said, hand extended. “Are you enjoying Norcross? My daughter says you kept the name.”

  He shook my dad’s hand and said, “I love the farm, and, yes, loved its name.” He turned towards my mom. “How good to see you again,” he said. “Hey, wow, you two look like sisters.”

  My mom gushed like a teen. I laughed.

  They ushered him inside and offered him a drink and food.

  Wade’s smile was radiant. He said, “I don’t want to horn in on your time with your daughter, but I was wondering if I could steal her away for just an hour?”

  “Nonsense—horning in? No such thing. She needs a break from us. Go on, you two … go out, have some fun,” my mom said. I noticed my dad went quiet.

  Outside, my hand in his, he said, “Charlie … I’m sorry. I meant to let you enjoy your weekend with your parents. I wasn’t planning on this, but, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer …”

  I looked up at him. “I’m glad.” That seemed safe enough to say. I wanted to tell him I loved him madly. I wanted to tell him I had been sick with missing him.

  “Charlie, another thing … it wasn’t Gloria.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “The arsenic poisoning. It wasn’t Gloria who sent the strawberries.”

  I had forgotten about the incident. “Really? Are you sure? Who then? Why?”

  “My man hasn’t yet been able to identify him, as he paid cash for the basket and we believe was in some sort of disguise. The florist we tracked down in Port Jefferson—and we had to go through five of them first—said he remembered because he thought the guy was wearing a cheap wig under his baseball cap. As far as Gloria is concerned—you did see her that weekend. She was there. Seems she is obsessed and is now seeing a shrink about it, but she denied sending the basket, and when we got down to it we discovered she was telling the truth.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He sighed. “My team thinks the poison was in fact meant for me—that you have a stalker, and he wants me out of the way.”

  My hand flew to my mouth and then my forehead. “Why?”

  “Because another attempt was made. I received a box of pears from a shop I frequent in the city. My security detail wouldn’t let me sample it until it was tested, and again, arsenic poisoning.”

  I felt my world start to spin.

  Someone was trying to injure, maybe even kill, Wade? Because of me?

  He drew me into his embrace and murmured against the top of my head, “I thought you would be safe down here with your parents while we concentrated on locating him. To be safe, Tim, who heads security for my firm, has a man who’s been watching you. And I’d like to escort you home tomorrow.”

  “My parents?”

  “Are fine. They’ll be fine, but Tim says that stalkers very often become violent with the object of their desire when they aren’t successful. Right now, baby, all I know is that I have to keep you safely near me until my people find and deal with the threat.”

  “This sounds like something out of a TV show … I can’t believe it,” I whispered.

  “Come on, let’s go in and invite your parents to dinner. I know a place on the water that is absolutely fantastic. My people are here, and we have nothing to worry about. In fact, they believe he has temporarily backed off.”

  “Are you sure, Wade? Are you sure my parents will be okay?”

  “I’m positive, but if it will make you feel better, I will leave a man here for the next week to just make certain. How’s that?”

  I relaxed. “Yes, that’s good … but who would stalk me? I can’t think of anyone …”

  “We’ll talk about it more when we get back. For now, let’s go in and make arrangements to wine and dine your parents. It is the least I can do to show my appreciation for making it so easy to buy Norcross with a built-in beauty for a tenant.”

  That jarred me a little. He might have thought it a ‘cute’ thing to say, but it hit me wrong. However, it was said, done, over, and it was what it was.

  Besides that, I had bigger things to worry about. I had—no, we—had a stalker in the shadows.

  Chapter Twelve

  WE RETURNED HOME via MacArthur airport in Wade’s jet. I have to say, I was impressed. More so because he told me he could fly it.

  “Really—you can fly a jet?”

  “Yes, but it isn’t something I enjoy, so I don’t usually.” He shrugged it off. “Really, once you get the hang of it, it’s no different than driving.”

  “Yeah, right.” I snorted.

  He laughed and hugged me close. “Charlie, your parents were great, but I’m not sure your dad is happy about you … and me.”

  “My dad is a man. You are a man. He doesn’t think you’re the ‘settling down’ kind of man and doesn’t want me hurt.”

  “And your mom? She doesn’t agree with his theory?”

  “My mom thinks like a woman. She believes if it is meant it is, and if it isn’t … then it isn’t. She knows either way I am strong enough to deal with it.”

  “And is she right? Are you strong enough to deal with the day we discover it’s over?” he asked, and there was a strange catch in his voice.

  “Yes, I am,” I lied. At that point I didn’t think I was. “But are you, Wade Devon, are you?”

  He took my hand to his lips. “Don’t leave, Charlie …”

  “What makes you think I will?”

  “People leave each other all the time,” he whispered.

  “Oh, all the time? Like my parents?”

  “They’re the exception,” he answered.

  “Ah, baby,” I told him. “Exceptions aren’t accidents. Exceptions are made.”

  Soon after that, he fell asleep.

  He didn’t sleep long, but like a light switch it was ‘awake and then not awake.’

  I sighed and began thinking about our stalker and Gloria. She was seeing a shrink, and Wade had told me after some prodding that he had convinced her boss to offer her a position in the firm’s Chicago office. Would that help her, I wondered. Could she have hired someone to poison the strawberries and pears?

  And how did they poison the fruit? By injection? You’d have to have access to syringe needles.

  A limo was waiting for us at MacArthur, and soon afterwards the new driver (one of Wade’s security detail people) drove us to Wade’s house.

  “I should go to my apartment,” I told him.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it’s home,” I offered.

  “Not tonight,” he answered. “I told you, I want you near me at all times until this guy is caught.”

  As we went into the house, I went to the large rearview window to have a look at Sassy and Mr. Goat. Something was wrong.

  Sassy was pawing the earth and making whining noises I had never heard her make before. It was already late afternoon and getting dark, but I looked for and found Mr. Goat lying on his side in the paddock.

  I screamed.

  Mr. Goat was my beloved pet. I’d lost my German Shepard two years ago and hadn’t been able to even think of getting another dog. Now, Mr. Goat was down.

  I rushed outside.

  Wade and two men followed. I was over the post and rail, and I don’t even remember jumping it but I must have as I didn’t take time to open the gate.

  Sassy seemed comforted by my presence and snorted as I ran and fell to my knees.

  He was alive. Oh God, he was alive. This wasn’t colic or any other obvious illness, and I had an awful feeling about it.

  “Poor Mr. Goat … What happened?” I tu
rned to Wade. “The vet is a good friend of my dad’s. Can we take him right now … please?”

  Wade and one of the two men lifted him. Mr. Goat was too weak to object as they put him in the bed of Wade’s pick-up truck (a new addition to the farm’s vehicles).

  Wade turned to his security men. “Did you see anyone who didn’t belong here?”

  “We weren’t watching the paddock, sir, only the house.”

  “It doesn’t matter … drive … just drive,” I said as I jumped into the truck and waited for Wade to dig out his keys.

  Two other security men appeared in their dark SUV, and I knew they would follow us. Poor Mr. Goat. I was sure someone had done this on purpose. I just didn’t believe in that many coincidences.

  Chapter Thirteen

  MR. GOAT WAS resting comfortably by the time we left him with Doc Cribbs. All the vet could tell us was that he believed it to be a toxin but wouldn’t be sure till the lab results came in the next day. I was just thankful he’d come into the veterinary clinic on Sunday.

  “Poison,” I said to Wade as I climbed back into the truck.

  “Yeah, we need to get this under control.” Wade’s lips were drawn, and I could see his mind working furiously.

  He got me inside the house and went to talk to his security people. I knew he was in control mode, as I heard him send off a couple of men to pick up meals for everyone, including us, telling them to make certain they watched the preparation of the food.

  He then phoned Tim, his head security man, and while I couldn’t hear even one side of the conversation, I could tell it was intense from the way Wade was pacing in the adjoining study.

  I went into the kitchen, found some green tea, and put a pot on. I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten all day and was hungry. I looked for something to eat and thankfully took up a bagel I found in the bin. Even as I bit into it, it was dislodged from my mouth and went flying across the room with Wade saying, “No!”

  Okay, this was getting intense.

  And then I looked up and saw a face—a familiar face partially hidden by a bookcase. Jeff. It was Jeff, here in the house with us.

  I didn’t have a voice. It had disappeared with my astonishment, but I had a finger, and I pointed, and my lips made some very strange sounds as I tried to scream. You see, Jeff was holding a Glock, and he was pointing it at us.

  “Jeff!” Wade had a voice, and it was hard, real hard, as he pushed me behind him.

  “Hell, look at you! Playing the hero, pushing her behind you. Is that who you are? No, we know better, don’t we? You’ve screwed half the women in Manhattan alone … you don’t deserve Charlie, but I do. She would look at me if you hadn’t come in with all your money and your power and swept her away. She should be mine. And when you are dead, she will be.”

  I had to buy time. I knew that one of the security men was slinking about in the other room trying to get into position to shoot Jeff. Did I want Jeff dead? No, but I didn’t want him to hurt either Wade or me, either.

  I said, “Jeff … not sure what is happening here, but how did you get in?”

  He snorted. “Don’t you remember showing me the escape route—the one your dad made when you were a kid? It’s all overgrown with weeds, but it’s still there. Leads right to the backyard and opens up in the basement. I guess his plans of the house didn’t show it, and the construction guys haven’t found it yet.”

  I looked at Wade. “How is that possible?”

  He pulled a face. “Your dad told my man about it, and I forgot. We were leaving the basement for last. I was going to make it a game room.”

  Jeff laughed, and it was a maniacal sound. “Not too smart … is he, Charlie?” He shrugged. “But then, neither are you. When I got over Wilma … last year, by drowning her, I looked at you and realized you were meant for me. I was going to give you time. I lost my job though … and had to take something in the city, but I would come out here and sneak inside and listen to you breathe in your bedroom.”

  Okay, that was sick. How had I not known? You read about this sort of thing, but here it was—live! Keep him calm, a little voice told me. Just keep the crazy man calm.

  And then, everything exploded.

  Jeff waved the gun around wildly. I saw Wade dive as he shoved me hard out of the way, and something flew across the room.

  It was a small knife, and blood spurted out of Jeff’s shoulder. Wade had been carrying it around, and I hadn’t even realized. Then, even as Jeff cried out in pain, he switched hands, taking the gun into his left to aim it at Wade.

  A shot rang out and I screamed, but it was Jeff who went down. It had been Tim’s man, Wes, who had been inching towards him from the study, who had finally gotten a clear shot.

  He had a knife wound and had taken a bullet, but Jeff was still alive and crawling towards the gun that had slid away from him during his fall.

  Wade’s foot was down on the gun. He bent down, took it, and said, “Wes, did you call 911?”

  “Yeah, man, they’re on their way.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and started breathing again.

  * * *

  I wasn’t sure I was going to get my happily ever after, but as the Christmas holidays approached faster than usual, I hoped.

  Wade Devon was my one and only. Was I his? I thought so, but would that be enough to break his ‘fear of commitment’?

  Time would tell.

  We were shopping in Manhattan, and, oh, the city is beautiful during the holidays. I was at a loss about what to get him. I already had something in mind, but I also wanted to buy him something that he would enjoy. So I asked, “What does a simple working artist, like myself, get a rich boy, like you, for Christmas?”

  “A sweater?” he answered my question with one.

  I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  He laughed. “I have an answer, but I don’t think it’s the one you are looking for.”

  “Try me?”

  “I want you, naked except for three red bows—one stuck to each nipple with vanilla cream and one right between your thighs.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “Now you?”

  “I want you with your wrists tied to a bed with red ribbons and one red ribbon around your dick.”

  “Oh baby, deal. Do we have to wait?” he said, and his voice was low and fevered.

  And then I sighed and asked the same question I had asked a few days ago. I asked again, because he had only shrugged when I asked the first time.

  “Are you going to your parents for Christmas?”

  He eyed me and said, “Going to my mom’s for Christmas Eve. My dad will be busy.”

  I smiled. “Oh, I’m glad. That will be nice for both of you.”

  “She wants to meet you.”

  I opened my eyes wide. “She knows you’re seeing me?”

  “Yes, she knows. I told her a few weeks ago.”

  “And?”

  “And, she wants to meet you,” he repeated. “So, will you come … for Christmas Eve? I’ll fly you to your parents the very next day.”

  I eyed him. “Without you? I understand totally if you have plans …”

  He didn’t answer.

  I said, “Okay, no worries, Wade, no pressure. You do what’s right for you.”

  We dropped the subject, but I felt it there, hanging between us like a big, heavy weight.

  * * *

  Sother’s Gallery was overloaded with the rich and even famous. My mouth dropped open as I looked around at familiar faces—familiar from magazines and TV!

  They were there to look at my paintings. The room was filled with my most treasured pieces, a few for show, and a few more I thought of as just fillers. From the reaction I was observing, every piece was a hit, and the prices the gallery was asking made my head spin.

  Wade came up behind me and put his hand possessively at my back as one of those familiar hotties made conversation with me. Wade knew him well, and I watched the two talk about people and things like
they were school buddies.

  The cocktail dress I was wearing was black chiffon and hugged my body. A slit up one leg was more revealing than I am wont to wear, and the dress had no back. In fact, it went from the narrow straps at the shoulder to a V way down my butt. Wade had picked it out and sent it to me. I had to admit it was gorgeous, stylish, and way out of my budget.

  We celebrated afterwards, privately, in his city apartment. He looked around the place and said, “I know you hate the décor here …”

  “Do you love it?”

  He laughed. “No, I bought the place as is and am never here long enough …” He shrugged. “So I suppose it didn’t matter. What matters to me is to do it up the way you like.”

  I laughed. “You might not like what I would do with the wonderful open space.”

  “I love everything you do, everything,” he said simply. He slipped off my dress, and I stood naked, the dress pooled around my ankles.

  “Baby … you walk around without a clue how savage you make a man. Tonight every guy in that place was fixated on you.”

  I laughed, embarrassed. “Oh, come on, there were beautiful women there for them to be … er … fixated on.”

  “None like to mine,” he said.

  “Mine? Are you calling me yours?” My brow was up.

  “Yes, you are—say it. Say you are mine.” He sounded feral.

  “If I do, then you have to say the same,” I countered.

  “But, Charlie, I have been yours from the start. Now say it,” he demanded.

  “I’m yours, Wade Devon, and you are mine …”

  “Mine” was all he seemed to hear. “You are mine.”

  With that he scooped me into his arms and carried me to his bed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CHRISTMAS EVE WITH his mother turned out to be brutal. She was determined not to like me, which I might have even understood, but it wasn’t because she was being motherly and protective. She was a bitter woman, dissatisfied with life, and of all things, she blamed her son for having ruined her life.