by Various
“Even in death, he put my needs before his own,” she said softly, gently setting the letter on the table. “And the timing … of all times for me to have finally gotten his letter, on Christmas Eve. What a gift. Makes you wonder if he’s up there, watching over us.”
“You doubted it?” Chance teased, sliding Rachel off her chair and onto his lap.
“After the rocky months I’ve had, I doubted not only Wes, but also God.”
“Gotta admit,” he said, thumb brushing her lower lip, “having you disappear on me like that—I’ve had my doubts, too.”
“Yet look at us now,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “Maybe Wes knew that without time and space between us, we’d have both been too loyal to his memory to give each other a try?”
“Whatever the reason,” Chance said, “we don’t have to feel guilty or pained anymore.” He smiled at her. “Now, with Wes’s blessing, will you marry me, so that you, me and Wesley can start a family all our own?”
“What do you mean, start? I thought we already were a family?”
“Right,” he said before a spellbinding kiss. “How could I forget?”
Christmas morning, Wesley snug between them on the living room sofa, a fire crackling in the hearth and the scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls flavoring the air, Rachel opened gift after gift that Chance had secretly stashed in nooks and crannies all over the house.
Later, they’d go to his parents’ for Christmas dinner with his sisters and extended family, but for now, it was just the three of them, opening sweaters and perfume and books and china figurines and fishing lures and hats, and for Wesley, toys, toys and more toys—most of which Rachel guessed he wouldn’t be able to play with until he was three!
Once they’d finished their gift extravaganza and all the wrappings had been cleared, Chance stood beside the Christmas tree and said, “Look, honey, here’s another package in this bird’s nest, and it’s tagged for you.”
“Chance,” Rachel complained, heading in his direction. “You’ve already given me too much.”
“Look here, the label says it’s from Santa,” he said, holding out a tiny, robin’s-egg-blue box that screamed Tiffany’s.
Heart racing, hands trembling, Rachel lifted the lid to peek inside. “Chance …” Tearing at the sight of the glowing, pear-shaped diamond solitaire, she crushed him in a hug. “It’s gorgeous. Yes, I’ll marry you!”
“Whoa,” he said with a sexy grin, pushing her back and shaking his head. “I don’t recall asking anything. This was all Santa’s doing.”
“Well, then, Santa,” she said, tilting her head back to talk to the high ceiling, “I accept your proposal.”
“Now, wait a minute …” Chance pulled her back into his arms. “Not so fast. I thought the two of us had reached an understanding. Those kisses you gave me last night implied a certain level of intimacy and trust. You can’t just make out with me, then leave me for a big, jolly guy in a red suit.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his delicious, cinnamon-flavored lips.
“Just to be safe, you’d better marry me right away.”
“Yeah, but do I get to keep the ring?”
He winked. “Why not? With any luck, Mr. Ho Ho Ho will go back to his wife … leaving me plenty of time under the mistletoe with mine.”
Stroke of Midnight
Julie Kistler
About the Author
JULIE KISTLER is well-known for her fast-paced romantic comedies. Now she’s excited to be writing for Blaze®. “I love a challenge,” this former RITA® Award nominee exclaims with a grin. Julie and her husband live in Illinois. Check out Julie’s website at www.juliekistler.com.
CHAPTER ONE
SUSANNAH Quincy was furious. She smacked down her copy of Blissfully Single, the new guide for women who wanted to maintain their independence, keep their sanity and never, ever get married. Who could read at a time like this? Her gaze landed on the back cover photo of the author, a stunning blonde who looked entirely blissful.
“Probably because she’s single,” Susannah said angrily. Tossing the book farther away, she glared at her sparkling engagement ring. Pretty diamond. Signifying absolutely nothing!
She rose and checked the clock. Eleven thirty-five. “Carter is so not coming,” she muttered. “Carter is so a dead man.” He had always been a little unreliable, a little inconsiderate. But this was the last straw.
Susannah sashayed over to the mirror. She’d chewed off all her lipstick, but other than that, she still looked really good, if she did say so herself. A red dress with her flaming red hair was something she didn’t usually do, but tonight, she’d been willing to take the risk. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. If you couldn’t shake it up on New Year’s Eve, when could you? She loved her dress, she loved how her hair looked, all soft and wavy, with tiny sparkles that matched her dress scattered here and there. And yet here she was, home alone on New Year’s Eve.
The clock now said it was 11:40 p.m. She felt certain Carter must already be at the party, because there was no way he would skip something as important as the New Year’s Eve party thrown in the penthouse suite at the Hotel Marceau when absolutely every major player at Manley & Marceau International would be there, including both Manley and Marceau. Carter was way too much of a company man to miss this prime occasion for sucking up.
If he was already there, that meant he had gone without her, simply neglected to pick her up as planned and not even bothered to call. “Carter is a dead man,” she repeated, with more energy this time. Suddenly, she came to a decision. “I am going by myself. I work there. I am entitled to be at the party. I am going to go in there, find Carter and throw the ring in his face!”
After applying a new coat of lipstick, she swept out of the apartment, fuming the whole way to the Hotel Marceau. Once there she zoomed up in the elevator to the lavish, wraparound penthouse suite.
When the doors opened, Susannah saw a crowd of well-dressed people sipping champagne against the twinkling backdrop of a big Eiffel Tower centerpiece. She tried not to soften her mood. But she did love this place. Tonight, it was more romantic than ever, dark and lush, with the tension of midnight fast approaching.
Intent on finding Carter before she lost her nerve, she squeezed into the party. Luckily, Carter was tall enough that even in this crowd, she quickly spotted the top of his head. Getting ready to confront him, she tried to wrest the ring off her finger, but it was too tight. How could she throw the ring in his face if it wouldn’t come off? So she gave up, marched over and tapped him on the shoulder. The minute he turned, she hauled back and slapped him across the face. Hard. “How do you like that, Carter?”
Except it wasn’t Carter.
It was a gorgeous man, a man she’d never met who happened to be about the same height and coloring as Carter.
Around her, people went crazy, chanting, “Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Staring at the man she’d just smacked, Susannah stammered, “I—I’m sorr—”
But the count hit Two and then One, and the penthouse exploded with horns and blowers and noisemakers. Everybody shouted, “Happy New Year!” as the man she’d never met bent closer.
And then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
CHAPTER TWO
SUSANNAH found herself tangling her arms around his neck, sliding herself up into his embrace … and kissing him back.
Kissing him back?
There was so much noise and music. All around, people were laughing and shouting and hooting on their horns. This man, whoever he was, was a fabulous kisser. Was it her fault if she was overwhelmed by the atmosphere and the timing and the man?
As he slanted his mouth across hers, he shoved his hands into her hair, tipping her face so that he could take the kiss deeper. Was it the magic of the kiss that made her see stars? Or was that a cascade of tiny crystals shimmering in her hair?
Susannah hung on for dear life. Who knew New Year�
�s Eve could be like this? Who knew a kiss could be like this?
Finally, so dizzy she could barely see, she had to break away to breathe. She drew back, pushing a hand against his chest. “Who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide, drinking in the gorgeous man.
There was no way she should have mistaken him for Carter. He was tall, maybe an inch taller than her fiancé, with broader shoulders and an easy grace that made him look elegant even though his clothes were casual. Where most of the men at this party wore tuxedos, he had a white shirt with an open collar and a simple black jacket over jeans. Jeans? At the Hotel Marceau’s posh, black-tie New Year’s party?
And yet he looked perfect. His hair was a light caramel-brown, a bit darker than Carter’s sandy shade, and he had blazing blue eyes. Amazing blue eyes.
How funny that she was still having trouble getting enough air. “Who are you?” she asked again.
He worked his jaw, massaging it with one hand. “Maybe you should’ve asked that before you slapped me.” He smiled. “Who are you?”
“Maybe you should’ve asked that before you kissed me.” She touched her tender bottom lip with one finger, wondering if her lips would ever be the same.
“It was the stroke of midnight,” he said dryly. “I had to kiss you.”
She took another step back. “It’s not exactly a law.”
“Aw, come on.” His tone was light and teasing, which made him even more charming than he already was. Which ought to have been illegal. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Everybody is kissing everybody.”
“I’m not everybody,” she protested, trying to keep her wits about her.
“I already know that,” he mused. His eyes raked her up and down, and she wished she’d chosen a more conservative dress. This one dipped low in the front, plunged scandalously in the back and was held up only by tiny threads of crystal beads. “You’re definitely not just anybody.”
Susannah felt naked in the middle of the party. She glanced up at Mr. Great Kisser, feeling bewitched and bewildered under his heated gaze. He had narrow, clever lips. Excellent kissing lips. With her red lipstick still on them.
Without thinking, she extended her thumb to rub away the traces. But he caught her hand.
“What’s this?” he asked, glancing down at her ring finger and then back up at her face. “Are you engaged? To who?”
CHAPTER THREE
HE WAITED for her answer.
“Am I engaged?” she echoed. She was staring at her ring as if she didn’t know herself.
“Just a hint,” Trey Jameson said tactfully. “It looks real to me. Not like something you got out of a gumball machine.”
The redhead he’d kissed at midnight, the one with the sparkling hazel eyes and the pale, glowing skin, was instantly wary. “How would you know whether it’s real or not?”
He shrugged, enjoying keeping her off balance. Even if she was engaged, she was just too lovely not to play with. “I’m a good judge of jewelry,” he told her. Which only made her look at him with more suspicion. He noticed she still hadn’t answered his question. “So, are you engaged? Or did you just wear an engagement ring to hold off any strange guys who might kiss you at midnight?”
“I’m really engaged,” she insisted. But she stopped, considered and then started again. “For now.”
Interesting answer. She was stunning, mysterious and a hell of a kisser. His New Year’s Eve just kept getting better and better. “Oh, I get it. That’s who you meant to slap,” Trey said, suddenly realizing. “The fiancé.”
“Well, yes, but … No.” Her eyes clouded. “I didn’t plan to slap him. That was more spur of the moment.”
“But you’re only engaged to him for now. Hmm …” He let his gaze sweep her again, lingering on the place where the shocking red of her dress slashed across the creamy white curve of her breasts. God, she had gorgeous skin. “So the question is,” he began, tearing himself away from the view with difficulty, “how long were you planning to stay engaged?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Is he here?” Trey inquired.
“I don’t know that, either. I think so,” she stammered. “I was coming here to break up with him, actually, to give back the ring, but—”
“Good for you,” he interrupted.
“Good?”
Trey nodded. “I think people should take risks. And you’re way too beautiful to be engaged to some guy who doesn’t appreciate you enough to find you at midnight on New Year’s Eve.” His smile widened as he bent close to her ear. “His loss, my gain,” he whispered, enjoying the sparkle in her eyes and the way she seemed to catch her breath when he stood too close. “That’s what I’m doing. Taking risks, crashing parties, kissing women I’ve never met before. It’s a lot of fun.”
“I’m not the risky sort of person, and …” She edged away from him. “Now that I’m here, kind of out of the heat of the moment, I don’t know whether I can do it or not. Give him back the ring, I mean.”
“The fact that you stormed in here and slapped me because you thought I was him is a pretty good indication to me that you want to break it off,” he said logically. He nabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray and handed it to her. “I think you should definitely dump the guy.”
“Oh, no.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?”
“The guy.” She gulped down the whole glass of champagne. “My fiancé … Carter. He just spotted me. And he’s headed this way.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SUSANNAH held her breath. It really didn’t matter if Carter had seen her with another man. She didn’t do anything wrong. Well, she did kiss him back, whoever he was, but that wasn’t her fault. Was it?
She scanned the crowd. Had anyone else seen her canoodling with a stranger when she was engaged to someone else, someone who worked at the Hotel Marceau along with her and most of the rest of these people? Her boss, Joan, the director of sales, was right over there, giving her a speculative glance. How much had she seen?
Damn. Just when she’d had all the righteous indignation on her side, she’d gone and kissed some other guy and turned Carter into the injured party. Now she was even more confused about whether she should break up with him or not. Maybe he would save her the trouble and break up with her.
“Susannah,” Carter said heartily, making a beeline for her through a narrow break in the crowd. “Darling, where have you been?”
“Where have I been? At home, waiting for you to pick me up!” she returned. “I finally drove myself, and I just got here at the stroke of midnight. Carter, where were you?”
“Not now, darling. Manley is right behind me. I’ve been shepherding him around all night.” He rolled his eyes. “Duty called. You know how it is.”
“Well, duty didn’t bother to call me. And neither did you.
There I was, sitting at home all by myself, while New Year’s Eve withered away. Would a phone call have been too much to ask?”
The handsome stranger hovered right there. “Doesn’t sound like too much to me,” he remarked, as Carter turned and glared at him.
Pointedly ignoring the other man, her fiancé took her elbow. “Suze, don’t be this way. I need your support, not some petty disagreement. You know as well as I do that Manley can put me at the top. But not if my wife isn’t behind me.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr. Great Kisser said kindly, “but I think I should point out that Susannah is standing next to you, not behind you, and she isn’t your wife. Not yet.” He smiled as he added, “Maybe not ever.”
“Suze, who is this guy?” Carter demanded. “What’s going on here?”
She wondered if there was a convenient hole she could sink into. “He’s no one,” she began. “I mean, we just met, while I was looking for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly right,” her mysterious man agreed. “I’m no one. But Susannah ran into me while she was looking for you, and she gave me something that was intended for you. So I think I’ll
give it back to you if that’s all right.”
“What?” Carter asked in confusion.
Susannah was every bit as mixed up as he was. What in the world was this guy talking about? “Something I gave you that’s meant for him?” And then it all made sense. “Oh, no,” she murmured. “Oh, no.”
But it was too late.
Mr. Great Kisser pulled back his arm and walloped Carter, right in the jaw. As she watched in horror, her fiancé went down like a ton of bricks.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I DIDN’T ask you to hit him!” she cried, as people swarmed around Carter.
Okay, so punching the guy was probably a bad move on his part. “He’s a jerk,” Trey explained, holding her back. “And he’ll be fine. You’re way too good for him. And you were going to break up with him, anyway.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “My life is over. My exfiancé is flattened by a party crasher and probable lunatic, my boss may have seen the whole thing and will probably fire me out of solidarity with my wronged ex-fiancé and I don’t even know your name.”
“Hey, you were intending to hit the guy, too,” Trey protested. “I just did it for you.”
“I wasn’t going to sock him,” she countered. “Just a little slap. Not this big melee, this whole public brouhaha.”
Trey laughed. “Oh, yeah. Slapping him and throwing an engagement ring at him is so discreet and inconspicuous.”
“Well, I …” She frowned. “You’re right.”
“Susannah, listen, maybe this is for the best. Did you ever think sometimes fate has your number and calls your name?” he asked, running a hand down her smooth, silky arm.
“No,” she said slowly. She brought up her gaze, meeting his squarely. “I don’t believe in fate. I believe in creating your own destiny through hard work and careful planning. Fate is for people who just aren’t strong enough to control their own lives.”