Christmas Getaway

by Anne Stuart, Tina Leonard

  Likely she was suffering from wedding jitters the bride should be having. She should have stayed in New England and sent an expensive gift if she was going to be such a grumpy attendant.

  The wedding was late getting started. Molly had just arrived a few minutes ago and Jean had had to tell her that Connor was not here yet. The wedding guests were inside, the wedding party was about to make the triumphal entry into the rose-and-ivy-festooned chapel and the groom was a no-show. That was cause for real concern, not the fact that she had to wear the grape velvet dress that Letitia, Connor’s pretentious mother, had chosen.

  Jean faked a serene, maid-of-honor smile.

  “Cheer up,” she heard behind her. She turned to see Molly’s brother, Sam Broadbent, looking down at her, no smile gracing his handsome face.

  “Right back at you.” Jean clutched her huge bouquet more tightly, ignoring the zing she felt at seeing the handsome Texas Ranger. Why did the man have to be so sexy in a formal tuxedo? Dark, delicious, tall and strong; just the way a hero in a Western should look.

  She didn’t know a lot about Sam—he and Molly hadn’t been extraordinarily close as kids. Sam was a lot older to begin with, and though their parents had been wealthy, they’d fought a lot and there hadn’t been much love to go around. Molly and Sam were working on their relationship now, finding new pleasure in forging sibling bonds. She knew Sam was independent. Molly had told her he was burned out, and was giving the job a break for a while. Maybe a permanent break. He planned on enjoying ranch life—and he wasn’t dating anyone, her friend confided with a sisterly wink that Jean had ignored at the time.

  Her attention was caught by sudden whispers, pointing fingers. Four or five police cars pulled into the parking lot in view of the wedding party, doors slamming as officers jumped out. Loud cracks like fireworks shattered the nervous chatter of the bridal party. Heads turned, then screaming broke out. The rapping pops continued, and people began running in every direction.

  Too stunned to move, Jean felt relief wash over her when Sam grabbed her, dragging her away from the chapel. Her skimpy strappy sandals were only meant to look pretty, not actually be functional. The dreaded hoop skirts ballooned around her legs awkwardly. “Wait!” She jerked away from Sam. “What are you doing?”

  Cries rang out behind them, underlining the urgency. Realizing she wasn’t going to be a willing escapee, Sam scooped her into his arms. He did it without grimacing, for which Jean gave him high marks. The hoop skirts weren’t made for hustling down the pebbled path toward the parking lot. “You’re supposed to be giving away a bride, not hauling off a maid of honor.”

  He put her down and unlocked a silver Mercedes. “Think the plans changed. Get in.”

  She did as he asked. It wasn’t easy, considering she had to fight the skirts for every inch of the seat. “What’s happening? Should we be leaving? Molly’s supposed to get married in a few—”

  “Don’t think she’ll be a bride tonight.” Sam pulled out of the parking lot, swiftly heading away from the chapel. “Get down so you don’t get hit by a bullet. Stay down until I’ve got you far away from the action.”

  She refused to accept that Molly’s lovely fairy-tale wedding had turned into a nightmare. “I didn’t see guns!”

  “You weren’t looking for guns. But trust me, there were plenty.” He eyed the road behind them in his rearview mirror. She realized he was deadly serious. As a Ranger, he knew better than she the sounds of weapons being fired.

  He was driving fast, his body tense. And then she got it: Sam was rescuing her from danger. “You left your sister! Turn around and go get Molly!”

  His cell phone rang. He tapped the speakerphone on. “It’s Sam.”

  “Molly’s fine.”

  He breathed a sigh. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Do you have the maid of honor?”

  “I do. What’s going on back there with the bust?”

  Jean listened, her heart racing.

  “Right now, we’re just trying to make sure everybody’s all right. Sorry about your sister’s wedding. Wish it could have happened a different way.” Whoever was on the phone sighed. “Hey, get the maid of honor somewhere far away, okay? We need her safe.”

  Sam was silent for a moment. “Can do.”

  “Three of the groomsmen were taken away in handcuffs, but a couple escaped, along with Morrissey. Everybody saw Tommy Morrissey shooting, but there were other shooters, mass chaos. Until we know more, we’re keeping everybody in the wedding party protected.”

  “Where’s Molly?” Sam demanded.

  Jean leaned forward so she could hear every word.

  “We’ve got her covered. She wasn’t hit. Like I said, she’s fine. We’ll take care of your girl—you just take care of the maid of honor. Unfortunately, they’re on to her.”

  Jean’s breath left. She felt faint. Sam clicked the phone off.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Why did you grab me and not your sister? You should’ve protected Molly!”

  “Molly was covered. I trusted the men who were looking out for her. Our information suggested you had inadvertently become a problem.”

  He must be confusing her with someone else. She was in no danger.

  “No one would want to hurt me!”

  “We think Connor might have discovered his cover was blown at the rehearsal dinner. He ran, and his henchmen must have figured he’d left them holding the bag.”

  “None of that has anything to do with me.”

  He didn’t answer, which infuriated her. He simply didn’t understand that they needed to be worrying about Molly. She must be in shock—what bride wouldn’t be with a shoot-out at her wedding? “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my ranch. I can keep an eye on you there.”

  She started to protest, then remembered the person on the phone had requested that Sam get her “far away.” Yet she wasn’t exactly comfortable about being on a ranch out in heaven-knew-where. All she had was this stupid dress—not that clothes were the most pressing of concerns, but what she wouldn’t give for a worn pair of jeans and maybe some UGG boots. And she was Molly’s maid of honor, right? Supposed to be taking care of the bride on her big day? “There’s no place else I could stay?” Preferably somewhere away from Sam’s watchful vision, so she could go find Molly and make sure she was really all right.

  He turned onto the highway and hit the gas, putting distance between them and the ruined wedding. “Until the coast is clear, you’re my guest.”

  Guest. “Just for a day,” she said, scrambling to sound normal, as if she hadn’t just been at a wedding where guns were fired. It was the only way to calm herself.

  He didn’t say anything. “Poor Molly,” Jean said. “Her wedding day ruined. What was that about groomsmen in handcuffs?”

  “Several men at the wedding had concealed weapons. You didn’t notice the bulges under the jackets?”

  “I can’t say that I did.”

  “We’d already made some phone calls,” Sam said, “to check for gun permits. It seemed suspicious for firearms to be at my sister’s wedding. I mentioned it to a buddy. Some cops were called in to quietly keep an eye on things. They were the guys who weren’t wearing tuxes. They stayed out of sight until the shooting started.”

  “Maybe it was a mistake,” Jean suggested. “It doesn’t make sense that this wedding would be targeted. A wedding is supposed to be a happy, romantic occasion.” She still couldn’t accept that criminal activity had disrupted her best friend’s ceremony.

  He pulled into a truck stop. “We have a two-hour drive ahead of us, in case you’re interested.”

  She glanced around at the packed truck stop. “What are we doing here?”

  “I’m going to grab some water bottles and snacks in case you get hungry. There aren’t tons of fast-food places along the highway, and I’m presuming you don’t want to go out to eat in what you’re wearing.”

  She glanced down at her dress
and shook her head. “Nor you, I imagine.”

  He grimaced in agreement. “No man wears a tux willingly. I’ll grab some food.”

  Sam might be unwilling, but he looked great as he walked into the truck stop in his tux. He had a strong, tall bearing, an easy walk. He was taller even than her surgeon father, which was saying something. Dad’s six foot one, just right for hanging the star on the Christmas tree, she thought wistfully. She should be home now with her family, making holiday preparations. Her stay-at-home mom would be baking Christmas cookies with her younger twin sisters, Trudy and Starla, twenty-four and just learning how to take care of their first apartment, which was only an hour from the family home, of course. Gigi, the golden retriever, would be scampering around the house wearing her traditional loopy red bow. The stairwell would be trimmed with red and gold velvet ribbons….

  She made herself quit thinking about holidays and home. There was no way she could get there just yet—Sam had said she wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  A truck with Vermont license plates caught her attention. A large, strong blond woman got down out of the cab to check her tires. Jean wondered if she dared approach the trucker for a ride. Of course she had no purse and no ID since they’d left the wedding in a hurry. She didn’t have a cell phone. C’mon, a small voice egged, you’re an independent woman. Don’t let a silly purple dress slow you down!

  Wouldn’t she be safer in New England than in Texas, anyway? It was kind of dramatic to assume that she needed protection—no one had been shooting at her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sam said, getting into the car. “When I saw those Vermont plates, I figured you’d consider hitching a ride.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “In this dress?”

  He laughed and handed her a water bottle. “Just admit that’s exactly what you were thinking and don’t be annoyed you’re so easy to read. You wear your emotions on your face.”

  “If you escorted me home, it would solve everyone’s dilemma. I’d be with my family, and you’d still be doing your bodyguard job. Not to mention my mom’s an incredible cook, especially around Christmas. We’re nothing if not addicted to the season.”

  “And what if—just theorizing for a moment—what if you’re part of something you haven’t realized?” Sam said reasonably. “What if someone wanted to shut you up? And followed you home?” He glanced over at her. “Would you want to put your family in danger?”

  “Of course not! But that’s a Hollywood plot, Sam. No one is going to care that I was at the wedding. And everybody there was an eyewitness.”

  “But to what, exactly?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but you’re being overly concerned. Molly always said you were a very cautious person who was hard to get to know.”

  For some reason that made him smile. “Molly was too easy to get to know.”

  He was right. Molly had had lots of friends in college—she naturally drew people to her. “You’re a more likely target than me. Dark, cynical ex-Ranger, taking a leave for unknown reasons… Maybe you ticked someone off?”

  Her voice sounded hopeful, and he smiled. “Dark and cynical? Did Molly say that?”

  “It’s an observation on my part.” She wasn’t going to expand the description by telling Sam that he was also handsome, sexy, smelled good, had nice hands… She tore her gaze away and looked out the window at the blur of lights. Very little else was visible in the darkness, just lights along the highway, marking how far she was from home.

  “I don’t think I was the target,” Sam said. “There are too many chances to get to me besides following me to a wedding.”

  “True.” Jean shook her head. “Anyway, Connor seems seedy to me. You don’t seem to like him, either. Any particular reason?”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I always saw Molly settling down with someone more…caring. That’s the word that keeps coming to my mind. I just never got the sense deep down that Connor loved Molly for Molly.”

  “That’s interesting,” Jean murmured, “I never got the sense that Molly loved Connor with all her heart. And I was uneasy from the moment I met him.” She remembered his eyes when he’d stared at her…hard, cold and flat. “He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would want an outgoing woman like Molly.”

  Sam grinned. “You’re not exactly a shy flower yourself, for a librarian. Shouldn’t you be bookish and quiet?”

  She looked at him. “Are you saying I’m talkative? By your definition?”

  He chuckled. “I think it’s fair to say that this Christmas season will be the most lively my ranch has seen.”

  “I’m not your Christmas party,” Jean said, her tone un-amused. “Even if this misunderstanding hasn’t been straightened out, in forty-eight hours we’re either flying or driving to New England to my family.”

  Sam was silent, ignoring her demand. Jean glanced out into the darkness. She felt as if they were traveling into a black hole—not a great feeling at Christmas. “So when you said you live out in the country, you meant far-out, uninhabited country.”

  “We have a stop sign in our town.”

  One stop sign. That meant there must be about ten residents, Jean thought glumly, not even enough for a powder-puff football game. “Is there a reason you live so far away from civilization, Sam?”

  “I like it,” he said simply. “It gives me peace.”

  She would never be happy with that much “peace.” “I should thank you for being worried about my safety. I’ve just never been good with having my independence hijacked. Even when I was a child, I wanted to do everything myself. At least that’s what my parents say.”

  “Molly says that’s one of the things she admires about you. That go-getter thing you’ve got going on is energizing to people around you. And it’s a warning that I’ll have to keep a very close eye on you.”

  The warning sounded like a sexy promise to her. Jean felt her whole body unexpectedly heat. She reviewed her situation: Alone with a very good-looking man out in the middle of nowhere.

  Women dreamed of Santa dropping a dreamboat like Sam under their Christmas tree—but she wasn’t daring enough to consider unwrapping him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  SAM BROADBENT was well aware that Molly’s maid of honor had misgivings about him. It was obvious that Jean was worried about Molly, more than anything. But if there wasn’t going to be a wedding—and from what he could tell, there was no way in hell his sister was going to be O’Bannion’s bride—Jean clearly wanted to be at home for the holidays with her family.

  Being somewhat of a loner, he didn’t share those sentimental feelings. He didn’t send cards or get a tree. Most times he worked through Christmas, opting to let his fellow Rangers have a day with their families.

  He pulled into the garage and helped Jean from the car so she wouldn’t trip on the ridiculous gown. “I have a hard time imagining Molly condemning her best friend to that dress.”

  “She didn’t. Her future mother-in-law did.” Jean got out as gracefully as she could, seeming happy for his assistance.

  “Yet another reason to reconsider her choice of groom,” he said. “Poor taste in the family tree.”

  Jean smiled. “You and I agree on something.”

  “Finally.” Opening the door, he motioned Jean inside. “This is a pretty standard ranch house. Here you have a laundry room, kitchen, family den, bedrooms down that hall.”

  She viewed all the rooms as he flipped the lights on, then slowly turned to him. “You must have been too busy to start your holiday decorating.”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  She blinked. He had to admit that, despite the gown, she was an attractive woman. He’d like to know what her hair really looked like when it wasn’t in that overdone shellacked twist. Even running from gunfire hadn’t dislodged it. She was pretty, fine-boned and didn’t wear a lot of makeup. It was obvious she was built well from the waist up, but the skirt definite
ly did a great job of hiding her other charms.

  “Nope what? You haven’t been too busy?”

  He walked to the fireplace, tossed some logs in, reached for a fire starter. It was a bit chilly in the house; the weather was colder this December than usual. She was going to be very uncomfortable without boots and other warm gear. “I’ve never put up a tree.”

  She looked around the room, turning to meet his gaze. “Oh.”

  Her tone was so disappointed that he tried to put himself in her place for a moment. “I work a lot. Never had a lot of time. Plus, I always figured decorating was a woman thing. Molly sends me a box of holiday junk every year, though.”

  “Molly would. She loves the holidays.”

  He remembered. Despite their lack of closeness now, they had shared a few happy childhood holidays. “Let me get you a pair of my warm-up pants and some socks so you can get out of that costume.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This will be your bedroom,” he said, leading the way, “and bath. There are towels in the cabinet, fresh sheets on the bed. You’ll find new toothbrushes in the top drawer, as well as a hairbrush.”

  “I feel like I’m at a nice hotel.”

  Her smile was wobbly. He could tell she was trying to be polite. “I like to keep the amenities stocked for my friends.” He disappeared down the hall, returned with some clothes. “This is the best I have that might fit you. It’s at least warmer than what you have on, and I would bet more comfortable.”

  He handed the clothes to her and disappeared to give her some privacy. A moment later she came out wearing his sweats. She’d taken her hair down, brushed it free of spray, put it into a soft, attractive ponytail. “Better?” he asked.

  “Much.”

  Nodding, he went into the kitchen to put a kettle on. “Coffee? Hot tea?”

  “Tea, please.”

  Sam got out some mugs.

  “You’re not going to give an inch about taking me back to Vermont, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Would you prefer something harder? Wine? Vodka and juice?”