by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan
“No.” Belinda shook her head, her dark hair falling over her face. “It’s you. You’re the real problem here. You’re a liar and a manwhore. I can’t believe I ever loved you! You’re the one who has to die!”
Fear grasped Ella by the throat. She chucked the rock toward the building. It clattered against the bricks and fell to the ground with a thunk. Wide-eyed, Belinda swiveled toward the sound, taking the gun with her. Tate lunged forward, slamming into Belinda and knocking her to the ground with a grunt. Gunfire exploded in the alley. Ella screamed.
Tate pressed his knee into Belinda’s chest, trapping her on the ground, then gripped the arm that held the gun and knocked her hand against the snowy pavement until the weapon fell from her fingers. “Enough!”
Voices echoed from the opening of the alley, followed by footsteps rushing across the ground. A police officer yelled, “Freeze!”
In seconds, several cops were in the alley, taking control of the crazed fan. Tate pushed to his feet and looked back. “Ella?”
“I’m okay.” On shaky legs, Ella rose and tried to dust the snow and dirt from her pants. It was useless, though. She was soaked clear to the bone and covered in soot.
His hands grasped her shoulders, then he pulled her into the warmth and safety of his embrace and closed his arms around her. “Thank God.”
Her arms circled his waist, and she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, holding on to him as tightly as he held her, feeling the last of the ice left inside her melt away.
Long minutes passed. She heard voices but didn’t bother to look. All she wanted to focus on was the man who’d found her again, the one she never wanted to let go.
“Promise me something,” she said against him.
“Anything,” he breathed into her hair.
She drew back and looked up at his gorgeous, familiar, soot-covered face. “Promise me Christmas Eve will be a lot less exciting from here on out. All I want…all I’ve ever wished for at Christmas…is you.”
“Aw, Ella. You have me.” He framed her face with his big hands. “You’ve always had me.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers as the snow picked up around them. “Now and always.”
She sighed and opened to his kiss. And knew that, finally, she had her Christmas miracle.
Books by Elisabeth Naughton
Against All Odds Series
(Contemporary Romance)
WAIT FOR ME
HOLD ON TO ME
MELT FOR ME
Aegis Security Series
(Romantic Suspense)
ACAPULCO HEAT
(In the BODYGUARDS IN BED Anthology)
FIRST EXPOSURE
SINFUL SURRENDER
EXTREME MEASURES
LETHAL CONSEQUENCES
FATAL PURSUIT
Stolen Series
(Romantic Suspense)
STOLEN FURY
STOLEN HEAT
STOLEN SEDUCTION
STOLEN CHANCES
Eternal Guardians Series
(Paranormal romance)
MARKED
ENTWINED
TEMPTED
ENRAPTURED
ENSLAVED
BOUND
TWISTED
RAVAGED
Firebrand Series
(Paranormal romance)
BOUND TO SEDUCTION
SLAVE TO PASSION
POSSESSED BY DESIRE
Anthologies
BODYGUARDS IN BED
DARK NIGHTS DANGEROUS MEN
WICKED FIRSTS
SINFUL SECONDS
ALL HE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS
About The Author
Before topping multiple bestseller lists—including those of the New York Times, USA Today, and the Wall Street Journal—Elisabeth Naughton taught middle school science. A voracious reader, she soon discovered she had a knack for creating stories with a chemistry of their own. The spark turned to a flame, and Naughton now writes full-time. Besides topping bestseller lists, her books have been nominated for some of the industry’s most prestigious awards, such as the RITA® and Golden Heart Awards from Romance Writers of America, the Australian Romance Reader Awards, and the Golden Leaf Award. When not dreaming up new stories, Naughton can be found spending time with her husband and three children in their western Oregon home. Visit her website at sign up for her newsletter at http://www.ElisabethNaughton.com.
SWEET RAPTURE
by Alexandra Ivy
Chapter 1
It was one of those weird facts of life that often the most eventful days started off as the most routine.
For Meg Anderson, her morning began when her alarm went off at the ungodly hour of five thirty. Dragging herself out of bed, she showered, and futilely struggled to tame her dark, corkscrew curls into a braid before pulling on a pair of black slacks that emphasized her lush curves, and a cherry red sweater that added a hint of color to her high cheekbones. She brushed on mascara to widen her light brown eyes rimmed with gold and dabbed a clear lip gloss onto her full mouth.
Then, shivering at the chill in the air, she pulled on her jacket and headed out of the large Victorian home she’d inherited from her grandmother when the older woman had died six months before.
She loved the old house.
It was charming. Eccentric. Solid. Exactly like her grandmother who’d raised her after her mother and father had died in a car accident when she was just ten years old.
But loving the old monstrosity didn’t keep the ancient boiler from randomly refusing to work. Or the roof from leaking. Or the windows from sticking when it was humid. Which was always.
Thankfully, she’d managed to rent out the rooms above her garage. Her new tenant, who was arriving that morning, had already paid first and last months’ rent. Meg had immediately used the extra funds as a down payment on a new furnace. And once the monthly rent started coming in, she could at last make a start on the endless list of repairs.
Or at least that was the plan.
Meg grimaced at the knowledge that the various plans she’d made since returning to Holly, North Carolina from Vegas six months ago had gone to hell in a handbasket.
And it wasn’t just the quirky, money-pit of a house. Over the past few weeks she’d been the victim of vandals who seemed determined to frighten her. It was no doubt a few teenagers who were bored during the long winter months in the small mountain town that was stuck far from civilization. It wasn’t like there was much to do in Holly. Still, it’d rattled her nerves and left a bad taste in her mouth.
This was her home.
The place where she hoped to heal her broken heart and start a new future.
Thankfully, she had her shop, Silver Bells, she acknowledged as she drove the short distance to Main Street. The store, which was a combination of a hair salon (run by her friend, Sue Donnelly) on one side and her own flower shop on the other side, was doing a brisk trade during the holiday season.
Leaving her van at the end of the street, Meg walked briskly past the quaint stores that lined the cobblestone streets. The town had been founded when most of the locals still traveled by horses and carriages, which meant there wasn’t much room for parking. She preferred to leave the few spaces for potential customers. Besides, she always enjoyed strolling past the turn-of-the-century shops with their large, festively decorated windows.
The hardware store, the local tavern, a Christmas shop, a bookstore that doubled as the local coffee bar—they all added to the cozy atmosphere that made this small town home to her, and attracted the yearly tourists who enjoyed the Christmas spirit that was an essential part of Holly.
Halting long enough to dart into the coffee bar for a cup of hot chocolate and a muffin, Meg continued to her shop, not surprised to find the door unlocked and the lights on, despite the fact it was barely past six o’clock.
Sue had a weekly appointment with the local mayor who preferred to come in while most of the town was sleeping. As if everyone didn’t know his hair was dy
ed.
Entering the store, Meg breathed a sigh of relief as she was instantly cloaked in a fragrant warmth. The day promised to be downright frigid. Which meant she had to get her boiler up and running in her house ASAP.
After taking the time to pluck a few fading leaves from the massive display of poinsettias, and turn on the lights on the Christmas tree set in the front window, Meg headed past the wooden shelves filled with silk flower arrangements and small crafty gifts she made during the evening, to the back room.
Shedding her coat, she tossed it on the chair behind her desk that was in dire need of organization. Just seconds later, Sue entered the storage area that served as their mutual offices.
On the far wall were the line of glass coolers where Meg kept the fresh flowers that she had delivered twice a week, along with the cabinets of vases, ribbons, and balloons. On the other side were the storage shelves Sue used for her hair products and sinks where she mixed her dyes. There was also a tray of sterilizing equipment.
Meg was sipping her hot chocolate when Sue strolled into the room. The hairdresser was six years older than Meg’s twenty-five years, and unlike Meg, she’d stayed in Holly and married her high school sweetheart. She’d attended a nearby cosmetology academy before she’d put aside her career to have three children. It was only after Meg had bought the old beauty salon and was in the process of having it refurbished that she’d approached Meg with the suggestion that she pay Meg to rent out half the building.
Meg had happily accepted her generous offer. Not only because she was in desperate need of the money, but she enjoyed the company.
She’d lived with her grandmother until her friend Kristen Roth had invited her to Vegas to work as her personal assistant. For nearly four years she’d with lived two roommates in a condo that was always filled with people. Not to mention Dylan-the-bastard.
Since her return to Holly she’d discovered just how lonely it was to live in a big house without anyone to talk to.
Soul-deep, to-the-bone lonely.
With a small smile, Meg watched as the short, bleach-blonde woman bustled to the cabinet and began to prepare a chemical mixture that made Meg’s nose wrinkle.
“You’re in early,” Sue murmured, covertly watching as Meg turned on her computer and glanced through the daily schedule before skimming through her email and jotting down the orders that had come in overnight.
“The boiler is out again,” Meg muttered. “The house was freezing when I woke up.”
Sue heaved a deep sigh. “I told Hattie that she needed to have that old boiler replaced, but she always insisted on keeping the house exactly the same.” Sue opened the cabinet to pull out a pair of plastic gloves. “She claimed that they didn’t build things that lasted anymore.”
It was true, her grandmother had been a stubborn ol’ broad who hated change. And it hadn’t helped that their neighbor, Edgar Donaldson, had warned Hattie that a newfangled system might poison her in her sleep. Meg assumed that the handyman had used the ridiculous argument to ensure he continued to get a few dollars from her grandmother for fixing the ancient boiler.
Meg shrugged. “The new furnace is scheduled to be installed after the day after Christmas, but until then could you have Ralph stop by and take a look at it?”
“Sure,” Sue said without hesitation. “I’ll have him run by on his way to the garage.”
Her husband was a mechanic who was a whiz with engines. Oddly enough, his ability seemed to stretch to cranky boilers as well. A good thing. There was no way in hell that Meg was going to let Edgar into her house. The reclusive old man gave her the creeps. Especially after she caught him in her basement when she came home early one afternoon. He’d said he was checking on the boiler, but she had a terrible fear he’d been in the laundry, sniffing her undies.
“Thanks,” she said with genuine relief. “I don’t want my new tenant to decide that the old-world charm she’s looking for is too old world and not nearly enough charm.”
Sue slowly set aside the mixing bowl, her expression troubled. “I know it’s none of my business, Meg, but are you sure you really want to let a complete stranger into your house?”
“She’s not a stranger,” Meg instantly protested. It’d been close to a miracle when she’d been complaining to Kristen that she was barely scraping by, and her friend revealed that she knew someone who was looking for a temporary refuge to escape from civilization. The check that had arrived in the mail last week had not only covered the deposit for the new furnace, but allowed her to make the last installment on her grandmother’s funeral expenses. “She’s a friend of Kristen’s.”
“But why is she moving here?” the older woman pressed. “It’s not like she has family in these parts.”
“She needs a quiet place to finish her book.”
Sue gave a slow shake of her head. Since the vandals had started to pester Meg, the older woman had taken on the role of mother hen.
“Well, this place is quiet enough, I suppose, but I still don’t like it.”
Meg gave a rueful shake of her head as she moved toward the coolers, pulling out the flowers she wanted for the first order of the day. “I thought you wanted me to find a roommate?” she said.
Since her return to Holly, Sue had been nagging her about living alone in such a big house.
“Not a roommate. I want you to find a husband,” Sue instantly countered. “A nice strong man who can keep you safe.”
Meg stiffened, turning so her expression was hidden. Not that she was fooling her companion. Sue had already guessed that Meg had left Vegas because of a relationship gone wrong.
Horribly, painfully wrong.
“The last thing I need is a man,” she said from between gritted teeth.
Sue gave a click of her tongue. “Not one of those big-city men. I mean a nice local boy who will know how to treat you right.”
Meg shuddered. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Stubborn, just like Hattie,” Sue muttered.
Meg glanced over her shoulder with a wry smile. “I hope so,” she said.
There were far worse things than being compared to the woman who’d taken in a grief-stricken ten-year-old and put her shattered life back together.
Sue sighed, knowing she was wasting her breath. “I’ll go give Ralph a call.”
Meg grabbed her gloves and the clippers, diving into work. She had a dozen wreaths that had to be made and delivered to the local bank for their Christmas banquet, along with several poinsettia plants that she promised to bring to the senior center. She also needed to finish the Christmas centerpieces that had been ordered by the nearby ski resort.
She could only hope that her new renter had received the letter that told her a key to her apartment would be waiting in the mailbox.
It was going to be another long day.
* * *
Holly, North Carolina was exactly what Dylan Cain had been expecting.
He’d listened to Meg describe the small town a dozen times, envying her sense of home. As an army brat he’d moved from base to base, barely unpacking his belongings before they were off to the next location.
He’d loved the sense of adventure that came with the change of scenery, which was no doubt why he’d worked so hard to become a field agent when he’d joined the FBI. Being constantly on the move felt familiar. But after meeting Meg he understood the lure of settling in a place where he could put down roots.
Start a family…
Pulling his truck to a halt in front of the brick building on the edge of town, he hopped out and shivered at the sharp wind that cut through his leather jacket. He’d spent the past weeks in Vegas finishing up his last case. It would take a few days to adapt to the chill.
Crossing the sidewalk, he paused long enough to glance at the heavy gray clouds. They promised snow before the day was over. Hoping to be settled in his new apartment before it started, he pulled open the glass door that was stenciled with the words “Matthew Roth, Attorney at Law” in
gold.
Stepping over the threshold, he glanced around the reception room that had the wooden paneling and shag carpeting of the seventies. He grimaced. Either the owner was trendy enough to go retro, or he simply didn’t give a shit his office was in a time warp. Dylan was betting on the latter.
At his entrance a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face and mandatory pantsuit glanced up from a stack of files spread across her desk.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Before Dylan could respond, the door across the long room was pulled open to reveal a large man with a barrel chest and thinning honey brown hair. Although he was dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, he looked more like a lumberjack than a lawyer.
“You must be Dylan,” he said.
Dylan hid a wry smile. The words were closer to an accusation than a greeting.
Not entirely unexpected. When Kristen had first called, she’d barely been capable of disguising her lingering anger toward him. It was only because she was terrified her friend was truly in danger that she’d forced herself to contact him.
Dylan hid his wry smile, conscious that Matthew’s critical opinion wasn’t improved by the sight of his dark blond hair that was now long enough to brush his shoulders, and the goatee that added to the impression of a lawless biker. Hell, he was even wearing faded jeans and a leather jacket.
But after ten years of working undercover, he wanted to be…himself. No act. No constant pretense.
Just Dylan Cain in the raw.
“I am.”
A pair of shrewd blue eyes studied him before Matthew stood back and waved a beefy hand toward the office behind him. “Come in.”
Dylan obediently strolled forward, biting his tongue. He was the sort of guy who gave orders; he didn’t follow them. But this man was Kristen’s uncle. And more importantly, when Kristen had come to spend the summers, Meg had been a constant visitor in his home.
Meg herself had said this man had become a father figure to her.
The older man couldn’t kick Dylan out of Holly, but he sure the hell could make it difficult for him to stay.