Authors: Shelley Munro
Tags: #sci-fi romance, Christmas romance, shapeshifer, New Zealand
Merry & Seduced
MERRY & SEDUCED
Shelley Munro
A House of the Cat Romance
Table of Contents
Excerpt – One Night of Misbehavior
All roads lead home at Christmas…
Cyborg Amme Vanak is wired to care for children and since her current charge is grown, she’s feeling edgy. She’s hoping a Christmas visit to Earth with her friends will offer distraction and maybe even a fling with a sexy Earthman before she flies on to Viros for a new adventure.
Wealthy entrepreneur Marcus Polo is single with a rockin’ social life until an unexpected Christmas gift throws his existence into chaos. A chance meeting with exotic Amme deepens his turmoil. She might be the solution to his problem, but she’s different from his exes, and she pushes every one of his sexual buttons.
Amme is torn. Marcus Polo is handsome and kind and so, so attractive. Even better, it seems the fascination is mutual. Amme is having a ball on Earth, but as departure day creeps closer, she becomes increasingly conflicted about leaving. Then there’s the whole alien thing. Somehow, she doesn’t think Earth and Marcus are ready to accept aliens are fact and not science fiction.
Warning: Contains a bunch of aliens intent on relaxing and enjoying a New Zealand Christmas, some canoodling under the mistletoe and addictions to chocolate
.
Dear Readers,
Many of you were curious about what happened when Camryn took her new mate and her friends home to New Zealand to meet her family. Heck, I wanted to spy on that meeting myself, but as I explained in
Claimed & Seduced
,
initially my writer’s mind didn’t work that way. I puzzled over this for a time, came up with the idea of a Christmas story and
Merry & Seduced
was born. I hope you get a kick out of spending Christmas in New Zealand—a summer Christmas—with the crew of the
Indefatigable
.
If you enjoy this story, visit my
website
to learn about my other books, and whatever your reading experience, please consider leaving a review for
Merry & Seduced
.
Don’t forget to join my
newsletter
to receive my book news, contest details, and to learn when the follow-up
House of the Cat
stories will hit the virtual stores.
Happy reading,
Shelley Munro
A
snippet of a Christmas carol blasted through Marcus Polo’s concentration, and he clicked on an icon to bring up the inter-office memo. He read the note from his long-time secretary and frowned.
He wrote,
Sign for the package
,
and hit send.
Seconds later the lyrics about snow and deer announced another memo.
He insists you personally sign for the package.
Marcus rolled back his chair and stood. Impatience simmered through him as he stalked for his office door and yanked it open. “Cynthia, why can’t you sign for the package? What’s so important—”
“You the Polo dude?” A rail-thin courier smacked a wad of gum and shifted it to bulge in his cheek. “Marcus Polo?”
“Yes.” Marcus stared at the kid who couldn’t be much older than twenty. His long blond hair was restrained in a complicated plait and he wore several rings in one ear. The other ear lobe stretched around a black disc.
“Is your middle name Craig?”
Marcus’s brows shot up. “Pardon?”
“I’ve already confirmed the details for him, but he insisted on speaking directly to you.” Red-cheeked but with not a blonde hair out of place, Cynthia stood by the corner of her desk, her right stiletto tapping her irritation.
“Is your name Marcus Craig Polo?” The kid shuffled the gum to his other cheek.
“Yes.”
The kid nodded. “Good. Sign here for your package.”
“What package?” Marcus asked.
“It’s out in the hall. There’s this letter to go with it.” He shoved an electronic pad at Marcus. “Sign here.”
Marcus signed using the stylus and the kid handed him the letter.
“I’ll get the package for you.” He disappeared into the hall and returned a few seconds later carrying a small suitcase and leading a child by the hand. “This is your package. Have a good day.”
The child—a girl—took one look at Marcus and started howling. Tears poured down her cheeks, and Marcus shot Cynthia a helpless look, his mind reeling. Shock, confusion, helplessness. The emotions took the opportunity to kick him in the gut before moving on to leave panic jabbing his temples.
“Perhaps I should reschedule your appointments.” Cynthia darted around her desk and dropped onto her chair, hurriedly distancing herself from Marcus’s package. The rapid tap of her fingers on her keyboard a full stop on her
don’t-pick-me
attitude. Obviously, some things she considered outside her secretarial duties.
Marcus studied the child. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
His renowned charm failed him this time. Epic fail since the howls increased, interspersed with noisy sniffles.
Cynthia winced, and Marcus decided to retreat. He scooped up the child, and held her much like a rugby ball as he sped into his office. He set her down, shut his door with a firm click and opened the envelope.
Dear Marcus,
I know this will come as a huge shock to you, but meet your daughter Autumn Lana Polo. You are her last living relative, since if you’re receiving this letter, I’m already dead from ovarian cancer.
She really is your daughter—a DNA test will prove that soon enough—and I hope you will keep her and look after her until she is old enough to become independent. The Polo family has a long pedigree, and while your family isn’t particularly close, our daughter should know her history and her relations. She’ll need those roots to grow and flourish.
Autumn is a good kid, although right now she’s probably terrified. She has a loud wail on her. I think she gets that from me, since I’m sure you haven’t changed over the years and still keep your emotional distance when it comes to relationships. I bet you still possess your trademark playboy gene. You’ll have to change now that you have responsibility for our daughter, and that’s not a bad thing, no matter what your thoughts as you read this.
Autumn doesn’t have any allergies. She’s had some of the normal childhood illnesses, which are included on the attached list, along with her birth certificate and passport.
If I’d known about the cancer, I’d have done things differently and approached you earlier. Please look upon our daughter as a precious gift rather than a burden and do the right thing. I beg of you this one thing. Despite our differences, I know you’re an honorable man.
Keep our daughter safe.
Candice Kane
Marcus read the letter again, but the contents didn’t change. He raised a shaky hand to his forehead and wiped the moisture away. He blinked. The wording didn’t disappear. The child—Autumn—continued crying. Nope, denial wasn’t working.
He had a daughter.
A problem because he didn’t have a single bloody idea of what to do with one.
It wasn’t as if he’d thought about kids. They were something for the future.
He had a daughter
.
Hell’s bells.
At least the crying had decreased in decibels. He studied her red, blotchy face. It was wet with tears and…dear God…that was snot.
Tissues.
He needed tissues.
Pleased to come to some sort of a decision, even if it was an attempt to stem the tears, he strode to his computer and typed a memo to Cynthia.
A light tap sounded on his door. It cracked open and a hand holding a bright red box appeared in the gap.
“Come in, Cynthia,” Marcus said.
Cynthia did but every muscle of her curvy body shouted reluctance. “I’m a secretary, not a nanny. Just in case you’re getting ideas.”
Marcus scowled. “Message received. Have you rearranged my schedule?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll be out for the rest of the day. I’ll let you know later if I need the rest of the week shifted around.”
“Very well. I’ll continue with the Fargo Freight and Shipping acquisition,” Cynthia said.
“Call me if you need anything,” Marcus said. “It appears I’ll be working from home in the near future.” His cell phone beeped, signaling an incoming message, and Cynthia paused in case he needed her to undertake another task.
Ring me
. Sophie, xxx.
“Not happening.” He cursing under his breath and deleted the text. Bloody Sophie Robinson didn’t appear to understand the word, no. “If Sophie Robinson happens to ring for me again, tell her I’m not in and I will never be in when she calls.”
“Ouch. Will do, boss man. Told you that woman was a clingy mistake. And this is another.” With a jerk of her head toward the child, Cynthia disappeared, closing the door behind her with a sharp click that said she wanted nothing to do with this business. Marcus couldn’t blame her. This tiny girl child made him want to flee too.
He pulled several tissues from the box and crouched beside his daughter. Funny, but he didn’t doubt the truth of Candice’s letter. They’d had an affair—a brief but passionate liaison that had ended almost before it started. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in a permanent relationship, just as he’d stated the sentiment to the women who came after Candice.
Condoms—he used them religiously. He’d never had sex without a condom, but in this case, the birth control method had failed.
Autumn had the same shade of hair as him—a burnished chestnut brown—that made her name fit perfectly. Her eyes were the same shade of brown he saw in the mirror each day. Yes, even without the DNA test, he was certain Autumn was his child.
But what to do with her?
That was the problem.
He sucked in a deep breath and stared at Autumn. She stared back, seeming to appraise him in the same way he was measuring her. “Why don’t we wipe away some of those tears and blow your nose?”
“’Kay,” she whispered.
Encouraged by her response, he blotted up her tears and grabbed another handful of tissues.
“I can do it,” she said, her small hands fighting his for control of the paper hankies.
“All right,” he said and rocked back on his heels.
She had his determination too, and this spurt of character decided him. He couldn’t foist her off on his parents—not that they’d entertain the idea. Besides he refused to subject any child to their chilly methods of rearing offspring. The idea of handing her off to Child Services made him a little queasy, which left one alternative.
He’d keep her.
But that didn’t solve his immediate problem. Kids were a big mystery to him. He shot her another quick glance and saw she was managing well. Hell, he didn’t even know her age.
“How old are you?”
“Three and three-quarters,” she said.
Okay. That was definitive.
None of his friends had kids except…
Ah, the sweet scent of relief. He felt his lips curl into a broad smile. The knowledge of a solution within his grasp soothed the rough edges of his panic, allowed him to breathe.
Max and Ellen O’Sullivan had one boy and another kid on the way. Perfect.
“All done?”
She nodded and her bottom lip trembled again. She started to squirm, stepping from one foot to the other. “I need the toilet.”
Marcus cursed under his breath and cursed again—long and loud—in the privacy of his mind. He figured he’d be doing that a lot in the future. He grasped her little hand, awed by the perfection of her tiny fingers and the bright pink nail polish. With his other hand, he grabbed his car keys off his desk and patted his jacket to make sure he had his wallet. He paused to stuff his phone in his pocket.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Once we’ve got you sorted out we’ll go for a ride in the car.”
“I’m hungry,” she said, her glance uncertain.
“I think we can handle that,” he said and she rewarded him with a shy smile. A sharp tug in the region of his heart froze him in position for long seconds, and he fell a little bit in love with his new daughter at that moment.
Yep, no doubt about it—no matter the problems, the inconvenience.