The Holiday Bride (2 page)

Mitch craned his neck to peer over Lucy’s shoulder. “So it
is,” he said with apparent surprise. “Sure wasn’t doing that this morning.”

“You didn’t even break for lunch?”

Mitch angled toward her, trapping her hands in his. “Babe,”
he said, with serious brown eyes. “This is the big one.” His cell rang and he
motioned for her to wait.

“Magic Maker Mitch, at your service!” he said into the
mouthpiece before flashing Lucy a grin. She knew his spiel so well by now, she
could practically spout it herself. “Closing on the thirty-first?” he
continued. “No problem.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. “But Mitch, that’s our—”

He quickly covered the mouthpiece to assure her, “I’ll have
this all wrapped up by six, no problem.”

Lucy pursed her lips, wishing she could be sure. With Mitch
she never knew. New Year’s Eve wasn’t some casual date. It was their—

“Can do, that’s my motto! Four o’clock on the thirty-first
it is!”

He ended the call and ran a hand through the stubby brown
hair he always wore in a Marine’s cut, though he’d never actually been in the
service.
Makes the clientele totally trust
me,
he liked to say,
real
apple-pie-like.

“Mitch,” Lucy said, speaking past the lump in her throat.
“December thirty-first is our wedding.”

“Of course, I know that.” He stood and pulled her into his
arms, soggy coat and all. “That’s precisely why I’m doing this. For you!”

“Me?”

“Baby,” he said, tilting up her chin and meeting her eyes.
“You’ve got to trust me when I say this is the big tamale. We’re talking
swimming pools, movie stars, the whole nine yards. Once this deal’s cut, we’ll
get twice the house for our money.”

“But I already told you, I don’t need a big house.”

He jostled her in his arms. “You just say that because
you’ve never allowed yourself to believe you deserve it. But I know better, you
hear? And I intend to see that you, little lady, get all the happiness you
deserve.”

Lucy’s cheeks warmed with a hopeful flush. “You mean you’ve
changed your mind about having kids?”

Mitch studied her with alarm. “Kids? Hoo boy, Luce. I was
talking about you and me! I don’t recall that discussion being on the table.”

“That’s because you keep taking it off,” she told him. “It’s
important. A big thing we need to talk through.”

“You bet, and we will,” he said, releasing her. “Tomorrow,
at my place. Turkey with all the trimmings!” He smiled sheepishly and lifted a
stack of papers from his desk. “But first, I’ve got some files to go through.”

“But I thought you promised tonight—?”

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry. Really I am. But this deal
will be worth it. Just you wait and see.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lucy said, resigned. Every new deal was the
big tamale… or taco… or enchilada, and Lucy was growing weary of Mexican food.
She shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling let down. It was their last
Christmas Eve as single people and she’d really hoped that they’d spend it together.
“Won’t I be seeing you later?” she asked with a tentative glance.

“Of course. You bet. I’m still planning on stopping over.
Just as soon as I wrap up things here, and deliver those packages.”

Lucy followed his gaze to a stack of neatly wrapped gifts by
the copier. “What are those?”

“Just some things I said I’d take care of for a client.”

Lucy checked the clock on the wall, thinking that he’d never
make it to her apartment at this pace. Maybe if she helped out, she’d speed
things up a bit, so they could at least enjoy one glass of eggnog in tandem
before midnight. “What’s the address? I’ll take them.”

“You’ll what?” he asked with surprise.

“I said I’d take them, Mitch. Just let me know where they’re
going and I’ll drop them off.”

“Gosh, Luce! Are you serious?”

She nodded, then spoke under her breath. “Got nothing else
to do.”

“You’re the best!” He took her by the shoulders and planted
a big kiss on her lips. Then he scribbled an address on a post-it note and
stuck it to the top package. “It’s not too far from here. Actually, it’s kind
of on your way.”

Lucy had barely gone fifty feet when she started regretting
her decision. It was as cold as Siberia out here, and the sidewalk was slippery
besides. She adjusted the bulky sack holding the packages in her arms,
wondering what sort of client couldn’t do their own Christmas shopping and
delivery. Mitch really went overboard sometimes, forever banking on his zealous
devotion paying off. If only he were a little less devoted to his work and a
tad more attached to her, she would be happy. But what was happiness, anyway?
Like Gus had just said, life wasn’t some fairy tale.

Lucy blinked at the glare of headlights meeting her head-on.
She was approaching a crossing, and the driver apparently didn’t see her
coming. He barreled straight ahead, obviously not spotting the stop sign,
either. Lucy had been scurrying along, trying to make haste in completing her
task, so she could get home. Now, she had to call herself up short and stop on
a dime to avoid walking into the path of the oncoming car. She gripped the sack
with a start as her sneakers skidded against slick pavement beneath her. Their
soles were coated in a film of ice, lending her no traction at all. “Ohh,
whoa!” she shouted, hydroplaning toward the intersection. She was sliding
faster now, with no way to stop herself. Then,
bump
,
she went over
the curb and felt herself falling backward toward the sidewalk. Taillights
streaked away as the back of her head came down hard.

The last thing Lucy saw was a tiny post-it note fluttering
high into falling flakes and twirling away, as sleigh bells chimed.

****

Chapter Two

William cinched the tie on his robe and paused at the bend
in the stairs. Carmella raced down the steps ahead of him, dashing to the large
beige sofa facing the fireplace. Two stockings brimming with goodies hung from
the mantel.

“Oh boy, oh boy!” she cried, springing on her heels in a
happy dance. Justin appeared on the landing beside his dad.

“What is it, fuzz brain?” he asked with a yawn.

Carmella looked up at them, her cheeks aglow. William had
never seen her so excited. “He did it! Santa really did it!”

William descended the stairs feeling pleased with himself.
He did know a thing or two about fathering, after all. “Well? Is it what you
wanted?”

“Boy, is it ever,” Carmella said with a happy gasp.

William strode around the sofa, feeling smug. Then,
suddenly, he halted, nearly tumbling over the coffee table.

“Wow,” Justin said, gazing straight ahead of him.

William stared in shock at the lovely blonde on the sofa who
was clutching Carmella’s teddy bear! She didn’t look much over thirty, and was
very reasonably put together.

The woman opened her eyes with a start and tried to sit,
before quickly lying back down. “Where am I?” she asked with a pitiful moan.

“Don’t you know?” Carmella asked, taking her hand. “Santa
brought you home!”

She pushed herself upright, grasping the back of the sofa.
“Home?”

“You’re our new mommy!”

William stared at the woman, who stared back in shock.

“Our new...? Oh no, no, no, no,
no.
” William suspiciously studied his son. “Justin William Kinkaid,
did you have something to do with this?”

“No, Dad! I swear!”

“I bet it was Eddie,” William said, stroking his chin.
“Eddie, from the bank. I gave that scoundrel our key to water the houseplants
at Thanksgiving, and he never gave it back.”

Blue eyes flashed beneath long dark lashes, as the woman
took all of them in. “Do I... know you people?”

William strode toward the sofa and spoke in a coarse
whisper. “Listen, missy, I don’t know who you are, or what—”

“I don’t either,” she said, sounding alarmed.
 
“How did I get here? Was I abducted?”

“Ab—
what
?
”

“Why are you two whispering?” Carmella piped up. “I want to
hear what she’s saying.”

“Ditto that,” Justin added. “Ought to be a doozy.”

William scowled at the woman, thinking this little practical
joke had gone too far. “Would you mind having a word with me in the kitchen?”

She gripped the bear and scooted back on the sofa. “I don’t
know. Maybe I
would
mind. You seem a little unstable to me.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Carmella said kindly. “Santa wouldn’t
send you to a bad place.”

“Santa? But there’s no—” the woman began before
William cut her off with a silencing look. “...way he could have told me what a
pretty little girl you are,” she finished, picking up on the cue not to let the
there’s no Santa
cat out of the bag.

“If you don’t mind?” William said, motioning toward the
kitchen door.

Lucy stood in the kitchen, her head still woozy. Her legs
felt like spaghetti that had been way overcooked. She held on to the center
island to steady herself as the man ranted on. He was impossibly irritated with
her, and she hadn’t a clue why. In fact, she was having a hard time remembering
much of anything.

“Okay, we’re away from the kids now,” he continued, “you can
drop the act.” For someone so obviously agitated, he was terribly handsome.
With that solid six-foot frame and those chiseled features offset by morning
stubble, he almost looked like a star meant for television. But then, why was
he wearing a robe? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Listen, I don’t know what Eddie paid you—”

“Isn’t Eddie the one who hired the stripper for your
birthday?” the boy asked from the threshold. He held a big bag full of packages
and looked to be twelve or thirteen. From the smirk on his lips, he liked to
think he was older.

The man’s naturally ruddy complexion took on a deeper flush.
“A
dancer
,
son. She was a dancer. I thought I explained all that.
Just what have you got in your hands?”

The tween cast Lucy an appreciative eye. “Looks like
your mystery date brought gifts. Loads of them.” He checked a tag and grinned.
“By the way, her name is Bridget.”

Lucy and the man exchanged glances, but all she drew was a
blank. Bridget didn’t sound quite right. Then again, it wasn’t completely unfamiliar.

“Fine, fine,” the man told the boy, “thanks for the update.
Now could you please...” He motioned for his son to leave and the tween
skedaddled. He turned his gaze back on Lucy and she noticed his honey brown
eyes were dabbled with flecks of gold right around the irises. “All right,
Bridget. Let’s get one thing straight. There will be no disrobing in this
house. Do I make myself clear?”

She set her hand on her hip, affronted. She might not recall
much at the moment, but she was certain she wasn’t a stripper! “Give a break,”
she said. “Do I look like a stripper to you?”

He scrutinized her, apparently deciding.

“Look,” she said, “there’s obviously been a big
misunderstanding. I don’t know someone called Eddie, and I certainly don’t know
any of you.”

“Well then, there’s no other explanation. You broke in
here.”

“Come on! I don’t know a lot, but I know that I’m no thief.
Listen, I’m just as upset about this as you are. Maybe more. I wake up on some
stranger’s sofa, whose kids think Santa brought me—”

“And we both know that’s not true,” he said, tilting his
decidedly masculine chin.

“Oh!” Suddenly, all the commotion hit her and she felt
incredibly light-headed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, his face softening
with concern. Maybe, just maybe, he believed her and trusted she wasn’t putting
this whole thing on.

“My head. It’s...” She reached for the back of her head and
instantly winced at the pain.

He gingerly lifted his hand toward her scalp. “May I?”

She nodded, increasingly dizzy.

“No wonder you feel faint,” he said. “You’ve got quite a
bump back there.”

Lucy stumbled forward and he caught her in his sturdy arms.
“Bridget?” he said, searching her eyes.
He
really is incredibly gorgeous
,
she thought in the split second before the lights went out. And then, Lucy felt
herself falling into someplace totally dark and warm.

William stared down at the woman who’d collapsed against
him, at a total loss. What on earth could he do? He clearly couldn’t leave her
slumped over like this. As carefully as he could, he slipped one arm beneath
the back of her legs and lifted her into his arms. Cradled against his chest,
she looked almost like a princess from a fairy tale. Her hair was blond and
fine, tucked back at the top with some pins, and falling in some sort of uneven
arrangement around her chin. Her complexion was fair, although she looked even
paler now that she’d fainted away completely. Ordinarily, he’d take her to the
hospital, but he wasn’t sure of his odds of getting into town with the
snowstorm upon them and the one-lane bridge closed. He’d call the doctor first,
that’s what he’d do. And then start phoning around. The police, the missing
persons bureau... She had to be on the level, and was clearly injured besides.

A moment later, William carted Bridget through the living
room as Carmella sprang from her chair. “Where are you taking her?”

“Probably back to the loony bin where she belongs,” Justin
said from nearby.

“Justin!” William corrected sternly.

Carmella raced to the front door and flung herself against
it, arms outstretched. “Oh no you don’t!” she told her puzzled father. “Bridget
was
my
Christmas gift, remember? No
exchanges, no returns!”

“I’m not taking Bridget anywhere,” he kindly told his
daughter. “Except for up to bed.”