Tinsel and Temptation

  Tinsel and Temptation: A Holiday Anthology

  Copyright © 2015 by Ho-Ho-Holidays Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover design by Teresa Spreckelmeyer of Be My Bard

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Once Upon a Kidnapped Santa by Delilah Dawson (Contemporary Erotica)

  Fire and Fruitcake by Eileen Rendahl (Urban Fantasy)

  Heart Wide Open by Elizabeth Maxwell (Romantic Comedy)

  Orion’s Mirror by Evelyn G. Walker (New Adult)

  Not Even a Mouse by Spring Warren (Literary Historical Fiction)

  The Merriest of Murders by Kris Calvin (Mystery)

  Once Upon a Kidnapped Santa

  Delilah Dawson

  Finally, the perfect holiday! Virginia Parker sighed. Surely, most of her friends thought she was nuts for celebrating by herself at the family cabin, but it was better than the alternative. There were always friends who invited her over to their home, but she couldn’t help but feel that her invitations were offered out of love …along with a dose of worry and pity. Worry, she could understand. The pity had started to define the holidays, so she’d decided on doing something different.

  This cabin was the perfect place for a solo location. Solo-cation! Yes, a new word to describe vacationing alone. She eyed the half-filled wineglass wondering what other words would be revealed by the time the wine was gone.

  She swirled the liquid and addressed an imaginary friend. “Me? I was solo-cating at the cabin. It was snowing and I was warm and cozy… absolutely fabulous!”

  Not that it was a lie. The winter cabin was cozy, Christmas carols filled the air, and the aroma of roast in the oven was divine. Looking around and feeling slightly tipsy, she admired the rustic holiday décor and spent a nostalgic moment remembering how her mother had once used them in holidays past. There were decorations from the Kwanza phase of her childhood (her mother had only celebrated a few years) mixed in with some Jewish ornaments (from a neighbor that had been her mother’s best friend) and outdated, fragile ornaments that were falling apart at the seams. But she just didn’t have the heart to throw a single one out.

  There was also a childhood family portrait, her parents and brother sporting fashionable afros while she had her hair woven into cute circular cornrows. Those were the days when the holiday seasons had been so full and perfect.

  With her wineglass in hand, she was heading toward the couch facing the fireplace when the cabin door unexpectedly flew open, a flurry of snowflakes chasing two burly bodies that crashed to the ground, feet away from where she stood. There was grunt and a string of profanities when one man head-butted the other, appearing to break his nose.

  It took one blink for two things to become immediately clear.

  One of the men was her brother, wearing what was once a nice tuxedo, but was now splattered in red from a bloody nose.

  The other man wore a Santa suit, was bound and gagged, and was fighting like a mercenary instead of a jolly old Santa.

  Moving quickly, Virginia reached into the pantry for the shotgun and racked one in the chamber. Even over the angelic Christmas carols, the sound of the loaded shotgun was unmistakable.

  Both men froze.

  She aimed between them. “Goddamnit, Brian. It’s Christmas Frickin’ Eve. I swear, I –”

  “Sis, I’m sorry!” He stared with his bloodied mouth hanging open.

  She glowered and nudged the air with the shotgun to encourage him to explain further.

  “I know it looks bad, but I didn’t know what to do!” Brian continued. “It wasn’t supposed to be him!”

  The Santa made a sound like a growling Rottweiler, the gag he wore barely muffling the sound. Brian crawled away then stood, his whole body practically twitching.

  “I was just doing a … a romantic thing. I was going to,” Brian’s fingers made invisible, twitchy quote marks in the air, “kidnap Tommy for the weekend,–”

  “Kidnap?!”

  “Tommy was doing this Santa gig at the hospital and I had this plan to grab him when he was done, take him home and–”

  “Oh-dear-God.” The lovely wine buzz she’d had suddenly throbbed at her temples. She lowered the shotgun just enough, avoiding the temptation to actually shoot her brother while she had the chance. Santa had managed to kneel, then rock backward onto his heels to stand despite his hands being tied behind his back. His eyes were starting to look slightly familiar, bringing a sudden queasiness to the pit of her stomach. Nope, definitely not a helpless old Santa.

  She removed her finger from the trigger but kept the shotgun at hip level. “You kidnapped a hospital Santa?”

  “I know how this looks, but it was for a romantic getaway.”

  “It’s called a crime, you idiot!”

  “No! Wait just a sec. You know Tommy and I have been dating and … and it’s our three month anniversary, so, you know, he really digs role-playing, and I just knew he’d get a kick out of me kidnapping him… “—his fingers quickly came up to emphasize the quotes again—”and… and…” By now, Brian’s voice quivered, had began to spiral to a weepy, high-pitched falsetto.

  “Geez, Bri, you frickin’ kidnapped a stranger?!”

  “Well, ummm.” Brian, his eyes big as saucers, looked truly distraught. He wiped at his bloodied nose and pleaded with his wide palms. “I… He… It’s all a big mistake!”

  “For the love of–!” She clenched her teeth to keep from spewing the vitriol boiling in her brain. “Why didn’t you let him go?”

  “He wouldn’t stop fighting! I was driving the van, and Bubba decided to tie him up—”

  “Bubba’s involved with this?” She cringed at the thought of her beefy cousin being involved in any way. Whenever Bubba did a favor, you sure as hell owed him one.

  “Yeah,” Brian confirmed without the slightest remorse.

  “Where’s Bubba now?”

  “He asked me to drop him off at his momma’s.”

  Of course, sure. “Un-be-frickin-lievable,” she mumbled.

  A second growl had Virginia adjusting her shotgun. Even without taking the fake Santa beard off, the familiarity of the gagged stranger was stirring up a memory.

  Almost immediately, her brother took a big step toward the door, where more snow was swirling in, robbing her small cabin of heat. “I panicked. I didn’t know where else to go!”

  “You could’ve just cut Santa loose and apologized.”

  “When we tried that, but he almost knocked Bubba’s teeth out!”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Look, I’m so sorry, honest to God. But … shit, my nose hurts like hell. Can I at least get a paper towel?”

  Virginia gritted her teeth some more, eying the way the blood oozing from his nose was covering his chin like a red goatee. His left eye looked slightly swollen, but his black skin probably would hide the bruise for a while. Reluctantly, she stepped around the island to reach the paper towels when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Brian bolt.

  “Brian, don’t you dare!”

  Brian sprinted out the door and into the storm. Virginia chased after him, but he was already circling toward his van in
the swirling snow, shouting a stream of high-pitched apologies as he made his getaway, finishing loudly with, “I GOTTA GO FIND TOMMY!”

  She aimed the shotgun at the red taillights, but the van lurched forward, swerving in the snow. Fear for his safety had her heart pounding, and she reluctantly lowered the weapon.

  Growling helplessly at the disappearing vehicle, she stood and mentally screeched, visceral disappointment settling in her soul. Well, if he thought she was going to clean up his mess once more, he was sadly mistaken.

  Pivoting, she marched back indoors through the calf-high snow, her fuzzy slippers completely wet and cold, her holiday cheer completely ruined.

  The pissed-off Santa stood in the open space of the living-room/kitchen area, using the counter corner to try to scrape the rope from his wrists. The Santa hat was sewn to the fake beard and both were askew, and his fake belly listed to the side, but he didn’t look any less dangerous. Those familiar eyes followed her every move, and already she dreaded the sinking feeling in her gut that told her he was no stranger. With a sigh, she grabbed the remote from the counter and lowered the volume on the music.

  “Look,” she said, speaking gently and flashing a friendly smile, “I’m really sorry for what my stupid brother put you through.” Walking forward carefully, she continued to speak calmly. “Let me remove the gag and the, um, ropes, and we can talk.”

  He growled, and she wasn’t sure if he was acknowledging her request or threatening her if she stepped closer. She paused, narrowed her gaze at him and decided they could both benefit from her taking a sip of wine, so she took a healthy, unladylike gulp of Chardonnay.

  He turned his back, offered his bound wrists, then glanced at her over his shoulder, his gaze positively icy. And that’s when the recognition hit. Carefully, she placed the wineglass on the counter and removed his Santa hat and beard to be sure.

  Oh effing hell! It was Dominic Coscano! The guy who could’ve been her high-school sweetheart, if only life hadn’t intervened.

  Dominic was the golden child of an Italian-Mexican clan of about a hundred cousins of dangerous and questionable reputations, crazies that would ride their thundering, battle-scarred vehicles into hell to rescue.

  He’d been in her youthful daydreams and more than one adult wet dream. It was infuriating that even now, he had this heart-palpitating effect on her.

  Oh, Dear Lord, it was Dom! Part of her was giddy with awe and disbelief. Another part of her wanted to ship him immediately back to town, or the North Pole.

  Exhaling carefully, she looked him over once more. This was not a problem. She could handle it. They were both intelligent and level-headed adults. And he was the kind of guy to play Santa for some kids in a hospital on Christmas Eve, not murder a woman in a cabin. Except that right at this moment, he didn’t look so different from his hellion brothers.

  While trying to undo the gag from Dominic’s mouth, she mentally fished for a decent apology that would even begin to cover his ordeal.

  “Hey, I know it’s Christmas Eve and you were probably not expecting to be here right about now, and for that I’m truly sorry,” she said, hoping he heard her sincerity.

  He silently looked back, glared then stretched his jaw, the muscles in his neck flexing.

  She immediately switched to the knotted rope on his bound wrists, then paused. “I understand you are upset, but how do I know you won’t go ape-shit on me when your hands are free.”

  “I feel like going ape shit,” his voice had always been hoarse and deep, but this was the first time she’d ever heard it filled with menace.

  She stilled. “Ahh, wrong answer.”

  He inhaled and exhaled with calm precision. “Gin, even after all these years, you should know me better than that.”

  The old nickname was like an unexpected caress, a lick right at the nape of her neck. No one else had ever called her Gin except him.

  “Not that Virginia is not a good name, but you need a nickname.”

  “Ginny. Everyone calls me that.”

  “No, I like Gin much better.”

  “I’m not an alcoholic beverage.”

  He’d paused. “Hmm. But you are something intoxicating.”

  “Oh, that’s so corny.” She’d rolled her eyes, but even as a teenager, his serious face and the youthful intensity in his gaze had stolen her breath as he’d replied. “I’m calling you Gin.”

  “Mr. Coscanos–”

  “Come on.” His smile was tight, but his gaze held her. “You used to call me Dom, remember?”

  Oh yes, she remembered whispering his name between melt-in-your-mouth kisses…Double damn!

  “I didn’t ask for any of this, Dom, and I need some assurance that you will be civil if I set you free.”

  “If?” He threw a glance over his shoulder at her. “Didn’t know having me tied and gagged was your thing, Gin.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Maybe I removed the gag too soon.”

  He flashed a smile. “Whatever floats your boat, sugar.”

  This time, she did roll her eyes. “My point is that I didn’t sign up for this either. If you can guarantee you’ll be calm, I’ll take the ropes off. Your choice.”

  After a tense scrutiny that seemed to drill right into her brain, he nodded and presented his back to her again. “I’d never hurt you, and I’m a little offended that you’d think it. My beef is not with you.”

  God, her brother was so doomed.

  She hesitated, her gut tensing.

  He gave her a sideways glance, his voice softening. “You are safe with me. I give you my word.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she exhaled carefully then proceeded to untie him. Dom Coscano didn’t know that she had kept her father’s knife sheathed under the couch, another squirreled away in the bathroom closet and one more in the bedroom.

  Besides, she still had her shotgun.

  Once his hands were free, he turned to face her while he rubbed his wrists.

  After an awkward pause, he went to the front door, opened it and stood outside. In the last ten minutes, the snow had gone from a blissful winter wonderland to something more blizzard-like.

  “Well, Feliz Navidad,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Ginny grabbed her wine and stood in the doorway shivering from the cold. “I don’t have a red-nosed reindeer, but if you want to brave the storm to get back to your family, you’re welcome to my truck in the garage.”

  He turned to face her, weighing the option, then shook his head. “Weather is too risky.”

  “Your family owns a tow-truck company. One of your brothers would probably come by for you.”

  “They’re all at my mom’s house. And it would still be too risky.”

  Turning, they went inside and he unbuttoned his Santa jacket, taking out a small belly pillow to reveal a blue undershirt beneath. He looked like he was ready to get rid of the whole outfit, but instead reluctantly slid his hands into his trouser pockets in weary resignation.

  “Your brother lost my phone. If you don’t mind, I need to make some calls,” he said.

  “Sure.” She pointed to the relic of a phone mounted on the wall by the kitchen. “Land line is best.”

  A few minutes later, she moved into the bedroom and changed her wet jeans for clean ones and found another pair of warm socks. Out of work habit, she threw the apron back on.

  Dom was still standing by the kitchen, speaking rapid-fire Spanish to his family, and although she wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, she did catch enough to understand that he was wishing them all a happy holiday and sending his regrets that he couldn’t be there.

  While he talked, Ginny checked on her dinner in the oven – their dinner, really. Before this whole mess, she’d been planning on a quiet evening, overindulging in wine and reminiscing over old photographs and memories that she planned to carefully unwrap like gifts.

  Instead, the room had been robbed of its toasty heat from the fireplace, she was housing a reluctant and unexpected s
exy guest – with whom she would have to share her Christmas dinner – and she was doing her best to avoid thinking of the night ahead.

  What the hell was Brian thinking, dumping Dom at her doorstep? Did he ever give a second thought to her safety? Did Brian ever know how much it hurt her that he’d once again disrupted her life with another one of his messes? With every passing year, he seemed to become angrier and more self-destructive. It was getting to the point that she could hardly find a trace of her caring sibling any more.

  Ginny set the table for two, trying to ignore the internal radar that told her exactly where Dom was in the room. Forcing her thoughts back to her brother, she worried whether he had made it safely to the freeway. Since she’d poured herself the last of the chardonnay, she held up a bottle of blended red wine to Dom for his approval.

  With the phone still on his ear, Dom smiled and nodded, so she filled his wineglass and handed it to him. He sipped, mouthed a “thank you.”

  After he hung up, he stared helplessly at the phone, the picture of a Santa who was still processing the news that they’d found the shattered remains of his lost sled full of gifts, floating in shark-infested waters.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, knowing it was hardly enough.

  He shrugged, straightened. “As long as you understand that I’m pressing charges.”

  She held his gaze and nodded, feeling her heart getting heavy. “Fair enough.”

  He took a sip then said, “And I’m putting a huge chunk of coal in his stocking. And sizeable steaming reindeer turds, too.”

  She cocked her head to contemplate his mood. “He’s got it coming.”

  His eyes warmed with amusement. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”

  “Nope.” She’d promised her mother she’d take care of Brian, but this last stunt was just too stupid. She was not going to bail him out any more, but the decision made her sad. “He made his mess, he can clean it up.”

  She turned back to the small kitchen to extract the roast from the oven, setting it to rest on the stove.

  Behind her, he cleared his throat, and she felt the heat of his gaze against her spine. “Mind if I clean up a bit?”