McDonald_SS_GEN_Nov2014 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Edition License Notes

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Saving Santa

  by

  Donna McDonald

  * * * * *

  Copyright 2014 by Donna McDonald

  Cover by LFD Designs for Authors

  Edit by MST Partners

  Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to my Marine veteran husband for his help and support. You truly are every hero to me.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Karen Henderson, a fabulous fan and reader. She is also a female veteran and the kind of woman you can’t help admiring.

  Role models come in all sizes, shapes, and professions.

  The best ones change our hearts and make us stronger than we ever dreamed.

  To all our veterans out there—thank you for your service.

  Chapter 1

  Nicolas stood at the picture window in his penthouse looking down on Cincinnati spread out below him. The specially made glass blocked out every nuance of sound. The glass was also supposed to stop bullets. Given his stalker was still on the loose, Nicolas hoped the claims were true.

  When the phone rang, he answered without looking at the screen first. The angry, petulant voice whining in his ear served as a good lesson about the perils of staying present in the moment—something his inquisitive mind always struggled to do.

  “Nico, she’s only in town for a few days. With her divorce decree just signed, you need to jump on this chance before some other man snaps the woman up. Tiffani was always fond of you. At thirty, you need to start thinking about settling down. It’s Christmas time, darling. Be more. . .friendly.”

  “Thirty isn’t all that old, Mom. And I don’t want another full-time girlfriend. I had one last year. They’re too much trouble and I’m too busy to deal with the drama.” Nicolas winced at the animal like sound coming at him through the phone. “You can say hi to Tiffani for me and tell her I hope things work out better for her next time.”

  “You’re never going to get your inheritance from Grandpa Layne if you don’t marry. You know what a stickler my father was about everyone being socially tied up in good relationships.”

  Nicolas took in a slow breath and let it out just as slowly. It was his current calming trick.

  “Mom—how many times are we going to have this conversation? I don’t want or need Grandpa Layne’s money. If I ever get it, you can have all of it. I have so much money now that I spend more time managing my money than I get to spend making more of it on my own.”

  “There—there—there, darling. I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. I know you’re doing fine on your own. At least come to dinner and talk to the woman in person. Have a heart, Nico. She’s lonely. Bring your friend, David. But that’s the only concession I can make in the matter. I will expect you to come once I set it all up.”

  Nicolas knew until she had gained a partial win, his mother would be calling him every day. Tiffani was no more than a mildly pleasant childhood memory. She was not the kind of woman who stirred him just at the thought of her. It certainly wasn’t any of the women giving him phone numbers at dinners and such either. All they liked about him was his money. He’d tried dating those types for several years. While it was nice to have a bed partner occasionally, none had been worth the investment of his time outside of bed.

  Right now, he had no spare time to be fending off his mother’s attempts at matchmaking. Dinner wouldn’t kill him. Maybe it would stop her from trying to fix him up again for a while.

  “Okay. Fine. I will come to dinner if my schedule allows. I don’t suppose the steps could be excluded from your soirée, could they?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Nico. They’re your family.”

  “Mom—I was twenty-five when you remarried and living on my own already. I barely know those people. They are not my family. But I guess I can come and say hi to Tiffani in person. Call me back tomorrow with details. And yes, invited or not, I’m bringing David or one of his people with me until the stalker is apprehended,” Nicolas said back.

  “Darling—if only you would dial back your soapboxes to some that were less publicly volatile. I could never convince your father and look what happened to him. His stress level was always through the roof.”

  “Asking people to donate toys for less fortunate children at Christmas is not the same as Dad asking people to boycott an oil company. I told Dad I’d keep supporting his children’s charities and I will for as long as I can.”

  “Your father would have been very proud of you for keeping his business going. Ross compliments your work and you know it has to be true because he rarely compliments anything. Now I may not always say it in the way you can hear best, but I’m proud of you too.”

  Nicolas swallowed hard against the ball of anguish in his throat. “Thanks, Mom. Your praise means a lot to me. Call me back tomorrow with dinner details so Leah can get it on my calendar.”

  But as he said goodbye and disconnected, Nicolas was thinking hell would freeze over before he would ever call the leech his mother had replaced his father with a member of his family.

  ***

  “This is nearly embarrassing. Not only are you a better shot than me, your pistol qualification scores are higher than any person I’ve hired in the last five years. Uncle Sam trained you well, Megan. Roger told me you only had a minus one on two targets. How the hell did you get this good?”

  “Those minus ones aren’t misses. All my shots were in the chest cavity. Those two were just wide of center. If it had been a real life situation, I guarantee you both targets would have been maimed in some fashion. I got this way because the marksmanship instructor at Quantico used to make me do every stage twice. He was an old school sexist bastard who thought a woman shouldn’t be such a good shot. All he did was give me extra practice which made sure I was damn good.”

  David stared at his baby sister. There was a harder edge to her personality than she’d had as a teenager, but Megan looked nearly the same as when she joined the Marines at eighteen. She still had shoulder length brown hair, big brown eyes, and no idea how to dress like a girl. She was dressed today in two layered tank tops, a sports bra with straps showing, and Camo pants, all loose enough to hide the gun holster clipped inside her waist band. She was going to have to invest in professional clothes, if she intended to work with him long term. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to that fight.

  “Guarding someone isn’t like competing for points on a range. You have to practice on your own time. Around most clients, you even have to hide the
fact you’re ready to shoot to protect them. This is even more true if you know the client as well as we know Nicolas. Men like him don’t wear guns. They hire people with them so they don’t have to think about that side of the world.”

  “Nicolas shouldn’t need guarding. If some nutcase was stalking me, the last thing in the world I’d be doing is riding a float in a big parade. He might as well stand out on the street and scream ‘shoot me’ at the top of his lungs and get it over with. And he’ll be dressed in a big red suit guaranteed to draw maximum attention. The only good thing about the Santa costume is that it will at least cover up the body armor.”

  Megan lifted a fluffy red suit from the box David had said was for her. “What’s this supposed to be?”

  She held the I-work-in-a-strip-joint looking costume out in front of her. Her brain was nearly unable to take in that it was an actual article of clothing. The neckline was ringed in white fur and dipped low. Plus there wasn’t enough red velvet skirt to cover a skinny woman’s backside, much less her more ample one. For the moment, she ignored the hat, which looked like it might be the biggest piece of material in the box, to glare at her brother.

  “I’ll help guard our geeky, rich St. Nick. But no way in hell am I wearing this slutty Mrs. Santa outfit to do it.”

  “Since when do you think Nicolas is geeky? You always liked him. And rich is relative, sister dear. The stalker made him my best paying client this year, not that I wouldn’t guard him for free if he’d let me. You know I would. Hell, he’s like my brother.”

  “Of course I like him. Who said I didn’t like him? But Nicolas has always been geeky. That doesn’t explain the slutty suit. His tastes must have really changed if he picked this thing out. The man always seemed kind of shy and it’s just hard to imagine him choosing this.”

  “Nicolas is still shy, but that’s beside the point. The Mrs. Santa outfit is part of the deal, Megan. If you don’t want to wear it, I’ll call Crystal. She wasn’t at the top of my list because she has the hots for him. She’ll see the opportunity to talk with Nicolas privately for the whole parade route as her Christmas bonus. The stalker would pick both of them off before she pulls her gaze from Nicolas to look at the streets around her.”

  Before answering, Megan lowered her voice the way she had learned was more effective in dealing with stubborn men. “Damn it, David. I was Marine MP, for pity’s sake. No way in hell am I dressing like a strip club cocktail waitress. I can’t believe you’d even ask me to do it. Give me an elf uniform like everybody else.”

  David snorted. It was a lot of fun teasing Megan because she got irrational so easily.

  “No can do, sister dear. The elves are walking alongside Santa’s float and not going to be close enough to stop any shit. Mrs. Santa is going to be standing at Mr. Santa’s side the whole time. It’s either going to be you in that outfit or Crystal. I want it to be you because you have the best eyesight and accuracy over a distance.”

  “Oh, for the love of. . .grrrr. . .I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. Just because I don’t want Nicolas to get shot doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you for emotionally blackmailing me.”

  “Yes, Megan. I know it pains you, but you are my sister. You’re also the only female on my staff immune to the charms of men. I’m expecting you to come out of the closet any day now and ask my help in breaking the news to Mom.”

  “Lesbian? You think I’m a freaking lesbian? Well, up yours.”

  She held up her middle finger, but unfortunately her snarky brother’s attention was no longer on her.

  “You haven’t dated since you broke up with Kendra. That doesn’t make you gay, does it?”

  It appeased her slightly when David’s attention snapped back to glare at her.

  “Kendra and I are going to be fine. We had a little misunderstanding which escalated into a fight where she insisted I move out. That’s not the same as being broken up forever. Kendra and I—well, we’re just on a break.”

  Megan shook her head. “A break from what? There’s been no one serious for either of you since high school. If you would just marry the woman, she’d be back in your bed tonight. You need her, David. . .and Kendra needs you. She’s been my best friend for a lot longer than she’s been your girlfriend. I know what she feels about you deep down, but right now she thinks you don’t care about her anymore.”

  David went to his desk, twirled the chair to face the computer, and sat to do his research. “I am going to marry Kendra—eventually. I’m just not ready to get married yet.”

  “Your non-committed relationship almost outlasted my service in the Marines. How can you not be ready after five years of dating her and three more years of living together? Define ready, David. Do you realize Kendra’s been dating other men since you broke up? I’ve never seen her so hurt.”

  Megan studied her brother’s clenched jaw—yeah, he knew about the other guys. But David didn’t act like he knew. And Kendra thought he didn’t care because her stupid brother was pretending not to care. Men were so dumb sometimes.

  “Let her date. It doesn’t change anything,” David declared.

  “Going to dinner is nothing serious, but Kendra is actively trying to get over you. If someone nicer and less trouble comes along, one of those new relationships might actually take. You’re always so worried about me, yet you’re the one with the big problem. You’ve got a stick up your butt about not being good enough for your own, long-time girlfriend who has always adored you.”

  “Stop changing the subject. I’m not concerned about Kendra. Are you wearing the slutty Mrs. Santa outfit or not? I need to call Crystal if you’re not going to do it.”

  “You are such a pain,” Megan declared.

  She tossed down the outfit and flopped on the hard couch David kept in his office. She landed on the bad area of her still healing leg and swore. Heat flooded her face when her brother’s sympathetic gaze sought hers.

  “How much pain are you in?” David demanded. “I’m asking as your brother, not your damn boss.”

  “I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that. I just. . .landed wrong. It only hurts if I fall on where they put the freaking pin in the bone. I can run, jump, and move just fine. You’ve seen me. You know I can.”

  “I still can’t believe you got hurt so bad,” David grumbled. “I don’t know why you joined the Marines right out of high school. It’s not like you didn’t have options. You could have gone to college like I did. Your grades were fine.”

  Megan shrugged. “I didn’t have any goals requiring more education. During my original enlistment, I found I liked being in the Marines. They didn’t care if I wore my hair pulled back and liked to get dirty. It was a great life while it lasted and I was planning to make it a career until that stupid sniper got me. Bet I was the last target he ever hit though. I took out his trigger hand—if not the rest of him. Can’t believe I let that SOB tag me so hard right there in the middle of the base.”

  “Are you hearing yourself? You’ve been out of the service for almost nine months and you still talk like a man. You’d make a perfect dyke, Megan. If you’re not going to date, maybe you should give swinging to the other side some serious thought.”

  “Stop calling me names, you non-committing weenie. If you call Kendra and admit you’re jealous, I’ll wear your slutty Mrs. Santa suit while I guard St. Nick. Just know your smartypants best friend’s eyes are going to pop out of his little geeky head when he sees me in it. Being in the Marines gave me an ass that stops men in their tracks.”

  David huffed. “Oh yeah? Does it match the one on your head?”

  Megan snorted. “You and your weak-ass insults. I’m out of here.”

  “Fine. Go. Good riddance, Tomboy,” David declared, calling her the name he always called her when she was acting too much like a guy.

  Then he remembered the point of their debate.

  “Wait, Megan. Don’t leave yet. I’ll call Kendra tonight. I was going to anyway. Take the Mrs. Santa suit with
you because you may need Mom’s help to alter it to fit. Buy matching red tights and a pair of comfortable black boots in case you have to run.”

  Megan stuffed the dangling edges of the red velvet and fur back into the box and stomped out of the door with the box in her arms. She didn’t want the rest of David’s employees seeing her with the stupid thing until she had to put it on.

  ***

  “The color is nice, but it almost doesn’t fit.”

  Megan sighed as she turned and saw her mother eyeing her curvy body encased in red velvet and fur. “What do you mean ‘almost’? I had to buy yoga shorts to wear over the tights under it because you could see my woo-woo with every swish of this twirly skirt.” She spun slowly to demonstrate.

  “Your woo-woo?”

  Megan snorted. “Yes, Mom. My woo-woo. You’re my mother. Don’t make me explain my code names.” Her mother’s husky laughter had her grinning back.

  She tugged at the white fur, and the thankfully stretchy top, away from her breasts so she could adjust her ample girly parts inside it for a better fit. All her efforts did was pop her breasts out of the white fur more and let them be tickled. She snorted at the pleasurable stroking sensation and rolled her eyes. Her brother David was going to pay, and pay big for making her wear something so revealing.

  Worse, she knew a real interrogation was coming the moment her mother started hiding her smile behind her hand.

  “Is the sexy outfit for a Christmas costume party? And if so—who’s the lucky Santa?”

  Megan laughed out loud at her mother’s questions while cupping her velvet and fur covered boobs. The questions cleverly masked Ann Lynx’s maternal hope that her tomboy daughter had finally found a man.

  “Do you think I’d actually date someone with kinky Santa fantasies?” she asked back, shamelessly earning another laugh. Her mother’s sense of humor was keen. She and David had both become wicked smart-asses because of it.

  “Let me see if I can make a better guess then. David is making you wear the nearly naked suit to guard Nicolas in the Christmas parade this weekend. The Cincinnati Enquirer ran an article when he was chosen for master of ceremonies. It was about all the money Nicolas has raised for his father’s children’s charity. I’m glad Crystal isn’t guarding him. The woman is nice, but gets silly around good looking men.”