ALL SHE WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS...

Busted! When Pepper Merriweather’s superwealthy daddy is arrested for fraud—and the family fortune is kaput—just before the holidays, Pepper suddenly finds herself in need of a job. Despite her high-society connections, no one wants to give her a chance—no one except gorgeous billionaire recluse Robert Macintyre.

When he proposes a position that comes with more strings attached than a symphony orchestra, Pepper knows it’s an offer she should refuse. But beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, Pepper knows she has what it takes to rise to the challenge—but does she have what it takes to keep her hands off her irresistible new boss?

The woman was smart. She had quick wit and a sharp take on life. She also happened to be incredibly beautiful.

Her looks were simply a bonus.

He extended his hand. “Welcome aboard. When can you start?”

She shook his hand. “Tomorrow?”

“Great. Do you have time to stop by HR to do the paperwork right now? That way we can get the formalities out of the way.”

They paused by his office door and he could smell her perfume—a hint of roses and spice. She smelled so good, he had to resist the urge to lean in.

Brand me inappropriate all day long.

Now that he’d brought her on board, he would be able to put his business hat back on and be her boss. Strictly her boss, which meant no fraternizing.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy looking at her.

Dear Reader,

The James Lane Allen quote “Adversity does not build character—it reveals it” was a big inspiration for this story. I started thinking about what it would be like to start over after losing everything. Even more so, what would it be like to have it all and lose everything?

That’s what happens to Pepper Merriweather, the heroine of Texas Christmas, the third book in the Celebrations, Inc., series. When the collapse of her father’s empire leaves a stain on the family name, Pepper has no choice but to start over and rebuild her life. In doing so, she discovers she’s capable of a whole lot more than she originally thought possible.

When society turns its back on Pepper, Rob Macintyre knows she isn’t responsible for her father’s sins. With his help, Pepper learns that losing everything is the start to excavating what is important.

I hope you enjoy reading Texas Christmas as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please drop me a line at nrobardsthompson@yahoo.com to let me know what you think.

Warmly,

Nancy Robards Thompson

Texas Christmas

Nancy Robards Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON

Award-winning author Nancy Robards Thompson is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.

This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Grainger,

whose thoughtful critiquing and generous sharing

helped make me a better writer.

You will be missed, but never forgotten.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Prologue

Maya LeBlanc dusted the batch of white chocolate truffles with a sprinkle of crushed pink rose petals and edible gold dust. As the glittering potpourri rained down from her fingertips, she infused it with a love wish.

The rose petals represented passion and romance, of course. The gold dust, which shimmered in the sunlight that streamed in through the window on the stucco wall above Maya’s marble-topped worktable, was for prosperity. And, as if the fine golden powder were in cahoots with the intention at the heart of her handiwork, it shimmered and winked up at her conspiratorially.

Europeans had a long-standing love affair with edible gold. Alchemists believed it was good for the heart. Royalty adorned fruits and other delicacies with it to sustain the health of their hearts. The Elizabethans created sumptuous banquets by adding edible gold dust to fruits such as oranges, grapes, pomegranates and dates and figs.

But Maya’s creation was intended for loftier purposes than feeding royals; it was meant to conjure true love.

Ardent, passionate love.

The thought warmed Maya from the inside out, and she smiled with quiet satisfaction as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Yes, this was a particularly beautiful batch of chocolate. However, just who would receive the dozen bonbons wasn’t quite clear...yet.

The answer had not yet revealed itself, but it would come in due time. Of that, Maya was sure. There was no mistaking that the winds of love had danced around her this morning as she’d walked down the ancient cobblestone streets of St. Michel on her way to open the shop. When the winds had called her to action, there was no resting until she’d filled the heavenly order. She wouldn’t rest until she’d done everything in her power to bring the intendeds together.

Whoever these intendeds might be.

Excitement, shimmering as brightly as the gold dust, shook her. Finding the lucky couple who belonged to these chocolates would be the reward for her hard work.

But first things first. Right now, she had to finish her work. Since the truffles weren’t quite set, she pondered whether or not she should add another element...or two, perhaps? Maya surveyed the bunches of twine-tied dried herbs and flowers hanging from wrought-iron rods suspended above her workbench. There was lavender that had dried to a wiry grayish-purple, looking like veins that stood out on an old crone’s hand. Lavender denoted purity, silence, devotion and...caution.

Non. It didn’t fit. Maya’s intuitive heart insisted that that this batch of chocolat was intended for true love that thrived on passion. Lovers whom fate would send careening toward each other; a lovely collision resulting in two hearts becoming one. She sighed in breathless delight, her hand fluttering to her heart.

Caution would never do.

Her gaze lingered on several fat bunches of rosemary that were bound so tightly they bristled out like small hedgehogs. Rosemary signified remembrance. While it was a sweet sentiment, it didn’t quite fit this order, either. Besides, the robust fragrance would overpower the delicate rosewater she’d used in the recipe.

Non. She gave her head a resolute shake. Rosemary wouldn’t do, either.

She purposely averted her gaze from the bouquet of dried yellow chrysanthemums because that flower meant love slighted. It wasn’t as if merely looking at the flowers would infuse the chocolates with bad juju, but when crafting an aromatic enticement for something so delicate as l’amour du cœur, one could never be too careful.

Maya, of all people, knew that. As a third generation chocolatier and un marieur—a matchmaker—she listed chocolate and love, not necessarily in that order, as her passions. But chocolate paid the bills and afforded her the pleasure of answering the call when the winds of love blew in, summoning her to work. It was a challenge she couldn’t resist, and she wouldn’t rest until her job was done.

In the realm of matchmaking, many factors were out of Maya’s control. With that in mind, she’d adopted the philosophy that she was simply the messenger. Still, she always approached her work with care and vigilance, because matters of the heart were as delicate and fragile as spun sugar.

Her gaze danced over the dried flowers and herbs one last time. When nothing spoke to her, she went completely still for a moment and listened to the communiqué her heart had been receiving since she’d awoken that morning with the urgency to whip up this special concoction.

Keep it simple. Rose petals and gold dust. Fini.

As she opened her eyes she was compelled to pick up one more pinch of gold. She blew it off her fingertips, infusing it with another wish and a prayer...for true love of the purest, most selfless sort.

Chapter One

As Pepper Merriweather entered the shop, a sudden, strong gust of December wind blew in, rocking the sign that was adorned with garland and red Christmas ornaments and hung above the shop’s door. It read Maya’s Chocolates ~ Happily Ever After Starts Here. The wind ballooned the lace curtains on the window and made the bells on the door dance with extra life. Pepper tightened her grip on the brass handle so the glass door wouldn’t slam back against the building’s ancient stone facade.

The momentary struggle felt like she was arm-wrestling with Mother Nature. When the biting wind finally let up, it felt good to prevail, as if fate were finally cutting her a break.

Silly thought, she mused, as she stepped inside and eased the door shut. The last thing she wanted to do these days was draw attention to herself. Sheepishly, she glanced around the shop. To her relief, the cluttered sales floor proved to be as empty as the cobblestone street behind her.

Despite the principality being dressed in all its Christmas finery and like something from a medieval holiday fairy tale, December was the off-season in St. Michel. Mostly the locals were the lucky ones to enjoy the twinkle lights strung from building to building, the giant, decorated Christmas tree that stood as the centerpiece in the center of town, and the shop windows all decorated for Christmas. The decorations always went up on December first, rain or shine.

During the cold months, foot traffic was lighter in the quaint little village. That’s why it had been such a great escape for Pepper, and also why Maya was usually the only one tending the store. That was probably why Pepper didn’t see anyone standing behind the counter or out on the floor of the small shop.

“Bonjour?” she called. As if answering, the wind outside gusted another chanson. The shop sign creaked in harmony with the blustery phrases.

“Bonjour!” a muffled voice answered, trailing from the back room. “I’ll be right with you.”

Pepper stepped away from the door, and a quiet calm settled over the shop. She glanced around at the baker’s racks, rough-hewn wooden tables and glass and wrought-iron fixtures that held red-and-green cellophane-wrapped boxes and baskets filled with Maya’s handmade delicacies. The Christmas packages were in addition to the à la carte candies displayed behind the glassed-in counter. There, chocolate lovers could create their own magical mix of cordials, truffles or pieces of pure, rich chocolate. Souvenir candy shopping was exactly what Pepper had come to do before returning home to Texas. Well, she’d come to do a little Christmas shopping and to say goodbye.

Stopping to admire a towering display of holiday fudge, Pepper was overcome by doubt—was she really ready to leave St. Michel to return to Texas?

Pepper’s mother, who had fled to St. Michel with her daughter, planned to stay in Europe indefinitely—at least until the furor over the scandal died down. But Pepper had grown restless. It was time to go home. Time to reclaim her life. Or at least that was what she’d told herself when she’d started out on foot that morning.

The producers of the reality television show Catering to Dallas, of which she was a cast member, had been wonderful about granting her a short leave as she tried to make sense of the turn of events that had landed her father in jail and sent her mother into hiding. The press had been hounding Pepper, too, and at first, St. Michel seemed like the perfect place to seek sanctuary. But as her father sat in prison—denied bail because the judge deemed him a flight risk—it hadn’t taken long for the press to catch up with Pepper and her mother.

The turning point had come when her father’s lawyer had relayed a message to Pepper on behalf of her father: the longer she hid away, the worse the collapse of the family’s Texas Star empire made them look. In other words, the family looked guilty by sequestering themselves. Of course, that was ridiculous because neither she nor her mother had anything to do with Texas Star Energy. It was merely guilt by association. The media and the masses couldn’t get to Pepper’s father, Harris Merriweather. The next best thing was to flog the family members.

His attorney, Ethan Webster, had provided money for a return ticket home. Pepper had made a deal with him. She would go back to Texas, but her mother, Marjory, would remain in St. Michel. Her father was right. There was no reason she should remain in hiding.

Besides, the news of Texas Star’s demise alleged internal corruption and spawned fears that thousands would suffer financial devastation from the collapse that had sent shock waves around the world.

Pepper had begun to go stir-crazy. Here, she had taken to leaving at odd hours in an attempt to dodge the paparazzi. Some mornings—like this one—it worked. Many times it didn’t. She might as well hide in the comfort of her own home and try to work out a way that she could return to her place on Catering to Dallas. If that was possible. And if it wasn’t...

The future uncertainty felt a little overwhelming, but this morning the coziness of Maya’s quaint little chocolate shop felt...safe.

Still, she couldn’t hide out forever. The faster she got home and resumed her normal life, the faster this nightmare would come to an end. Her father’s lawyers would help him prove his innocence, and the Merriweathers’ lives would return to normal—well, as normal as they’d ever been.

Since her mother insisted on remaining in St. Michel, it was Pepper’s duty to set the public tone, and that began with going home.

First order of business would be to go see her father and strategize. She’d asked his main attorney, Ethan Webster, to arrange for a visit as soon as she got home. She needed to know how she could best help her father, and the best way to do that was to ask the man himself.

Even though they were in the midst of a family crisis, Pepper couldn’t help feeling hopeful—that perhaps this was her opportunity to finally forge a relationship with her father.

At thirty-three years old, this might be her opportunity to set the past twenty-seven rocky years right.

Actually, the more she thought about it, rocky wasn’t really a good description of their father-daughter relationship.

Neutral was more like it.

Detached. Disengaged. Disconnected.

Maybe now things could change.

Pepper took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of cocoa and cinnamon and something...floral? Was that a hint of rose she detected? Before she could tell, the delicious notes melded into a mélange of scrumptiousness that made Pepper’s mouth water...and her heart ache in peculiar, unfamiliar longing. Her hand fluttered to her chest.

What was wrong with her? This wasn’t about leaving St. Michel or returning home. Was it?

Dear God, not another anxiety attack.

No, she was okay...she breathed in deeply. Sometimes the smell of chocolate worked better than Xanax.

This morning, she’d been drawn to the shop like a bee to a flower... Well, more like a chocoholic drawn to the best darn chocolate in the world.

As Maya appeared through the part in the deep cranberry-colored brocade curtains that concealed the back of the shop from the front of the house, she wiped her fingertips on a white linen tea towel.

“Ah! Bonjour, Pepper! I thought that might be you.” She set the cloth on the counter, then briskly brushed her hands together, beaming a gigantic smile as radiant as the French summer sun. The simple gesture warmed Pepper from the inside out.

“Good morning!” Pepper swiped at a wisp of blond hair that the earlier gust of wind had blown out of place.

“What brings you out on this cold, blustery day, mon amie?” Maya stepped from behind the counter and greeted her friend with kisses on both cheeks. “Regardless, I am so happy to see you. You don’t need a reason to pay me a visit. I will get you some hot chocolate to help warm you up, oui?”

Before Pepper could answer, the redhead had turned and was already heading to the small burner behind the case where she prepared the warm, rich beverages.

“Maya, what is that floral scent I smell in here this morning?”

Maya whipped around to look at Pepper and tilted her head to the side, a curious little grin lifting the edges of her mouth. “You can smell that?”

Pepper nodded. “Yes. It sort of smells like...roses.”

Maya set down the copper bottom saucepan she was holding. “One moment, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared behind the purple curtain, only to return quickly with a rectangular pink-and-black box tied with black ribbon—her shop’s signature packaging.

Maya’s eyes sparkled as she held it out to Pepper. “These are for you, my dear.”

It was Pepper’s turn to gaze at Maya curiously. “Well, thank you. Actually, I have come to purchase some chocolate. But not for myself. It’s for friends. Back home.” Pepper took a deep breath as she stared down at the pretty box. Finally, she squared her shoulders. “Maya, I’m leaving. I’ve actually come to say goodbye.”

Maya responded with a resolute nod, but Pepper sensed her stoic mask hid something else. She could see a certain glint in her friend’s eyes.

She shrugged it off, however, chalking it up to her own sadness and uncertainty.

“So, that means if I come home without a suitcase full of treasures from your shop, I will be run out of town on a rail.” She shrugged again and a little hiccup of a laugh escaped before she could stop it. “Although others may run me out of town anyway, but I’ll put up a valiant fight to stay. And possibly bribe them with chocolate.”

She grimaced. Perhaps bribe wasn’t such a good word choice since her family name was implicated in a financial scandal.

Since Pepper’s father had never been to St. Michel, the small European principality had been a good sanctuary for her and her mother. When they were here, they were surrounded by good people and good friends. They were staying with Pepper’s boarding school buddy, Margeaux Broussard Lejardin, whose sister-in-law just happened to be the queen of St. Michel.

Despite the scandal, Margeaux had welcomed them with open arms, insisting they stay as long as they liked in the small two-bedroom guest cottage on the grounds of the estate where she lived with her husband, Henri.

But it was time to go home. Even Maya seemed to understand that.

“Mon amie, as much as I would love for you to stay in St. Michel permanently, I’ve said all along that you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear. You should not let narrow-minded people convict you for a crime you did not commit.”

Pepper nodded, fighting the protective impulse that was bubbling up inside her, the part of her that wanted to defend her father—wanted to make sure that Maya wasn’t implying that her dad was guilty. He hadn’t been to trial yet, and Pepper would maintain that he was innocent until proven otherwise. But Maya had been a dear friend and because of that, Pepper checked the urge to ask the woman to clarify what she meant.

Instead, she said, “That’s why it’s time for me to go. But first I need chocolate, Maya. No matter how broke a girl is, she should always treat herself to the best chocolate in the world.”

Maya’s smile returned. “Of course, my lovely. But before we tend to that task, I want you to take a look inside the box I just gave you.”

Carefully, Pepper untied the black organza ribbon that adorned the package. As she lifted the lid, revealing a dozen white truffles dusted with dried flowers and gold dust, the unmistakable rose scent she’d smelled earlier wafted out, making her mouth water and her heart beat a little faster.

“Maya, these are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I made them just for you. A going-away present.”

Pepper smiled. “But you didn’t know I was leaving until just a moment ago.”

The glimmer had returned to Maya’s eyes again, and for a split second Pepper wondered if somehow her friend had, in fact, known before she’d told her. But that would be impossible. Wouldn’t it?

“Yes, but I knew you were leaving sometime, my dear friend. Pepper, you have too much to offer. Keeping yourself locked away from the world is the crime. Let these chocolates be symbolic of everything sweet, rich and passionate that you deserve in your life. When you take the first bite of this chocolate, I want you to hold in your mind a picture of your heart’s desire and then go out there and claim it for your own.”

Outside, the wind resumed its ominous song, and the shop’s sign danced along in perfect time. From where Pepper stood next to the window, she had a clear view of the midnight-blue placard with its crackled paint and golden lettering: Maya’s Chocolates ~ Happily Ever After Starts Here.

An odd sensation coursed through her veins and she glanced down at the box in her hands, full of Maya’s beautiful handiwork.

Why not?

Maya nodded. “Try one.”

Pepper picked up a truffle and made a wish for her very own happily-ever-after.

Chapter Two

The flight from Paris barely made it to the gate at JFK International Airport in time for Pepper to go through customs, recheck her luggage and catch her connecting flight home. Delays leaving Charles De Gaulle Airport out of Paris had cut it dangerously close for her to catch the red-eye home. Yet, luck was on her side. She was one of the last passengers to board the plane bound for the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

Once onboard, she struggled to stash her carry-on in the overhead compartment, astounded that there was still space available at this late hour. Thank goodness Ethan had purchased her a ticket in business class where the seats were generous and they weren’t packed in like sardines.

The man who was sitting in the seat directly below the compartment she was claiming tossed the black cowboy hat he’d been holding on his lap onto the seat next to him, stood while doing an agile bend and dip to avoid whacking his head on the overhead console and unfolded to his full height in front of her.

“Here, let me help you with that, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Only because she detected a slight Texas twang in his speech did she not take offense to him calling her ma’am. Instead, she chose to think, What a gentleman.

“Thank you,” she said as she looked up into brown eyes as dark and rich as Maya’s chocolates. They contrasted sharply with his spiky, sandy-blond hair. Good-looking guy. Polite, too, she thought.

And he was tall. Very tall. Probably six-four. The big, manly cowboy variety, with long, jean-clad legs and broad shoulders that flexed underneath his blue oxford cloth shirt as he lifted and stowed the bag in one fluid motion.

Pepper forced her gaze from the delicious show of muscles and strength, scooted past him and picked up the man’s cowboy hat before she tucked herself into the seat next to the window. When she’d settled herself and glanced out the window she breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had she made the connecting flight, but she was back on U.S. soil. No one in the New York airport had hassled her. Of course, along her sprint to get from customs to her Dallas-bound flight she hadn’t paused long enough for anyone to recognize her and not that anyone would in New York. But it was highly possible that anyone on board this flight might realize she was Harris Merriweather’s daughter and start something.

But so far so good. Keeping her face toward the window, she heaved another sigh of relief.

It was good to be home. Or almost, anyway.

“Sorry, I’ll take that from you,” the male voice said.

When Pepper looked, he was motioning to the hat.

“Oh, right, here you go,” she said. “And thanks again for helping me stash the suitcase.”

As he accepted the hat, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “No problem.”

His brow furrowed, and his gaze searched her face.

Oh, no, here it comes. She braced herself.

“I’m Rob Macintyre. Have we met?”

Okay, not as bad as what she’d feared. But she needed to nip this in the bud. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s a pleasure meeting you now.”

Her brain raced as she tried to think of a diversion, a way to change the subject without being rude or, worse yet, antagonistic.

It was only a three-hour flight from New York to Dallas, but it could feel like an eternity if things got out of hand.

Thank goodness the flight attendants began their demonstration on the hows and whys of the emergency exits and oxygen masks. Rob...what did he say his last name was? Macintyre, right.

Rob Macintyre... It did sound a little familiar... Hmmm...

Anyway, Rob Macintyre turned his attention to the safety instructions, and Pepper adjusted her seat belt and settled back into her seat.

Then it hit her—Robert Macintyre?

Of course. She stole another glance at him to make sure she had the right guy. With his square jaw and sculpted cheekbones, his profile was just as handsome as his face was full-on. Not only was he one of the youngest oil barons in Texas, but he was also the enigma of the Dallas social scene; at the top of everyone’s guest list but always declining invitations.

No one could figure out why he was so antisocial, and that made him all the more appealing. Pepper had never met him personally—until today, and he certainly seemed anything but antisocial—but everyone in Dallas knew of him. And why not? He was young, rich, single and gorgeous.

He caught her staring and she looked away, only to glance back a moment later to have the same thing happen again.

Pepper felt heat ignite in her décolletage and begin to trail its way up her neck to her cheeks. With hopes that he wouldn’t notice, she bent down and picked up her purse, and to have something to do—and to keep herself from looking at him—she rifled through her handbag.

When she came across the box of chocolates that Maya had given her before she left St. Michel, she took it out of her purse, removed the lid and offered Rob one of the truffles. “As a thank-you for helping me with my bag,” she said.

He regarded the box, then looked up at her. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite sure what had compelled her to share her chocolate treasures, limited as they were. Of course, she didn’t need to eat a dozen truffles, but she hadn’t really planned on giving them away, either. Not until she found herself offering them to her seatmate. Oh, well, it was too late to withdraw the offer, especially after he said, “Thanks, those look delicious.”

As he bit into the candy, she decided that if he did figure out who she was—the same way it had dawned on her who he was—at least he couldn’t say she wasn’t nice to him. After all, she had shared her chocolate.

Yep, when all else failed, bribe ’em with chocolate. That was definitely becoming her motto.

“I’m sorry, you’ll need to stow your purse under the seat in front of you,” said the flight attendant. “We will be taking off momentarily.”

Pepper complied, and much to her relief, she and Robert carried on an easy, nonconfrontational conversation—talking about everything and nothing, steering clear of the personal—for the entire trip as the Boeing 757 carried them through the night from New York to the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.

* * *

After the plane landed, Robert retrieved Pepper’s carry-on, setting it down for her so that all she had to do was wheel it off the plane.

“Hey, it was really nice talking to you,” he said.

“It was,” she agreed. “I really enjoyed it.” She paused, hoping he would ask for her number, even though the last thing she needed right now was a new man in her life. But as she stared up at him as he casually stood in the aisle, leaning in toward her with his elbow braced on the back of the seat—good body language—she decided she could make exceptions for Robert Macintyre.

But he didn’t ask for it. Instead, he gestured to her with his hat and said, “Take care.”

Momentary disappointment washed over her, through her. But then she bucked up and reminded herself how busy she was going to be for the foreseeable future.

It was for the best.

But he was so darn gorgeous.

Oh, well.

She made her way off the plane and into the terminal. She just had to pick up her luggage at baggage claim, and then a taxi would take her home where she could sleep in her own bed for the first time in two weeks. If seeing Robert Macintyre again wasn’t an option, that sounded like the next most heavenly prospect.

“Hey, I know you,” said an unfamiliar, belligerent voice behind her.

Pepper tensed but kept walking without looking back. The voice didn’t belong to Robert Macintyre. She knew that without turning around. This man sounded much gravellier and quarrelsome. The person might not even be talking to her.

Just keep walking.

But then there was a hand on her arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Pepper turned around to the pig-nosed, scarlet face of a man who had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He seemed as wide as he was tall. His breath was an alcoholic cloud, and his eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She sidestepped out of his grasp and wheeled her carry-on between them. As if that would help.

She looked around the terminal, but it was mostly empty. At this late hour the only life seemed to be the janitorial staff and other passengers who were disembarking from the flight she’d been on, and they seemed not to notice—or not to care—that the drunk man was hassling her.

“You’re the daughter of that Merriweather bastard, aren’t you?”

“Sir, it’s late. I’m sorry, I need to go meet the person who is picking me up.”

The taxi driver could wait all night, of course, but Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty didn’t need to know that. Pepper turned and tried to walk away.

“I’m not finished with you,” the man yelled after her. “Your daddy stole my money, little girl. Every single cent of my savings and retirement. But you were sitting up there like a princess in first class, weren’t you?”

Pepper was paralyzed and nauseated. Rooted to the spot. She wanted to tell him No, you’re mistaken. It’s all a big misunderstanding that will be sorted out once my father gets his day in court. But the words wouldn’t leave her throat.

“How do you sleep at night living like royalty when I may not even be able to feed my family?” The man reached out and shoved Pepper and she landed against something firm and warm. In a similar motion as he had handled her carry-on, Robert Macintyre whisked Pepper behind him and was staring down the man.

“Did you hear the lady, sir?” The emphasis in the way he said sir was less polite and more of a power play. It helped that Robert seemed to hulk and tower over the squat man. “She needs to leave now. She has people waiting for her. It’s rude to keep people waiting. So don’t detain her and everything will be fine. Okay?”

The man didn’t say anything else. He simply turned and staggered toward the exit and the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered after Robert had confronted the man began to disperse.

When most everyone was out of sight, Pepper started shaking, but she finally found her voice.

“Thank you for that,” she said meekly. “I had really hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble. But...”

She braced herself for the inevitable request for an explanation, but all Rob said was, “I will stay with you until you meet whoever is picking you up.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I still have to go to baggage claim. Security will be there. I should be fine. But thank you.”

“I’ll go with you to baggage claim. That guy seemed pretty looped. I don’t want you to take a chance.”

Pepper didn’t refuse. How could she? So, they walked side by side through the ghost town of an airport, passing all the closed shops, restaurants and newsstands until they finally found their way to baggage claim.

Pepper was relieved when she didn’t see Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty at the baggage carousel.

“He’s gone,” Pepper said. “I should be fine now. Good night, Mr. Macintyre.”

“No, I’ll wait with you until your ride is here.”

She sighed, realizing the only way he was going to understand was if she told him the truth.

“I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you back there. But I’m taking a cab home. Nobody is meeting me. I’ll just go—”

“I’m happy to give you a ride home,” Robert persisted. “My truck is parked in the garage.”

The guy might have been a social recluse, but he certainly was relentless. Equal parts Southern gentleman and bulldog with his jaws locked, refusing to let go. And it was that slow-boiling persistence—and his gorgeous, hulking presence—that thrilled her.

He might have been at the top of everyone’s invitation list, but she didn’t know him and he didn’t seem to know her, either. Unless it was an act. What better time to exact revenge on the daughter of the man who was at the top of everyone’s most-hated list? There was no way in hell she was getting into the car with him at three o’clock in the morning.

As she wheeled her bags out to the taxi stand at ground transportation, there wasn’t a cab in sight.

Dammit.

“I really appreciate your help. No offense but I don’t know you, and it’s three o’clock in the morning. So, I’ll wait for a taxi.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” But he didn’t move.

“I do want you to know how grateful I am for your help.”

“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to wait with you until a cab comes.”

At this time of night, that could take an hour. She looked around the desolate area. If he was going to kill her or hurt her he could’ve already made his move. The guy was twice her size and there was no one around to hear her protests. And what if he left and Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty came back? Then what?

Suddenly, taking the red-eye to save money and to avoid the crowded morning flights didn’t seem like such a smart idea. And stubbornly refusing the only viable ride home seemed even dumber.

“I live in Celebration,” she said. “Are you sure you’re up for the drive?”

“I live not too far from Celebration myself. Come on. The car is this way.”

He stopped. “You know, I don’t blame you for being hesitant to get into the car with me—not after that crazy guy in the airport. And it’s just the way the world is these days. I have a sister. If she were in your shoes right now, I can’t say I’d want her to get in the car with some strange guy at three o’clock in the morning.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it and handed her a business card and his cell phone.

“What’s this?”

“Why don’t you use my phone to call a friend or family member and tell them to expect you in no less than thirty minutes? You have my name there on the card. My cell number will register on their phone.”

She must’ve been giving him a weird look because he shrugged and said, “Hey, it’s all I’ve got. Unless you can think of a better idea.”

He held out his driver’s license for her to see and pointed to it. “See, face on the license matches the face on the man. Name on the license matches the name on the card. Feel better?”

She glanced down at the card. Sure enough, it was engraved with the name Robert Macintyre. She traced her finger over the gold-embossed Macintyre Enterprises and Macintyre Family Foundation logos. She hadn’t realized the handsome, reclusive oil baron had a foundation. Though he obviously had a heart—or at least a strong protective streak. She glanced up at him...and a smokin’ pair of lips that looked delicious.

She must’ve been more exhausted than she realized because not only was she accepting a ride home at three o’clock in the morning from a man she’d met only hours ago, but she was also fantasizing about kissing him.

She decided to dial her friend Sydney’s number because Sydney was her only single friend. Her other close friends AJ and Caroline had recently met the loves of their lives and were living with their fiancés. No sense waking up two people when Sydney was still living alone.

“Hello?” Sydney’s groggy voice came through the phone.

“Hi, it’s Pepper. I’m so sorry to call and wake you up.”

She explained the situation, and after assuring Sydney five times that she did not need her to come to the airport and pick her up, Sydney compromised by saying that she would wait for a call from Pepper saying she was safely at home, and if not she would send an entire fleet of Celebration’s finest out searching for one Robert Macintyre.

Her British accent sounded so proper.

Especially when she said, “Is this the Robert Macintyre?”

“Yes, I do believe it is.”

“Wait right there and let me come ride with you,” she said breathlessly. “From pictures I’ve seen of him, he is positively yummy.”

Pepper’s gaze fell on Robert’s lips again.

“I’ll be sure and let you,” she said.

After they found his black Range Rover, they fell into the same easy dialogue that they’d shared on the plane ride. As he drove, Pepper studied his profile. A bump on the bridge of his otherwise straight nose made his silhouette slightly imperfect, and a strong square jaw offsetting a full bottom lip made the imperfect look just right. At stoplights he would glance over at her and smile a smile that made her lose her train of thought.

Finally when they pulled up in front of her house, he settled back in his seat and let his gaze meander over her face, taking a long, unapologetic leisurely look.

“I can’t thank you enough for how you handled things in the airport,” she said.

“You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be treated like that. I’m just glad I was there to help you.”

* * *

All he’d wanted since the moment he’d first set eyes on her was to know how she would fit in his arms, how her lips would feel on his, how she would taste when he ravaged her mouth with his own. And he’d be damned if he was going to leave her tonight without knowing the answers to those questions.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next thing he knew he was kissing her.

She gasped a little when their lips first touched. The sound she made was barely perceptible—more of a shudder. Rob wondered if maybe he’d felt her more than he’d heard her reaction. But the important thing was she didn’t pull away, she didn’t break contact.

He shouldn’t be doing this—for so many reasons. But she was kissing him back. He knew that, but her mouth was soft and warm and inviting. That little taste wasn’t enough. It tortured and tempted him more than it satisfied. As they sat there, arms around each other, lip to lip, the feel of her urged him to lean in closer. When he did, her mouth parted and she invited him in.

Want swirled around him, as if his taking possession might bind her to him and fix everything that was broken. The taste of her—like cinnamon sugar and roses and something bright, like golden honey or sunshine—made him reel.

* * *

Robert Macintyre might have shied away from Dallas society, but he certainly hadn’t fallen out of practice when it came to kissing. That was the one lucid thought Pepper had as she melted into him.

Rob made a noise deep in his throat, and desire coursed through Pepper, a yearning that only intensified the spell he’d cast on her. For a few beautiful seconds she thought she never wanted to catch her breath again. She could be perfectly content right here breathing his air for the rest of her life.

His rugged hands on her waist held her firmly but gently against him. Who would’ve guessed such a sturdy man could kiss so tenderly...yet with so much smoldering passion?

Then, just as naturally as they’d come together, they slowly released each other, staying forehead to forehead while the magic lingered.

“That was nice,” he whispered. “You taste good, like that truffle you shared with me on the plane.” He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

He gave her one more wistful kiss, this one featherlight, before saying, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Caught in the twilight between longing and lucidity, she couldn’t find her tongue, but she was able to force her legs to carry her out of the truck and around to the back of the vehicle where he helped her with her luggage.

When they were standing at the door she could still taste him on her swollen lips.

“You have my card. If you ever need rescuing, you know where to find me.”

Chapter Three

Two days later, Robert sat in his home office and sorted through a stack of mail. He deposited five invitations to parties he would normally have no intention of attending into a pile. But the thought of running into Pepper Merriweather made him rethink his standard no.

“Shall I RSVP yes to these for you?” asked his sister Kate. She’d been working for him since she’d graduated from the University of Texas with an MBA eighteen months ago.

And then he came to his senses. The last thing he needed was to go out searching for his Cinderella. Hadn’t his divorce taught him that?

Rob answered Kate with a barely audible harrumph, which Kate seemed to intuitively understand. “Come on, Rob, I’ll watch Cody for you. You need to get out.”

He shot her his best leveling stare. “I have too much work to do this week to waste my time at parties thrown by people I don’t even know.”

Pepper might be there.

All the better reason not to go.

She shook her head. “If you went to these parties, you’d have the opportunity to meet them. Come on, you need a break. Get out and have some fun. Besides, the only reason anyone goes to these things is to work the circuit. There’s a lot of money at these shindigs. You’re missing out on opportunities for the Foundation.”

She was right. But to him, working the shindig circuit, as Kate called it, ranked up there with shopping or an evening at the ballet. Simply put, he could think of a hundred other things he’d rather do—such as change the oil in his truck or wash Gabe, his Lab-like, Heinz 57 mixed breed. Or, most important, staying in with Cody, his five-year-old son and eating popcorn and watching Spider-Man—again.

“I pay you to schmooze for the Foundation. If you think these parties are such a missed opportunity, why don’t you go in my place?” He turned away from the neat stacks of mail he’d created for Kate so she’d know what to do with them.

Next he began opening the emails that had come in since he’d taken a break to eat lunch with Cody, who had come home from kindergarten early today claiming he didn’t feel well. He’d perked up once he saw his dad. Rob wondered if he should schedule a conference with his teacher. Being the only kid in his class who was in a wheelchair made things difficult. Kids could be so heartless. Downright mean. He didn’t want Cody falling into the trap of having his old man fight his battles for him. But he was only in kindergarten.

Sometimes he sucked at being a single parent. But there was no questioning how much he loved his son.

“The only reason they invite me is because they want to hit me up for whatever cause they’ve deemed worthy this week.”

It was true. And Rob did give back generously to the community through the Macintyre Family Foundation, where the recipients of charitable gifts were hand selected and well researched to make sure they fell within the guidelines of the MFF mission statement: Family, Community and Education. He had a real problem with these so-called nonprofits that spent a boatload of money to throw parties in the name of charity.

The truth was even though his corporation, Macintyre Enterprises, was worth more than a cool billion, the assets weren’t liquid. Rob’s money was tied up in oil rigs and other ventures that looked impressive on a balance sheet, but didn’t allow for a whole lot of impulsive financial movement.

Hell, if he had the liquidity, there would be no need for his Foundation to beg for money for the most recent cause they’d taken on: partnering with Celebration Memorial Hospital to raise five million dollars to build a state-of-the-art pediatric wing onto the hospital. When Cody had been in the accident two years ago, he had to be airlifted to a hospital miles away for treatment. The boy was lucky to be alive. But that was one of the dark memories that Rob had sealed off, and he blinked it away to ensure it wouldn’t escape.

Kate crossed her arms and gave an impatient huff. “These invitations are addressed to you, Rob, not me. I’m pretty sure they’re nontransferable.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he grunted absently, opening and skimming an email about a project update that he’d been waiting for.

Even if Cody’s wheelchair was a stark reminder of past mistakes, at least his boy was alive. That was all that mattered. More pressing was the fact that Cody would need at least one operation soon if there was ever going to be a chance that he’d walk again. Sadly, even with the Macintyre Family Foundation’s personal commitment to raising the money to build the pediatric surgical wing, the facility wouldn’t be ready for a while.

If he had the damn money in hand, he’d pay for the wing himself so it could be built now, and he wouldn’t have to bother with parties and schmoozing and all the painful gyrations that went along with getting someone to do you a favor.

“Rob? Are you listening to me?”

“Not if you’re still haranguing me about the parties.”

“It would be good for you to get out every once in a while,” she persisted.

His thoughts drifted to the kiss he’d shared with Pepper.

“How long are you going to punish yourself for something that wasn’t your fault?”

He squinted at the computer screen, pointedly ignoring her, hoping Kate would take the hint and not go where this conversation seemed to be heading.

The door to his past was closed. Period. He would not revisit the events he’d permanently sealed behind it.

Instead, he allowed himself to revisit the memory of the kiss. It was a harmless memory. A good memory. Something that made him smile, no matter how fleeting and unsubstantial it was. But it was just a memory. He could relive it, but he wasn’t going to try to recreate it. They each had their own set of weighty baggage. So they were both better off leaving each other alone.

Spending time with his son was something real and concrete. Something he wanted to do. It certainly wasn’t punishment. No, punishment would be spending the evening with people who would cross him off their guest list the second his net worth fell off the Forbes Rich Roster.

Much in the same way the Dallas social set had exiled Pepper and her family. She was the perfect example of how society would chew you up and spit you out once you’d fallen from grace. At one time she’d been at the top of everyone’s guest list, too. Now she was the poster child for social pariahs. And as far as everyone knew, she’d had nothing to do with her family’s fall from grace.

If he had a soft spot for spoiled debutantes, he might feel sorry for her. Although he did have to admit, she was nothing like what he might’ve imagined if he’d been inclined to follow the local players. She’d handled the drunk guy with grace and dignity. But then again, at three o’clock in the morning in the middle of an empty airport, who wanted to take on a guy who was three times her size? Things might’ve been different if she’d had her entourage in tow.

Then again, maybe her entourage had ditched her, too—

“But you are still going with me to the Raven Chair Affair next week?” Kate said. “Yes?”

Rob let his body fall back into his chair, away from his keyboard, and exhaled audibly. Scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes, he purposely softened his tone. “May I choose the ‘bamboos under the fingernails’ option instead?”

Kate rolled her eyes. “No, you may not. Raven Chairez could give the Foundation a lot of money. Somehow, I don’t think I’m the one who could sweet-talk her.” Kate raised her eyebrows at him in a knowing way. “You need to start practicing your manners. Now.”

Raven Chairez was a piece of work. She was too old to still be throwing around her daddy’s money. Even worse was the way she threw fits when his money didn’t buy her exactly what she wanted. The only reason Rob knew this much about her was because Kate had briefed him about her. It struck him that if Pepper Merriweather was the poster child of the social pariah, then Raven Chairez was the picture of everything Rob hated about Dallas society. Plain and simple, she reminded him of his ex-wife. And when Kate had informed him that she’d heard through the grapevine that Raven Chairez was fixated on him—that he was a conquest she fully intended to make—Rob had made a point of avoiding all social situations where she might have the opportunity to corner him. Now, she was dangling the carrot of a potential hefty donation to the pediatric surgical wing.

One of the best ways to clinch that donation was by attending her Raven Chair Affair annual gala. Of course he would attend. But that didn’t mean he had to pass up this opportunity to make his sister sweat.

“Please promise me when you hire your new assistant, you won’t give her as hard a time as you give me over engagements like this.”

“Are you kidding? That’s special treatment I reserve only for you. Speaking of the new assistant, when are we beginning the interviews?”

They’d started the Foundation right after Kate had graduated with her master’s. She had been the one who had built it into what it was today, laying the groundwork for partnering with Celebration Memorial to build the pediatric surgical wing. In the process, she’d also taken on the additional duties of caretaker for Cody and himself after he’d gone through a string of personal assistants who didn’t work out.

With his divorce and Cody’s accident, Rob had been under a lot of stress, and Kate had come to both his and her nephew’s rescue.

It was time for his sister not only to separate the dual roles she’d been playing but to have a much deserved and long-overdue promotion within the Foundation. Rob had the unanimous support of the Foundation board, and it was a surprise Kate didn’t know was coming.

“I’ve lined up several people for you to interview,” she said. “But I’m not sure I’ve found the right person yet. So I’m still looking. In fact, I had lunch with Agnes Sherwood the other day. I asked her and a handful of other women of discerning taste to keep their ears open and let me know if they hear of someone good who is looking.”

Agnes Sherwood was one of the Dallas area’s most influential doyennes. She was the grand dame of the small affluent town of Celebration, Texas, and the woman had more money than the U.S. Treasury and commanded twice as much respect. She was just about ready to commit to a tidy donation for the pediatric wing but had to confer with her financial advisors.

“So it won’t be long now and you’ll have your own entourage following you around tending to your every whim.”

He scowled at his sister, and she laughed at him in return. She knew how much he hated the concept of an entourage. Yet he couldn’t help but think her word choice was ironic, given that he had just used it to describe Pepper and her lack of followers.

It was more like Pepper Merriweather, party of one. Pepper Merriweather with the rosebud mouth.

Pepper Merriweather, who’d obviously taken up residence in his head.

Chapter Four

Pepper wasn’t quite sure she’d heard the man correctly. She leaned in, over the desk in the Celebrations, Inc., catering office that stood between them, and asked, “Excuse me?”

“I said, exactly how much did your father bilk out of the people who trusted him?”

Pepper blinked and glanced at the Catering to Dallas cameras, which were rolling, then back at the man. Her first thought was, Oh, okay, this must be someone’s idea of a joke. A bad joke, granted, which they would edit out of the final footage. But when she smiled at the man and waited for him to smile back or give some other hint at a punch line, he didn’t.

That’s when her stomach fell and Pepper realized this wasn’t a joke. The man was serious. She’d been set up.

Before Pepper had returned to work on the set of Catering to Dallas, she and the show’s producers had agreed that any and all talk about her father and his case was off-limits on the show. Her father’s attorney insisted that trying Harris Merriweather’s case on a reality TV show could only hurt his chances for a fair trial when he got his day in court.

“Answer me!” the angry man demanded.

Pepper wanted to kick herself. How could she have been so naive to believe that the bigwigs of a reality television show that thrived on sensationalism would pass up the opportunity for the inside scoop about scandal and intrigue? Even Pepper had to acknowledge that it was fodder for good ratings.

But they’d promised.

And she’d believed them.

The producers had put the man on the shooting schedule, had him masquerade as a customer interested in a catering estimate. They’d even told Pepper they were bringing him in for a short “day in the life of Celebrations, Inc.” vignette. This was to be a simple shot of her interacting with a potential customer. It was supposed to be a good way for her to ease back into the show.

But obviously the joke was on her.

Her next thought, as she glanced from the angry man to the rolling television cameras, was, Ooh, this was not how happily-ever-after was supposed to begin.

As the man proceeded to berate her and her father, Pepper’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. She knew she had to get out of there. Without saying a word, she calmly turned around and grabbed her purse from a drawer in the filing cabinet behind her, stood and began walking to her car.

“Follow her!” hissed Bill Hines, the director of Catering to Dallas.

Pepper dared not glance back over her shoulder. Because if she did, she would be staring blankly into a television camera pointed at her face. She’d look like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Except, as she beelined for her car, she decided it was more apt to say she felt like a deer on the run at the opening of hunting season.

Thank goodness she’d gotten enough of a head start to allow her time to get into her car, lock the doors and drive away, escaping the unanswered questions that hung between Pepper and the camera crew.

Maybe she should’ve stayed in St. Michel. She’d only been home for three days, and already things were going haywire. She’d managed to slip back into the country unnoticed on an uneventful flight that arrived in the wee hours of the morning. Then she’d accepted a ride from a stranger who had kissed her senseless and disappeared into the ether.

Although he had told her to call him if she needed saving again. And she did. What would he do if she called?

Naah. She was perfectly capable of saving herself.

The first day back, when she’d finally opened her eyes, rested and refreshed, back in her own bed, back in Celebration, Texas, it was as if she’d awakened from a bad dream. For a very short window of time—with Robert Macintyre’s kiss still fresh on her lips—everything seemed to indicate that she had, indeed, made the right decision to come home.

Pepper had expected that sense of security and rightness to carry over when she went back to work. She’d also hoped that somehow she’d hear from Rob again, but then she reminded herself that he didn’t have her number—though he had Sydney’s. She’d dialed it with his phone. He knew where she lived. If he’d wanted to see her again, he could’ve made the effort.

She hadn’t told her girlfriends about the kiss. From this vantage point she was glad she hadn’t. If she didn’t tell, she could pretend that it never happened.

Which was probably for the best. Because coming fresh off that disaster, here she was, her first day back on the job, and she’d walked right into a setup.

She was beginning to sense a pattern.

It certainly wasn’t the stuff that happily-ever-after was made of. At least not the happily-ever-after she’d held in her heart a few days ago in Maya’s Chocolate Shop.

Before turning onto her street, she glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her. When she was sure the coast was clear, she pressed the garage door opener and pulled, quickly pressed the button to shut the garage door behind her and killed the engine. She sat there for a few moments listening to the engine tick and sigh in the cool, quiet, dim space. The only light was the eerie yellow glow from the fixture attached to the automatic door opener.

For a moment it crossed her mind that this windowless garage might be the only place in the world where she could truly escape the perils and scrutiny of the outside world. Inside the house, there were windows and the television, which seemed to run a constant commentary of judgments and opinions about her father’s presumed guilt, the family’s involvement, her mother’s choice to run away to St. Michel and Pepper’s own choice to come home.

The beginning of a headache throbbed in her temples. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the lids, but it didn’t help. When she opened her eyes again, the dim garage door opener light had shut off. In the gray darkness, everything looked fuzzy and out of proportion, especially the shadows.

A voice of reason—a voice of fight—made her stare down the shadows, because that was the only way she could prove this dread that threatened to consume her was not bigger than she was. She alone had the power to expel all the shadow monsters, but that light had to come from inside her. Still, first she had to get out of the car.

As her eyes focused, she could see her running shoes sitting on the stoop leading up to the kitchen door. A set of golf clubs that she’d used only once leaned against the wall next to it. Her bike was suspended by chains from the ceiling above the clubs.

Wow, she’d taken so many things for granted before the rug had been yanked out from under her family.

A chill wound its way through her body. Despite the cool December weather, the air felt clammy and clung to her like a warning.

If she stayed here, it would essentially be her own version of house arrest. The thought made her heart feel so heavy it hurt.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and gripped the steering wheel. It felt good touching something tangible, something tactile, to ground her in reality.

Who would’ve thought that the garage and the safety it provided had the potential to become her favorite room in the house?

And that thought was just pathetic.

She had to get herself out of this funk. Who better to call than Lindsay and Carlos, the show’s executive producers? They hadn’t been there today. Surely, they didn’t know what had happened. There was no way they would’ve allowed it.

She took out her cell phone and dialed Carlos’s number from her contacts. After four rings, the call went to voice mail.

“Dammit,” she muttered under her breath, as she listened to the mailbox greeting. At the beep, she said, “Hi, Carlos, it’s Pepper. We had a bit of confusion during filming today, and I need to talk to you and Lindsay about it. Please call me as soon as possible. Thanks.”

Just as she was hanging up, another call was beeping in. The name AJ Sherwood-Antonelli flashed on the screen. AJ was Pepper’s lifelong friend, business partner and costar on Catering to Dallas. Even seeing her name on the phone’s screen made Pepper feel better.

“AJ, hi. I’m so glad you called.”

“Hi, Pepper, what’s going on? I heard there was some trouble during the shoot today.”

Pepper shifted in her seat and the leather squeaked under the movement. “Well, that’s putting it mildly.” She told AJ about the bait and switch and the ensuing panic attack that had her bolting from the set.

Since her father’s arrest, she had been prone to heart palpations and sudden gripping moments of utter panic. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was almost like an out-of-body experience.

They always passed in due time, but as they were happening, the attacks were terrifying. She always had the most insane urge to run.

Fight-or-flight syndrome was what the doctor had called it. Obviously, she was a flier, not a fighter.

“I’m so sorry, hon. What a horrible thing to happen. Have you talked to Carlos and Lindsay about it? I just can’t see them being okay with something like that.”

“I called but didn’t get an answer.”

“Yeah, they mentioned that they’d be tied up with something. Probably sponsor-related. That’s just about the only thing that would keep them incommunicado.”

At least they were incommunicado for a valid reason. Not pathetically hiding out in a car parked in a garage. Besides, it was a little cold out here. When she’d run out she’d forgotten to grab her coat. As she let herself out of the car, she made a mental note to get it the next time she was at the Celebrations, Inc., office.

The thought gave her a sinking feeling.

“Hey, I left my red coat in the office,” she said to AJ. “Could you bring it home with you when you leave today? Maybe I can get it later.”

She let herself into the house. It seemed eerily quiet, but the way the sun shone in through the windows lifted her spirits.

“Sure thing,” AJ said. “We don’t have any jobs on the schedule tonight. So, I should be home around seven. Want to come over for dinner?”

“That sounds heavenly. This weary soul could use some good food and a good friend—”

The doorbell rang. Since Pepper was standing in the hallway that led to the foyer, she saw Bill Hines, director of Catering to Dallas, staring back at her through the beveled glass door. Her heart pounded, and for a split second she wished she’d stayed in the garage despite the cold.

“Ugh, Bill is at the door,” she said to AJ. “I really don’t want to talk to him right now.”

“Don’t answer the door.”

“I have to. We’re staring at each other through the glass.”

“Well, if you didn’t let him in, it would serve him right.”

“Or at least it would send him a message,” Pepper said. “I’ve got to deal with him sometime. It might as well be now. But I swear to you, if he’s come with a team of cameras. I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“If he ambushes you for a second time, you’d be within your right to deck him on grounds of self-defense. Or you can at least take comfort in knowing I will bail you out of jail.”

There was a beat of silence on the line. “Umm, sorry about that,” AJ said. “That was a poor word choice. What I was trying to say is that I’m here for you, but I’d better let you go before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

Poor AJ. “No offense taken. You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. Besides I might very well need you to come and bail me out if Bill gets too fresh.”

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