What She Really Wants For Christmas

What she Really wants for Christmas

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

1

Rumor has it that Atlanta’s own Just Between Us, the three-year-old, sex-themed, hot-topic afternoon television show hosted by Eve Best, is soon going into national syndication. Geared toward women’s perspectives and concerns, the local show has garnered a widely growing audience and advertisers have taken notice. While taking on contemporary, cutting-edge topics, Ms. Best’s energy and spontaneity has captured the attention of teens and mothers alike.

Recently, however, the local show has drawn a maelstrom of not-so-flattering publicity. Most of you already know about the state lottery win, shared by six employees of the show, including Ms. Best. But what this reporter has just learned is that despite attempts to keep the unpleasantness quiet, a lawsuit filed by a former segment producer, Liza Skinner, has halted the disbursement of the winnings.

According to my source, Ms. Skinner was an original member of the lottery pool before leaving the show nearly a year ago. There is some confusion as to whether she still had money in the pot, but the number 13, which she’d chosen, was among the six winning numbers, and apparently she seems to think she deserves a share.

L IZA QUIT READING the article and threw the copy of last week’s Atlanta Daily News onto the passenger seat of her compact car. When she got home, she was throwing the tattered paper away. No use continuing to torture herself. The wheels were already in motion. Soon it would all be over. She hoped.

She pushed a shaky hand through her tangled hair and tried to get comfortable—not easy with her long legs. She had no business being here. Her attorney had told her to stay away from the Just Between Us studio. At least until her lawsuit was settled. Of course then there’d be no reason to be here, in the parking lot, waiting, like a smitten schoolgirl, for a glimpse of Eve and Jane. No matter which way the suit went, her friends would never speak to her again.

She didn’t blame them. All she’d done in the past year was cause them pain. Hadn’t they warned her about Rick? From the start, they knew he’d be trouble. They’d been her best friends since the sixth grade, closer to her than anyone in the whole world. Why hadn’t she listened to them?

Liza let her head fall back against the worn cloth upholstery and forced herself to breathe. He’d been just her type, wild and sexy and a little dangerous, and she’d thought he was the one. He turned out to be way more dangerous than she’d ever imagined.

Movement caught her eye and she turned her head just in time to see a woman step outside, the sunlight glimmering off her pale-blond hair. She looked like Nicole, the Just Between Us segment producer who’d replaced Liza. The woman who was going to get Liza’s share of the lottery money. Unless the lawsuit was successful.

God, why didn’t they just pay up? It wasn’t as if each of them wasn’t going to still be filthy rich after coughing up her share. She closed her eyes, blocking out the image of the woman walking toward a red convertible. A reminder of how much Liza had lost. Just another month and it would all be over.

Although, if she had the guts, she could go to Eve and Jane now. Confess everything. The idea took hold and her breathing quickened. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Could it be that simple? After nearly a year of selling her soul? Ha. Sure, confessing would ease her conscience, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Eve would still be vulnerable to public humiliation. And it would still be Liza’s fault.

She hung her head and stared at her pitiful cuticles. Nowadays she couldn’t even afford a manicure. The small inheritance she’d received after her father’s death last year was nearly gone and there was rent to pay, attorney’s fees and a myriad of other things. But what she resented the most was the money Rick spent on cigarettes, booze and drugs. Money she could’ve used to buy a better car, live in a better neighborhood.

Maybe when this was over she’d be able to find a decent job. Never one like she had with Just Between Us. That had been a dream job. The once-in-a-lifetime kind. She knew because she’d been a part of it from the beginning. Those crazy, fifteen-hour days when none of them knew what they were doing, but they pushed forward, tackling any task they were given, their passion making up for what they’d lacked in experience.

Their hard work had paid off. The show was a huge success. This should have been the best time in Liza’s life. But she was no longer a part of her friends’ lives or a part of the show. All because of her stupidity. Even if Eve and Jane eventually forgave her, she seriously doubted she could forgive herself.

Eve walked out of the redbrick building, and Liza bit down on her lower lip. The radiance in her friend’s face made Liza’s stomach knot. Behind her was the reason for Eve’s glow. Tall and good-looking, with dark hair, the man put a familiar hand at the small of Eve’s back.

Liza had heard Eve had found someone, Mitch Hayes, the guy who had once represented the television network wanting to sign Just Between Us. She looked happy. Happier than Liza had ever seen her.

Damn. No way was Liza getting her friends involved now. She’d push for the settlement, pay off Rick and then she’d disappear. Start a new life where no one knew her, where she wouldn’t be considered scum of the earth.

And never see her friends again.

Liza squeezed her eyes shut, willing the threatening tears away. At least Eve would be spared any humiliation. A tear escaped and, angry, Liza swiped at it. Crying wouldn’t solve a damn thing. Never had. Never would. She scrubbed at her eyes, disgusted at the display of weakness.

And then she heard something. Knocking. At the car window.

Opening her eyes, she swung her face toward the sound. A man with short dark hair and concerned brown eyes stared back at her. It took a moment to recognize him…the doctor who consulted for the medical drama shot in the studio next to Just Between Us. Dr. Evan something. He’d asked her to lunch once. She’d blown him off. Sedate and conservative. Definitely not her type.

She took another furtive swipe at her eyes, annoyed that he might have seen her crying. When he motioned for her to let down her window, she was tempted to ignore him. But that was bound to make matters worse, and the last thing she needed was a scene in front of the station.

Lucky she could afford a car at all, she didn’t have the luxury of automatic windows and manually rolled it down. He ducked through, gripping the top of the door, and smiled. She didn’t.

“Liza, hi.” He paused. “Remember me?”

She deliberately frowned and gave a small shake of her head. If the slight embarrassed him, maybe he’d leave her alone.

“Evan Gann.” He inclined his head toward the building. “From the studio beside Just Between Us.”

“Oh, right. You’re the consultant.”

He nodded, his eyes probing. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I’m persona non grata around here. Surely, you’ve heard.”

“Ah, the lawsuit.” His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know the details—”

“You wanted something?”

His mouth curved in an annoyingly tolerant smile. “I was surprised to see you. Look, you want to have a drink sometime?”

“Why?”

He chuckled. “Because you’re attractive and I like you?”

It took Liza a moment to collect herself. Was this guy nuts? He’d probably be banned from the station just for talking to her. She frowned. Except he really wasn’t nuts. He was this straightlaced, normal kind of guy. “I’ve got too much going on right now.” She reached for the knob to roll up the window, and when he didn’t move, she said, “Do you mind?”

“Why don’t you take my number for when you have some time? I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Look, Evan, you’re a nice guy but—”

“Thought you didn’t remember me?” His slow, teasing grin did something to the inside of her chest.

She almost smiled. “See you around,” she said, and this time when she attempted to roll up the window, he let go and stepped back. She started the engine, reversed out of the parking spot and drove off without looking back.

E VAN REACHED INTO his slacks’ pocket for his car keys and used the remote to unlock the doors. His silver Camry was parked right next to the spot Liza had vacated. That was the only reason he’d noticed her, sitting behind the wheel of the small white compact, crying. Wisely, he hadn’t mentioned it. From what he knew of her, she wasn’t the type of woman who indulged herself with tears. In fact, from what he’d heard around the station, she’d been more prone to express her anger or pain with a few choice words.

Still, the lawsuit she’d launched didn’t add up. Until a year ago, Liza, Eve and Jane had been inseparable. He’d admired their loyalty and friendship. The show was really taking off, thanks to Eve Best’s charismatic personality and Liza’s creative genius. And then suddenly Liza disappeared. No one seemed to know why she left or where she went, and he had to admit, he was a bit curious.

Mostly because he’d liked Liza from the first time he’d met her. He’d been on his way to the set of Heartbeat when he’d bumped into her. Literally. She’d been talking to someone over her shoulder and hadn’t seen him come around the corner. Abruptly she’d turned and plowed right into him. Unfortunately for him, she’d been holding a cup of coffee.

He smiled when he thought about how she’d tried to right the wrong, using her napkin to blot his suit, regardless of where the coffee had landed. When she’d finally realized that pressing the napkin to his crotch might not have been the wisest move, she’d looked him in the eye, apologized and asked to be given the cleaning bill.

No nervous twittering or inane remarks. She wasn’t like so many of the women he met, either on the set or at dinner parties hosted by his well-intentioned friends, who were determined to find him a wife. Liza was straightforward, to the point, and he liked that. Normally he preferred petite blondes, which made his attraction to her all the more curious, since she was tall with long, unruly brown hair.

Not that it mattered. He’d asked Liza out to lunch once, and in her no-nonsense fashion, she’d turned him down flat. No excuses, no little white lies to let him down easy. Just a frank refusal that told him not to ask again. After that there was the occasional exchange of greetings when they passed each other in the lobby or parking lot.

Realizing he was still staring after her long-gone car, he opened the door of his Camry and slid behind the wheel. Eve had walked out of the building ahead of him, but obviously she wasn’t the reason Liza had been here. So why was she here? More importantly, why did he care? She’d just shot him down again.

I T WAS SO LATE by the time Liza got home that there wasn’t a single parking spot left in the complex and she had to park a block away from her apartment. Sighing, she cut the car’s engine and then grabbed the bag of burgers she’d picked up from a drive-through. She really hated parking on the street, especially in this crappy neighborhood. Hopefully, any thieves would go for the nice new black sedan parked in front of her.

Not that she loved her secondhand lemon of a car. But if something happened to it, she couldn’t afford to buy another one. Rick had naturally insisted on buying a brand-new Harley-Davidson for himself. With her money. Amazing he hadn’t cracked it up yet. Not that it would hurt her feelings if he had. In fact, in her more stressed-out moments, she’d actually wished he would. He didn’t have to die or anything, just end up in a coma for a good five years.

Her steps slowed as she thought about how he lived in the apartment right next to hers, and that if he happened to look out of the window he’d see her walk up the stairs. Inevitably he’d come outside and grill her about where she’d been. His language would be foul and he wouldn’t give a damn about who overheard. But if she was lucky, he’d be passed out and she wouldn’t have to deal with him until tomorrow.

Sighing, she took the first few stairs, her daze darting toward Rick’s door, praying, hoping she’d have an evening of peace and quiet. So far, so good…

“Hey, Liza, what you got in the bag?”

The sound of her new neighbor’s high-pitched voice made Liza cringe. She waved for Mary Ellen to keep it down and then, with one eye on Rick’s door, she hurried the rest of the way to the third floor.

Leaning over the railing, which was decorated with a string of large colored Christmas lights, Mary Ellen waited, dutifully keeping her mouth shut until Liza joined her. “I think he’s passed out,” the younger woman said in that strange drawl of hers.

She claimed that she and her kid were from Mississippi but Liza had her doubts. The apartment complex’s residents weren’t exactly members of mainstream society. At least once a week Liza heard a shot fired nearby, or watched the police drag away an abusive husband or boyfriend. But the rent was cheap and since she had to fork out money for both her place and Rick’s, this was the best she could afford.

Rick thought it was stupid to have separate apartments, mostly because he wanted complete control over her. But that was the one thing she wouldn’t negotiate with him. She didn’t care that she’d end up broke, but as threadbare as it was, her sanity wasn’t something she was ready to give up. Bad enough that he tried to keep track of her every move, she sure didn’t need him in her face.

She reached the third-floor landing and furtively peeked into Rick’s open window. Sure enough, he lay flat on his back on the tattered brown corduroy couch that they’d picked up at a thrift store. An empty bottle of vodka sat on the end table, but she knew he’d consumed more than booze. Good. Maybe she could have a quiet meal with Mary Ellen and her daughter.

“Told ya.” Mary Ellen inclined her dirty-blond head toward Rick’s apartment, but her gaze stayed on the fast-food bag.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I bought extra burgers for you and Freedom.”

Mary Ellen broke into a wide grin that displayed a missing back tooth, which wasn’t usually noticeable since she didn’t smile much. “Oh, goody. I thought we were gonna have to eat macaroni and cheese again.” She turned around, put two fingers into her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

Liza cringed. With dread, she took a step back and squinted into Rick’s apartment. He was still out cold. However, Freedom heard her mom’s whistle and came bounding up the stairs.

“Hi, Liza.” The eight-year-old tomboy was covered with dirt. She pulled off her red ball cap and dust flew everywhere.

“Time for dinner?” she asked her mom, her hopeful blue eyes going to the bag.

“Liza bought us burgers.”

“Yahoo. Fries, too?”

Liza unlocked her apartment door. “They would’ve gotten cold.”

“The hamburgers are cold, too,” Freedom said, with perfect logic.

“That’s true,” Mary Ellen said, her slight frown accentuating the scar paralleling her lower lip.

Sighing, Liza led them inside and went straight to the microwave. Eating cold French fries wasn’t the same thing, but Liza didn’t want to get into it with them. She wanted them to eat and leave. In fact, she should’ve given them the food to take back to their own apartment, but she had a soft spot for Mary Ellen and her daughter.

As pitiful as Liza’s place was with its chipped paint and stained, olive-green carpet, the other two managed to live in a cheaper, cramped studio apartment. Mary Ellen still ended up two months behind on the rent since her welfare checks didn’t quite cover all their expenses. With her pronounced limp, she’d had trouble finding a job that would support the two of them. Liza had never asked her about the bum leg, but she had a bad feeling about it.

She finished nuking the burgers and Mary Ellen had already put napkins on the small table. It was only big enough for two, so Freedom sat on her mother’s good knee. She quickly wolfed down her burger, and eyed a second one. Liza pushed it across to her, wishing she’d bought more than five sandwiches. When Mary Ellen finished hers, Liza offered her the last one.

“What about Rick?”

Amazing how just the mention of him could knot her stomach and send the hair straight up off the back of her neck. “What about him?”

“Isn’t he eating?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Mary Ellen regarded her quizzically. “Why do you stay with him?”

“I’m not with him.” Liza grabbed the used wrappers and crumpled them as she got to her feet. She’d seen the curious looks Mary Ellen had given her on the unfortunate occasions when Rick was drunk and he’d yelled from the door of his apartment as Liza was trying to slip quietly down the stairs. But she didn’t intend to discuss her problems with Mary Ellen. Or anyone else.

“Why do you live next door to him, then?” the other woman asked.

Liza disposed of the wrappers, using the time to compose herself. Anyone else and she would have told them it was none of their damn business, but having to look into Mary Ellen’s perpetually sad eyes, Liza just couldn’t do it.

“It’s complicated,” she said finally.

“That means you don’t want to talk about it, huh?” the little girl mumbled, her mouth full.

“Freedom,” Mary Ellen admonished her. “This is grown-up talk. You be quiet.”

Liza hid a smile. Poor kid was going to grow up to be like her. Smart-mouthed and always in trouble.

“You went to college, didn’t you?” Mary Ellen asked.

Liza slowly nodded, not liking the conversation.

“You’re so pretty and smart and I don’t understand why you’d be living in a dump like this.”

Right. Real smart. So smart that she’d put herself in a position to be blackmailed. “Look,” Liza said in a tight voice, casting a brief glance at Freedom, who’d turned to licking her fingers instead of listening to the conversation. “I don’t think you want to start a question-and-answer session.”

Mary Ellen looked grimly down at her weather-roughened hands. “No,” she said quietly, and then cleared her throat and rose from the table. “Freedom, come on. We need to be going. Thanks for dinner, Liza.” She pulled her daughter along with her, keeping her face toward the door.

“See you later.” Liza stayed in the small open kitchen and watched them go. She probably should’ve made nice. Mary Ellen hadn’t meant anything bad by what she’d said. The woman seemed to have such a lonely life, likely she only wanted to talk.

But Liza didn’t have it in her. Not today. Everything had gone wrong. After being decisive all of her life, she’d become as stable as a palm tree in a hurricane. She should never have allowed the blackmail to get this far, but she’d panicked and everything had spiraled out of control before she knew what had happened. Winning the lawsuit would save her ass, if she could only keep her act together.

She walked to the love seat and sank down, careful to avoid the bad spring in the center. God, was this headache ever going away? She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands. She needed a couple of aspirin. But that meant leaving to get them. No way. She was staying right where she was to enjoy the peace and quiet while Rick was passed out.

Going to the station had been a bad idea. She’d known it before she’d gotten in the car. But that was the sort of stupid irrational behavior she couldn’t seem to control anymore. Even though she’d never made it out of her car. Thanks to Evan Gann. People didn’t know how to mind their own damn business.

If she’d gotten into the studio, she might have learned whether another settlement was being considered. The last offer they’d made, Rick had flatly refused. Although since she’d pumped Zach Hass, the new guy, for information, everyone named in the lawsuit had probably been warned not to talk to her. For all she knew, security wouldn’t even have let her inside. Unless…

She abruptly brought her head up.

Evan Gann. He could get her inside. No one could stop her if she was going to see him. Damn it. Why hadn’t she taken his phone number? Grudgingly she pushed to her feet, and got her cell phone. She hoped like hell his number was listed.

2

A T THREE FORTY- FIVE Evan took a few minutes away from the set and called his office and then his answering service. Because of the consulting job, he only saw patients three days a week, but inevitably, on the rare occasion that he wanted some personal time, there’d be an emergency that would consume the rest of his day. Fortunately, this afternoon he was free to see Liza.

What a shock it had been when she’d called last night. As a result he’d been on edge all day. It seemed as if every shot had gone wrong and there’d been so many retakes that he was afraid he wouldn’t be done when she arrived at four fifteen. He’d finally had to pull the assistant director aside and tell her that he was going to be out of here by four, no matter what.

The truth was, his concentration wasn’t what it should be anyway. He didn’t get why Liza had decided to see him. No sign she’d been interested yesterday. So why the sudden change of heart? And why did she want to meet him at the studio? Strange that she’d want to show her face here at all.

Even stranger that he was still interested in her. Especially this time of the year. Ever since medical school and the Angela debacle, he had no use for the holidays. So what was it about Liza? He couldn’t quite grasp the attraction. Had to be something chemical. Pheromones, maybe. Or maybe that he was a sucker for a crying woman. He had an annoying urge to rescue them.

He checked his watch and saw that the AD had noticed. She gave him a small nod and he didn’t think twice before grabbing his jacket and heading off the set. He was early but he kept an electric razor in his car’s glove box. He could barely make it through the day without dark stubble covering his chin.

He’d made it halfway through the lobby when he heard the receptionist call out his name. Melinda wasn’t at her usual station but was decorating a Christmas tree in the corner. She was blond, petite and pretty, and she wasn’t shy about making her interest in him known. But she was too young and a little too brazen for his taste. Besides, she reminded him of his ex-fiancée.

“You’re right on time, Evan,” she said brightly, holding a glittering star and standing on a short ladder. “I can’t reach the top.” She demonstrated by stretching so high that pretty much everyone in the lobby noticed that she wore pink lacy underwear.

Evan kept his eyes on her face as he stayed en route to the double doors. “Where’s Leroy?” The ex-basketball-player-turned-security-guard wouldn’t even need the ladder.