Christmas With Carlie

All he wants for Christmas...

Widower Luke Forrester’s fortune can’t buy happiness, but he’s counting on it to give his twin daughters the magical Christmas they deserve at Poppy Gold Inns. Activities director Carlie Benton, with her upbeat seasonal spirit, definitely isn’t impressed by money. She’s all about holiday cheer and he can’t resist.

While Luke and Carlie try to restore the sparkle in his kids’ eyes, the heat between them melts the winter chill. And in the season of miracles, anything is possible—including a tempting second chance at love.

Luke released a harsh breath as he watched Carlie walk away.

While he’d already noticed she was attractive, this time her appeal was striking a primal chord.

There was nothing indifferent about Carlie; she was passionate, vital and far more beautiful than he’d recognized at first. She reminded him of being in the desert after a spring thunderstorm, where everything had been dry and desolate, only to awaken with a roar after a dose of life-giving rain.

A wry smile curved Luke’s mouth—flash floods through an arroyo weren’t uncommon after a spring storm, either, and they could be lethal. Besides, he wasn’t a desert—he was a man who’d lost his wife.

The last thing he needed was to get fanciful about someone like Carlie.

Dear Reader,

Christmas is a cherished time of the year and I love writing stories based around the holiday. In Christmas with Carlie I indulged in creating a setting filled with evergreen swags and twinkling lights, along with the scent of baking cookies and wassail.

For my first three stories placed around Poppy Gold Inns—my imaginary bed-and-breakfast complex—I wanted to include a military theme to honor the men and women who serve their country. And it occurred to me that a wealthy hero, who’d lost his wife in the army, would be interesting to explore. Luke Forrester has two small girls who are struggling to understand why Mommy never came home. In helping them, he discovers love again with a special woman who creates her own place in his heart.

Classic Movie Alert: There’s a wonderful 1988 TV movie called I’ll Be Home For Christmas starring a host of talented actors, including Hal Holbrook, Peter Gallagher and Eva Marie Saint. The title is shared with multiple holiday films, but this one is set in the last days of WWII. I haven’t had luck getting this on DVD yet, but I keep hoping!

I enjoy hearing from readers and can be contacted c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, ON M3B 3K9, Canada.

Julianna Morris

Christmas with Carlie

Julianna Morris

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Some of JULIANNA MORRIS’s most cherished childhood memories are of sitting by the fire and listening to Christmas music as she crafted gifts for her family. Since then Julianna has experienced Christmas in many different parts of the United States. Traditions vary, but she finds the spirit of the season wherever she travels. Perhaps one of her most unique memories is Christmas Eve in Albuquerque, New Mexico—spent, of all places, in the old cemetery, where people light luminarias to remember family and friends. She’ll never forget the warmth and love found in the flickering glow of thousands of candles.

To all the men and women who serve their country. May you find peace.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

“MR. FORRESTER?”

Luke jerked, realizing he’d been staring into space, thinking about Erika again.

“Yes, Tilly?” he asked, shaking his head to clear it.

“I’ve made all the holiday arrangements you requested, but I wish you’d reconsider.”

Her face was tense and she only called him Mr. Forrester when she was annoyed. Tilly Robinson had been with him since soon after he’d started his business and often acted more like a mother hen than an executive assistant. Most recently she had been encouraging him to take his daughters away for Christmas. Maybe she was right. Beth and Annie were hurting over their mother’s death and no words seemed to comfort them.

Hell, he didn’t understand.

He’d never expected to fall in love with a soldier, but he hadn’t been able to ask Erika to give up something she’d believed in, even after their twin daughters were born. Her father and grandfather had served in the army and she’d prepared her whole life to follow in their footsteps. The night he’d proposed, Erika had reminded him that it couldn’t always be someone else’s husband or wife or daughter who served.

The sound of a throat clearing made Luke realize his thoughts had drifted yet again. He looked into Tilly’s determined eyes. “Why are you so sure that going away is the right idea? Even the grief therapists I’ve consulted can’t agree.”

“I’m not sure, but hanging around Austin hasn’t done you much good,” she replied bluntly. “How long has it been since you got a full night’s sleep?”

Longer than he could remember.

If he slept, he dreamed about his wife, especially their last vacation. The twins had been five and Erika had managed to get leave from her unit in the Middle East. She’d met them in Italy. They’d spent two weeks with the girls, exploring Tuscany. Three months later, an army notification team had shown up, regretfully informing him that his wife had died in the line of duty.

Telling Annie and Beth had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. The look on their faces had haunted him ever since. It was as if they’d retreated into themselves and he didn’t know how to bring them back.

“I’ve never slept that much, Tilly, you know that. And it’s Beth and Annie that matter.” Luke tossed his pen onto the desk. “Do you have a place in mind for your great plan?”

“I’m sure we can come up with something.”

His first thought was the large villa he’d rented for the family in Tuscany. The twins had enjoyed the indoor pool and the villa had come fully staffed. He shook his head. What was he thinking? Italy was the last place they’d seen Erika. It would simply remind them that she wasn’t there.

“Maybe the Caribbean,” he mused.

“Absolutely not,” Tilly told him sharply. “That’s where you went that time Erika’s leave was revoked. And don’t suggest the French château you went to three years ago, either. You should go somewhere completely new. Take a look at this.” She slapped a paper down on his desk.

It was a printout from the website of a place called Poppy Gold Inns on the West Coast.

“California?”

Tilly’s eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with California. As a matter of fact, General Pierson’s aide recommended Poppy Gold the last time we spoke. I’m sure I can clear your appointment and meeting schedule for the next month.”

“A month?” he repeated. “How did we go from getting out of town for Christmas to a whole month?”

“It has to be long enough to do some good. Better yet, stay a week or two into the New Year. They have a fully equipped business center, so you’d be able to handle anything urgent that comes up.”

“Let me take a look.”

Luke turned to his computer and pulled up the website for Poppy Gold Inns, where the holidays—both Thanksgiving and Christmas—were the main theme. According to the description, the entire historic district of a town in the California Gold Country had been converted to a group of bed-and-breakfast inns. In the pictures, Poppy Gold Inns was a quaint Victorian village, decorated to the nines with holly, evergreen and red velvet bows.

“I don’t see any snow,” he said, “so it obviously wouldn’t be a white Christmas.”

Tilly snorted. “When was the last time we had a white Christmas in Austin, Texas? Down here, it’s Santa Claus in a cowboy hat, driving a stagecoach. Stop procrastinating. I’ve checked and one of the houses is available.”

“You’ve already checked? Let me guess—you’ve already reserved it, too.”

“Of course. I didn’t want anyone else to take it while you were dragging your feet. It needed a referral from General Pierson’s office, so the clock was ticking.”

Luke’s jaw tightened. Maybe a change would be best for the girls.

For him, too.

“All right, clear my calendar from the last week of November through the first week of January,” he told her. “We’ll take the jet and leave the day after Thanksgiving.”

Tilly pursed her lips. “What about your parents? They planned to be in Austin until the twenty-fifth.”

Luke loved his mother and father, but they could be something of a trial. Craig and Heather Forrester both had generous trust funds, but when he was a kid, they’d always spent their annual allowance within nine or ten months. He’d hated the way they lived off their wealthier friends the rest of the year. Luke’s grandparents on both sides had given up on them before his sister, Nicole, was born, being people who heartily disapproved of a frivolous lifestyle. He barely remembered them.

“Get my parents invited to an embassy dinner in Washington. They’ll regretfully call off their trip to Austin.”

Craig and Heather’s latest goal was getting appointed to a diplomatic post. They were effortlessly charming, so it was possible, but he doubted they understood that being in the diplomatic corps required actual effort. Work wasn’t a concept they grasped well.

“Which embassy?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just find one that’s having a party. I’ll ask my sister if she wants to come with us to California.”

“You’ll also need a tutor for the girls so they don’t get behind in school.” Tilly made a note on her pad. “Anything else?”

“Not right now, but I hope this bed-and-breakfast place has decent plumbing.”

Tilly looked smug. “If they don’t, you can fire me.”

“I’ve fired you a hundred times. You refuse to go.”

“That’s what makes me such a valuable employee... I don’t listen to a word you say.”

He smiled faintly. Tilly was more valuable to him than a thousand other employees and she knew it.

As she walked out of the office, he closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to when life had been simpler. But life never got simpler. It just got harder.

CHAPTER ONE

CARLIE BENTON BREEZED through the back entrance of Old City Hall. No longer a civic building, it housed the reservation hub and guest reception area for Poppy Gold Inns and Conference Center, along with various offices and other useful spaces.

“Good morning,” called a familiar voice.

Carlie grinned at her aunt. “Good morning, Aunt Polly. Wasn’t Thanksgiving terrific?”

“It was wonderful. I think we broke a record for everyone getting back home to Glimmer Creek for the holiday.”

“That’s because they wanted to see Tessa’s baby.”

Polly Murphy beamed. “I don’t think Tessa and Gabe got to hold their daughter the entire afternoon, even to change Meredith’s diapers.”

“Tessa was able to nurse Merri, that’s all.” Carlie glanced at the clock. “Oops, I’ve got to go. Busy day. See you later.”

Until sixteen months ago, Carlie had been working in the San Francisco Bay Area, only returning to her hometown for visits. Then she’d been hired as the Poppy Gold Inns’ activity director. Carlie loved it and in many ways working at the historic bed-and-breakfast facility was like attending a family reunion every day. Her cousin Tessa McKinley was the owner-manager along with her father, Liam Connor, and half the employees were related in one way or another.

If only her own father...

A hint of melancholy went through Carlie. Dad had been injured the previous summer while laying down asphalt on a road as a highway worker. An impatient driver had sped around some slow-moving cars and plowed into him, permanently damaging his leg. Mike Benton now worked as a traffic flagger at road construction sites, which he hated. But he also wouldn’t take a job at Poppy Gold, no matter how much the family cajoled him.

“I don’t want anybody’s pity,” he’d declared on more than one occasion. He didn’t understand that it wouldn’t be pity; it would be giving Poppy Gold the benefit of three decades of practical, hands-on civil engineering experience.

Carlie shook the thought away and greeted the members of her staff who’d already arrived.

“Did you hear...?” Joan Peters started to say, only to stop and blush.

“Hear what?” asked Carlie.

“Nothing,” Tracy Wade said hastily.

Tracy and Joan exchanged glances and hurriedly went back to making holiday name tags for the staff.

Carlie frowned.

She’d sensed an air of anticipation in Old City Hall after arriving, but had put it down to adrenaline. They had to hit the ground running to get ready for Christmas, so there was little time for day-after-Thanksgiving relaxation. For the next six weeks, Poppy Gold would be devoted to the Christmas and New Year celebrations. The Victorian village was ideally suited for strings of lights, electric candles in the windows, mistletoe, evergreen swags and everything else that was bright and cheerful.

“Is something going on that I should know about?” she asked.

“Uh, no. We mustn’t gossip.”

Especially here at work, Carlie added silently.

Gossip was a form of entertainment in the small town of Glimmer Creek, but it was discouraged at Poppy Gold, particularly when it came to their guests.

Carlie didn’t have time to think about anything new, regardless. The basic holiday schedule had been established long before she’d begun working as the activities director, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be busy implementing her own ideas. Traditionally, the autumn decorations came down the morning after Thanksgiving, with Christmas arriving with a vengeance the next day. Well, it would arrive with a fervent festive spirit.

Poppy Gold Inns had guests who booked years in advance for Christmas kickoff day, as the regulars called it. Visitors didn’t have to participate, but being able to join in as part of the “work crew” was why many of them came for the extended Thanksgiving weekend, saying it got them in the mood for the holiday. Some loved decorating trees, some preferred making wreaths, while others strung evergreen garlands on fences or lampposts or worked on the public areas of a specific Victorian. There were lots of things to do for all ages.

In her office, Carlie pulled up a list of the expected Friday check-ins on the computer, her eyebrows shooting upward when she saw that the largest suite at the John Muir Cottage had been reserved for the next month by the Forrester family. Actually, for the next month and a half.

Forrester?

The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t think why.

Carlie dialed her cousin’s number. Tessa was Poppy Gold’s manager, and if anyone knew what was going on, she was the one. After all, the John Muir Cottage was special. Poppy Gold reserved it for active service members, as well as veterans and military families who were going through a difficult period.

“Hi,” she said when Tessa answered. “I wanted to check with you about the John Muir Cottage. The Yosemite suite has been reserved through January 7. What if you get an urgent referral for someone else?”

“We’ll put them in the Gold Strike House or find something else. You know we always keep a certain percentage of space available for emergencies, though nothing the size of the Yosemite suite. It should be okay. Referrals for families are rare at Christmastime.”

“But a month and a half? That’s longer than normal.”

“It’s an unusual situation. I, um...” Tessa sounded distracted, probably because of the baby crying in the background. A moment later, she came back on the line. “Sorry, Merri needed some attention. Anyway, Mrs. Forrester was an army major who died in the Middle East. The father wants to get away from home with his twin daughters to help them through the holiday season. Apparently they’re still having a rough time dealing with their mother’s death.”

Forrester?

Carlie’s jaw dropped as she realized why the name was familiar. The year before it had been on magazine covers, scandal rags, newspapers...everywhere. There weren’t too many wealthy men whose wives had died wearing army fatigues and the media had covered the story for weeks. She’d felt terrible for them. Grief should be a private thing.

“Uh...oh, I see,” Carlie said. “Are they staying under the usual terms?”

Poppy Gold’s policy was to offer military families seven days of rest and relaxation at no charge, and a substantially reduced rate for longer visits, but Luke Forrester could probably buy Poppy Gold with his pocket change. She remembered the articles about him saying he had the Midas touch for everything from real estate to investing to manufacturing. Basically, he ran a huge conglomerate of different companies.

“It was a regular referral from General Pierson’s office, so it wouldn’t seem right to treat them differently from anyone else who’s stayed there.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Carlie hung up. Her staff had left on various tasks, giving her a quiet moment to think. Celebrities often visited Poppy Gold, so she couldn’t be sure the air of anticipation she’d noticed was because of Luke Forrester’s imminent arrival. It seemed possible, though. He was a different kind of celebrity and female employees were bound to see him as a romantically tragic figure, particularly the unmarried ones.

She shook her head and went to the storeroom to finish checking the contents of the shipment received on Wednesday. This year, she’d suggested they give a uniquely designed Poppy Gold Christmas ornament to the guests and volunteers for kickoff day. But the ornaments had arrived late and she and her staff were still checking for quality and putting them back into their gift boxes.

Two hours later, she got up and stretched. She wasn’t done, but she wanted to attend a noon luncheon at the concert hall catered by Sarah’s Sweet Treats. Sarah was one of her cousins and a fabulous cook and baker.

It was a fun event, featuring dishes made with “leftover” turkey. Of course, they weren’t actually leftovers because the catering staff had been baking turkey all night, but the guests wouldn’t care. They could enjoy “leftover” Thanksgiving dishes, but also curried turkey salad, turkey croquettes, turkey sandwiches...along with a huge number of other inventive offerings.

Creative Turkey Bites had started nine years ago when Tessa’s mother decided a few of their stay-over guests might miss leftovers. Because of that, Poppy Gold had begun serving a second turkey meal on the Friday after Thanksgiving. The tickets were expensive, but worth twice the price in Carlie’s opinion.

“Carlie, Bill Blalock just phoned,” Tim Mahoney called out from his cubicle. “Your presence is requested in Guest Reception.”

Because her office was located in Old City Hall, she was sometimes asked to help out with public relations issues. On the few occasions when her presence was “requested,” it meant they had a difficult guest. She headed to the reception area, only to stop and blink when she saw Luke Forrester standing near the curved mahogany reception counter.

His pictures hadn’t done him justice. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen—and the most grumpy-looking one, too. Two little girls stood nearby. Both seemed solemn and anxious and one had tearstains on her face. Plainly they weren’t experiencing any warm, after-Thanksgiving glow.

Carlie stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Carlie Benton. May I help you?”

“Yes. We’ve been up since two this morning and now I’ve been informed we can’t get into our accommodations for several hours,” Luke Forrester snapped, ignoring her extended hand.

“I see.”

So much for romantically tragic; he was more like the Grinch who’d stolen Christmas. Carlie cast a look at the clock. It was shortly before noon and check-in started at 4:00 p.m. unless prior arrangements had been made. Both the website and any employee Mr. Forrester talked to would have made that clear.

Carlie walked around to a registration monitor and confirmed they had a standard reservation, with no special requests.

“I’m sorry, but your rooms aren’t ready yet.” She smiled at the two girls, who had to be identical twins—they were as alike as two peas in a pod. “In the meantime, would you like to have a yummy lunch?”

The one whose cheeks were tearstained ducked her head while the other offered a tiny smile in return. “Yes, thank you. I’m Beth,” she said. “And this is my sister, Annie.”

She nudged Annie, who wiggled her fingers in a small wave.

“It’s great to meet you both. I’m Carlie.”

“Excuse me, you haven’t explained why you weren’t ready for us when we arrived,” Luke Forrester interjected impatiently.

Carlie fixed him with the steady gaze she’d cultivated dealing with newspaper reporters at her old public relations job. It was never easy for her to stay calm, though. She had a terrible temper.

“Mr. Forrester, I’m very sorry, but check-in time is 4:00 p.m. We had visitors at the John Muir Cottage last night. They left on schedule and our housekeeping staff is working to get everything ready for you. In the meantime, there’s a special luncheon being served down the street. You and your daughters are welcome to eat as our guests while you’re waiting.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw and she expected further demands, but he finally said, “Fine,” in a sharp tone.

Carlie glanced at Bill Blalock. He was excellent with people, so it was unusual for him not to be able to handle a difficult client. Of course, no matter how skilled he was, a few guests always insisted on speaking to someone with more authority. In most cases, she’d discovered they’d caused their own problem and didn’t want to take responsibility.

“Bill, please call me when Mr. Forrester’s accommodations are ready,” she asked, giving him a significant look that suggested putting a rush on the cleaning crew.

Poppy Gold Inns allowed guests into their rooms early when feasible, but first they had to be properly prepared and approved by a housekeeping supervisor. While Carlie didn’t believe that bad manners and arbitrary expectations should be rewarded, the Forrester family was obviously under a great deal of strain. Quickly getting them into their suite would be best all around.

“I’ll take care of it,” Bill promised. “Don’t be concerned about your luggage, Mr. Forrester. We’ll secure your bags here and deliver them later.”