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Christmas Wedding
Pamela Macaluso
Renegade GroomJesse Tyler had to find a date for his sister's wedding - fast! So he decided to ask Holly Bryant. With her carefree ways and black leather miniskirt, she was sure to shake up his stuffy family. Trouble was, Jesse was the one getting all shook up! Holly the Holiday Bride?Holly knew Jesse was the most eligible millionaire around - not that a hunk with attitude was her idea of husband material. But then, she and Jesse weren't really engaged, and his steamy mistletoe kisses were just part of the charade… weren't they?
Christmas Wedding
Pamela Macaluso
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For: Tom and Cleo Barnes,
Dad and Mother,
who were married on Christmas Day
Contents
Chapter One (#uc01352cf-fd84-5ac8-bcb8-8118151e4bc5)
Chapter Two (#u712dc796-6f23-53eb-a78c-97b325cccc6d)
Chapter Three (#u3c603c50-a0dc-57a6-8c4a-6b2ae6f1887b)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Was she seeing things? Or did the two-way mirror looking from the tattoo parlor office into the display area need cleaning?
Holly Bryant was used to seeing attractive men. But this guy was a major hunk. From his dark brown hair to his dusty black motorcycle boots—and all parts between. Including his enticing backside, which was displayed to absolute advantage in snug, faded denim.
In keeping with the warm October day in Daytona Beach, Florida, the top half of the man was decked out in a black leather vest. As he turned and walked farther into the shop, Holly could see that the vest showed off his broad shoulders, muscular chest and arms. The V neckline exposed a triangle of dark, curling hair.
And there wasn’t a tattoo in sight.
He was looking at the sample tattoo drawings and photographs displayed on the walls.
“Well, what are you waiting for? The guy’s a customer and Dad’s on lunch break,” Holly muttered to herself under her breath. She hoped she could wait on the guy without staring...or drooling all over him.
Opening the door into the front of the shop, she put on her best salesperson smile and walked out. “May I help you?”
He turned and looked at her with intense green eyes, but he didn’t smile.
Unusual. She was used to men smiling and flirting with her. Especially when she was decked out in the provocative outfits she wore to work in the tattoo parlor.
She’d been designing and making her own clothes long before she’d started taking fashion design classes at a local art school. For “Daytona Bike Week” and “Biketoberfest” she had a special biker-look wardrobe. It was sexy and daring. She thought of it as costuming for her job...playing a part.
Obviously the part of flirting temptress wasn’t working on this customer.
Up close Holly thought he looked vaguely familiar but couldn’t place him. Of course, during Daytona Bike Week every March and the more recently added Biketoberfest in October, there were large numbers of repeat visitors year after year and also an occasional celebrity.
This guy was handsome enough to be an actor, but nothing clicked. Or maybe he was one of those cover models from the romance novels her friend Ellen read.
“I don’t see anything for Yankee riders,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth—the kind of voice that made you think about maple syrup.
“Most of these samples went up ten years ago, when my dad moved to this location. Yankee wasn’t around at the time, but he has done Yankee tattoos. If you’ll step over here, I have a book showing some of them. Plus, he’ll do custom designs, drawn to order or copied from something you bring in.”
He flipped through the book, glancing a little longer at the designs showcasing Yankee. Some were renderings of the Yankee logo, others declared the names of different models in decorative lettering: Yankee Clipper, Yankee Spirit, Yankee Pride.
“I take it you ride a Yankee,” Holly said.
He kept his position, but he glanced up at her. “Yes, I do.”
“They’re starting to be more popular. I’ve seen more on the road this Biketoberfest than at any biker event in the past.” Didn’t this guy ever smile? “It must be all the excitement over the Yankee Hunks.”
Now he was really frowning. “Or it might be that more people are starting to realize what great bikes Yankees are.” He closed the book.
“Did you see anything you liked?”
“Actually, I was looking for a specific tattoo I saw on a guy this afternoon. He said this is where he’d gotten it done.”
“Well, maybe if you described it for me.”
“It showed a caricature of a biker and he was holding a picket sign that read Yankee Go Home.” If there’d been the smallest hint of good nature on his face, it was gone now.
“Was the guy’s name Tiny?”
“Yes.”
It seemed like a strange choice for someone who rode a Yankee, but Dad’s first rule was that the customer was always right. “Tiny’s was the first of that design, and it was just done last week so it’s not in the book yet. But I can hunt up the original drawing.” Holly kept a perfect poker face as she asked, “And where were you thinking about having it placed?”
He had gorgeous muscular arms that could accommodate a tattoo. Plus there was plenty more body currently hidden from view by denim and leather.
“I was thinking about one of two places. Either the trash can or my attorney’s desk.”
“Excuse me?”
“Either the design goes, or you’ll find yourself being sued.”
Holly shrugged, hoping that if she looked calm this whole thing would turn out to be a practical joke or one of those hidden video shows. “I’m sorry you don’t like the tattoo, but I’m sure there’s no copyright on the phrase ‘Yankee go home.’”
“Not the phrase, but that particular rendering of the word Yankee is a registered trademark.”
“Are you a lawyer or something?”
“Or something.”
Holly realized why he looked so familiar. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the Yankee Hunks.”
He folded his arms across his chest with a rippling of muscles that made Holly’s breath catch in her throat. “We prefer to be called co-founders or co-owners.”
She pointed to the book. “The other tattoos probably fall under the same trademark laws, do you want them removed, also?”
“I have no objection to the others.”
“Because they don’t knock your bikes?”
“Exactly.”
Holly didn’t know enough about the laws to argue with him. “I’ll talk to my father about it.”
“Is he the one who did the tattoo?”
“He did the tattoo, but I drew the design.” Tiny had come in on a busy afternoon. While he was waiting, he’d described what he’d wanted. Holly had made some sample sketches to give her father a general idea to work from. As it turned out, her sketch was exactly what Tiny had wanted, so her father had used it.
“You designed the tattoo?”
“Yes. Now, do you want a tattoo, or not?”
“Not.”
“Okay. Well, then, if there’s anything else I can do for you, ring the bell on the counter.” She turned and went back into the office, muttering under her breath about hunks who thought their good looks gave them a license to be grouchy.
* * *
Jesse frowned. His partners, Rorke O’Neil and Alex Dalton, and Yankee’s corporate attorney, Chad Ralston, were sitting around the table in a hotel suite overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
After they went over the daily agenda of their public appearances, Jesse told them about Tiny—who hadn’t gotten his nickname for any part of him that showed—and his tattoo. Jesse also told them about his trip to the tattoo parlor.
While he wanted to go for blood, the others didn’t seem as incensed by the tattoo as he was. Rorke and Alex actually thought it was funny.
Chad said, “Whether we have a chance of winning a lawsuit is not the issue, Jesse. What we have to consider is what the media will do with it. They’ll make it look like three big bad guys are picking on one poor artistic waif.”
“This waif is about five foot nine, dressed in black leather and built like a centerfold.”
Not to mention her long, luscious legs that made a man wonder how it would feel to have them wrapped around him. Or the long, strawberry-blond hair he would love to see spread across a black satin pillowcase. And the full, pouty lips, which under normal circumstances he would have wanted a taste of.
Chad interrupted his thoughts. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll make her look like Little Red Riding Hood. All sweet, trusting innocence.”
“Besides,” Rorke said. “If we make a big deal out of this thing, they’ll start broadcasting the picture and more people will see it. Once it gets that much exposure other people might decide they want one, too.”
“And then it will end up on T-shirts,” Alex said.
“Baseball hats,” Rorke said.
“Coffee mugs,” Alex added.
Jesse looked at Rorke. “Don’t you dare say refrigerator magnets.”
“I was going to say bumper stickers, but refrigerator magnets are good.”
“Chad, be the voice of reason in this wilderness,” Jesse said.
“As I told you before, Jesse, I really think the best thing for us to do would be to ignore this particular tattoo,” Chad said.
Maybe the sight of Chad and his briefcase would be enough to scare her into throwing out the design. “Could you at least go over there with me and take a look at the drawing?”
Chad shrugged. “I don’t see what good it will do, but you’re the boss.”
Jesse looked at his agenda for the next day. “Tomorrow at two o’clock, then?”
* * *
Holly made an appreciative sound as she washed her face free of her at-work makeup. The extra makeup went along with the sexy image of her clothes. She liked the effect, but by the end of her shift she was always ready to get rid of it. After toweling dry, she smoothed on some moisturizer and brushed on light brown mascara.
She changed into a colorful camp shirt and khaki walking shorts and braided her hair. Picking up her backpack, she headed for class.
Holly paused briefly on the front porch of the white-clapboard house. At one time the house had been a large, single-family home, but then had been converted into apartments. Similar changes had been made to most of the houses on the block, including the one next door where her father lived.
It was a nice arrangement having Red in the next building, giving them both the privacy of living alone while allowing them to share a car. They each had their own motorcycle for regular transportation, but they shared the car on those few days when the Florida weather wasn’t conducive to motorcycle riding. Holly usually took the car to school because it was easier to transport her portfolio back and forth.
Once in the car, she drove the familiar oak-and palm-lined route to school. She caught herself checking every motorcycle she passed. It was normal for her to look at the bikes, but today she was also looking for a particular biker.
Jesse Tyler. A Yankee Hunk with an attitude.
She’d looked through a stack of motorcycle magazines her father kept at the shop until she’d found one with a picture of the Yankee owners. The man who’d been in the shop today was Jesse Tyler. Two months ago, when the article had been published, he was the only one of the three owners who was still single.
So what?
The guy hadn’t looked twice at her. Besides, she wasn’t interested in getting involved with any man. She had a career to build and didn’t need the hassle of dealing with a member of the opposite sex at this point in her life. From what she’d seen her friends go through, she couldn’t imagine any man being worth the trouble and heartache they brought with them.
But Jesse sure was a pleasure to look at. She hoped she didn’t have the opportunity to watch him from opposite sides of a courtroom.
