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Texas Christmas
Nancy Robards Thompson
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?
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 (http://nrobardsthompson@yahoo.com) to let me know what you think.
Warmly,
Nancy Robards Thompson
Texas Christmas
Nancy Robards Thompson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://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 (#u1643ea8d-1065-5bad-b00c-7734bb86a774)
Chapter One (#u599dd09f-1972-5da3-87b0-9d02d3dc43da)
Chapter Two (#u243f9537-99e4-5e26-b61e-6a9e9d364b7b)
Chapter Three (#u52b2ac03-afc2-5deb-a4b3-e2db34fb6c34)
Chapter Four (#udb083ad8-06cb-58ac-b491-edcd2353b8e1)
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)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
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.
