“Your thirty-year-old daughter,” Holly reminded her. “I’m way past little girl and more than a little pleased to see you and Dad happy.”
Margaret grew serious. “Your father was hurting after Grandma died. But we stumbled onto love letters that Grandpa had sent Grandma and read them all together. It sparked something in us.” She shrugged. “Or maybe it was the wish I made on Grandma’s ruby. She always said it was magical.”
“Ruby?” Holly’s brows dipped. “The ruby that Grandpa gave Grandma?”
“Yes,” Margaret said, pushing to her feet and walking to the mantel where the brilliant four-inch stone rested on a gold stand, still in the place Grandma had kept it. She turned to Holly, holding it in her hands, the fire crackling behind her. “Do you remember the story behind the gift?”
Holly shook her head. “I just remember it was special.”
“Special, indeed,” Margaret agreed, sitting down beside Holly and placing the ring in its cradle in the center of the table. “And so very romantic.”
“It’s lovely,” Holly said, and since romance was in short supply for her right now, she figured she might as well live vicariously through her grandparents. She propped her elbows on the table and slid her chin to her hands. “Tell me the story, Mom.”
A sad smile touched Margaret’s lips. “Grandpa was drafted to war before they were able to marry. He gave Grandma the ruby on Christmas day as a sign of his love, promising it held the magic of love and would ensure his return. He came home and they lived fifty happy years together.”
Holly sighed. “Now that’s what I call romance.”
“Isn’t it?” her mother asked, agreeing. “Grandma cherished that stone as if it held a piece of your Grandfather’s heart. She believed it held the magic of love, you know. That if you held it and made a wish, it would come true.” Her mother smiled mischievously. “And now someone else is going to get to experience all that magic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come Christmas, it will be gifted to someone, as it was to her.” Holly’s eyes went wide. “That’s why her will was so specific about us being together this Christmas?”
“Yes,” Margaret agreed. “That’s when Grandma wants the big announcement made—the fate of the stone.”
“Surely she would leave it to Dad,” Holly commented.
“Grandma was a romantic,” Margaret reminded her. “She will want it to go to someone who will see it as special, the way she did. Your father would cherish it because it was hers, not because of its magic.”
Holly tightened her grip on her mug. “Oh please, say it’s not me, Mom, because we both know how the others will react.” In her youth, her goal of law school had meant responsibility, as had her role as oldest sibling and frequent babysitter—a duty that had often kept her from dating and socializing. “They always think I get special treatment as the oldest. I don’t want to deal with that. If my name is in that envelope, please change it. Say someone else gets the stone. Say Dad gets it.”
“You were kids. Of course they accused you of getting extra attention because you were in charge. We’d never have managed the university’s demands without your help. We asked a lot of you, and you never complained.”
“I saved the complaints for my friends,” Holly quickly offered, not willing to be made into some sort of angel. “But I complained, Mom.”
Margaret waved that off. “My point is—if a little magic, or romance, or whatever you might call it, comes your way, you’re deserving, Holly.”
“I don’t want it,” Holly stated, shaking her head. Her mother started to wave off her words yet again, and Holly added, “I’m serious, Mom. I don’t want it.”
“It’s not your decision,” she stated firmly, pushing to her feet to carry her plate to the kitchen. “The recipient of Grandma’s gift will be revealed on Christmas morning.” She set her dishes in the sink. “Why not enjoy the ruby until then? Maybe it will bring you luck.” She smiled mischievously. “Or romance.”
Half an hour later, Margaret had bundled up and left Holly to her deadline woes. After throwing some wood on the fire, Holly curled into her chair in front of her computer and took a bite of her sinfully delicious bread, thinking of another sinfully delicious distraction—Cole. Her mother didn’t understand, of course, that the last thing Holly needed, with a deadline fast approaching, was romance. But then, her mother did have one important point—Holly needed some raw, emotional energy to fill her pages. She’d attacked life with a structured plan: a certain GPA to achieve, a certain college to attend, a legal career—and a man who would fit the model that felt appropriate to her life.
All that planning and none of it had made her happy. Which left Holly with a need to discover who she really was, besides a writer. Much like the heroine, Tabitha Moore, in her work in progress. A by-the-books attorney and control freak, Tabitha is forced into hiding by a deadly killer; then she finds herself in close quarters with a mysteriously sexy stranger, Luke Sterling, a renegade FBI agent. Despite her better judgment, Tabitha begins an erotic, dangerous ride with the agent. Yep. That was the plan. If only the pages would fill themselves with brilliance.
In her mind, Holly was Tabitha; their personalities were alike. She smiled. Cole was her renegade, a man who didn’t fit the conventions of the world she’d built for herself. Interesting . . .
Seeing Cole again would be research. Work. A good way to feed her creative juices. She bit her bottom lip. Did she dare do this? Did she dare see Cole again? There would be nothing to pull her away from him this time, no family commitment. No job to get to the next morning. Nothing to keep her from finding out if he was really as good as her midnight fantasies conjured him to be. And that’s what this had to be about—work mixed with a one-night fantasy—something she didn’t indulge in.
And why not? Why didn’t she ever indulge in fun fantasies? She wasn’t an attorney working around the clock to become a partner, worried about fitting into their perfect mold. She didn’t even want to fit into the mold she’d formed for herself way back when.
Holly made her decision. Cole was exciting, and both her book and her body were in desperate need of some excitement. She grimaced. Of course, there was a strong possibility that Cole wouldn’t live up to her dreams. Her track record of failed relationships was pretty darned rock solid. But even the slight chance that Cole would be different . . . well, that chance had her reaching for the ruby.
Holly held the ruby in her palm and made a wish. Please let this be a smart choice. Okay. Boring wish. Not a fantasy worth wishing. She refocused. Please let Cole be as sinfully good in bed as my fantasies— please let him be that good. Laughter bubbled from Holly’s lips. Right. Like the ruby could decide his prowess. No. The pleasure would have to be all about the man. And Holly was going to enjoy demanding full disclosure.
***
COLE LOUNGED AT THE BAR of The Tavern, wearing a facade of languid disinterest, a cup of black coffee in front of him, no interest in alcohol tonight. He’d much rather get drunk on Holly. If Holly showed.