Deck the Halls
Praise for Heather MacAllister
“Witty, romantic, sexy and fun . . . and Heather’s books aren’t bad, either.”
—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd
“Curling up with a Heather MacAllister romance is one of my favorite indulgences.”
—New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“For quirky fun and sexy wit, Heather MacAllister is my go-to author.”
—Award-winning author Amanda Stevens
Other Heather MacAllister Titles from Bell Bridge Books
The Hall Sisters Series
Deck the Halls
Jack of Hearts
(coming 2014)
Ivy’s League
(coming 2014)
Deck the Halls
by
Heather MacAllister
Bell Bridge Books
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-387-0
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-369-6
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 1990 by Heather W. MacAllister
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Originally published by Harlequin Romance in 1990
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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Red Gift Bow © Vectorina | Dreamstime.com
Ornaments (manipulated) © Jpldesigns | Dreamstime.com
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Dedication
To my parents, Boyd and Colleen Wilkes, who taught me I could do anything, then insisted I try. Okay, Mom, now you can say, “My daughter, the author.”
Chapter One
“I NEED A HUNDRED and fifty polar bears.” Holly Hall paced as far as the phone cord would let her. “Right now!” She stopped abruptly and then took a deep calming breath.
“Yes, I know you close at eight, but this is an emergency and right on your way and—” She listened, eyes shut tightly in annoyance. “All right . . . yes, I understand.”
One eye opened to glare at the partially-decorated Christmas tree. She plucked off an innocent brown teddy bear ornament and glared at it, too. “If a hundred bears are all you’ve got, fine. I’m in the Meecham building—the penthouse—and please, please hurry.”
Holly had begun to hang up the phone when a loud chattering made her jerk it back to her ear. “What? But Mrs. Bloom—” She stopped abruptly, not daring to antagonize her best supplier. Besides, she’d already exhausted all the others.
“Yes, I’ll pay you now. Well, by check . . .”
“And have it bounce all the way to the bank?” Mrs. Bloom’s grating voice screeched in Holly’s ear.
“We’re doing better this season, Mrs. Bloom.” Holly ignored the familiar flush of humiliation that stung her cheeks. She gripped the receiver. “Deck the Halls hasn’t bounced a check all year. And you know I always pay you back as soon as I get the money.” Holly kept her voice coolly professional and took out her frustration by yanking off the bear ornaments.
“That you did,” Mrs. Bloom wheezed. “But who’s to say this check will be good? Your credit’s shot. I gotta eat, ya know.”
You haven’t missed a meal in thirty years, Holly wanted to say. She also wanted to slam down the receiver and never deal with this cantankerous old woman again. And she would have, if she didn’t need those darn polar bears.
“The bank’s closed, and I don’t have that much money in my purse. I’ve got to have those bears tonight.” She hated begging.
“Do you now?” Mrs. Bloom fell silent, making Holly wait. “Cash, or nothing.”
Holly stared at the gorgeous but nearly naked, white-flocked Christmas tree. “I’m doing the decorations for Town Square’s Christmas issue. People might want to know where I buy my ornaments.” Holly swallowed and licked her dry lips, hoping her unspoken implication would be enough to sway Mrs. Bloom.
Silence.
“So, if you could bring those bears to me and some of the little black top hats”—she gulped in a quick breath—“I’d . . . I’d be willing to pay extra,” she finished in a rush.
Mrs. Bloom cackled. “You must be in a spot, sure enough. Last-minute job?”
Holly raked her fingers through her curly brown hair and sent an agonized look heavenward. “No,” she mumbled, wishing Mrs. Bloom wouldn’t enjoy the torture so much. “Whoever is staying here,” she explained glancing toward the nearest bedroom, “will be back at ten o’clock. The photographers are coming tomorrow morning.”
“Get one of your sisters to pick ’em up.”
Another deep breath. The smell of new fabric dye and fresh paint was beginning to give her a headache. “They’re on another job right now.”
Holly snatched the last bear off, threw it on a white silk sofa and kicked one of the boxes filled with tiny, medium and large brown bears. What idiot had chosen that theme for this elegant apartment?
A professionally-decorated art deco penthouse with a breathtaking view of the Dallas skyline shouldn’t have cutesy brown bears cavorting on the Christmas tree. This was a place of shiny black and white punched with red and silver—and she had an absolutely perfect art deco tree in her portfolio.
Well, the scheduling sheet did say the law firm had chosen the bears, but at least she could change their color—if only Mrs. Bloom would cooperate. Detestable woman. At least she hadn’t prattled on about how the “mighty had fallen” again this year.
“I said, maybe we could work something out.” The voice boomed in Holly’s ear.
Holly shook her head slightly, suspecting what would come next. Smiling wryly, she decided to get it over with. “Got a fancy party coming up?”
“Ruthie’s wedding. Herman’s niece? She’s marrying the Battley boy. You know him?”
“No,” Holly said faintly.
“Course you don’t,” Mrs. Bloom continued, undeterred. “I wanna look nice. Herman’s people always look down their noses at me. So I wanna look nice. You know what I mean?”
Holly squinted at the bears and thought about the photo spread in Town Square magazine. Her biggest break. Free advertising . . . “You want to borrow Mama’s necklace again.”
Mrs. Bloom’s smile was nearly audible. “Call it collateral until your check clears.”
Holly thought briefly of the diamonds sparkling around her mother’s neck and sighed softly. “Let me give you directions to the penthouse.”
She allowed herself the luxury of slamming down the receiver—after giving detailed directions to both Mrs. Bloom and her husband, Herman.
“Old bi—” Holly stared at the phone. “No,” she said thoughtfully. “Battle-ax.” She tried the word again. “Battle-ax.” That was Mrs. Bloom.
Now for the tre
e. Holly collapsed on the sofa, grabbed the teddy bear and absently tossed it from hand to hand. “You and your friends will have to go bye-bye,” she said to the ill-treated bear as she surveyed the boxes of decorations she’d brought.
The green plaid ribbon was also out for this room; there weren’t even any plants. She got up and scanned the living area, trying to see it through the photographer’s eyes. The tree would stay in front of the massive windows to capitalize on the fabulous view, no doubt about that. It was too bad the magazine people were coming in the morning; with the colors in this apartment, a night shoot would have been spectacular.
Holly glanced at her watch, then dragged both hands through her hair. Two hours wasn’t enough time to do the kind of job she wanted. This Christmas tree had to be perfect. No, more than perfect.
Not that she was complaining. This was a good year, but it could be better—it had to be better. And she didn’t need a couple of hundred cute bears giving her trouble, either.
Now, what could she salvage? Holly studied the tree. She’d keep the tiny white fairy lights. Thank heavens the tree was heavily flocked with white. Unfortunately, the green plaid tree skirt was the only one she’d brought. It would have to go, and so would the gold beading. She ripped the strands from the tree, thinking furiously. Dumping the handful of beads into a box, she looked through the extra odds and ends she’d brought with her.
“Yes!” She pounced on the new silver ribbon she’d ordered. She’d use it to make the big bows that were a trademark of her Deck the Halls Christmas-decorating firm.
As her fingers flew over the ribbon and wire, Holly smiled to herself. Bows weren’t that hard to make, but they didn’t store very well. On the other hand, they were lightweight, which counted for a lot, and filled the gaps in nature’s less-than-perfect trees. Deck the Halls couldn’t afford to own more than a few artificial trees. In her typical fashion, Holly had turned this into an asset and boldly charged more for decorating “real” trees.
The buzzing of the intercom broke the silence. Holly collected her checkbook and the key to the private elevator on her way to answer the intercom. “I’ll be right down,” she told the security guard.
A couple of disgruntled Blooms stood beside the guard’s desk.
“You and your sisters up to your fancy ways again, young woman?” Mrs. Bloom’s nose was in the air.
“Everyone entering the building has to check in with the guard, Mrs. Bloom.” Holly smiled sweetly. “As an employee, I just follow orders.”
The thought of Holly as an employee apparently mollified Mrs. Bloom.
Holly gestured toward the two large clear plastic bags. “I hope the bears aren’t all crushed,” she said, then wished she hadn’t spoken.
“And beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”
“I’d hardly call it begging, at your prices,” Holly muttered as she reached for the sacks.
“The necklace?” Mrs. Bloom snatched them back.
“I don’t have it here!” Holly’s patience was nearly gone. “Mama’s necklace is at home. Come by tomorrow morning.”
Mrs. Bloom eyed her shrewdly. “Thought maybe you’da run home and got it by now.”
“Then I would’ve been able to get the bears, wouldn’t I? Besides—” Holly looked her right in the eye—“it makes me nervous to carry it around at night by myself.”
Mrs. Bloom snorted. “Hmph. Your mama wore it at night. I still got that picture that was in the paper, the one of her and the governor dancing at the inaugural. Gonna take it to Ruthie’s wedding.”
Herman Bloom winked at Holly. “Nobody’d believe them sparklers was real otherwise,” he said in an undertone.
And they’d be right. Holly kept a smile plastered on her face as she lugged the two plastic sacks of bears into the penthouse elevator. “Mama’s diamonds have more of a social life than I do,” Holly complained to the bears as the elevator whisked them up to the penthouse.
Holly pushed up her sleeves and dragged the bears to the Christmas tree, then dumped them onto the floor. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the immaculately decorated room and the mess she’d left in front of the windows. She had managed to get the bears, hadn’t she? Holly glared at them defiantly as the image of Mama’s diamonds twinkling among Mrs. Bloom’s chins came to mind.
Mama, of all people, would have understood. Laughing suddenly, Holly scooped up a handful of the bears and tossed them over her head.
IT HAD BEEN A long day. Adam Markland loosened his tie and leaned against the plush walls of the elevator. He closed his eyes and stood for a moment after he heard the doors swish open.
When he finally opened his eyes, he saw an angel—no, an elf—sitting in the middle of his living room. The sound of her laughter filled the quiet as fuzzy balls rained down on her curly brown head.
He smiled, revealing deep dimples. What was she doing here, this elf? This nicely-shaped elf, he noted, watching her jump gracefully to her feet to gather the balls.
Holly turned off the lights, leaving the room in darkness except for tiny white lights twinkling on the Christmas tree. Nodding to herself, she flipped the room lights back on and turned in his direction.
“Oh!” She stopped and looked at her watch, then back at the dark-haired man lounging against the elevator door.
“I’ve been trying to think of something witty to say. With all of this—” he gestured as he advanced into the room—“there’s bound to be a great line somewhere, but I’m so tired, I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for ‘Hi, I’m Adam Markland.’”
“Holly Hall, with Deck the Halls.” Holly automatically extended her hand and looked straight into impossibly blue eyes. His dazzling smile, bracketed by deep dimples, made it unthinkable not to smile back. Her internal quality-control alarm went off.
Holly had a Texan’s firm handshake. She noted the approval in Adam’s eyes as he held her hand longer than good manners required. “What are you doing with the bears?” he asked, still smiling. She gently tugged her hand away, and laughed, then stuck both hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I’m decorating for the photo shoot tomorrow.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t suppose you were the one responsible for choosing these bears?”
Adam glanced down at the fuzzy brown sea at his feet. “No,” he replied shaking his head, “I didn’t choose the bears. Not that I have anything against bears,” he added, covering all possibilities.
Holly frowned. “Neither do I, but brown bears don’t go here and we had the perfect—well, never mind. Anyway, I’m changing them to white—that’s why I’m running late. I thought I had until ten o’clock.” There was just a hint of accusation in her voice.
Adam gestured expansively. “As the sole occupant of the penthouse suite, I grant you permission to stay. How about some help? I’ll be with you in a minute.” He walked quickly to the nearest bedroom, ripping off his tie on the way, not giving her a chance to refuse.
Holly sank back into her pile of bears and stared at her fingers. Those couldn’t be tingles. And if they were, it was because he’d gripped her hand too hard.
Mindlessly, she grabbed a brown bear, pulled off the perky red bow around its neck and retied it to one of the polar bears. In spite of herself, she kept glancing toward the door through which Adam had disappeared.
The bow was crooked. Sighing faintly, Holly threw back her head and stretched her arms, then hooked her hands behind her neck. It had been a long day. Not for the first time, she wondered how Laurel and Ivy were doing with their tree. They’d insisted they could handle the decorating job alone. Holly smiled wryly. Her little sisters were growing up.
Adam paused in the doorway, tugging on a pullover sweater. “I’ve been doing that for the past hour, myself,” he said, kneading the back of his neck before raising one hand and carelessly pushing back a lock of black hair.
Holly opened her eyes at Adam’s approach and got another mental jolt. Not now. Not in the middle of the Christmas season. Besides, she thought she’d turned off quality control long ago.
“Are we tying bows here?” Adam squatted with difficulty. “Not broken in yet,” he offered by way of explanation, grimacing at his jeans.
“Unlike these.” Smiling, Holly gestured toward her own.
“Yeah.” Soft from repeated washing, they hugged her lovingly. Holly studied him as his eyes unabashedly traced her curves, then flicked back to her face.
The pale blue of his sweater was a perfect foil for his cobalt-black hair and sapphire-blue eyes. Did he know that? Holly took inventory of his dark brows, his dimples and the tiny cleft in his chin. She liked the way his growing beard shadowed his face, giving it a rough look that contrasted with the soft sweater. Cashmere. Holly knew cashmere.
Adam picked up one of Holly’s bears and she immediately realized she’d been staring. Feeling chagrined and a little embarrassed, she burst into speech. “You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to. The law firm hired me to do this. It’s my job.” Now, why did she say that? She was desperate for him to stay. No, she wasn’t. She didn’t have the time or emotional energy to get involved with anyone.
“I want to,” Adam said deliberately, his eyes holding hers.
All thoughts of insisting on her independence and self-sufficiency fled from Holly’s mind.
They sat cross-legged, tying bear bows and exchanging unimportant tidbits of information about themselves. Holly decided there were enough red bows and began tying black and silver ones. She wanted to avoid looking at him. He sat there, surrounded by fuzzy bears, his long slim fingers tying elegant little bows around tiny furry necks. He seemed remarkably at ease.
“The brown bears and anything with green on it goes back in the boxes. How did you luck out and get to live in a place like this?” That seemed another in a series of safely innocuous questions. Holly knew that suites like this were often used for out-of-town clients, and she figured Adam would launch into a discussion of whatever company he worked for and its dealings with the law firm.