Table Of Contentfile:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/customer/My%20Documents/.../NCP%20E-Books/On%20the%20Naughty%20List%20Anthology%20NCP.htm
ON THE NAUGHTY LIST
With stories by
Jaycee Clark
Ellen Fisher
Angelica Hart
Santa’s Kisses, © copyright December 2004, Jaycee Clark
Unwrapped, © copyright December 2004, Ellen Fisher
Upon a Midnight Dark, © copyright December 2004, Cynthia DiSciullo
Cover Art by Eliza Black, © copyright December 2004
ISBN 1-58608-363-5
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be
confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
SANTA’S KISSES
By
Jaycee Clark
Acknowledgments and Dedications
I have to thank Batti Patti for reading through this one and telling me where I’d screwed up. And Mandy
for helping me with my twisted villain.
To E~ The love of my life, who’s been my all since I was sixteen years old. I love you.
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PROLOGUE
December 2003
He listened, cocking his head to the side. Was that her talking to him? No? He glanced down at his handy
work and grinned.
The battle within him raged. He should hate this season, but the truth was he rather loved all the sparkle
and glitter the holidays had become.
The multicolored lights glowed off her skin, and she looked like a wrapped Christmas package. Her eyes
stared up at him, pleading, scared.
She should be.
And her pleading wouldn’t do her a bit of good.
"What’s wrong?" he whispered, squatting down, his suit becoming hot. He touched her face, fingered her
short hair. "Uncomfortable?"
He nodded, leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon."
Christmas music floated from the other room and he thought again how appropriately fate dealt its cards.
This was his sixth year for this little tradition and he found he’d grown rather fond of it. ‘Twas a shame
though, this was his last victim. He had to wait another whole year until Christmas came around again.
But wait he would. The police had no leads on his other two victims--he knew they wouldn’t have a clue
as to this one either.
He was--first and foremost--very, very careful. One could never be too careful when killing someone.
Sloppy work only led to capture, and he’d never be captured.
He grinned, chuckled and stood.
The strand of lights was long, and bound up as he made certain they always were, it was easy to wrap the
lights around them and still leave the lights plugged into the electrical socket. Gave the experience a little
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festive flair, he thought.
He took the extra length he’d left dangling and gently drew it around her neck. "Aren’t these just pretty?
I’ve used others--solid red, clear, blue--but I have to say, the multi colored lights just make the experience
so much more enjoyable." He looked from the strand he was tightening around her neck, into her eyes.
They were wide, that blue-green hazel that often changed. He hated that color.
Walking around her, he fisted his hands on the makeshift cord, on either side of her neck and slowly
tightened.
Her eyes widened, terror filling them. Her moans screamed behind the silver tape on her mouth.
He pulled tighter and tighter, excitement coursing through him as she struggled. A bulb bit into the side of
her neck, another popped.
Then all was silent.
He looked into her wide staring eyes and leaned close. Pulling the tape away, he gently kissed her mouth
and laid her back.
Time to dispose of the body and move on. He picked up the big red velvet sack.
In short time, he had her in the bag, the draw string tight.
Damn, she felt heavier than the last one.
He checked the mirror, pulled the white beard back up over the bottom of his face and straightened his
black belt. Satisfied, he pulled the black gloves on over his latex and hefted the sack.
Time to go.
Six years.
Perhaps next year he’d stop. It was seven, and everyone knew seven was a lucky number. The question
was did he want to stop?
Stepping outside into the cold air, he hefted the sack again and walked to his car.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
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CHAPTER ONE
December 2004
Heather Railing hauled her bag onto her shoulder and squinted in the bright sunlight. Good grief, her
clothes practically melted onto her and the sticky air could have been cut, if she’d wanted.
Her shades slid down her nose and she shoved them back up.
What was she doing here? She had her cell phone, her purse, one bag and her overnight. When Lanni told
her to pack light, she wasn’t kidding.
Who would want to wear clothes here?
As if to prove her point, a woman in nothing more than three swaths of leopard print spandex strolled
down the street with a wide floppy hat. Tanned to perfection with long muscular legs, the woman had
boobs a plastic surgeon would have been proud of.
Two paces behind the swimsuit model, a man with a huge beer gut, white hair and red shorts with the
matching Santa hat, had ‘ho ho ho’ written in pink sunscreen across his chest.
Again, what was she doing here?
"Lady, move or something, please."
"Oh," she stepped to the side. "Sorry." The driver of the Keys shuttle stepped down off the cool bus, the
doors hissing shut behind him.
"Lanni, what did you get me into?" she muttered and walked down the street, glancing at the signs,
wondering where she went from here.
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Key West was exactly as she’d imagined it. Sort of. Music floated on the air and the hum of mopeds
mixed with the blare of automobile horns and exhaust. Mallory Square boasted of packed pedestrians and
one harbored cruise ship.
On the shuttle ride down she’d wondered what it would be like here. Not like Islamorada. That island had
screamed money, wealth and class, which she knew she was shy of all.
She was who she was and if people didn’t like her, then well, that wasn’t her problem.
Why was she here?
Heather was still trying to figure that one out. Here it was the holidays, which she’d always spent with her
family, but not this year. This year they didn’t understand. And they probably wouldn’t. It was either her
fault or she was just being childish.
Well, Mike, her brother, didn’t think so, but she could always count on Mike to be a mediator between
her and the rest of her tight-laced family.
So she cancelled her wedding. People did it. You would have thought someone had told her dad she was
pregnant before the wedding the way he’d freaked. Of course, she’d heard the words she and her brothers
swore they’d have engraved on the man’s headstone. "What would people think?"
Heather no longer cared what people thought, or so she tried to make herself believe.
She shoved her bag behind her and tried to dig the paper, that Lanni had written the address down on, out
of her purse.
Lanni. That woman could talk her into just about anything.
But if not for Lanni, who knew where Heather would be. Marrying the jerk, probably, because she didn’t
want to hurt his feelings.
Very, very sad.
Taking a deep breath, salt heavy on the air--as was the exhaust--she coughed and pulled a postal receipt
from her purse. She should really clean out her purse. Who had time for such menial chores though?
There. That one.
Sure enough, Lanni’s bold handwriting scrawled an address where Heather would be staying for at least
the next week. She’d promised Lanni a week, though if after that she wanted to leave, fine. Lanni
believed she needed to stay and relax with the rest of the scantily clad people in paradise.
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Heather had never been scantily clad in her life--unless she was sleeping.
Well, maybe a few times, but all that strict upbringing was often hard to let go.
So where was she going?
Five minutes later, after being jostled by other tourists and natives alike, she flagged a cab. "Can you take
me to this address?" she asked, handing the paper to him.
He looked her, his blond hair so bleached against his tanned complexion he reminded her of a swimsuit
poster boy.
"Other side of the island." And without warning, he shoved the car in gear and pulled from the curb,
honking and muttering about the damn tourists.
Heather reeled against the door, her head hitting the window.
"You better hold on, lady."
Obviously. She reached to buckle her seat belt only to realize there weren’t any. Lord, what if they had an
accident?
He all but screeched around another curve, slamming his brakes on to avoid a group of almost-naked co-
eds crossing the street.
Heather practically bit the seat in front her.
"Where did you learn to drive?" she managed to ask.
"New York, babe."
She raised her eyebrows and chose to just survive the rest of the ride.
Lately she couldn’t get along with anyone, thanks to Naaman. She wasn’t going to think about him.
She pulled her cell phone out and dialed Lanni’s number.
"Hello?" her best friend answered, Lanni’s voice hurried.
"What am I doing here?"
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"Where are you?" Lanni asked.
"In the cab from hell."
Lanni laughed, deep and husky. Heather knew men went for that laugh.
The driver took another curve and she almost ended up in the floor. "It’s not funny. This maniac will
either run over a pedestrian or fling me from the cab. Lanni, I should be ... It’s Christmas, for crying out
loud. I shouldn’t be here."
Lanni’s sigh told Heather that Lanni was running short on patience. "And where else are you going to be?
Back in Torales with your family--or rather, your father and stepmother--always watching what you say
for fear of pissing the man off?"
"Lanni--"
"Grow up, Heather. For God’s sake, you’re twenty-eight, and if you continue to let that man rule your
life, you’ll let any other selfish ass as well. Just like the last one."
"Lanni--"
"Don’t ‘Lanni’ me. You wanted help to get away from Naaman, from your dad, from all the crap, and I
gave it to you. Now quit feeling sorry for yourself and say, thank you Lanni."
"I hate it when you’re right."
"Well, life’s a bitch, huh?"
"Lanni--"
"Heather, I love you, have fun. Don’t hate me and I’ll talk to you later." With that she hung up.
Heather stared at her phone. What was that? Granted, Heather knew she’d worn things a bit thin. She’d all
but ignored her best friend for the last seven months all because Naaman hadn’t liked the fact someone
else was important to Heather.
The cab pulled to stop rather slowly. She sighed. He slammed the brakes and she flew forwards. Before
she could tell him what she really thought, he turned and smiled. "We’re here, lady."
She glared at him, shoved her shades up on top of her head and dug some money out of her pocket.
Capri’s. Capri’s were supposed to be cool, but even so, she was sweltering.
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Clambering from the cab, she jerked and pulled her bags with her, finally popping the handle out of her
rolling one. Dragging it behind her, her purse and overnight bag slung over her shoulder, she started to
check the address only to realize she’d left it in the cab.
Whirling she slapped her hand on the window just as he pulled away. He slammed on the brakes and she
rammed into the car. He grinned at her as she leaned into the front window and snatched her paper off the
seat. "Thank you."
With a huff, she turned around and glanced from her paper to the buildings here. There were two
restaurants at the end of the block on opposite sides of the street. Tourist shops. A clothing store or
something that had sarongs hanging on display out front along with Christmas tee shirts and a variety of
Santa and elf hats.
And a coffee bar. Checking the paper again, she noted it was the address of the coffee bar.
What in the world?
A guy shoved into her from behind. Grinning and shocked he turned. "Damn, lady, I’m sorry."
She could smell the rum on his breath. Great, she gave up Christmas to spend it with drunks--cute drunks
with black too-long hair and slumbering eyes. He looked her up and down. "You just get here?"
"Here?" she asked.
He waved a hand. "Paradise, babe, paradise."
She shook her head, and then nodded. "Yeah, something like that."
"Cool."
Again, she hiked the bag up onto her shoulder and walked into the dimly lit coffee shop. Not dimly lit
exactly, but with the tall blue shutters open on the front and side, the bright noon sun cast long shadows.
She walked into the shade, wishing there was an air conditioner, but it seemed not.
Who would drink coffee on the beach? In ninety degree weather? Maybe it was because coffee had never
really been her thing. She was more a tea drinker--iced and sweet.
As she walked further, the cool cement echoed with her sandals. Golden oldies--‘60’s tunes--bobbed on
the air filled with the robust scent of coffee beans.
An espresso machine whirred to life.
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Something was really wrong. She stepped up to the long bar made of bamboo panels, the top covered in
glass bedecked with clear fairy-Christmas lights. She shook her head.
"Excuse me," she said, leaning over the bar.
The woman by the espresso machine turned. "I’ll be with you in just a minute."
"Oh, I don’t need ... that is...."
"Can I help you?" asked a deep voice.
She turned and dropped her bag.
Damn Lanni anyway.
CHAPTER TWO
Baine Gregor stood rooted to the spot. Damn Dan and Lanni anyway. They had to be behind this. He took
a deep breath. "Well if it isn’t Heather Railing. Hello, Heather. You’re the last person I expected to see
here."
Her mouth opened, that lush full mouth, he remembered from all those years ago, her blue-green hazel
eyes narrowed and he realized they looked bluer today. No doubt due to the turquoise tank that molded
her breasts and waist. One thing about Heather, she’d always looked hot and she still did. Memories he
thought long buried flew into his brain. Memories of dark tangled nights, kissing her, loving her…
She swallowed and ran a hand through her short cropped hair, the ends sticking out, sort of reminiscent of
Meg Ryan. "Um ... hi."
He waited, crossed his arms, and then held his hand out.
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She looked at it then slowly grinned at him. "Baine Gregor, we might not have spoken in almost ten
years, but I’ve known you since we built hay forts and made mud pies, and well ... you know. I better get
more than a measly hand shake."
Still hot and still very extroverted. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around him, and before he
could return her hug, she pulled back, smiling wide, but he saw it, that flicker of worry in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, though he knew.
"Well, I actually don’t know. Lanni gave me tickets and said she had a place for me to stay."
And Dan had called him claiming Lanni had a friend in trouble who needed a place to stay. Since it had
been Dan who had called, Baine had cancelled the earlier booking, and agreed to let Dan and Lanni rent
the loft for Lanni’s friend. He narrowed his gaze at Heather and swore he’d call Dan the first chance he
got.
Friend in trouble, his ass.
"Well, that was nice of her." He glanced around the bar and saw it empty of all but two old regulars
smoking near the back and one lady reading up front. "And?"
She licked her lips, looked down, at the paper in her hand, then back up to him. Her eyes had always
danced with laughter, but worry was still there. "And I think this is where I’m supposed to stay." Her
blond brows furrowed. "But there’s a mistake because I don’t think I’m supposed to stay at a coffee bar."
He motioned for her to follow him, picking up the bag she dropped, handing her her purse and taking the
extended handle of her roll-on.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as she walked behind him. "Should you just be carrying my stuff
through here? Do you know the owners or something?"
"I am the owner," he said over his shoulder.
He was insane. Why was he doing this? Hot babe or not, she’d always gotten on his nerves. She’d always
known everything, was always neat and tidy and had strong views on how things should be.
Of course, that was before. She might have changed. Who knew what she was like? He hadn’t been home-
-if he wanted to call Torales, Texas, home--since his parents moved from there after he and then his
younger brother graduated.
Torales, Texas, small town nowhere out on the plains of west Texas. Dust, oil, and cattle. Kids learned to
drive farm equipment at early ages and most stayed farmers. Fine with him. He’d gone to Texas A&M
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