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One Christmas Night (Capitol Chronicles Book 6)
One Christmas Night (Capitol Chronicles Book 6) Read online
Table of Contents
Title Page
One Christmas Night
A Capitol Chronicles Novella
By Shirley Hailstock
ISBN: 978-1-939214-14-0
Copyright: Shirley T. Hailstock
September 2014
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher: Shirley T. Hailstock PO Box 513, Plainsboro, NJ 08536-0513.
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Photo Credit: Sweet 'N Spicy Designs
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Other Books by Shirley Hailstock
Reader Letter
Excerpt from The Christmas List
Chapter 1
Elizabeth had vowed never to see James Hill again. Yet tonight, twelve days from Christmas, when her emotions were as raw as the wind whipping at her skirt, she found herself standing on his porch. Tiny white lights outlined the entire structure and she could see the tree, with its lights blinking, through the huge picture window. The scene couldn't have been better set up if Hallmark had photographed it for one of their Christmas cards. "How could I have been so stupid!" Of all the addresses to mix up, how could she have pulled his out instead of the one behind it? Why hadn't she thrown it out three years ago when she'd walked out of his life?
Elizabeth Gregory's finger punched the doorbell as if she wanted to push the Georgian colonial over with her index finger. Inside she heard the musical notes of St. Michael's permeate the chilling air. He hadn't changed that either, she thought. How often had she listened to that sound with a wide smile on her face? She shuddered pulling her red velvet cape closer around her, knowing the coldness gripping her had more to do with anticipation than temperature.
"He's not here," she muttered, pushing the bell a second time. She should be relieved that he wasn't home, but she had to get that package back and deliver it to the right address. "Come on, James," she ordered. "You've got to be here."
It was the Christmas season. The sudden memory of a previous Christmas burst in her brain. Where had they been? Curled up in front of the fire at his cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only the two of them and a fake fur rug. Snow piled up to the windows outside, yet neither of them noticed or cared. Elizabeth shook herself. She forced the image of their naked bodies out of her mind. The firelight was too hypnotizing not to remember James highlighted against the red-gold glow of leaping flames.
In three years she expected her anger would have cooled, but she found the prospect of facing him as frightening as reaching for an exposed wire. Pressing her fingers against her temples, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. She didn't need a headache tonight.
Ringing the bell a third time, she knew her luck had run out. James wasn't home. Even Mrs. Andrews, his part-time housekeeper, would be with her own family by this time. She looked around the porch for the package. It wasn't there. Maybe the delivery hadn't been made. Silently she prayed for a tiny bit of luck. If James hadn't been home, the box could have been returned to the shop. Silently she prayed for the alternative to be true. It was worth a try.
Elizabeth turned to leave. She could phone Joanne, the temporary assistant she'd hired, from her car. Mary, her competent assistant, had wanted two weeks off at Christmas. Elizabeth thought she could handle the load while Mary took the much deserved time. Everything had gone well until today when she had pulled James Hill's address from the Rolodex instead of Jason Hillery and handed it to Joanne. The young college co-ed, away from home for the first time, was distressed over the mix-up, but didn't know the city well enough to find James's house, saving Elizabeth from facing a man she hadn't seen in three years. Few people could negotiate Rock Creek Park during daylight hours. After dark, the poor girl would never have found the house nestled among giant rhododendrons on Redwood Terrace. And the very important delivery would have no chance of reaching the correct address in time. Chantel Hartman-Lawrence had been adamant about it arriving on time. Elizabeth had assured her Invitation to Love had built a reputation on correct and prompt delivery. Now she was going to have to eat those words.
"Elizabeth!"
James Hill, his voice literally took her breath away. Elizabeth closed her eyes again as she gathered strength and pushed the pounding in her crown away. Squaring her shoulders she turned to face her former fiancé. He hadn't changed much, from what she could see of him silhouetted against the back light of the doorway. At thirty-seven, his hair had not a hint of grey. His face was strong, his skin tight across his features. He had a square jaw giving him a ruthless look until he smiled. Then any hint of severity disappeared. He was smiling now. Elizabeth's heart pounded in her ears. She stifled the urge to press her hands against her head. Her breath congealing in the crisp December air, looked like a jerky staccato. She hoped James didn't notice it. He filled the doorway, dressed in tennis shoes and a sweat suit. Even the bagginess of the outfit couldn't hide his powerfully built physique. She knew he exercised regularly. It appeared that even tonight, while most people were still frantically shopping in the area malls, he'd gone to the gym. James had always been calm and exacting. He'd probably finished his shopping, wrapped everything and stored them under the tree.
"I wasn't expecting you," he said, raising one eyebrow. "I just got in."
"It's nice to see you too," she said, her sarcasm undisguised as she swept passed him without an invitation. The house too, looked the same. A roaring fire in the huge fireplace that dominated the high ceilinged room made it warm and comfortable. Pine boughs scented the air. Entwined with the same white lights as decorated the outside, they arched from the mantle, the doorways and up the imposing stairwell, whose newel post was as large as her waist was around. Silent Night played softly from the sound system in the back room. Wires traveled through the walls to reach the speakers in the corners and bring music to each room. The house was beautiful, the kind Elizabeth often saw displayed in the holiday issue of Architectural Digest. The tree, it's lights flashing in the window, was perfect, so much so, it brought tears to her eyes. Quickly she blinked them away. She loved this old house. It had been built before the turn of the century and she'd imagined herself living here after she and James were married. They hadn't made it.
"Come in." He closed the door with a mock bow. Taking several steps into the room, he faced her.
Elizabeth turned to speak. James's nearness stopped her. She found her mouth too dry to utter a sound. In the brightness of the room, his tree-bark brown skin radiated health. He crossed his arms, evenly distributing his weight on his legs. The action drew Elizabeth's attention to his broad shoulders and strong biceps hidden under the grey sweat shirt with a faded i
nsignia of the Howard University Athletic Department. She could almost feel herself wrapped in his embrace. He stood three inches over six feet and she had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. His strong square jaw could be harsh and demanding or tender and loving. The man exuded sex appeal. She nearly swayed toward him without the least invitation.
"Where is it?" Elizabeth asked, drawing on an inner strength she didn't recognize. She wanted to be out of here as soon as she could manage it. All he had to do was give her back the package and she'd be on he way.
"Where is what, sweetheart?"
"James, I don't have time to play games. It's Christmas time. I'm late for a party. Please give me the package and let me go. And don't call me sweetheart."
"My, you've changed, Elizabeth." She noticed him look her over. She fought the urge to gather the cape closer around her. It would show her fear and she didn't want James to know how weak he made her just by being in her presence.
"You've cut your hair. It was longer when we -- parted."
Elizabeth's head was splitting. Her attempts to ward off the pounding pain had failed. The day had been a disaster and she still had to attend the Hereford's party.
"I don't want to talk about my hair." It had been long enough to touch her shoulders. She wore it cut above her ears with wispy curls covering the top of her crown. "I want the box delivered here earlier tonight. It's been sent to the wrong address."
"I like it," James said, ignoring her demand. "It emphasizes your eyes."
He was making fun of her.
"I always said your eyes were your best feature."
He'd said lots of things and gullible Elizabeth had believed every one of them. But not tonight. Ignoring him she searched the room. The familiar white box with her logo on the side was no where to be seen. Leaving James, she went toward the library. Shoving the sliding mahogany doors aside she went into the dark room. The electric switch on the wall threw the room into brightness. Elizabeth blinked at the sudden stab of pain. Her hands immediately shaded her eyes until they became used to the light. The room was paneled with heavy tufted. leather sofas and floor to ceiling bookcases. James's antique desk dominated the room. In the daylight Elizabeth had expected the room would be dark, but the custom-made windows captured light and spread it around the room from all angles.
"Don't you want to take your coat off?" James followed her. He lifted the cape from her shoulders. Elizabeth swung around backing away from him. His fingers, through the thick piled fabric, had touched her as surely, as if she were naked.
"I see your fashion hasn't changed." He made a wide circle around her. Elizabeth forced herself to stand still. "You're still the best dressed woman on Capital Hill." Elizabeth held her breath. The fur-trimmed cape had been warm against the outside. Without it she wore a strapless gown with white fur adorning the straight line bodice and circular hem of her Christmas-red gown. Under James's glare Elizabeth's lungs didn't work. The air was stifling. He was tall and lithe, a predator, if she'd ever seen one. The urge to run was so strong she had to dig her heels into the Aubusson carpeting. "Of course, the ruby necklace would go with that dress much better than that gold chain."
Elizabeth stopped her hand from going to her neck. James had given her a ruby necklace for an engagement present. She had dutifully returned it directly after they broke up.
"James--"
"What's it been, Elizabeth -- three, four years?" he interrupted. "Can't we even have a drink before you rush out into the night?" James dropped her cape on the sofa and moved around her.
She moved away from the heat of him. "I don't want a drink, I'm driving." Did he really not know how long it had been? Why did that make her heart sink? How often did she think of him? When they'd parted, she'd thrown herself into Invitation of Love, using her business as a substitute for a broken relationship. Yet tonight, on some subliminal level she'd pulled his address and given it to Joanne. Did it have anything to do with Christmas? It had been another Christmas when she'd stormed out the door she'd swept through tonight. Then she spied the current copy of Black Enterprise on the coffee table separating two leather sofas before the imposing fireplace. A smile stole across her mouth.
"You've been gone a while, right?" she led him.
"Until recently my work meant I traveled a lot. Usually I spend Christmas in New York."
"You work there too?" Elizabeth knew the answers to all these questions.
"Not any more. I've been back in the District for several months."
She wasn't disconcerted. She would have been, except James's brother, Mark, made it a point to drop by at least once a month and give her regular updates. She supposed he did the same for his brother. But in case he didn't, James still knew a lot about her.
With deliberate slowness, Elizabeth crossed to the table. She bent forward, lifting the magazine with her face on the cover. The slick surface flapped up and down like bird wings as Elizabeth walked to where James stood. She held the book toward him. As he reached for it she let go. It dropped it at his feet.
They both looked down. The magazine lay open to a photo of her in the Oval Office. Next to her stood the President of the United States, a package of personalized invitations in his hand. Both smiled at the camera.
Her stare was level as he raised his eyes. She wanted to laugh at the small victory, but decided against it.
James bent down and picked up the magazine. He stared at the photograph for a long time before closing the booklet and returning it to the table. "It says you bargained with the President to allow a wedding and reception to take place in the Red Room. In exchanged you got the White House business. In the world of small business, you pulled off the coup of the century. Do you know how many people wish they were in your shoes?"
Elizabeth did know. In reality, her negotiations had been with the White House advisors. It was happenstance that had the President within earshot of her request. She hadn't needed the article in Black Enterprise to bring in business. Twenty-four hours after the contract with the White House was signed, she had more business from the Washington elite than she and Mary could handle. But she loved it. After the initial overwhelming deluge she'd taught Mary some of the handwriting techniques. Her assistant seem to excel with the Spenserian Penmanship. Together they were a team and Mary's Christmas present this year would be a full partnership in Invitation to Love.
"James, I can't stay here talking to you all night. I need to get that package to the right address and then go to Charles and Lidia's. Please give it to me." She dropped her head, the pounding was getting worse and soon she'd need to sit down. She didn't want to sit here. She wanted to be in her car speeding away from Rock Creek Park.
"You're going to a party alone." James's voice snapped her attention. "I thought you never went anywhere without an escort."
"Please, James." She held up her hands. "Let's not argue after so many years. Your address got mixed up with someone else's and a package was sent here. It really must get to the right man before eight o'clock."
"The right man?" His eyebrows rose. He approached her, watching her take a step back. Lifting her hand he checked her ring finger. "Is he your right man?"
Elizabeth snatched her hand away. "You have no right to ask that question."
"I'm the man with the package you want. That gives me a lot of rights." James walked to the bar in the corner and set two crystal goblets on the leather surface. He reached under the counter where Elizabeth knew there was a small refrigerator. He came up with two chilled bottles of Perrier water. Pouring them into the globes, he walked back to her. Elizabeth accepted one.
Taking a sip she hoped the cold water would help to cool her. "James, why don't you give me the package, and I'll be out of your life?"
"You're assuming I want you out of my life. We were friends -- once." He hesitated a moment. "Maybe I'd like to hear about you, what you've been doing in the past few years. Things that aren't covered in Black Enterprise." He gestured told the coffee table."<
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Elizabeth felt like she was being manipulated. "You know damn well how business is. As for my personal life, it's none of your concern. Now give me the box and let me go." She turned the glass up and drained it, then went to the bar and slammed the delicate crystal onto the leather top.
James lounged against the back of the tufted-leather sofa, apparently in no hurry to give her what she wanted. "Why are you doing this? Do I have to search for the box?"
"You could start in our bedroom," he grinned.
Elizabeth stopped short of gasping. "We don't have a bedroom." The implication that they never would rang clear in the air between them. She wouldn't go to his bedroom. In fact, she wouldn't go another step. Chantel Hartman-Lawrence could have been a valuable contact for her business, but Invitation to Love had survived other mishaps. She'd simply go to the address and explain to Mr. Hillery. She knew she'd have to confront Ms. Hartman-Lawrence, but Elizabeth would rather fight her than James.
"It's that way." He pointed to the door behind her.
Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment. Then she grabbed her cape, swung it over her shoulders and headed for the door.
"Elizabeth!" He vaulted over the sofa and reached the door in front of her. "Don't leave in anger. You left that way the last time. We were friends."
"That was a long time ago, James."
"Don't you think we could be friends again?"
"No, I don't. Please move. I'm late."
His shoulders dropped. Elizabeth's defenses said relax, but she held them tight. This could be another of his games.
James sighed. "Wait here. I'll get the package."
He disappeared into the back of the house. She knew there was a great-room there with enough windows to let the sun warm it on cold wintry days. It too had a fireplace as did all the rooms. Three Christmases ago, the two of them had drunk a toast to a room full of friends on their impending marriage. Elizabeth didn't know what made her move, but she walked to the arched entrance. In the darkness, the glass walls vaulted to the sky. Another lighted Christmas tree had been set up here. It was in the same space it had occupied when she stood before it, James at her side, a smile on her face.