Santa, Bring My Baby Back Read online

  Santa, Bring My Baby Back

  CHERYL HARPER

  Dedication

  To my aunts, who introduced me to Memphis and Graceland

  Contents

  * * *

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  An Excerpt from Stuck On You

  An Excerpt from Can’t Help Falling in Love

  About the Author

  By Cheryl Harper

  An Excerpt from Once Upon a Highland Summer by Lecia Cornwall

  An Excerpt from Hard Target by Kay Thomas

  An Excerpt from The Wedding Date by Cara Connelly

  An Excerpt from Torn by Monica Murphy

  An Excerpt from The Cupcake Diaries: Spoonful of Christmas by Darlene Panzera

  An Excerpt from Rodeo Queen by T. J. Kline

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  * * *

  CHARLIE MCMINN PUSHED back his gold lamé sleeve to check the time and cursed under his breath. The bride and groom were twenty minutes late.

  Five more minutes. That’s it.

  He thumped his head against the high back of the leather chair and frowned as he stared up at the ceiling. This was not how he’d spend his Saturdays given a choice. Marrying happy couples at the Rock’n’Rolla Hotel was bad enough. He’d been guilted, cajoled, and generally coerced into agreeing to doing so for the first three December weekends by a woman with a sweet smile and iron will, the single person on the whole planet that could make him do something he didn’t want to do: his mother, Willodean Jackson. But wasting time instead of actually performing the weddings was just too much.

  Insult to injury. She gets me here, and then the bride and groom don’t show.

  He’d negotiated hard to make her agree to find a permanent solution by January. He kept reminding himself this was just temporary.

  At least the stock exchanges were closed on Saturday, and he’d wrapped up his latest investment deal before he’d packed up the truck to head for Memphis. Otherwise, he’d be wasting money too. And that was where Charlie McMinn drew the line.

  He shoved himself up out of the comfortable chair, yanked down the gold jacket that somehow fit like a second skin although he’d never been measured for it, and paced from one side of the small stage to the other. Red, pink, and white poinsettias lined the raised platform, the only shot of color in the hotel’s new chapel except for the dancing dots of light through the stained glass crosses over the door. Dark gray carpet, light walls, elegantly simple wooden pews, and tall, clear windows along one side of the room created a nice, airy place where Charlie could catch his breath. It was nothing like the rest of the hotel. There was nothing outrageous here except the price tag, which was excessive, a little like Willodean.

  Had she just run out of time, or had she intended to create a restful place?

  After all, no one but his mother had been sure the chapel would be finished in time. He thought he could still smell fresh paint; she’d probably had crews in all night finishing up. And it wouldn’t surprise him a bit. That was the way Willodean worked. She decided she wanted something, and then, come hell, high water—or outrageously expensive overtime bills—she made it happen. Getting this building up and running for the weddings she’d booked in advance had taken about four months and twice as much money as he would have spent.

  As Willodean’s financial advisor, he knew to the penny how much this latest project had cost. And it was a very good thing she had a lot of pennies because his mother had taken the phrase “money is no object” and embraced it as lifestyle. Just keeping up with her inspired ideas could be exhausting.

  Thank God he’d inherited her lucky streak and learned everything he knew about investing from his first stepfather. Otherwise, he’d still be working for a firm in Knoxville. And she and all of her Elvis memorabilia might be living with him.

  Wherever Willodean went, “The King” was sure to follow. He’d spent his life surrounded by Elvis. He liked his restored farmhouse with its sparse furnishings much better. Quiet woods, open spaces, and not one single rhinestone to be found.

  Maybe he missed the excitement that surrounded his mother sometimes, but he didn’t miss the frustration or uncertainty that came with it.

  Charlie took a deep breath and forced himself to exhale slowly in an effort to dispel some of the irritation that was threatening to boil over.

  When he’d slipped out of his comfortable flannel and into the white dress shirt and gold lamé, he’d cursed his inability to tell his mother no. But the first couple and their small group of friends and family had made him forget for a minute how uncomfortable he was. They weren’t what he’d expected, and being part of their celebration had been nice. The bride and groom were sports attorneys from Dallas who had been snowed in over Valentine’s Day at the hotel and had gone from co-workers to a whole lot more. The bride and her maid of honor had worn red. The groom and his best man wore suits. And there was something about how happy Luke and Julie were when he pronounced them man and wife that made Charlie think they were going to last. It must’ve been the Christmas spirit in the air. Everything seemed possible at Christmas.

  Including, possibly, a chance to figure out a way to smooth over his relationship with his mother. It seemed like he’d been irritated with her for a long time, but he loved her more. He had to let go of his guilt, forget his annoyance or whatever emotion was making this hotel feel like a prison, and accept Willodean the way she was. The rest of the world loved her. He felt like a total jackass sometimes because he wanted to complain about his life.

  At some point, he was going to have to either get over it or accept that he might be, in fact, a total jackass.

  Until then, they lived on opposite ends of the state. Maybe moving to the mountains of east Tennessee hadn’t been his original plan, but he was satisfied there. Dropping out of the competitive investment broker game had given him plenty of free time. As county mayor for two consecutive terms, he’d used his business experience to serve, but now he had way too much free time on his hands. Choosing not to run for re-election was supposed to give him time to try something new. He wished he had some idea what that might be. Keeping Willodean’s spending in line was his biggest time commitment. Otherwise, he dabbled, researched, and gambled small amounts on risky firms and larger amounts on solid businesses. And he had worked on restoring his old farmhouse, but that project was finished now. That was how he’d gotten ramrodded into performing weddings. He couldn’t very well point to his busy schedule as an excuse.

  He needed a new hobby. Or seven.

  He’d been thinking lately it was probably time to find a wife, someone compatible who wanted a nice, stable home like he did. As usual, he’d made a plan and a timeline to do so. So far he was on schedule. When he told his mother he was going to be spending some time in Memphis to work on that project, she’d be over the moon. The dating pool in Newport was shallow. Memphis would broaden his selection. He had two dates lined up this week with women he’d met through an online service. One was a psychologist, the other a pharmacist. One could tell him what his problem was and the other the prescription that might fix it.

  And if he just needed to grow the hell up… well, knowing was half the battle.

  When his stomach growl
ed, he checked his watch again. If he didn’t hurry, he’d run out of time before the next wedding. He never, ever skipped a meal. And he’d been thinking about the meat loaf sandwich at Viva Las Vegas, the hotel restaurant, since he’d agreed to do this a month ago. If he didn’t go now, he’d be late and the next bride and groom would have to wait on him.

  Charlie rolled his head from one side to the other, straightened his shoulders, and then fought his way out of the shiny gold jacket. He slipped it on the hanger in the small dressing room behind the stage and then carefully closed the door. He stretched his arms and soaked in the bright winter sunlight streaming through the windows.

  When his stomach growled again, he hit the door to the lobby with a stiff arm, set on getting back to his own schedule. After four determined steps, he stopped. He could see a line of light under the door to the bridal suite.

  Charlie mentally cursed again. Something about that light told him this was going to be more trouble than a man who hadn’t eaten in over four hours should attempt to deal with. He’d sent his assistant for the day out to check on the bride and groom earlier. When she’d come back to say the rooms were dark, he’d sent her on to lunch. He should have followed, obviously. If that light represented his late bride and groom, his schedule would be off for the rest of the day.

  After two perfunctory knocks, Charlie turned the knob and shoved open the door.

  He froze on the spot when he saw the bride seated in a froth of wedding dress. Like a priceless work of art, she was lit by a spotlight that highlighted the flawless creamy skin of her bare shoulders, the gleam in her dark hair, and her bright red lips. When his eyes met hers in the mirror’s reflection, he couldn’t remember just exactly what he thought he might say to the inconsiderate bride or groom if he ever found either of them. His schedule was forgotten. He was lucky to remember to breathe in and out.

  “Aw, crap, he ain’t comin’, is he?”

  A small frown wrinkled the pale skin of her brow and something about her east Tennessee twang set everything back in motion.

  He reached up to run his hand through his hair but hit crunchy product and decided to rub his neck like that was what he’d intended all along. “I was hoping that you could tell me. What happened to your groom?”

  “Well, I can’t say I exactly expected this, but I ain’t as shocked as I should be either.” She gave him a wide smile that didn’t quite look genuine, but he liked it a whole lot better than tears. “Tommy Joe told me he’d meet me over here, knock on the door when he was ready. Since he’s always late, I expected to wait a bit but…”

  She shrugged, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from being drawn back under her spell as light played across the pale skin of her shoulders and chest. She stood gracefully and smoothed the sides of her elegant wedding dress. Her hourglass figure was outlined faithfully by the dress and accented by dainty hands she propped on her hips. “He didn’t sound like a man looking forward to his weddin’. Cold feet set in, I imagine. My hook wasn’t set, and I guess he wriggled off.”

  Charlie frowned as he considered her answer. He fought back the urge to ask what kind of fool would wriggle off her hook. A man might not know he was caught until it was too late… but what a way to go.

  Rubbing his hand down his face, he wondered what the hell had happened to his brain. Starvation. That was the only answer. Marriage was a necessity, sure, but he didn’t know this woman at all. Like any other big decision, picking a bride should be about black-and-white benefits outweighing the risks, not how amazing she looked in a gown. Or possibly out of it.

  “Yeah, well…” What should he say to a woman dumped at the altar? “It wasn’t very considerate of him to keep us waiting.”

  She snorted and Charlie liked her better, if that was possible. A princess was one thing. A beautiful woman with an unladylike snort, that was real. “You said a mouthful there, Elvis.”

  If Charlie looked at the big picture, he could understand her sarcasm. Maybe she had a better reason to complain about inconvenience than he did.

  When his stomach gave a pitiful rumble, Charlie told himself that he needed to step out of the room, get moving, get back on schedule. But she reached up and removed some sparkling clips from her hair and then stepped out of her shoes, two more changes that took her from fantasy to reality.

  And suddenly he didn’t want her calling him Elvis. He’d had a long and complicated history with the King of Rock and Roll, thanks to his mother’s fandom. He wanted this woman to use his name.

  “Charlie…” When he heard a ridiculous squeak on the end, he cleared his throat. “My name is Charlie, not Elvis.”

  She pursed her lips and then nodded. “Got it. Thanks for letting me know, Charlie. My name’s Grace. Andersen. Should be Huffle by now, but it looks like I’ll keep the original for a bit longer.”

  Charlie thought she’d gotten the better end of the name deal there, but he didn’t say it. He pointed over his shoulder and said, “Sure. I’m going to go.” He motioned vaguely around the room. “It won’t take you long to pack all this up, right?” That was a good idea. She’d need to clear out pretty soon for the next bride. He didn’t want to mess with the schedule any more.

  The sooner this woman, with her crazy effect on his brain, moved along, the better. There was absolutely nothing about this situation that said he should be attracted to her. A bride? At her own cancelled wedding? She would be at the top of his list of people not to be drawn to. And she was definitely not in his plan.

  She looked in the mirror and then braced an elbow on the top of the vanity. “Won’t take me long at all, Charlie. I’ll just make a new plan and get to it.” She looked his way again, and he felt his pulse speed up. She glanced away and fiddled with something on the vanity as she muttered, “Find a job. How hard can that be?”

  Charlie knew she wasn’t really asking. But it could be pretty hard, actually. He spent a lot of time studying industries and employers and statistics—all things that mattered to the county mayor and to a savvy investor looking for underfunded companies on the verge of breaking out. He knew unemployment numbers, but he didn’t figure she’d benefit from knowing them too. Besides, she’d landed in the one place she was practically guaranteed to find a job or a loan or a brand new family, if that’s what she needed.

  The Rock’n’Rolla Hotel.

  He’d spent a lot of time being annoyed over that fact. His mother would take care of her, just like she did everyone she adopted. For the first time, he understood Willodean’s impulses.

  There was something about Grace Andersen that made him want to help, even after decades of trying to guard his mother and her money against people and stories like hers.

  He wouldn’t mind being Grace Andersen’s hero.

  To avoid doing something stupid, Charlie turned to go but stopped when she added, “Oh, Charlie, could you do me a favor?”

  She shuffled toward him, the rustle of the wedding dress sweeping the floor loud in the silence. “Could you unzip me? I thought I was going to dislocate a shoulder getting it zipped in the first place.” She turned and bent her head so that all Charlie could see was smooth, pale skin across her shoulders and the loose dark hairs that tickled her neck.

  When he didn’t move quickly enough, she turned her head to look at him over one perfect shoulder.

  Remembering to breathe became a struggle again.

  He forced himself to step closer. He grasped the zipper with one hand and slid the other under the fabric. The zipper made a quiet hiss as it slid down to the curve of her back, every centimeter showing more beautiful skin.

  And out of the blue he wondered if unzipping Grace Andersen would ever get old. Finished, he took two steps away to keep from smoothing his hands over her shoulders like he wanted or tracing a finger down her spine just to see goose bumps.

  She turned her head. “Thanks.”

  As he pulled the door closed behind him, Charlie tried to remember the last time he’d seen anyone as pr
etty as she was in real life. Never. But she wasn’t his type. He preferred career women who wore glasses and looked like they could quote stock prices or legal precedents. He liked women with sharp minds and sturdy savings. He’d had enough excitement growing up with Willodean McMinn Holloway Luttrell Jackson. Now all he wanted was a comfortable home, an easy, companionable, stable relationship, and maybe a baby to keep things interesting. Maybe.

  Grace Andersen looked like… magic.

  He propped his hands on his hips and shook his head as he looked out at the guitar-shaped pool that was covered for the season.

  Magic? He hadn’t been in the hotel for a full twenty-four hours and already his mind was going. Something about being that close to her had melted it. But Grace Andersen was just a woman. She’d been left at the altar but didn’t seem too broken up about it. He hoped her new plan, whatever it was, meant checking out of the hotel immediately. Beautiful Grace Andersen might have the ability to wreck his plans along with his logic if she stayed.

  “WELL, GRACIE, HERE you are again.” Grace said the words out loud, but in her mind, she could hear her mother’s dry, pragmatic tone. She clutched the front of her dress and actually appreciated how the matter-of-factness snapped her back to reality. There for a minute with Charlie, she’d started to feel like she’d stepped out of this world and into a place where only the two of them existed. When her eyes met his in the mirror, everything else had faded in the face of an instant connection, one she’d never had with Tommy Joe Huffle.

  For just a second, she’d had a flash of what a wedding day with a man who hooked her that easily might be like. A nice fantasy, but not very helpful for a woman stranded in a strange city with maxed-out credit cards.