Читать книгу: «Christmas Male»
Twelve super-sexy books.
All the gorgeous military heroes you can handle.
One UNIFORMLY HOT! mini-series.
Don’t miss Mills & Boon® Blaze®’s first twelve-book continuity series, featuring irresistible soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.
Watch for:
LETTERS FROM HOME by Rhonda Nelson (Army Rangers) June 2010
THE SOLDIER by Rhonda Nelson (Special Forces) July 2010
STORM WATCH by Jill Shalvis (National Guard) August 2010
HER LAST LINE OF DEFENCE by Marie Donovan (Green Berets) September 2010
SOLDIER IN CHARGE by Jennifer LaBrecque (Paratrooper) October 2010
SEALED AND DELIVERED by Jill Monroe (Navy SEALs) November 2010
CHRISTMAS MALE by Cara Summers (Military Police) December 2010
Uniformly Hot!
The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell.
Christmas Male
By
Cara Summers
Dear Reader,
I loved writing Christmas Male for many reasons. First, it gave me a chance to wind up Blaze’s year-long mini-series UNIFORMLY HOT!, which features hunky military heroes. Second, it allowed me to tell D.C. Campbell’s story. You may remember him from my summer books, Twin Temptation and Twin Seduction.
Telling D.C.’s story also allowed me to revisit one of my favorite cities—Washington, D.C. I fell in love for the first time in our nation’s capital, so it will always hold a special place in my heart. And the holiday season is the perfect time for love to be in the air. Especially when there’s a legendary diamond involved…and two hot-for-each-other people who aren’t looking for a sexily-ever-after. But the holidays have a way of giving us all what we really want, even if we don’t know it yet.
May all your Christmas wishes come true!
Cara Summers
P.S. I’d love to hear from you. Please visit me at www.carasummers.com.
About the Author
RITA® Award nominee CARA SUMMERS is currently working on her thirty-fifth story, a new Blaze® romance. Her books have won several awards, including two Golden Leaves, three Golden Quills, an Award of Excellence, a Holt Medallion and a Lifetime Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. Who does she credit with inspiring her to become a romance writer? Her dad, who was always an avid reader of genre fiction, and her mom, who handed her a romance novel about fifteen years ago and said, “Try it. You’ll love it.” And Mom was right. Cara’s been reading and writing romances ever since! Visit her at www.carasummers.com.
To my niece and godchild Emma Fulgenzi, who is just the sort of smart, strong, independent woman I like to write stories about.
May all your Christmas wishes come true—and then some!
I love you!
Prologue
Washington Post—December 20 Is True Love In the Air?
THE RUBINOV DIAMOND EXHIBIT at the National Gallery has created a lot of excitement in Washington during this holiday season. Although whether people are flocking to see the stone because of its long, sometimes bloody history…or its acclaimed ability to bring lovers together, has yet to be discerned.
The brilliant blue diamond boasts a long and somewhat checkered history. After disappearing for generations, sometimes centuries, it always resurfaces—and always with a new owner. Like other large diamonds, rumors of obsession, murder and theft swirl around it. At one point, it is said that the diamond spent some time in the possession of pirates in the Aegean. More recently in 1999, master jewel thief Arthur Franks was credited with facilitating the Rubinov’s reappearance on the market. Neither story has ever been authenticated.
But what seems certain is that whenever the diamond reappears, a new love story is born.
According to the legend, the diamond’s power to ignite an intense attraction between true lovers dates back to ancient times. A few scholars argue the stone originated in Greece, and some even favor the theory that it was Aphrodite, the goddess of love, who first brought the stone to earth and gave it to a mortal she desired above all others.
Its current name, the Rubinov, was bestowed on it in 1917 when Count Peter Rubinov, a close friend of Tsar Nicholas of Russia, fell in love with one of the servants in the royal household and had the diamond made into a necklace for her. Shortly afterward, Count Rubinov, his lover and the necklace disappeared. Many believe it was through the power of the blue stone that they escaped when the Tsar and his family were put to death.
And Count Rubinov’s romance isn’t the only one. In another story, Helen of Troy was in possession of the stone when Paris first saw her, and it was his irresistible attraction to Helen that compelled him to kidnap her.
Another account claims that Merlin gave the diamond to Guinevere to solidify her relationship with Arthur. Instead, she wore it when she met Lancelot…
In more current stories, it is maintained that the Rubinov played a role in bringing Bonnie and Clyde together before they went on their bank-robbing spree. And though Britain’s royal family has always denied it, there are a few insiders who believe the Rubinov was briefly in their possession when Edward first met Mrs. Simpson.
According to my own research, Jacqueline Bouvier photographed it when it was last exhibited in Boston while she was dating John F. Kennedy. The picture she snapped of the necklace is still archived in the John F. Kennedy Library.
But the clincher as far as this reporter is concerned is the number of stories that have crossed my desk since the Rubinov Exhibit opened on December 15. Love is definitely in the air in our nation’s Capitol. The latest announcement came from Senator McNeil of Wisconsin, who insists that his daughter met her new fiancé in a chance meeting at the exhibit.
Regina Meyers, spokesperson for Gregory Shalnokov, the reclusive owner of the Rubinov, says Mr. Shalnokov is very pleased his diamond has contributed to the joy of the season.
Clearly, the Rubinov diamond is a matchmaker extraordinaire. This reporter’s advice: The clock’s ticking. If you want to make the legend of the Rubinov live on, run, don’t walk, to the National Gallery. The diamond is scheduled to return to the private collection of Gregory Shalnokov on December 23.
Chapter One
POLICE LIEUTENANT Fiona Gallagher looked up from her brochure to survey the crowd waiting to get a look at the legendary Rubinov Diamond.
The long line was being threaded through the exhibition room in a zigzag pattern similar to the ones used for security checks at airports. Her fellow viewers were a diverse group, ranging in age from small children to a couple just ahead of her who appeared to be in their eighties. She’d even spotted a couple of teens dressed in black and wearing red scarves and Santa hats in honor of the season.
Fiona had yet to figure out what the hell she was doing at the exhibition. In the five years she’d lived and worked as a police detective in D.C., she had yet to visit the National Gallery. Two or three times during her wait in line, she’d been tempted to leave. Diamonds with romantic legends surrounding them weren’t her cup of tea. True, her boss, Captain Natalie Gibbs-Mitchell, had been nagging her to see it. But Natalie always thought Fiona needed more in her life than just her job. Fiona didn’t agree. Her work in the high-profile crime division Natalie ran always gave her the challenges she thrived on.
Perhaps she’d come today out of boredom. She wasn’t currently working on a case. That bothered her a bit. Christmas was far from her favorite holiday, and she always depended on her job to get her through the season. But it wasn’t like she didn’t have things to do. She was running a toy drive at the precinct that would benefit the families of returning vets, and she had a meeting at Walter Reed hospital in less than an hour. After that, she had to make an appearance at a Christmas party, which meant she needed a change of clothes.
The Rubinov hadn’t even been on her mind when she’d left the station, but the next thing she knew, her car was at the National Mall. Curiosity had always been one of her strengths as a cop, but it seldom extended beyond the job. And she rarely acted on impulse.
As the couple in front of her moved on, Fiona got her first glimpse of the diamond. And she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from it. Had she ever seen a stone that blue? Legend aside, she couldn’t deny its extraordinary beauty. Even through the glass of the display case, the jewel in the center of the intricately carved necklace burned with a fire that seemed to grow even brighter as she looked at it.
As far as possessing the power to irresistibly draw two people together? Fiona’s logical mind balked at that. But she couldn’t fault the National Gallery’s decision to promote the romantic legend surrounding the stone.
Even in the midst of a busy Christmas season, the Rubinov Diamond had all Washington talking. And not about politics. Several people, including a prominent senator’s daughter, had attributed their engagements to the famous stone.
In her experience, true love was a rare thing. She wanted to think that her parents had experienced it, but since she’d lost them when she was four, she had too few memories to rely on. She certainly hadn’t spotted anything even resembling true love in the series of foster homes she’d bounced through before she’d entered the police academy.
Although…her captain was very happily married—and expecting her first baby. And Natalie’s sisters, Rory and Sierra, were happy in their marriages, too. But in Fiona’s view, the former Gibbs sisters were exceptions to the rule.
Was she secretly hoping to find what Natalie and her sisters had found? Was that what had lured her to the exhibition?
Dream on, Fiona. Christmas is a time for broken dreams.
Still, she couldn’t quite look away from the diamond, nor could she prevent feeling a little tug of longing.
She had to move on. Putting some effort into it, she tore her gaze away from the Rubinov diamond. It was only then that she noticed a man standing on the other side of the glass case. He was tall and dark haired with broad shoulders. There was something essentially male about him even without taking into account the officer’s uniform. She was vaguely aware that an older woman stood to his right, her arm tucked through his. The younger woman to his left said something, and when he smiled, Fiona felt her heart skip a beat.
Now she studied the three people standing directly across from her with the same intensity she’d looked at the diamond. They had their gazes locked on the necklace. Family, she thought. She pushed the tiny twinge of envy away quickly.
Without warning, the officer’s eyes lifted and met hers over the display case. For one instant, all she could feel was the impact of his gaze moving through her like a bullet—penetrating first skin, then muscle, blood and bone. Her mind went blank. Except for one word. Hers.
She felt a pull and knew only that she wanted to go to him, needed to…
When his gaze shifted back to the older woman at his side, Fiona realized that her heart was beating fast—as if she’d just raced to the top of a hill. And one of her hands had fastened onto the velvet rope in front of her. To hold on? To tear it away?
She could have sworn the fire in the diamond glowed more fiercely.
Ridiculous. She ordered herself to draw in a deep breath and let it out. This wasn’t like her at all. And the officer—whoever he was—was a complete stranger.
Icy panic shot up her spine. She shouldn’t have come here. It was always a mistake to wish for more than you could have. Without a backward glance at either the diamond or the man, she whirled away. Crumpling the brochure that told about the legend, she stuffed it into her coat pocket and barely kept herself from running out of the exhibition room.
Joy to the world…
The music poured out of the speakers in the sculpture garden at the National Mall, mixing with the chatter and laughter of skaters as they circled the ice rink. Usually, Army Captain D. C. Campbell loved Christmas music.
The song playing right now was a particular favorite. He’d always believed that spreading and receiving joy was the purpose, the mission of Christmas. But this year, he had to admit, the spirit of the season had eluded him. Not even the lights winking merrily on the National Mall were helping. Nor did the sight of his mother and younger sister, Darcy, skating arm in arm as they rounded the corner of the rink.
Using his cane to wave at them, D.C. gave himself a mental shake and turned to walk down the path toward Madison Drive. He knew exactly what his problem was—and he needed to solve it. He was bored out of his mind.
After his last tour of duty in Iraq, running the military police unit at nearby Fort McNair was as exciting as watching paint dry. It was a small base and occupied a scenic location in the Southwest section of the capital. The Anacostia River bordered it on the south and the Washington Channel on the west. The National Defense University was housed on the grounds, and D.C.’s main job was to oversee security. No problem there—since it ran like a well-oiled machine. Handling security had been a tad more challenging in Baghdad.
The other part of his job at Fort McNair was to investigate any crimes committed by personnel assigned to the base. So far the most exciting thing he’d done in the six months he’d been assigned there was to referee a fight that had broken out in the Officer’s Club.
Again, it was pretty easy work compared to what he’d done in Iraq. The upside was that it was risk free. You didn’t have to second-guess any decisions when you were signing requisition orders. No one’s life was on the line. Not his. Certainly not a partner’s.
He still felt guilty when he thought of David Eisley, the young private who’d been with him when he’d taken the hit to his leg. The soldier who hadn’t survived. But he was dealing with it. Risks, wins and losses—they were part of the job. Part of what had driven him to join the military in the first place.
At other times in his life, D.C. had embraced boredom. After a particularly rough day in a combat situation, a little tedium was welcome. Refreshing even. But enough was enough.
No doubt it was his state of mind that had fueled his imagination earlier that afternoon, when he and Darcy and his mom had been viewing the Rubinov Diamond. That had to have been why he’d had such an…odd reaction to that woman.
When he’d first met her eyes, the tightening in his gut had been unexpected. Raw and hot and sexual. That he might have been able to explain away. After all, she was a beautiful woman. The whiskey-colored eyes and the cameo face framed in a long fall of dark hair was enough to whet the appetite of any male with a pulse. And when she’d turned and strode away, the closer look he’d gotten at her body hadn’t disappointed him. Despite the fact she’d been wearing a short jacket and slacks, he’d gotten a clear impression of a lean, athletic body and miles of leg. Desire had punched through him again. Understandable. Enjoyable. But the intense and possessive urge he’d had to follow her was more than surprising. It was unprecedented.
He’d very nearly deserted his family to run after her. As it was, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her until she’d disappeared.
What would have happened if he had followed his mystery woman? The very nice fantasy that filled his mind helped him to fight off the increasing chill in the air as he continued down the path. The temperature had dropped steadily ever since the sun had set. But while they might warm him, distract him even, it was going to take more than interesting and pleasurable sexual fantasies to solve his current problem.
All he wanted for Christmas was an adventure. Was that too much to ask? Not anything major…he wouldn’t wish a crime spree on his base. But he desperately needed something to jar him out of his mind-numbing state.
Thanks to the leg injury he’d suffered on his last tour of duty, it wasn’t likely that he was going to see combat action anytime soon. Hell, he couldn’t even join his mother and younger sister on the ice rink. Pausing, he turned back to watch the skaters. He barely needed the cane anymore, and the leg itself was at eighty to eighty-five percent mobility. The problem was it wasn’t going to get to one hundred. His general had already had a conversation with him about transferring to a desk job at the Pentagon.
Problem was, a desk job didn’t appeal to D.C. any more than continuing on at the less-than-exciting Fort McNair.
D.C. tapped his cane impatiently against the ground as he watched his mother and Darcy skate by again. He’d always thought he’d be a military career man just as his father had been. At least that had been his father’s plan before he’d been killed in Bosnia. But a career in the army was out if D.C. had to spend the rest of his life on the fringes as he was doing today.
It came upon a midnight clear…
The lilting music had D.C. narrowing his eyes. Who said he had to wait until midnight for a little clarity? There was no time like the present. When January 15 rolled around, instead of signing up for another five years in the army, he could always resign. So what if he didn’t know exactly what he’d do next?
His older brother, who owned a security firm in Manhattan, had offered him a job. But in the last year, Jase had taken on a new partner and more recently a wife. No matter. D.C. would figure out something. He always did. The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. He did like surprises. Wasn’t it the predictability of his daily routine at Fort McNair that was driving him nuts?
Having made the decision, something eased inside of him.
Finally.
This time, as his mother and sister rounded the curve, he smiled and waved at them. It was his day off, and he’d invited them to join him at the National Mall for some museum touring followed by skating at the sculpture garden. The visit to the National Gallery had been designed to tempt his mother into town. For the last twenty years, ever since Nancy Campbell had stepped into the job of single parent, he’d never known her to take much time off for herself.
So when she’d mentioned she’d love to see the Rubinov Diamond exhibit, D.C. had lost no time planning the day. According to the press releases, the Rubinov boasted a Cupid-like reputation of bringing together those who came in contact with it. But it was nearly equally famous for its history of frequently disappearing for long periods of time. When it invariably resurfaced, it was never possible to trace the relationship between the old owner and the new one.
It didn’t require highly trained investigatory skills to assume that there was often some sort of skulduggery afoot. D.C. suspected the diamond had, at various times, gone underground into someone’s private collection. He’d learned a lot about the temptations of private collectors when he’d been investigating an art theft case in Iraq, one that had involved some high-level military officials. It had been messy.
Who knew how long the Rubinov had been in the possession of its current owner, Gregory Shalnokov? The reclusive billionaire had admitted to owning it for the past ten years, but just how he’d come to acquire it was shrouded in mystery. D.C. knew that provenances could be forged.
Still, he figured he owed Shalnokov one when he’d seen the look on his mother’s and sister’s faces as they’d gazed at the diamond. D.C. shook his head. There was something about women and diamonds.
As far as he was concerned, the blue stone was just another rock, albeit one that supposedly had extraordinary powers. Truth told, he’d been more intrigued by the security on both the exhibition room and the display case than he’d been by the diamond. After a fair bit of prompting and a flash of his ID, one of the guards, a man named Bobby, had told him that the lock on the case was voice activated. Only Shalnokov could open it.
Interesting.
Over the years, the legendary diamond had attracted as many thieves as lovers. The article in the Washington Post had even mentioned the name of master thief Arthur Franks as having once had possession of the stone. While the female members of D.C.’s family had oohed and aahed over the diamond, he’d been wondering how a good thief might work a successful heist. And the fact that his mind had wandered down that path was pathetic proof of the level of his boredom.
Then he’d glanced up and looked into his mystery woman’s eyes. And for those next few seconds, he’d been unaware of anything but her. He couldn’t recall ever being that intensely aware of anyone before.
When his cell phone rang, D.C. glanced at the ID and grinned. Jase had been checking in with him once a week since he’d been assigned to Fort McNair. A classic case of big-brotheritis.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” D.C. asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do. But Maddie wanted me to call and remind you that you’re joining us for Christmas in the Big Apple.”
“And you don’t think I’m getting daily reminders of that from Mom?”
Jase laughed. “Okay. I’ll have to think up better excuses for calling. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” D.C said. “Really.” And he realized it was the truth. He was okay with the fact that his life after January 15 was a clean slate—something he had plenty of time to write on. It would be an adventure. And after all, wasn’t that what he was craving?
“You’ll figure something out.”
“I will,” D.C. said. He would.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas…
The song poured out of the speakers as D.C. pocketed his cell phone. His smile widened. The music seemed louder, the lights brighter, the evening merrier. He was still grinning and watching the skaters when he caught a movement in his peripheral vision. Turning, he spotted a figure at the far end of the garden just inside one of the entrance gates. The lights were focused on the ice rink, but he could still make out the white fur trim on the Santa hat as the person dodged behind one of the trees.
Earlier, when they’d arrived at the National Gallery, there’d been a couple of young people wearing red scarves and Santa hats in the museum. ‘Twas the season, D.C. supposed.
He kept his eyes on the festive figure as he darted to the next tree. Intrigued by the furtiveness of the movement, D.C. stepped onto the grass using trees and sculptures for cover as he zigged and zagged away from the ice rink.
Suddenly, the person ducked down along one side of the largest sculpture—the four-sided pyramid. Hiding, D.C. decided. But from what? The question had barely formed in his mind when a second figure suddenly appeared on another side of the sculpture and moved stealthily toward the first. Both figures were dressed alike—dark clothing, a Santa hat and a scarf.
In spite of the dim lighting, D.C. caught the glint of light on metal and watched. The second one raised his arm and springing forward, brought a gun down hard on the other one’s head.
D.C. pulled out his revolver as he broke into a run. “Stop. Police.”
The person holding the gun whirled and raised his weapon just as uneven ground made D.C. stumble and fall. He landed hard on his bad leg. Dispassionately, he heard a whiny thud and watched a chunk of bark hit the grass inches in front of him. Close, D.C. thought as he rolled to the other side of a tree. Very close.
Still on the ground, he ignored the pain in his thigh and took aim with his own weapon. But the figure was already racing away. The sidewalks on either side of the garden were still filled with tourists, and firing a shot would be too risky.
Hauling himself to his feet, D.C. dialed 911 and relayed his situation as he ran haltingly in the direction the armed man had taken. He exited the gate in time to see a figure wearing a Santa hat disappear into the backseat of an unmarked van. The Mall was lit brightly enough for him to see that there were two other people in the vehicle, one behind the wheel and another in the passenger seat.
The engine roared and tires squealed as the van raced away toward Fourth Street and peeled around the corner. It would be useless to give chase, D.C. thought. Even if his leg had been at one hundred percent, the van was moving too fast. He rubbed his thigh. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the sharpness of the pain was coming through. Loud and clear.
He turned back, and as he limped across the ground toward the fallen figure, he caught a few glimpses of the ice rink. Thanks to the volume of the music and the fact that the person with the gun had used a silencer, the skaters seemed blissfully unaware of the little shoot-out. He leaned down to retrieve his cane and then continued toward the figure on the ground.
The man was lying on his side, one arm flung out, a red scarf obscuring his features. D.C. knelt down beside the body. It was the hand that caught his attention first. The fingers were long, slender and delicate-looking. He checked for a pulse, found it steady. Carefully drawing the scarf aside, he confirmed his suspicion—this was a woman.
And he knew her.
Lying before him was Private Amanda Hemmings, General Eddinger’s administrative assistant at Fort McNair. Small world, D.C. thought.
Examining the fallen woman more closely, he noted the gash on the back of her head oozing blood. And the bruise on her forehead told him she’d hit it, as well, when she fell. He took her hand and patted it. “Private Hemmings?”
No response.
“Amanda?”
Silence again. She’d obviously been hit hard. Above the music from the rink, D.C. caught the faint sound of a siren.
What was Private Amanda Hemmings doing here wearing a Santa hat and red scarf? And why had someone attacked her?
It was a puzzle—and D.C. loved them. He was taking out his notebook and pen when he saw it—just two or three links of gold sticking out of one of the pockets in her jacket. But he’d seen those chain links before. Very carefully, he drew them out.
Excitement surged through him. There hanging at the end of the necklace was the Rubinov diamond.
BAH! HUMBUG!
Though she didn’t utter them aloud, the words blinked on and off like a neon sign in Fiona’s mind. Impatient and annoyed, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her car while she waited for a group of tourists to climb aboard the bus she’d been following down Constitution Avenue.
Even though it was nearly five forty-five and the sky had darkened over half an hour ago, the traffic around the National Mall hadn’t let up. She shouldn’t have taken this route. But she hadn’t quite been able to put that officer out of her mind. What was even more annoying was that each time she thought about him, the feelings she’d experienced returned—the shortness of breath, the rapid pulse. How could she be so intensely attracted to a total stranger?
She’d succeeded in coming up with a rational explanation for the…unsettling experience. It had been a combination of all the media hype around the diamond together with the Christmas season with its promises of wishes coming true. Add to that the fact that she was at loose ends because she wasn’t in the middle of a case, and it made sense that her imagination would react in such a strange way to the diamond…and the army officer.
And damn it, while she’d been thinking of him, her car had somehow found its way to the National Mall. Again.
She spared a glance for the tourists who had formed a line on the sidewalk that ran behind the sculpture garden next to the National Gallery. She seemed to be the only one in a hurry to get somewhere. She stared at them, willing them to pick up the pace as they slowly boarded their bus. It didn’t work.
Great! Fiona clamped down on the urge to lean on her horn. It wasn’t the bus driver’s fault that she was late. Nor could she blame him for the traffic snarl or because she was on her way to an obligatory Christmas party that she’d done her best to get out of.
Her boss, Natalie Gibbs-Mitchell, had refused to take no for an answer. And the fact that her captain was expecting a baby any day added what Fiona felt was a lot of unfair pressure.
When her cell phone rang, Fiona glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil…
“Don’t even think of chickening out on me,” Natalie said.
“I swear I’m on my way. I’m running late because I stopped by the National Gallery earlier today and saw the diamond.”
“And?”
“You’re right. It’s beautiful.” But it wasn’t an image of the necklace that filled her mind. It was the face of the stranger she’d seen over the display glass—that lean face with the ruggedly handsome features.
“And now that you’ve seen it, what do you think of the legend?”
When she felt the little flutter of panic, Fiona ruthlessly shoved it down. “I think the legend is making this one of the most popular exhibitions ever.”
Then she changed the subject. “I’m also running late because my meeting at Walter Reed hospital took longer than I expected.”
There was a beat of silence. “And that would be my fault?”
Fiona could picture Natalie on the other end of the call, her expression cool, her brows raised. The image made Fiona smile. “If the shoe fits…”
It had been her captain who’d put her in charge of the department’s Christmas toy drive. But it had been her own idea to recruit volunteers to patrol the high-traffic tourist attractions in D.C. In each location, they handed out brochures explaining the drive and describing where and how to drop off toys.
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