Marry Me at Christmas

They both rose. She held out her hand to shake, realizing a half second too late that it might be a mistake. He took her hand in his and they shook. People did it thousands of times a day. Maybe millions.

But she’d never done it with Jonny Blaze, so was unprepared for the hot, melty sparks that erupted all over her body. Or the way her chest got tight and her thighs tingled.

Lightning, she thought with amazement. The lightning her mother had always told her about. The lightning that meant the women in her family had found the one.

No, she told herself firmly as she pulled back her hand. Not lightning. Star power. There was a very big difference and she would do well to remember that.

TWO

JONNY PARKED HIS SUV near the lake and walked the rest of the way into town for his meeting with Madeline. He found that when he was in Fool’s Gold, he liked being out and walking around with everyone. The air was cool—they’d already had the first snowfall of the season. People were bundled up with scarves and jackets, but the extra layers and chill didn’t keep them from greeting each other.

He’d been smiled at and wished a good day more times than he could count. It was nice. Regular. At least out here. In LA everyone would be driving, even if they only had to go three blocks, and in New York, each person was in his or her own personal bubble. He didn’t have to worry about paparazzi. They’d shown up for about two days after he’d moved here. But once they’d realized there was nothing to report, they’d left him alone. Which was exactly how he liked it.

He’d spoken to his sister that morning. She’d had a good conversation with Madeline and was excited about her upcoming wedding.

He’d wondered if Ginger would ask Madeline about her credentials, but his sister had only raved about how Madeline understood exactly what she wanted. For his part, he needed a local connection because he wanted to use vendors from the area. While flying in someone from LA might be easier, working with Madeline gave him more control.

Ginger’s wedding was important to him. Since their dad had died nearly a decade before, it had been Jonny and his sister. They looked out for each other. Seeing her get married would be great. He liked her fiancé. Oliver was a good guy. Just as smart and focused as Ginger. They did well together.

He crossed the street, heading for Paper Moon. He was meeting Madeline in her store. As he turned a corner, a woman walked up to him. She was a tall, attractive redhead.

“You’re Jonny Blaze,” she said as she stopped next to him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Talk about the inevitable, he thought, wondering if he had a pen with him. While it had taken longer here than most places, him being recognized and stopped was a part of celebrity life. Mostly he was fine with being asked for an autograph or picture even when he was between movies or publicity tours, like now. Because his fans didn’t care if he was working or simply enjoying a few weeks off.

He glanced at the woman’s left hand and saw a wedding band. Hopefully that meant she wasn’t going to come on to him. Although it didn’t always.

The fame thing was complicated. He had to admit, there were times when he liked not having to wait in line or always being able to get a table at a popular restaurant. But the downside could be dark, and for the most part he preferred to live privately.

“I’m Felicia Boylan,” the woman continued. “I run the festivals here in town.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, as well.” She offered him a quick smile. “We have a parade in town on Thanksgiving morning. Will you be here for the holiday?”

“I will.” Ginger was going to be spending it with Oliver’s family, so he was on his own.

For a second he worried this Felicia woman was inviting him to dinner. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy some company, but he wasn’t interested in hanging out with people he didn’t know. Then the comment about her job, along with the parade, clicked into place and he got it.

She wanted him to be the grand marshal. He wondered who had gotten bumped when Felicia had found out he’d moved to the area. And while he appreciated the offer, he wasn’t exactly a parade kind of guy. He would let her down gently, he told himself. No hard feelings and all that.

“Excellent. I heard you had a classic car. A 1956 Cadillac convertible. An El Dorado, I believe.”

Her stare was intense, as if she wanted to be sure she got all her facts right.

“That’s right,” he said slowly.

“And it’s red?”

He nodded.

The smile returned. “Perfect. I was hoping we could borrow it for the parade. The vehicle Mayor Marsha normally uses isn’t working and it appears the parts won’t arrive in time. I was hoping your car could be the backup. We have insurance. I would personally watch over your car. So can we borrow it for the parade?”