Christmas In High Heels Read online

  Here’s what critics are saying about

  Gemma Halliday’s High Heels series:

  "A saucy combination of romance and suspense that is simply irresistible."

  - Chicago Tribune

  "Stylish... nonstop action...guaranteed to keep chick lit and mystery fans happy!"

  - Publishers’ Weekly, starred review

  “Smart, funny and snappy…the perfect beach read!”

  - Fresh Fiction

  "A is a roller coaster ride full of fun and excitement!"

  - Romance Reviews Today

  "Gemma Halliday writes like a seasoned author leaving the reader hanging on to every word, every clue, every delicious scene of the book. It’s a fun and intriguing mystery full of laughs and suspense." - Once Upon A Romance

  "Fresh and witty little number that will appeal if you like sparkling, good stories with a splash of mystery. Full marks go to Ms. Halliday on what promises to be a very successful debut to a fabulous career."

  - Romance Junkies

  OTHER BOOKS BY GEMMA HALLIDAY

  Viva Las Vegas

  High Heels Mysteries:

  Spying in High Heels

  Killer in High Heels

  Undercover in High Heels

  Alibi in High Heels

  Mayhem in High Heels

  Christmas in High Heels (short story)

  Hollywood Headlines Mysteries:

  Scandal Sheet

  The Perfect Shot

  Deadline (coming soon!)

  SHORT STORIES & NOVELLAS

  BY GEMMA HALLIDAY

  So I Dated an Axe Murderer (novella)

  Watching You (short story)

  Confessions of a Bombshell Bandit (short story)

  * * * * *

  CHRISTMAS IN HIGH HEELS

  by

  GEMMA HALLIDAY

  * * * * *

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2010 by Gemma Halliday

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  * * * * *

  CHRISTMAS IN HIGH HEELS

  * * * * *

  “Maddie, what is that?” a deep voice asked behind me.

  I looked up at the green sprig I was currently pinning to the ceiling of my boyfriend’s living room.

  “Mistletoe.”

  “Mistletoe?”

  “Yeah, you know, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

  I felt a pair of large, warm hands at my waist as I strained forward on my stepladder. “I know what it’s for. I just don’t get why you’re risking life and limb to stick it to my ceiling. Whoa, careful,” he added, grabbing my hips as I teetered to the left.

  “Use your imagination, big guy,” I responded, stepping down to face him.

  “Hmmmm.” He looked up. We were standing directly underneath the green sprig. “Good point.”

  He leaned in close, his warm breath hitting my lips just a second before his mouth did. He tasted like coffee and the rocky road ice cream we’d had for dessert. Yum. I kissed him back. Hard. With tongue.

  “So,” he said when we finally came up for air. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”

  I nipped at his lower lip. “Use your imagination, big guy,” I repeated with a grin.

  Tonight was Christmas Eve. Our first together. Not that it was the first Christmas Eve that had passed since we’d started dating, but it was the first one we’d spent together. In fact, it was the first holiday of any kind that we’d really spent together.

  Jack Ramirez was tall, dark, and handsome with a capital H-O-T. He was also a homicide detective with a captain who tended to call at all the wrong times. Like on my birthday when our opera tickets had gone to waste over a double homicide in the West Hills. And last Valentine’s Day when he’d made reservations at this romantic, little Italian bistro with drippy candles and everything. Then had to cancel when some stockbroker got hopped up on one too many triple lattes and shot his partner in their office downtown. And then there was Halloween. My best friend, Dana, had thrown this huge costume party, and Ramirez and I were supposed to go as two-person horse. An outfit that doesn’t work so well when the front half gets called to a triple homicide near the airport.

  So, when Ramirez had sworn on his grandmother’s grave that his captain was not only not calling him in this Christmas but was also in Vancouver visiting his mother, I immediately made the agenda for our evening. Ramirez, me, and a nice romantic evening at home. Quiet. Alone.

  Possibly even naked.

  And from the look in Ramirez’s eyes, I’d say he was totally on board with that plan.

  He leaned in close again, doing a sort of deep growl thing in the back of his throat, before his hands snaked up my sides, pulling me taut against a six-pack Budweiser would kill for.

  I planted my lips squarely on his, nibbling again until we both started panting like Dobermans.

  But just as his fingers began flirting with the button fly of my jeans, the “William Tell Overture” rang out from my purse.

  Ramirez groaned.

  “Hold that thought,” I told him, quickly locating the offending cell and hitting the on button.

  “Hello?”

  “Merry Christmas, Maddie,” my mom’s voice sang out from the other end.

  “And Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, and Yule, too!” I heard Faux Dad (as I’d affectionately dubbed my stepfather) add in the background.

  “Thanks, same to you guys, too.”

  “We’re heading to your cousin Molly’s right now,” Mom said. “Are you there yet?”

  “Uh, no.” I glanced across the room to where Ramirez was folding up the stepladder, while conspicuously standing just beneath my mistletoe. “We’re actually staying in tonight.”

  There was a pause. Then Mom’s voice rose two octaves. “What do you mean staying in tonight? Don’t you know it’s Christmas Eve?!”

  “Yes…” I hedged.

  “A holiday.”

  “Yes…”

  “A day for spending with family.”

  “Mom, I swear I will be at your house for turkey dinner tomorrow. But, Ramirez and I wanted to spend our first Christmas Eve together with just a nice, romantic, quiet evening at home.”

  “I never promised to be quiet,” Ramirez teased, grabbing my butt as he walked past with the ladder.

  I gave him a playful swat.

  “All right,” Mom said with a long-suffering sigh that only those who have given birth can master. “Spend the evening at home. You can catch up with us at Midnight Mass with your grandmother.
”

  “Um, actually…”

  “Don’t say it, Maddie,” Mom warned.

  “Well, I kinda…”

  “If you love me at all, don’t tell me you’re not going to Midnight Mass with your grandmother.”

  I bit my lip. “Okay. I won’t say it.”

  Expectant silence hung on the other end.

  “Maddie, how could you!” Mom screeched.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear.

  “I’m sorry?” I said. Though it came out more as a question.

  “Your grandmother is Irish Catholic. Your grandmother lives for the church. Christmas Eve is maybe the most important day in the church. I just know you would not make you own mother, who loved you through every scraped knee and over-pierced adolescent boyfriend, tell your grandmother that you’re not coming to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve because you’re having a quiet evening at home!”

  I bit my lip again. Then said, “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Mom let out a sigh.

  Then I added. “Make Faux Dad do it.”

  “Maddie…” she warned.

  “Loveyou,MerryChristmas,you’rethebest,” I slurred together and quickly hung up the phone.

  Then dropped it in my purse again as if it were a time bomb waiting to go off.

  Yes, I know it was mean to leave Mom alone with Grandma. But I was pretty sure that I had years of dealing with my own mother’s eccentricities left, so it was only right to let her do her time with hers.

  “Did she blow up?” Ramirez came up behind me, wrapping both arms around my middle.

  “Like a hurricane on a trailer park.”

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she’ll poison the cranberry sauce tomorrow night.”

  “Still worth it,” he mumbled, his lips nuzzling against my neck. His hands slid down to frame my hips, his mouth nibbling just at my pulse.

  I sighed. Yes. Yes, it was.

  “Hey,” I said. “I got you a present. Wanna open it?”

  “Now?” His hands moved upward, cupping my bra, as his lips gave way to teeth, doing tiny little nips along my throat.

  I giggled. “Yes, now. Trust me, you’re going to like it.”

  I wriggled away, grabbing a bright green package from beneath our little Christmas tree in the corner. And, I was pleased to notice as I settled onto the sofa with it, Ramirez had a box of his own in his hands.

  “Is that for me?” I asked, looking at the red, candy-cane striped paper.

  He nodded. “Uh huh. Here, you open first.”

  I wasn’t a girl who had to be told twice.

  I took the box and shook it. “What is it? Jewelry? Candy? Shoes?”

  His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Open it.”

  I tore into the paper with gusto, ripping the red wrapping off to reveal a plain white box beneath. I lifted the lid, pushing aside some very pretty pink tissue paper, and came out with…

  “What is this?” I asked.

  I held up a scrap (and I do mean scrap) of bright red fabric.

  “Lingerie.” Ramirez grinned at me, obviously pleased with himself.

  Me - I frowned, holding the red lace up to my torso. “A lace teddy?”

  He nodded, the grin growing.

  I dropped the fabric back into the box. “You got me lingerie for Christmas?”

  His grin faltered. “Yeah…”

  “That is a terrible present to give your girlfriend.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, it’s not for me, it’s for you!”

  He gave me a blank look.

  “You do realize that we girls don’t go prancing around the house in little lace teddies when we’re home all alone, right?”

  Ramirez’s wicked grin returned. “You’d look pretty damned cute prancing around in that,” he said.

  I gave him a playful swat on the arm. “You are so bad.”

  “Yeah, but you love me that way,” he said, drawing me in for a warm, wet kiss.

  He was right. I did kinda.

  Especially when his hands slipped inside my shirt and began fumbling with the clasp on my bra. Despite the fact he’d given me such lame present, I was just about to help him out when the doorbell rang.

  Ramirez groaned again.

  And I thought a really dirty word.

  “If that’s my mother…” I trailed off, leaving the threat hanging as I stalked to the door.

  Only, I threw it open to find Dana, standing there. Or, more accurately, teetering there, in a pair of six inch heels that looked like they were bordering on stilts.

  “Merry Christmas, Maddie!” She said, throwing both arms around me in a big hug. That turned into a stumble as she tripped on one heel.

  “What are you wearing?” I asked.

  “What?”

  She looked down. The heels were red with little green holly leaves all over them. Which matched her green mini-skirt with little red holly leaves. Which matched her red leather bustier and green earrings shaped like, you guessed it, holly leaves.

  “I’m in the holiday spirit,” Dana responded.

  I took a step back. “It smells like you’ve been drinking some holiday spirits.”

  She giggled, stepping into the living room and giving Ramirez a wave.

  “You bet I have! Ricky and I just came from his after party.” Dana gestured behind her to a gorgeous guy in a velvet Santa hat at the wheel of a convertible parked at the curb. Ricky was Dana’s boyfriend, who currently made his living as an actor on a highly rated primetime soap. I waved. He waved back.

  “What after party?” I asked.

  “A Christmas Carol. Down at the Civic Center. Ricky played Bob Cratchet. He was so sexy.”

  A sexy Bob Cratchet. Only in Hollywood.

  “Anyway,” she went on, “we’re on our way to the big Sunset Studios bash. You guys want to come?”

  I looked behind me to Ramirez. He’d shoved the gifts aside and was searching the sofa cushions for the TV remote.

  “Actually… well, we were going to spend a quiet, romantic evening at home.”

  “Oh, come on,” Dana said, flipping her strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder. “You can do that anytime. It’s Christmas Eve, Maddie. There are rockin’ parties happening all over Hollywood. You can not spend the evening at home.”

  “But it’s our first Christmas Eve together.”

  “Oh, ours too!” Dana said, clapping her hands with glee. “All the more reason to come out party hopping with us. I swear you’ll have a blast.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Ramirez had flipped the TV on to some football game. If I didn’t act now, I was afraid I’d lose him altogether to the pigskin gods.

  “Thanks, but I think we’re going to decline this time. You two go have fun, though. And tell Ricky ‘happy first Christmas together,’ from me.”

  Dana did a little pout. But, considering she had about a bazillion more bowls of eggnog punch to sample, she finally gave in. “Okay, fine. Well, enjoy your quiet evening at home. But don’t come running to me in the morning if you get coal in your party pooping stockings,” she called over her shoulder as she skipped out the door to join Ricky in his convertible.

  I waved as they pulled away from the curb, then shut the door behind her.

  “I thought she’d never give up,” Ramirez mumbled from the sofa.

  “You and me both.”

  I crossed the room, snuggling up next to him.

  “Mmmm,” he growled in approval, one hand curling around my shoulders. “Where were we?”

  I lowered my mouth slowly over his, sampling his lower lip. “Right about there.”

  “You know,” he mumbled. “I didn’t open your gift yet.”

  I froze. “Oh, well, it can wait. I mean, it’s not even really technically Christmas yet.”

  He shook his head. “No fair. You opened one. I get one, too.”

  “No, really, it can wait. I mean, it’s nothing really, it’s just…”


  I trailed off as Ramirez grabbed the package, ripped off the green foil wrapping, and pulled a scrap of red fabric from the box. He stared at it, the corners of his mouth quirking north.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  I did a deep sigh. “Lingerie.”

  The grin broke out into a full bellied laugh.

  “See, I told you it was more a gift for you!” I protested.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked, that wicked twinkle back in his eye.

  “What?”

  He looped both arms around me, pulling me onto his lap. “Fashion show.”

  I grinned. Well, I guess there were worse ways to spend an evening…

  I leaned in to kiss him.

  But never actually got to it as the doorbell rang. Again.

  I was seriously contemplating disconnecting the thing.

  “Don’t. Move,” I commanded, getting up.

  Ramirez did a deep resigned sigh in the back of his throat, reaching again for the remote.

  I jumped off the sofa and threw open the door…

  Only to be immediately assaulted by the voices of no less than four men standing on the porch.

  “…five Prada pumps! Four Gucci bags, three Hermes scarves, two Chanel wraps, and a Dior belt on a leather trench!”

  I blinked, my eyes going from one man to the next until they landed on what was clearly their fearless leader. He was dressed in a matching orange scarf and knit hat set even though it was barely below 60 degrees out. (We don’t believe in weather here in L.A. any more than we believe in public transportation.). He held a songbook in one hand and a sprig of holly in the other, rocking onto the toes of his hot pink Converse. Topped with turquoise leg warmers. And hot pink tights.

  Marco. The receptionist from Faux Dad’s hair salon.

  I watched in awe, barely stifling my laughter, as the colorful quartet finished their West Hollywood version of the “Twelve Days of Christmas.” They finally ended with a drawn-out falsetto note, then Marco launched himself at me with air kisses.