A Christmas Proposition. Jessica Lemmon

felt her cheeks warm as she recalled the rest of her conversation that night. “That...is partially my fault.”

      Pen raised her eyebrows and waited.

      Stef, you’ll be single forever with a mouth like that. You have to be a good little girl if you ever hope to land a husband. Blake had swept her in another circle on the dance floor while her ire had risen to dangerous levels.

       Ha! You’re one to talk. Is there a female on this planet who would willingly perch in your family tree or do you have to trick them all into going to bed with you?

       You came willingly. A few times if memory serves.

      “He was holding me tight, and twisting away didn’t loosen his hold on my waist.” Stef licked her lips, regretting her words now that she’d felt the sting of retaliation. “I may have mentioned something about a ‘tiny prick’ and ‘faking it’ and that if he didn’t let me go, I’d tell everyone within earshot how unsatisfying it was to be bedded by Blake the Snake.”

      Pen’s eyebrows climbed higher on her forehead, and just when Stef was sure she’d be read the riot act, her sister-in-law’s smile burst forth like the sun after a hard rain.

      “You know how to find trouble, don’t you?” Pen asked through a laugh. She must’ve caught Stef’s crestfallen features when she looked up because she was out of her chair in a shot. “I’m sorry I said that. Ignore me.”

      Pen grabbed Stef’s shoulders and Stef felt the wobble in her chin paired with heat behind her eyes.

      “I don’t try to.”

      “I didn’t mean it that way. Seriously.” Pen pulled Stef into a hug.

      Stef felt like a fragile piece of china lately, not wanting to be in the way of Chase’s campaign or too involved while Pen and Zach raised their daughter. Heck, even Mom and Dad were going through a second honeymoon phase, so Stef was trying to stay out from underfoot in that capacity, as well.

      “You can fix this.” Stef swallowed her budding tears. “You have unraveled some of the biggest knots in Dallas since you moved here. Tell me the easiest, fastest, most succinct way to crush this fake news.”

      “As a woman who had her own false engagement to contend with—” Pen smirked “—I have had experience with this sort of thing. Only the ‘groom’ was your brother and part of the plan.”

      “And Blake’s a renegade douchebag.”

      Of all the bad decisions Stef had made during her thirty brief years on this planet, why this one? Why had she fallen victim to that man’s false charms?

      “If you were anyone other than my sister-in-law, I’d advise you to get married.”

      “To Blake?” Stef practically shrieked.

      “No! My God. No. I’m saying the best way to trump Blake’s claim that he’s engaged to you is to marry someone else. Know any eligible bachelors?”

      Stef was staring in shock. This certainly wasn’t the advice she’d expected to get from Penelope.

      “I’m joking.” Pen gave Stef’s shoulders a little shake before moving back to her desk. Laptop open, she started typing. “I’ll craft a plan to detangle this mess that will work for you and your brother the mayor.”

      “Thank you.”

      Pen smiled up at her. “And I promise it won’t involve nuptials.”

       Two

      Emmett Keaton had been Chase Ferguson’s close friend, arguably his best friend, since college.

      He could say with authority that Chase rarely allowed his feathers to ruffle. But today his feathers weren’t only ruffled, they were scattered to the four corners of the earth.

      Since it was Emmett’s job to keep the mayor’s office safe, he’d have to assume the role of “the calm one” today. As the scandal currently wreaking havoc had to do with Stefanie, he found it challenging to bank his own anger.

      The youngest Ferguson had a talent for finding trouble.

      “When I get my hands on that sniveling weasel,” Chase grated out through teeth that were welded together, “I swear on everything holy—”

      “Chase.” Penelope—wife to Chase’s brother, Zach—stood in front of Chase’s desk, arms crossed. She was dressed in a white pantsuit, her long blond hair pulled into a neat twist at the back of her head. Her stance broadcast one undeniable truth: she wasn’t intimidated by power. She’d handled many a powerful man as a public relations specialist over the years, and had become a trusted friend when Chase hired her to care for Stef the first time she stepped in it with Blake fucking Eastwood.

      Because Chase trusted her, Emmett did, also.

      “I’ve got this,” Pen said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

      A muscle in Chase’s jaw ticked but he gave his sister-in-law a curt nod. She returned it with one of her own and spun on one very high-heeled shoe to leave.

      Once she was out the door, Chase glanced at Emmett with irises so dark they bordered on black.

      Chase punched a button on his phone. “Cynthia. Get my sister on the line.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Sure you want to do that, boss?” Emmett asked.

      Chase didn’t answer.

      A moment later, the desk phone rang.

      “Where the hell are you?” Chase barked into the receiver. A brief pause and then, “You have thirty seconds.” He slammed the phone down on its base and glared at the only target in the room. Emmett took the blow without flinching. “She was already on her way.”

      “Good.”

      Chase needed to redirect his anger? Fine.

      It was better than him unleashing it on Stefanie.

      The door burst open almost exactly thirty seconds later. Stefanie strode into the office in a short red designer dress, tall boots with dangerous-looking heels and a painted pout in siren red.

      “I saw Pen on my way in.” Stef tucked her cell phone into an oversize handbag. “She warned me that you weren’t in the best mood. I’m assuming you’re mad at me.”

      Nostrils flared, Chase pulled in a deep breath through his nose. When he spoke, his words were carefully measured. “I’m not angry with you, Stefanie. I’m—”

      “Don’t say disappointed.” She dropped the handbag onto the leather chair in the corner of the room and sent Emmett a derisive glare.

      Typical.

      She hated him for reasons he’d yet to discern. He’d only ever offered assistance when she’d needed him—whether she’d asked or not. If memory served, she’d never asked.

      “I’m concerned,” Chase said, and her head swiveled back to her brother. “Your Christmas retreat is soon, yes?”

      “Yes.” A smile of pure delight crested her red mouth.

      That smile lit her face like a string of holiday lights. Emmett had never seen someone so in love with the idea of Christmas. Loving the holiday was as foreign to him as understanding anything else about the lush lifestyle his best friend’s family led. In spite of his own amassed fortune, Emmett had no desire for frills of any kind. And he certainly had no desire to celebrate an occasion that brought forth bad memories and worse consequences.

      “Where is it this year?” Chase asked.

      “San Antonio.”

      “Cancel