A Madaris Bride for Christmas. Brenda Jackson

over his head when the suite’s doorbell rang. He pushed a button to check the video camera and saw it was Angelo. He spoke into the speaker. “Enter your code and come on in.”

      By the time Lee walked out of his bedroom Angelo was walking through the door.

      He and DeAngelo Di Meglio had met years ago when a close Madaris friend, Colonel Ashton Sinclair, had introduced everyone to his cousin MacKenzie Standfield, an attorney living in Oklahoma. Mac, as she was often called, was partner in a law firm with two other women—Samari Di Meglio and Peyton Mahoney.

      Mac had married Lee’s cousin Luke a few years back; Samari, who was Angelo’s sister, was married to Lee’s cousin Blade, and almost two years ago Angelo had married Peyton. Half American and half Italian, Angelo and Samari came from a family dynasty of attorneys in New York.

      “Looks like everyone has settled in,” Angelo said, sitting down in a nearby chair. “That’s good. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a busy day.”

      Lee knew that to be true. Their breakfast meeting was scheduled for nine and would include an in-depth presentation and video. They would break for lunch at noon before resuming the meeting at one. Dinner would be a private gathering tomorrow night at the hotel’s most elegant restaurant.

      “I understand you chose Peyton’s Place for our dinner party tomorrow night,” Angelo said, smiling.

      “I figured you’d like that,” Lee said, grinning. Angelo had named the hotel’s elegant restaurant after his wife. “Diamond suggested it, and I agreed it would be perfect. By the way, did Peyton come with you?”

      “Yes, and so did Sam,” he said of his sister. “Blade will join her here tomorrow. Sam and Peyton went shopping,” he said of his sister and wife. Angelo chuckled. “Let me rephrase that. Sam went shopping and dragged Peyton along.”

      Lee nodded, smiling. Everyone knew how much Peyton hated going shopping, especially with Sam. He was glad to hear Blade would be making a visit to the hotel.

      “Want something to drink?” he asked Angelo.

      “Yes, I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

      “I do,” Lee said, heading for the kitchen that he rarely used. There was no need to cook when there were eight restaurants and six cafés in the hotel. He would be the first to admit that room service was spoiling him. To counter all those calories, he worked out at the gym every morning and, in some instances, again at night. “Here you go.”

      Angelo followed him and slid onto the stool at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Thanks,” he said, twisting off the bottle cap at the same time as Lee twisted off his. Both men took a long drink. “Good stuff.”

      Lee agreed. He leaned back against his refrigerator. “I need to ask you something.”

      “What?”

      “Have you ever met a woman you became attracted to immediately?”

      Angelo smiled. “Yes. Peyton. When Sam brought her home from college for a visit. I wanted her bad.”

      Lee laughed. “That’s too much information, man.”

      “You asked.” Angelo took another sip of his beer. “Why do you want to know? Is there a woman you saw that you wanted?”

      Had he wanted Carly or was he just intrigued by her? Lee knew the truth without really thinking about it. “Yes. I met a woman last night I was extremely attracted to. It was kind of scary, in a way.”

      Angelo nodded. “I understand.”

      Lee raised a brow. “Do you?”

      “Yes, I think so. You ever heard of fate?”

      Lee smiled. “Only Justin’s version.”

      Justin Madaris was one of Lee’s older cousins. After Justin’s wife died, Justin believed one day he would find someone else to love—a woman who would be his fate. Miraculously, it had happened just the way Justin had predicted. He had met Lorren and the two had been married for quite a few years now.

      “Well, I guess I’m like Justin and believe in such a thing,” Angelo said. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t give up on Peyton when she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

      Lee remembered that time. “But things did work out.”

      “Yes,” Angelo said as a huge smile spread across his lips. “Things did work out. Like I said. Fate. Might be the same for you.”

      Lee shook his head. “I doubt it. The woman in question checked out of the hotel today and chances are I’ll never see her again.”

      Saying the words made Lee realize just what a downer that was. He finished off the rest of his beer before placing the bottle on the counter. “I’m off to the gym. Want to join me?”

      Angelo stood. “No. When you’re married you come up with other ways to burn off calories.”

      Lee shook his head and grinned. “Again, man, that’s too much information.”

      * * *

      “Isn’t that exciting?”

      Carly smiled over at her coworker, a chef assistant by the name of Jodie Wrangler. Jodie, who’d begun working at the hotel a week before Carly, had just finished explaining that Peyton’s Place would be closed tonight for a private party. It was rumored that the two owners of the hotel had invited important guests they were trying to impress. There was even a rumor that Oscar-winning actress Diamond Swain was included in the group.

      She’d missed the head chef’s announcement while she’d been off work for her birthday, and Carly had wondered what the flurry was about when she’d returned to work today. The kitchen seemed busier than usual and everyone was bustling about with enthusiasm.

      “Yes, that’s exciting,” Carly said to Jodie, but in her mind she didn’t truly think it was. She had worked in restaurants where they’d closed their doors for private parties. In most cases, the kitchen staff was reduced since everyone wouldn’t be needed. That meant less pay in somebody’s paycheck.

      “Chef Blanchard wants to see you. He’s probably going to tell you about the party tonight, so act surprised.”

      Carly put down the cake pan to head over to Chef Blanchard’s office. Chances were, since she was one of the newest chefs, she would be one of those sent home for the evening. She knocked on the closed door.

      “Come in.”

      She entered the office that resembled a mini-kitchen with a desk in the center. Pots lined the wall, along with numerous trophies and plaques. Dr. Blanchard was a renowned chef, and she’d heard his name a number of times in culinary school both in the States and in France.

      “I understand you wanted to see me, Chef Blanchard.”

      “Yes, yes,” he said, smiling. “Come on in and have a seat.”

      “Thanks,” she said, taking a chair in front of his desk. The man was totally different from Chef Renaldo in both looks and temperament. Chef Renaldo had been short, stocky and had a mean attitude most of the time, where Chef Blanchard was tall, thin and had a pleasing personality.

      “I have good news for you, Carly.”

      She wondered if he thought informing her that she had another day off was good news. “And what is the good news?”

      He leaned back in his chair with a huge smile on his lips. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that our two owners, Mr. Madaris and Mr. Di Meglio, have important guests here at the hotel, and they have requested a private party. That means the restaurant will be closing to anyone except the group of thirteen who will be dining here tonight.”

      She’d never met the two owners but had heard several whispered comments around the kitchen by the women who had. Both Mr. Madaris and Mr. Di Meglio were