Beach Blanket Santa

Chapter One

    “You know what you need?”
    Matt Salvatore stared into his brother’s deep blue eyes. They looked so much alike, people sometimes mistook them for twins. In fact, Robert was two years older and an inch shorter than Matt. Why then, did Matt get the feeling he wasn’t measuring up? “No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me.”
    Robert pushed back in his leather chair. They shared a lot of things between them, like a law practice in DC and the same dark hair and broad shoulders. From the frown on Robert’s face, he was growing weary of bearing Matt’s weight. “You need some time away, man. A break from this scene.”
    “How’s that supposed to make things better?”
    “Every girl you see reminds you of her. If she’s blonde, she looks just like Katya. If she’s a brunette, she looks just like Katya might have been had she decided to dye her—”
    Matt flagged a palm at his brother. “Slow down there, pal. A man is dying, and all you can do is dance on his grave.”
    “I’m not dancing. I’m trying to help!”
    “By bringing up Katya at every turn?”
    Robert sighed. “It’s been six months, buddy. She left you before your birthday in June.”
    “Yeah, and that was awesome, wasn’t it?”
    “It was…less than nice.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Never can trust those Russians.”
    “She was a foreign correspondent. Not a spy.”
    “Seemed to slip in and out of those shadows pretty easily.”
    Matt ran a hand through his short, wavy hair, knowing Robert was right. Katya had been nothing if not slippery—with the truth more than anything else. She’d spent countless nights chasing after hot stories in Washington. It was only by mistake that Matt had learned of her questionable research tactics.
    “What was that last guy’s name? Carl Benton? Wasn’t he running for Congress or something?”
    “He lost.”
    “Well, at least that’s some consolation.” He leaned forward across his mahogany desk. “Bro, I’ve got to tell you, I’m starting to worry. This Katya thing has got you all eaten up. And for what? She’s just not worth it.”
    “I apologize if I haven’t been at the top of my game.”
    Robert lifted his brow.
    “But things will get better. I swear. I’ll turn this ship around.”
    “Sure you will.” Robert’s face brightened. “All you need is a little shore leave.”
    “Where’s this going?”
    Robert massaged his square jaw and studied him. “Straight to the Outer Banks, I hope.”
    “Your beach house?”
    “You didn’t graduate magna cum laude for nothing.”
    “What about it?”
    “I think you should go there, take a breather.”
    “Who goes to the beach in December?”
    “Nobody. That’s what’s great. You’ll have no one to bring down with your sour mood.”
    “Thanks.”
    Robert laughed good-naturedly. “You know what I’m saying. It’ll be good to have some time away. Read some of those dirty spy novels you’re so crazy about.”
    “What is it with the espionage?”
    “Okay, okay. Cast your reel out, then. Whatever floats your boat. Just get your tail out of Dodge for a while. It’ll do you good.”
    Matt understood his brother was trying to help, but everyone knew depression loomed large around the holidays. With him already feeling down, was being even more alone really the answer? “You want me to spend Christmas by myself?”
    Robert’s expression softened. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just want you to go regroup for a week, then join us in Maryland. Margaret and I want you to spend Christmas and New Year’s with us.”
    “And your new baby,” Matt reminded him.
    “Well, yeah. Sure. Why not?”
    Because babies screamed all night, as far as Matt recalled. They also needed diaper changing. This was sounding less and less like the dream bachelor vacation. “That’s really good of you,” Matt said, standing. “But I’ve already made plans.”
    Robert pinned him in place with his gaze. “Name them.”
    “Well, I was thinking of…” Suddenly it dawned on him that he didn’t need to make excuses. Matt couldn’t go to the beach. Christmas was always Elaine’s week there. Elaine was Robert’s first wife, and the one asset neither could bear to liquidate had been their beach house. Besides, with the real estate market having tanked, their oceanfront property was practically under water. So they’d opted to keep it awhile, carefully orchestrating a calendar of his-and-hers usage dates, so both