Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

shoot.”
    This TV spotlight had to be critical to her—which meant she was going to be extremely pissed when she found out he wasn’t here to do it.
    But she wouldn’t be half as mad as he would be at himself if he left and anything happened to her. If a desperate thief who’d killed a guard to escape thought Holly was in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her. And there was no way Zach would let that happen.
    So he didn’t tell her who he really was. Not yet. When this TV crew showed up and there were plenty of people around, he’d slip away and call Mark Santori, his detective friend from Chicago, tipping him to Fred Kipling’s possible presence here. And try to find out if there was any word on Kipling’s partner, Leo “Teenie” Meaney. Because if Kipling was here, where was Teenie? And what was so important about Holly’s tree?
    There was only one way to find out. “Maybe they’re finished with the tree.”
    “I hope so. I couldn’t believe it when I came downstairs this morning and realized the first one was ruined.”
    “What happened?” he asked as they reached the first floor and turned toward the living room.
    “The only corner big enough for it is by the radiator, which we normally turn off. But Grandpa apparently forgot last night and when I came down this morning, the thing had lost most of its needles like a dog shaking off water after a bath.”
    He chuckled. “So you went out this morning and bought another one?”
    Stopping in front of the now-decorated tree, she nodded, focusing on the new evergreen. It looked beautiful—not at all thrown-together. “Yes. Reggie stayed here and undecorated the old one while I ran down to town and bought the first big tree I could find.”
    He glanced at the pretty bows, the red and gold ornaments and tiny crystal ones reflecting the twinkling lights. “You were lucky to find such a nice one this close to Christmas.”
    “I didn’t even look at it, just asked the guy at the lot if he had any freshly cut twelve footers left and handed him cash as soon as he said yes.” Her voice trailed away as she reached up to carefully shift a tiny angel. “It’s okay,” she added, low, almost to herself. “Everything’s going to be okay. We just have to get through another few hours.”
    He hated the sound of her desperation. “Things are really bad with the inn, aren’t they?”
    She opened her mouth, her eyes flashed, and he knew Holly was about to make a vehement denial. But when she noticed the compassion he made no effort to hide, she admitted, “yes, they are. This story you’re doing is our last shot at making this place work. We stand to lose my grandfather’s house.”
    That weariness—the slump in her shoulders and the fatalistic tone in her voice—hit Zach harder than any two tons of guilt ever had. He suddenly found himself unable to continue the deception. Holly deserved to know the truth, at the very least so she could prepare for the arrival of the real news crew.
    “Holly, I have to tell you something.”
    The words were there, on his lips, but before he could utter them, a loud sound interrupted them. It came from somewhere else in the house.
    And it sounded very much like a scream.

Chapter Nine
    Holly didn’t hesitate. As soon as she heard her grandmother’s scream coming from the direction of the inn’s kitchen, she took off running, Zach hot on her heels.
    It was only after she skidded to a stop at the entrance to that room at the back of the house that she realized why her grandmother might have been screaming. It very likely had something to do with the dead guy who’d fallen out of the Christmas tree. The one reporter Zach Weldon couldn’t find out about.
    “Maybe you should wait here,” she said to him.
    His disbelieving expression was his only answer to that suggestion.
    Not knowing how to forcibly keep him away, Holly carefully pushed open the swinging door, trying to peek around it. Zach, however, was having none of that. He pushed it all the way in and burst inside, his gaze darting around the large, country kitchen, peering suspiciously into every corner.
    Fortunately, there was no corpse laid out on the table, or hidden behind a trellis of house plants by the window. No sight of the dead guy at all.
    “Everything okay?” Holly asked.
    “Why, of course it is,” Grandfather said, his lips twitching in amusement. He would, of course, find this whole thing incredibly funny. Given his background as an