All I Want For Christmas Is a Reaper Read online

  “Mmm.” He put the bowls on the table. “What do you want to drink? Beer? Wine? Something stronger? Water?”

  “Strong sounds great, but I probably should stick to water.”

  “Water it is.” He filled a glass for me and then started filling a second.

  “You can drink whatever you want, I don’t mind.”

  Dark eyes went to the shirt on the couch and the oversized tee I was wearing. “Water is probably best.”

  “Maybe,” I said, with a healthy layer of skepticism.

  “Too many late nights in a row can lead to mistakes.”

  Right. Seth was being cautious. I sat down at the head of the dining table, back to the windows, and inspected the contents of the bowl.

  “Mushroom risotto,” Seth said, sliding my glass of water toward me. “The catering company does a good job with it and it reheats well.” He frowned a little as he sat beside me. “You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry. Nibbling at the buffet wasn’t enough for me and didn’t want to be rude. I know some people don’t eat after nine or whatever.”

  “Some people also keep normal hours,” I said, picking up my spoon with a smile.

  His whole demeanor was starting to worry me. Earlier, he’d been flirtatious, confident, and fun. But since I’d arrived at his house, it was like he was bracing for impact.

  I considered the possibility that he was responsible for the burglar in my apartment—and dismissed it just as quickly. If he’d done anything to maneuver me to his house tonight, he would have followed through. Instead he was just eating. In silence. Watching me like an abused puppy who was waiting for a shoe to get thrown at him.

  Taking a bite of the risotto, I looked around as it slowly dawned on me: the big, bad Slasher CEO was scared I was going to reject him. He of the sexily tousled hair, and perfect suit, and stunning abs was worried he wasn’t good enough for me.

  Sure, I was the Wicked Witch of the South Side and struck terror into the hearts of everyone around me, but only as my day job.

  And, yes, I suppose it was fair to argue that I was not really into long-term relationships, but I’d made my decision when I came home with Seth.

  This little Miss Kriesmas was going to get herself a second date.

  I tossed my regrettably still-wet hair and hit him with a dazzling smile that had dropped more than one person to their knees. “So... you let a Grim Reaper into your house.”

  “Oh no. Whatever shall I do?” The corner of his mouth crooked up in a mocking smile.

  “Mmm, it’s big trouble. Something’s going to die tonight.” I made a show of looking around for house plants or art. There were a few pieces from his movies, but no plants.

  Seth took another bite of risotto without looking bothered. “You gonna kill the lights?”

  “No, but I think your reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em player is DOA.” I leaned closer, angling my body and letting my knee brush his. “A real player would have let me wear that shirt to dinner.”

  His eyes went wide as he considered the possibilities. Then he shook his head. “Maybe I’m just playing with you. Or maybe I already had my fun for tonight. There were lots of beautiful women at the party.” He waited for me to finish the last bite of my risotto and took our bowls away.

  “Were there other women there tonight?” I asked, chasing after him. “Describe one of them. Ow!”

  The ow was because I had stubbed my pinky toe on the small step between the dining area and kitchen.

  Seth dropped the bowls in the sink with a clatter and rushed to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine, just unable to walk, apparently.” I lifted my foot up to rub my toe. “Don’t mind me.” Of all the idiotic, ridiculous ways to injure myself. Yup. Stubbed toe. As if I hadn’t been walking since I was eight months old.

  “Here.” He scooped me up as if I weighed nothing. “How bad is it?”

  “Just a little stub,” I protested—but not to being picked up. The man had muscle and I was happy to be cradled in his arms as he carried me bridal style into the bedroom.

  The guest bedroom.

  I sulked as he dropped me onto the bed.

  “Can I look at it?” Seth’s hand hovered over my foot.

  “Go for it.” I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he gently lifted my foot and checked for scrapes, bruises, jutting bone, or severed toes. My toe was fine, but I let him explore anyway.

  He brushed away a speck of dust and looked at me, worry in his eyes. “Does it hurt?”

  “My whole foot is a little sore...” I mean, what sane person was going to tell Seth Morana to stop touching them?

  Seth blushed and looked down at the bedspread. “You are a very dangerous person, Miss Merri.”

  “I am certain I told you that when we first met.”

  “Hmm.” He pushed his thumb into the tender center of my foot and I melted back with a groan of pleasure. “That good?”

  “Yes.” I fell back into the bed.

  He massaged my foot. “Shouldn’t you be the least bit worried about spending the night with a man you just met?”

  “Um... let me think. Should I be worried about the guy who offered me water to drink, told me when the clothes I was wearing might have been showing too much, and who suggested I sleep in the guest room instead of his bed?” I glared at him. “Yes. I should be terribly worried that he doesn’t like me.”

  Seth raised an eyebrow. “I’m a Grim Reaper too, though. I’ve killed every relationship I’ve ever been in. The long-term thing? It’s impossible.”

  I rolled on my side to look at him better, pulling my foot out of his grasp. “How many of those relationships did you kill?” He looked like he was ready to run, so I reached out and tugged at his shirt sleeve, pulling his unresisting body down to the bed with me.

  We were eye to eye and I could see everything in the dark depths of his gaze.

  The unspoken fears. The old pain. The last smoky wisp of dying hope...

  “It wasn’t you.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t ever you who killed the relationships, was it?”

  Seth tucked his chin down, avoiding my gaze again. “I’m sure I had something to do with it. A handsome media mogul. I’m not the richest man in the world, but I’m not poor. But there was always something I did wrong. I worked too much. I was too quiet. I wasn’t decisive enough. I didn’t show them off enough.” His shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug.

  “Too loud. Too smart. Too mouthy,” I recited the litany. “Too bright. Too colorful. Too feminine. There’s always something that scares the weak ones away, isn’t there?”

  His smile finally returned, the first spring day after a long, cruel winter. “It’s different with you. The light... follows you around. You walk into a room and it’s like there was a party waiting to start. Me? I’m just that quiet kid writing horror movies and wearing a hoodie. I’m weird. I’m awkward. Who wants to spend a night sitting at home with me?”

  “Oh! What a tragedy!” I put the back of my hand to my forehead like a silent movie actress in distress. “What is a person supposed to do with a night alone with you, Seth?” I fell back into the bed with a woeful look. “It only someone would hurry up and invent something for people to do as a couple at night, like watch movies, or talk. When will someone invent sex?”

  Seth burst out laughing and rolled toward me. “Really?”

  “Really.” I nodded earnestly. “I just feel so bad for all those other people who met you and thought it was a burden to spend the night with you. They are going to die unloved and alone as virgins. It’s such a tragedy.” I touched his chest, picturing the ripped torso beneath his shirt as I licked my suddenly dry lips. “For them. Obviously. Not for me.”

  He was almost close enough to kiss, eyes caught on mine. “I take it you have plans.”

  “Mm hmm. Since your reputation as a player is already dead on arrival, I’m going to take the next available option: killing your bad habit of being single.”
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  “Oh?” He tilted his head. “So I guess I get to kill your streak of not having a second date.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Very, very much.

  “Does tonight count as a first date?”

  “I don’t know, does it? Are we dating?” Please say yes.

  I could feel the heat off Seth’s lips but couldn’t quite close the gap.

  “We’re dating.” He pulled away.

  I glared. “If we’re dating where are you going?”

  “Out of the room, because you haven’t slept in two days.” His smile was sly and challenging.

  I pouted. “Stop thinking about my health and come flirt with me some more. This is fun.”

  “Tomorrow will be fun too.”

  I sat up. “Really?”

  He grinned. “Once we get through our jobs, and the paperwork the police want you to fill out, and everything else, sure!”

  “Ugh. Reality.” I flopped back onto the bed. “That’s no fun.”

  “What if we start with a breakfast date tomorrow?”

  “Hmmm...” I made a show of considering the options. “I suppose that would help. But so would a kiss...”

  Seth’s smile was devastating and delicious. “If I kiss you goodnight, we’re not going to get any sleep.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. I’ll prove it another night.” He glided out the door, shutting it behind him.

  Terrible, sexy, sensible man.

  Why was it so easy to fall in love with the brainy ones? Who bothered to have practical thoughts about sleeping after being awake for fifty-one hours when there was someone as sexy as me available?

  I fought a yawn and kicked at the bedspread.

  Fine. I was tired. So what?

  The pillow sank under my head as my eyes drifted shut. We could have at least cuddled. Seth had the perfect arms for cuddling.

  He probably even snored cute.

  It was a terrible, terrible thing to love an intelligent man.

  I wondered what he thought about women proposing...

  There’s always something disconcerting about waking up in a strange bed, in a strange room. Especially when it’s a strange guest room and the house is filled with the hollow sense of rejection.

  Seth Morana, playboy of horror, had shot me down.

  Ouch.

  ...On the bright side, he’d hinted at a real date, and he’d given me a spare charger for my phone so I could see the long list of messages and urgent requests from the police, asking me to come to the station at their earliest convenience.

  I read that twice.

  Yup.

  Their earliest convenience, not mine.

  How sweet.

  It was after eight in the morning, so I called the dry cleaner who handled my dresses and talked to Chel.

  We agreed the black dress with swallows was too aggressive and the red screamed killer a little too loudly, so we picked the deep, pine-green dress with pale pink cherry blossoms floating across it.[32]

  Once She Of The Magic Cleaning Products texted to say a runner was on the way with my dress, I texted Dan at the police department to tell him I’d be there within the hour.

  He told me to meet him at my apartment instead.

  Ugh.

  I knew they had to go in. This was a major security breach at a building that prided itself on the safety and anonymity they provided their tenants. Even if I didn’t want more people in my house, the building owner would override it.

  Or cancel my lease.

  Double ugh.

  Apartment shopping in spring was the worst.

  Finger-combing my hair into soft, wide curls, I managed to smudge what remained of my evening makeup into something acceptable for day wear. I didn’t look completely exhausted, just mildly wrung out.

  A shame, really.

  Exuberantly Tousled would have been a much better look for a night with Seth. Such was life.

  I made my way to the kitchen, Killer tee hanging to my knees.

  And found Seth, frozen, Final Boss mug in front of him and mouth hanging open. His loose, black pajama pants and soft, gray t-shirt looked very touchable.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

  His gaze slowly swept down to my toes and back up. His perfectly delicious lips formed a silent word that looked like it started with f and rhymed with duck.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” Seth managed to get the words out without sounding completely stunned.

  “Did you sleep well?” I opened the fridge and looked for anything quick and easy to grab. Sadly, none of the things in the fridge looked as fun as Seth.

  I needed to get him out of my head. The man was a distraction.

  Seth set his mug down with a thunk of finality. “We were both tired last night.”

  I turned around, eyes wide with innocence. “Did I say anything about that?”

  “You—” Seth waved a hand up and down.

  “I look good?” I guessed. Right. I shrugged. “I asked if you slept well. There wasn’t any judgment.”

  “You were glaring,” Seth said. “Are glaring. You’re angry.”

  “I’m trying to find breakfast before my dress arrives. Once it’s here, I have to go meet the police at my apartment, see what damage was done, and fill out a dozen forms. And all of that eats into time that should be spent sorting out Cozy’s accounts.”

  Seth folded his arms across his chest. “So... that ice queen, destroyer-of-worlds look in your eyes isn’t directed at me? At all?”

  “Believe it or not,” I said as I poured a glass of orange juice, “it’s happened once or twice, where I had to pay the price of my beauty. Rejections happen.”

  “That wasn’t a rejection. It was a flag on the play! You nearly died at the pool, spent all day acting like my fiancée, went to a gala to rescue Ellen and flirt with the mayor—”

  “I was not flirting with the mayor!” I nearly choked on my orange juice. “His wife would kill me!”

  “And then your apartment got broken into! It seemed like a high stress day!” Seth shook his head. “It didn’t sound like a good day for impulsive, emotion-driven decisions.”

  “It was a day ending in y!” I put my juice next to his mint tea. “This is my life! It happens.”

  “Really? All the time?”

  “Not the break-in,” I admitted, “but the rest? Yes. Before I showed up at Slasher on Thursday, I’d already had one afternoon death threat and a green car tried to run me over. On Wednesday, I had four nasty emails and one doxxing attempt. Tuesday a former CFO who is headed to jail tried to kill me in the courtroom. On Monday...” I sorted through memories of Monday. “Monday, no one tried to murder me.”

  Poor Seth was staring at me with wide eyes and an open mouth—and an air of panic. I’d broken him.

  “I’m the Grim Reaper of Chicago. Near death experiences are just part of the job.”

  Seth didn’t look like he was going to survive this conversation.

  “But I’d prefer near-Seth experiences.” I fluttered my eyelashes and slipped into Seth’s personal space. “If I’m not too scary for you.”

  Scary seemed to be the key to unlocking the horror-lover’s heart. Seth’s look of terrified confusion turned into a confident smirk. “Scary?” He reached out and pulled me to him. “Nothing scares me.”

  “Mmm?” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You sure about that?”

  “Nothing about you scares me.” He dipped his head down for a good morning kiss. Finally!

  Mint tea and orange juice... There was no way this combination was acceptable—unless I was kissing Seth.

  I bit my lip as I pulled away. “Maybe I should switch to tea in the morning.”

  “Maybe.” He was grinning.

  My heart fluttered at the promise in his eyes.

  The doorbell rang. Seth’s eyes slitted as he glared at the intrusive sound.

  “That’s my dress, and my reminder that
I have paperwork to do.” I gave Seth another quick kiss before slipping out of his arms and tipping the delivery driver, who managed to get part of my name out before his eyes got stuck on my legs and he forgot how his tongue worked.

  It was going to be one of those days.

  I held the dress up for Seth to see. “What do you think?”

  “I bet it will look fabulous on you.”

  I nodded. “Everything does.”

  “What’s your schedule this week?”

  “I don’t know until I get a look at Oretega’s books tomorrow. But...” I gave him a flirtatious smile. “I should be free for dinner tonight.”

  He smiled back. “I’d like that.”

  “What are you doing today?”

  “Breakfast. Laundry. Then I need to go into the office and see if Alisson left the notes for the new script on her desk, because she didn’t send them to me. I’ll be there most the day, but I’ll be home before dinner.” With each word he came a little bit closer, sneaking up on me. “You can come back any time you want.”

  Standing on tiptoe, I gave him one last, regrettably quick kiss. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  Ninety-four minutes later, as another storm roared outside, I’d met with the police, confirmed my location with images from the art festival that were floating on the internet, and was staring at the absolute disaster of my closet. The white closet doors has been broken for no reason I could see other than that the intruder was angry. My dresses and petticoats lay strewn on the floor, smeared with tomato sauce from the pantry. My favorite green dress was torn.

  Silk bras and lingerie had been ripped from the dresser drawers. The bed was in shambles, sheets torn off, the white lamp broken, the pillows on the ground. Even the white, Vienna matelassé curtains I’d had since I rented my first apartment were ripped. I was going to murder whoever broke into my apartment if the police didn’t catch them first. I had connections. I could make a body disappear. Ellen would be my alibi.

  Or Seth.

  No, Ellen. She looked too cute and innocent to lie. The jury would like her better. Seth was sexy, and a better actor, but Ellen could cry on cue. That would work in my favor.

  There was a polite cough behind me.