Cole In My Stocking

By Jule McBride

gift–wrapped GROOMS

HE'D FORGOTTEN HIS OWN FAMILY!

When Cole Rayburn awoke in a wild West Virginia blizzard, nothing looked familiar. Not the neighbours welcoming him to his cozy country cottage, not the two grinning kids calling him "Daddy" and especially not the beauty claiming to be his estranged wife.

Cole had amnesia, but he was still able to bear simple gifts and perform everyday miracles. Soon enough, the sexy Santa had restored Holly's faith in the season. And she and the kids decided they wanted Cole for Christmas.

But Cole's memory could return any time. Would he discover Holly's little white Christmas lie that he wasn't really her husband?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460876480

Jule McBride

When native West Virginian Jule McBride was a preschooler, she kept her books inside her grandmother's carved oak cabinet, to which only she had the key. Everyday, at reading time, she'd unlock the cabinet-and the magical worlds contained in the books inside. Only later did she realize the characters she'd come to love weren't real, and that's when she knew she'd one day be a writer herself. When asked why she usually writes comedy, Jule had this to say, "I've written romantic suspense novels and love them, but I probably love to write humor because laughter truly is the best medicine. Besides, ever since I can remember, funny things happen to me. Once, in first grade, I bundled up in my coat for recess-only to discover the hem hit my ankles, my arms were swallowed and my belt dragged the ground. Doing the logical thing, I fled home, convinced I was shrinking. (Mom's sleuthing-she was a great solver of conundrums-uncovered that I'd donned a sixth grader's identical coat.) Nevertheless to this day, I, like everybody, feel sometimes confused by life's little mysteries. Because of that, I love to create heroines who are in some kind of humorous jam when they meet their prince." A lover of books, Jule graduated from West Virginia State College with honors, then from the University of Pittsburgh where she also taught English. She's worked in libraries and as a book editor in New York City, but in 1993, her own dream to write finally came true with the publication of Wild Card Wedding. It received the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award for Best First Series Romance, and ever since, the author has continued to pen heartwarming love stories that have repeatedly won awards and made appearances on romance bestseller lists. Today, after publishing nearly 30 Harlequin titles, Jule writes full-time, and often finds the inspiration for her stories while on the road, traveling between Pennsylvania, where she makes her home, and her family's farm in West Virginia.

Book preview

Prologue

On a Christmas Eve Past...

Ho, ho, ho, hooray! A blustery wind gusted through Joe’s Stardust Bar in Weller’s Falls, New York, and right before the door slammed shut, a departing patron boomed, Yes, indeed, I do believe in Santa Claus!

Cole Rayburn slung a bar towel over his shoulder and winced—as much at the comment as at the festive atmosphere inside Joe’s. Was Cole the only lonely soul who’d noticed that 1986 was the worst damn holiday season in history?

He glanced around, his heart sinking. Merry red and green lights blinked from every corner of the homey, neighborhood bar, and bright yellow paper stars were affixed to the jukebox, which was now playing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Joe had even rigged the cash register, so each time the drawer cha-chinged open, a cardboard Santa tipped his hat. And written across the bar’s mirror, in scripty snowflake lettering, were the words Joe’s Stardust Bar Hopes You’ll Find the Magic Spirit of Christmas!

Bah humbug.

Every last light, ornament and snowflake in the joint was depressing Cole. Even worse, his sixth sense was telling him that the woman at the end of the bar, an out-of-place business type who’d introduced herself as Glennis Gaynes, wanted something from him. She’d been nursing the same scotch-rocks for an hour—and calmly staring Cole down.

C’mon, Cole, someone called. Let’s see another one of your magic tricks.

Vatch, Cole said in a feigned German accent. Vatch very carefully. In the next instant, a great flourish of his bar towel distracted the customers, while, with a lightning fast sleight of hand, he made his most recent tip vanish from the old oak bar.

The trick won Cole a hearty round of applause. But why was Glennis Gaynes watching him so intently? She seemed about Cole’s age, which was twenty-three, but he could swear he’d never laid eyes on her before.

At first, she’d just stood on the icy sidewalk outside Joe’s, studiously staring through the window at Cole and occasionally stamping her high heels against the cold. From the corner of his eye, Cole had watched blowing flurries spiral wildly around her, settling on the upturned collar of the camel hair steamer coat that draped down her long frame. In spite of the subzero temperature, she was wearing whisper-thin white stockings and a flimsy red silk scarf—and she didn’t even bother to shiver much. The forty-mile-an-hour winds hadn’t mussed her blond French twist, either.

Finally, she’d whisked herself inside the bar—in a gala swirl of snow flurries and floral perfume—just as someone plunked another quarter in the juke and the Andrews Sisters started singing White Christmas.

Cole—who had no family, nowhere to go this Christmas and no woman to keep him warm on this coldest of cold winter nights—just wished Glennis Gaynes had turned out to be his type. But he liked country girls, the kind who wore down-filled jackets and no makeup. And Glennis had city written all over her.

With perfect grace, she’d slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the other customers. Cole had watched her remove her coat, exposing the crisp, elfin green business suit beneath. Then she’d ordered the scotch-rocks as if it were her middle name and introduced herself. She’d told Cole she worked in Manhattan, and that she’d come upstate to visit her folks for the holidays.

Now Joe squeezed past Cole, slapped a new 1987 calendar against the mirror behind the bar and taped it into place. This one’s on the house, folks! Joe shouted jovially. Last call till we reopen for New Year’s.

Last call. Already, as Cole made his way down the bar replenishing drinks, he could see the footprints Joe’s customers would leave in the snow as they headed home to lit fires and cozy families, hot toddies and cool eggnog, warm beds and warmer kisses. In his twenty-three years, Cole had heard enough goodbyes to last any man a lifetime. Now, he steeled himself against those that would be said tonight.

Grow up, Cole. It’s just one Christmas alone.

Still, he’d been staying at the Sleep Inn down the road for the past week, and he hardly relished the thought of waking there tomorrow, alone on Christmas morning.

He reminded himself that he’d be heading out of town at first light—toward a logging job he’d found up north. Maybe he’d meet a girl there he could marry. Build a house in the mountains by a lake where he could fish. Settle down. Raise a family.

And then he’d never be alone on Christmas again.

When he reached Glennis Gaynes, Cole raised an eyebrow. Another scotch-rocks? It’s on Joe.

No, thanks. She shook her head, leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. But I do have a proposition for you.

Cole wasn’t that surprised. Even he knew he’d been blessed with more than average good looks. Let her down easy, Cole. Somehow, he managed to chuckle. Sorry, but if I took you up on it, it might ruin all my plans for a lonely holiday.

Glennis’s green eyes widened. Not that kind of proposition!

Then what did the woman want? No?

Look. Could you just tell me something about yourself?

Cole merely squinted at her. But then something—maybe her insistent contralto voice or the interested intensity of her eyes—loosened his tongue. And he wound up telling her everything.

Cole told her how his mother had died years ago, and how he’d lost his dad back in October. Cole had sold Rayburn and Son, the family-run garage where he’d apprenticed under his father as a mechanic, and just last week, he’d sold the house where he’d grown up. Now all his dad’s medical bills were paid in full. While he’d been waiting for a logging job to come through, Cole had been biding his time in Weller’s Falls, selling Christmas trees and tending bar. Tonight was his last night in town.

He wrapped up his life story with a wry grin. And I thought I was the bartender.

Cole Rayburn... Glennis reached forward and firmly shook his hand. Your luck’s about to change.

Don’t tell me. His dry chuckle floated across the bar. You’re one of Santa’s helpers, here to offer me all the magic of Christmas.

Well... Glennis drew in a sharp, seemingly invigorating breath. Sort of.

Cole’s mouth quirked. You’re an elf?

No, I’m an assistant producer at the cable station where I work. Glennis lowered her voice another notch. And I want to make you a star.

Out of what? he couldn’t help but tease.

I mean it, she said in a hushed tone. I want to make you famous. I’m twenty-five and I’m already an assistant producer, but I need one big discovery of my own....

Trying not to look too interested, Cole leaned back and casually poured himself the draught Joe had been offering him all night. He took a sip, foam tickling his upper lip. Come again?

The next thing he knew, Glennis was talking a mile a minute. She’d known he was star material the second she’d seen him, which was why she’d been watching him. She was impressed by his magic tricks and the patter he used with the patrons.

German. Irish. Japanese. You don’t look like you’ve traveled, she said. Where did you learn all those accents?

From TV. Cole shrugged. Infomercials, mostly.

With your command of accents, Glennis said breathlessly, you could pretend to be anyone!

Cole said nothing. That the woman seemed on the level was downright disconcerting. A small spiral notepad appeared from somewhere, and she slapped it onto the bar. Clicking a tiny gold pen, she asked a string of rapid-fire questions: Did Cole know any flashier tricks? Did he have any ideas for big sets?

Finally, she said, Do you like kids?

He shrugged. Sure.

Feel passionately about magic?

Absolutely.

At the word, years dropped away and Cole recalled that long-ago Christmas when he’d received his first magic set. Inside a small blue attaché—style case, he’d found a wand, a star-studded cap, and a set of star-printed curtains. Hinged poles were included. They snapped outward and the curtains hung from them, creating a makeshift stage. There was a book, too, full of magical words like abracadabra, alakazam and open sesame.

Cole was seven, and it was his first Christmas since his mother had passed on. How had his father known that a magic set could make a motherless little boy feel as though he’d suddenly gained control of the world again?

But it had. Within a week, Cole was palming coins and cards and making small household objects disappear at will. Later, when Cole was in high school and working at his dad’s garage, he discovered he loved cars nearly as much as magic. When things were slow at work, he’d use his newfound mechanical knowledge to create diagrams of large-scale magic tricks—sketches of complicated boxes, trunks designed for great escapes and systems of lights that would make vanishing veils shimmer like stardust.

Yeah, Cole repeated. I’ve definitely got a passion for magic. Maybe because magicians control the world they create.

Glennis shrugged. Well, frankly, even if you didn’t, research teams could come up with the stunts. The main thing you’ve got to offer is charisma.

Cole grunted noncommittally. After all, he’d heard more pipe dreams in his brief stint at Joe’s bar than he could ever recount.

But what if this was a real opportunity? He was only twenty-three and he no longer had ties here. Since Weller’s Falls wasn’t exactly a boomtown, most of his high school friends had already moved away. Whimsically, Cole thought that maybe there was a Santa. Or maybe Glennis really was an elf.

Glennis sighed. You don’t completely fit the profile.

Profile?

I’ve done a lot of research and everybody wants the next hot TV magician. They want a man who can command a crowd the way you do. Physically, you’re perfect—tall, dark hair and blue-black eyes. Self-possessed. Muscular but lean. Suave.

Suave? Now, that was pushing it. Cole glanced pointedly down at his faded jeans and hiking boots.

You’d need a suit, Glennis said. Or to wear all black. And you’d have to be... more Ivy League. A hint of a British accent would be good. Your name would have to go.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. You want me to change my identity?

She groaned. Don’t be such a purist. Half the biographies in Hollywood are fiction. And you know what my motto is?

Cole hadn’t a clue, though he was slowly realizing Glennis was probably a real shark at the office. He shook his head.

What the public wants, the public gets. Glennis slid a business card across the bar. You could come to New York City with me tomorrow—or you could think it over and give me a call.

She sure didn’t waste any time. Cole glanced down at the card. When he recognized the name of the station, his mind started running wild. Could his life really change this way? All of a sudden... without warning? On a night so cold his soul felt frozen? On a lonely, snowy Christmas Eve night at a place called Joe’s Stardust Bar?

No one but us could ever know your life is really a PR fabrication, Glennis warned.

Cole glanced at a television that was mounted in a corner with the sound muted, then toward the customers at the other end of the bar. Don’t you think people would recognize me?

Not after I make you over.

A magician who is, himself, living out an illusion... Cole murmured. Somehow, the idea appealed to him.

His eyes stole to the window, where Joe’s neon sign blinked against the glass. Farther away, the white steeple of the local church rose high above the rooftops, disappearing into the starry night sky. Inside the many modest homes, people stoked fires and warm smoke poured from chimneys. And from all directions, Christmas lights were burning bright. For an instant, Weller’s Falls seemed to appear to Cole in miniature, as if it were inside a snow globe. And then, as if Cole had picked up his whole hometown and given it one hardy shake, the snow outside began to fall in earnest.

Could I live a lie if the trade-off was fame, fortune, and the ability to perform my magic the way I’ve always dreamed?

A long time ago, Cole finally found himself saying, when I found out there wasn’t really a Santa Claus, I asked my father why he’d lied to me all those years. And you know what he said?

Glennis shook her head.

Cole leaned closer. He said that sometimes we have to lie in order to tell the truth.

Glennis looked confused. What truth are you going to tell by pretending to be someone else?

The truth of the magic, Cole returned softly.

And that’s how, on one cold, lonely Christmas Eve, a bartender named Cole Rayburn mysteriously vanished into thin air, and the world’s most famous magician—Joe Ray Stardust—was born.

Chapter One

Ten years later, the present...

If only Joe Ray Stardust had never been born, Holly Hawkes fumed. It scarcely seemed possible, but there was a slight chance she’d lose her kids—and all because of a sexy magician she’d only seen on television.

Don’t worry, Holly, Danice Jacobs assured her. Judge Selsa won’t give your in-laws custody of the kids, especially not the week before Christmas.

Holly’s grateful glance flicked over Danice’s coffee-and-cream skin and trim navy suit. Impulsively, she squeezed her court-appointed attorney’s hand. I know you’re doing everything you can.

But Holly’s ex-in-laws were so rich, so powerful, and so intent on getting the children. Both Jessica and Robert Samuels, Senior were seated behind a table in the nearempty courtroom, looking the very picture of poised professionalism. Holly smoothed her long, wavy chestnut hair, then her simple cream skirt and sweater set. For all practical purposes, you’ve been completely self-reliant for the past seven years, she reminded herself. So, don’t worry. You can take care of this.

Mrs. Samuels, Judge Selsa intoned, you feel that Benjamin and Theresa, ages four and five respectively, should be placed with you, rather than with their mother, Ms. Holly Hawkes?

She’s a Samuels now! Jessica tossed her head, making her elegant auburn bob swirl around her shoulders. And so are those children!

Holly didn’t bother to rein in her temper. The first thing I did when I divorced your son, Jessica, she returned hotly, was to take back my maiden name.

Jessica sniffed. And see how rude she is!

Holly gasped. I’m rude! You’re trying to take away the kids!

Judge Selsa sighed. Please calm yourselves.

Jessica ignored him. We own the Express Mall downtown, she continued imperiously. And we could provide so many more opportunities for Benji and Treasure...

Watching Jessica wring her bejeweled, manicured hands, Holly almost exploded again. Holly wouldn’t make much money at her new receptionist job, but the kids had everything they needed—including the love their father had never given them.

Poor Benji, Holly thought. A five-year-old at day care had been picking on him because he didn’t have a dad, and when Benji had concocted an imaginary father, it had only made matters worse. Now her four-year-old was sporting his first black eye. She shook her head. For the past year she’d been working sporadically and living on her savings, so she could stay home with the kids. Now she had no choice but to start working full-time.

Judge Selsa continued addressing the Samuelses. You maintain that Ms. Hawkes urged your son, Bobby, to take a job as a roadie with the Joe Ray Stardust Show two years ago?

Yes. Robert Samuels ran a hand through his thick, silver hair, then he leaned on a hand-carved cane he carried for show. I strongly believe that job ruined my son. Bobby was a good boy before he met her—

"Good boy?" Holly shrieked. "That boy of yours is thirty-three years old!"

Please control your temper, Ms. Hawkes, Judge Selsa reminded.

At that moment, a fortyish man in a gray suit scurried into the courtroom, approached the bench and began conferring with Judge Selsa.

Holly’s jaw set with angry determination. Why wouldn’t the judge just listen to her? She’d begged Bobby not to take that job. She’d wanted him home with her and the kids, not traveling with some infernal magic show.

But Bobby had said the job was his dream come true. Because Joe Ray Stardust only toured during the summers and for Christmas benefit performances, Bobby would be in New York City most of the year, working at the cable station where the weekly segments of Joe Ray’s popular Thursday night show were shot.

Once Holly agreed to move, the rest was history. Bobby rarely came home after that. If he wasn’t traveling, he claimed he was working late at the studio. And Holly was left alone, caring for the kids in a large city where she knew no one.

Then last Christmas season, Holly had been invited to attend the holiday bash for Joe Ray Stardust’s crew. Bobby had even promised to introduce her to the famous magician. Instead, she’d lost track of Bobby—and found him later, just in time to hear Joe Ray Stardust fire him. Stunned, she’d merely listened from the shadows. Joe Ray said Bobby couldn’t handle the fast track. He was partying, sleeping around....

Oh, she’d suspected it. Even known it. But hearing someone say it aloud cut through her denial. She’d pulled on her red velvet cape and fled the fancy party immediately, with Joe Ray Stardust’s deep, melodious bass voice and upper-crust British accent still ringing in her ears. The day after Christmas she’d filed for divorce. And within the week she and the kids were headed out of New York City and back home to the freedom and clean air of the West Virginia mountains. They’d settled in Belle, right outside of Charleston.

I’m sorry, but something’s come up, Judge Selsa said, as the man who’d interrupted the proceedings hurried from the courtroom again. We’ll have to adjourn for a few days.

I want this settled now! Jessica Samuels burst out. We’re here because this woman ruined my son’s life!

Holly whirled around in her seat. You had your chance to raise a son, Jessica. And I definitely don’t want you raising mine, especially not given the way Bobby turned out!

Pipe down, Holly. Danice’s soft-spoken warning implied that Holly’s righteous indignation could get her into trouble.

This really is all Joe Ray Stardust’s fault, Holly thought. She might no longer love her two-timing ex, but she pitied him. After Joe Ray fired Bobby, Bobby had gone right off the deep end.

Even worse, the magician was performing a Christmas benefit matinee in Charleston this afternoon—and Holly had to go. Her elderly neighbors, Irma Garvin and Stella Lewis, had offered Holly free tickets right in front of the kids. If Holly had said no, Benji and Treasure would never speak to her again. Fortunately, her new employer had been kind enough to give her the latter part of the afternoon off. Glancing down at her watch, Holly hoped he was as understanding about this long lunch hour.

Judge Selsa cleared his throat. We’ll resume this hearing on December twenty-fourth, at 3:00 p.m..

The twenty-fourth? Holly murmured. On Christmas Eve? She was so shocked, she didn’t even see her in-laws leave the courtroom.

Don’t fret, Danice said to Holly. You’re employed and as long as your life proceeds as it is now, you won’t have any trouble. You might go ahead and pay your January rent early, though.

Holly gulped. She’d gotten a little behind and December wasn’t yet paid.

Find yourself some character references, too, Danice added. Just to be on the safe side.

Holly nodded, feeling suddenly numb. She’d been so intent on handling this herself that she hadn’t told a single soul what was happening. Not even her parents. They were retired, and Holly simply couldn’t allow Jessica and Robert Samuels to disturb their Christmas. Benji and Treasure didn’t know, either. Or her new employer. And Holly already felt she’d imposed on her neighbors so much....

Danice shot her a quick smile.