Holiday Temptation Read online

  Also by Donna Hill

  If I Could

  Say Yes

  Heat Wave

  (with Niobia Bryant and Zuri Day)

  The One That I Want

  (with Zuri Day and Cheris Hodges)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Holiday Temptation

  DONNA HILL FARRAH ROCHON K.M. JACKSON

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  DAFINA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2016 by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  “A Gift of Love” copyright © 2016 by Donna Hill

  “Holiday Spice” copyright © 2016 by Farrah Rochon

  “From Here to Serenity” copyright © 2016 by K.M. Jackson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0246-3

  First Kensington Mass Market Edition: October 2016

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0247-0

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-0247-6

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: October 2016

  Table of Contents

  Also by Donna Hill

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  A Gift of Love

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Holiday Spice

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  From Here to Serenity

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  INSERT GROOM HERE

  Teaser chapter

  A Gift of Love

  DONNA HILL

  Chapter One

  Funny the way dreams can get detoured. If anyone asked Traci Long eight years ago would she be a part-time theater instructor at the Artist Institute, she would have said “no way.” She was an aspiring playwright. It had been her dream since she was a teen and saw her very first play, A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry. From that moment she was hooked. Yet, here she was, three years in, an instructor at a private college. Teaching aspiring thespians about the history of theater was her passion, only surpassed by her desire to stage her own play.

  She’d been reworking Beginnings for the past year, with the goal of having it produced. It was a dream that continued to remain out of reach. Between the minimal teacher’s salary and student loan debt, and the skyrocketing Brooklyn rents and daily living expenses, the dream continued to be deferred.

  Traci stepped outside to the dimming afternoon. October was in full effect. The leaves had turned vibrant shades of burnt orange, red, and gold, while many trees had already begun to undress and in a matter of weeks would be bare in anticipation of its winter white coat.

  She walked to the Borough Hall train station, caught the A train to the Broadway Junction hub, and transferred to the L line, which would take her into her neighborhood of Williamsburg. Her one-bedroom apartment was a third-floor walk-up in the trendy community. She’d lucked out and snapped up the space five years earlier—before the big boom. But with the escalating gentrification—as a result of the rising costs of rentals in Manhattan that pushed renters into Brooklyn—what was once affordable was fast becoming out of reach.

  In the meantime, however, her cozy apartment was her haven, where she dreamed and wrote and aspired. But when she needed a change of atmosphere and some inspiration, she visited her favorite coffee shop—The CoffeeMate.

  The vibe of the CoffeeMate was eclectic. It drew an array of the artsy type—poets, artists, painters, writers, and actors from the surrounding neighborhood. The coffee was to die for and the simple menu and baked goods were edible and economical. There was free Wi-Fi and one of the managers, Noah—according to his nametag—was tantalizing enough to keep her there for hours just so that she could steal periodic glances at him. To say that she secretly lusted after the sexy barista would be an understatement. He was the main reason why she came to the CoffeMate so often. Sometimes just seeing him move, smile, and interact with others gave her all kinds of crazy ideas of “what he would be like.” She imagined tasting his lips, which were full, and she knew would be pillow soft. And those soulful eyes—they were dark, shaded even darker by thick lashes. She wanted to run her fingers through those locs of his. She pushed out a soft sigh.

  They’d never actually had a conversation other than basic pleasantries, but he knew her order by heart and always brought it to her table. There was one time when he’d asked her what she was working on. When she told him a play, he seemed genuinely impressed. That was the extent of their relationship. In her head it was much more. However, she knew how easily what you want to believe had nothing to do with reality. Her ex-husband, Jason Logan, was proof positive of that. For all she knew, fine, sexy Noah, with his shoulder-length dreads, sweet Hershey chocolate skin, eyes like midnight, and a swagger to rival any bad boy, could be a nightmare waiting to happen.

  The heavenly aroma of fresh brewed coffee and warm pastries shook up Traci’s empty stomach, which growled for attention. She gave her tummy a reassuring pat as she joined the line to place her order rather than wait for table service.

  Automatically, she looked along the counter to see if Noah was working. There he is—at the end working the cappuccino machine. A little tingle ignited in her center. She unbuttoned her coat and fanned her face with a menu that she’d taken from the rack.

  While she inched down the order line, Traci worked very hard at studying the menu, which she pretty much knew by heart. In the background something smooth and bluesy was drifting through the speakers. The counter seating was almost full and there were still a few tables left. Her favorite spot in the back by the window was available.

  Noah greeted her with his camera-ready smile. He pointed a long, slender finger at her. “Mocha latte, extra whip.”

  Traci grinned. “One of these days I’m going to surprise you.”

  Noah’s honey-toned eyes darkened. “Always up for a challenge.” He turned away and prepared her latte.

  Traci warned herself not to even go there behind his “challenge” respons
e.

  “Here you go.” Noah handed her latte to her across the counter. “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks.” She paid the cashier and took her latte in the direction of her favorite table, only to find that while she’d waited on line, her table was now occupied. She took a quick look around and found an empty spot on the other side.

  Once she was settled, she took out her laptop and notebook and got down to work. Her play Beginnings had been her graduate thesis project when she attended New York University. Although her college years were well behind her, she’d never seen her play the way it should have been—on stage and attended by paying theatergoers, not only her graduating class.

  She knew the play had flaws. Her professor had said as much. It was missing its heart. The story was only on the surface. Digging deeper had been her problem, trying to find the soul of the play to bring it to life—not just a bunch of lines and bodies walking across a stage.

  By the time Traci looked up, it had grown dark outside and the makeup of clientele had shifted from the afterschool college crowd to the after-work commuter.

  Traci rotated her stiff neck and flexed her fingers. Time to head home. She glanced out the window and her stomach knotted. Her pulse raced. She blinked rapidly, bringing the image into focus. Gradually her pulse slowed. It wasn’t him. She released the breath she’d held.

  “How’s the play coming?”

  Her head jerked up. Noah was standing over her with that drop-dead smile and wicked gleam in his eyes. He collected her empty cup, napkins, and paper plate.

  Traci’s face heated. Could he see the fear in her eyes? She lowered her head, swallowed, and felt an irrational twinge of guilt that he was cleaning up after her, even though it was his job. “Umm, yep. Still at it.”

  He dropped the used items into a white plastic bag and wiped around her laptop and notes with a damp white cloth.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No. Thanks. I’m getting ready to leave.” Her hands shook ever so slightly.

  “Have a good evening. See you soon.”

  Man, that sounds like an invitation. “Thanks, you too.” She watched him from beneath her lashes while he cleared tables and made small talk with the customers. If she’d fantasized for a minute that he was in the least bit interested in her, she was clearly mistaken. Noah was simply very skilled in customer service. Charm was the quality that they fooled you with, like she’d been fooled.

  Traci loaded her tote with her computer and notebook, shrugged into her coat, and walked out.

  Chapter Two

  Noah hoisted his sax case over his shoulder and pushed through the double doors of the Open End Bar and Lounge. It was located on South Fourth Street in the heart of Williamsburg. The Open End had blossomed from a hole-in-the-wall dive two years earlier to “the place” to be to hear great local musicians, toss back some of the best drinks in the area, and order from a menu to rival its neighborhood competitors. Its success was due to the vision and hard work of Anthony Fields, Noah’s frat brother and best friend.

  Noah and Anthony had crossed the line together at Howard University and came out on the other side as Omega Psi Phi men. The two buddies lived the ideals and principles of Omega men: integrity, loyalty, hard work, service, and brotherhood.

  While he made his way to the back room to find Anthony, Noah nodded to one of the waitresses that he recognized. He felt like playing tonight and hoped to be able to sit in on the last set.

  He exited the lounge area and walked down the short hall, which led to the kitchen and back offices. Anthony’s door was open.

  “Hey, bro,” Anthony greeted when he looked up to see Noah in the doorway. “Come on in a sec. I was just finishing up the schedule for next week.”

  Noah strolled into the compact space and took a seat in the one chair and stretched out his long legs in front of him. He must have jabbed Anthony in the ribs about a hundred times to get a reliable manager to handle all of the day-to-day stuff so that he could concentrate on building and growing his business. His response was always the same. “I know you’re right, but you handle stuff your way, I’ll do it mine. I prefer more hands-on. You should talk,” he would add, referring to Noah’s own situation.

  Noah had grown tired of the same conversation, so he’d stopped bringing it up, that’s what made Anthony’s announcement such a surprise.

  Anthony finished entering the information into the computer. “Yo, I started interviewing for a manager.”

  Noah tossed his head back and chuckled. “Say what? You, ‘Mr. I Can Do It All Myself.’”

  “All right, all right, don’t rub it in,” he said, holding up his hand to stave off any “I told you so” commentary.

  “Cool.” Noah leaned forward “Why now?”

  Anthony relaxed in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head. “I think it’s time that I follow your model. Open End is solid, in the black, and has developed a reputation that I feel can withstand the expansion.”

  Noah nodded in agreement as he listened. “What can I do to help?”

  “Scout out some locations with me. You have an eye for that kind of thing. Ideally, I’d like to stay in Brooklyn, but with the rent of commercial space skyrocketing, I don’t know if that’s feasible.”

  “Unless we can find a good deal. Maybe something that needs rehab instead of ready to go.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Great minds,” Noah quipped.

  “Yeah,” he co-signed, doing the two-fingered move from his eyes to Noah’s. “So that’s my story. What’s up with you?”

  “Thought I’d sit in on a set tonight.”

  “No problem. You’re always welcome.”

  “Cool.”

  “You see that writer again?”

  Noah half-smiled. “She was in the shop today.”

  “And. . . ?”

  “And nothing. Usual ‘hey, how you doing’—that’s about it.”

  Anthony made a face. “Man, by the time you step past that, the both of you will be too old to give a damn.”

  Noah sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  “I ain’t never known you to be this hesitant with a woman. You usually make your move by now. What’s up with that?”

  Noah frowned in thought. “I don’t really know,” he said, his answer surprising him. “Whenever I see her, I lose my swag.” He grinned.

  “Umm, she must be something.”

  Noah looked off into the distance. Yes, she is.

  “You decide what you want to do for the holidays? The offer is still open,” Anthony said, switching topics. “The fam would love to see you.”

  “Still thinking on it, man.”

  Anthony’s family was the family Noah didn’t have. He was a product of the foster care system. Five families in total after he was removed at the age of ten from his drug-addicted mother. His father wasn’t even a name on his birth certificate. The ambivalent relationship with his mother, the missing father, and multiple families had left their scars. Nothing anyone could see, but rather buried in his psyche, which made it hard for Noah to put his trust in relationships. He had to admit though, his last family, the Hunters—when he entered high school—put him on track for both academic and personal success. With their love and guidance he morphed from a mediocre student to the top of his classes. He graduated valedictorian with a full-ride scholarship to Xavier, Columbia, Temple, and Howard. He chose Howard University, which was where he met Anthony.

  During his freshman year Noah lost both Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, six months apart; she from a heart attack and he from a stroke. That year was when Anthony’s family became his family. Refusing to leave him alone on campus during the holidays, Anthony took Noah home with him to Atlanta. It had been a standing tradition ever since. But there was still the little boy in him who expected it all to disappear. Anthony was the exception, the only one who knew his demons. So Noah was always on guard, and rarely committed himself to anyone a
nd steered clear of allowing women—in particular—to get under his skin and really know him. “Hit and run” was his motto.

  “Plus I think Mia has someone she wants you to meet,” Anthony said, cutting into Noah’s trip down memory lane.

  Noah chuckled. “Your sister always has someone for me to meet. It’s tradition.”

  Anthony shrugged helplessly. He’d been a victim of his sister’s matchmaking schemes for the better part of his adult life. He simply let it roll off his back to humor her.

  “Whatever you decide, let me know sooner rather than later. Christmas will be here in a minute and tickets will be sky high.”

  “True. I’ll let you know.”

  “Cool. Anyway, let me get with Ed and let him know you’ll be sitting in on the last set.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  * * *

  Playing the sax always relaxed him and cleared his head. By the time he turned the key in the door to his loft, at nearly 2 a.m., he was in a Zen state of mind, and had decided that the next time he saw Traci, he would say something of substance.

  Chapter Three

  “I know we’d planned to go see that film tonight,” Cara Harper was saying. “But, girl, I’m beyond beat. It’s been a crazy week. Can I take a rain check?”

  Cara and Traci had been friends for longer than either of them could remember. Over lunches, dinners, and girls’ nights out, they’d often tried to recall how and when they’d first met. Each had a different version of their first meeting at a conference at NYU nearly a decade earlier.

  “No problem. But we’re still on for Pilates tomorrow, right?” Traci said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes and yes. My caseload was pretty brutal this week. I had to remove two kids from a house right out of a horror show, but the kids didn’t want to leave. Can you imagine?” She sighed heavily into the phone. “A movie and a drink would probably work wonders, but I don’t have the energy.”