Beth Cornelison - The Christmas Stranger

Matt rasped her name as he cupped his palms against her cheeks and angled his head for a deeper kiss.

A rumble of satisfaction issued from his throat when Holly swept her tongue into his mouth to duel with his.

The heavy beat that her heart had pounded as they danced now thundered, shaking her to the core. Her skin flushed hot, and a coil of desire tightened inside her.

She tasted the cinnamon and cloves of the spiced cider on his lips and longed to savor Matts kiss for hours.

But the jarring ring of her phone jangled from the kitchen.

She didnt want to move, didnt want to talk to anyone. She wanted only to step back into Matts arms and continue the heavenly kiss.

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BETH CORNELISON
started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelors degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award for romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, or visit her Web site at www.bethcornelison.com.

In memory of my grandmother Alice Miles.
I miss you and think of you often.

North Carolina holds a special place
in my heart because of you.

R yans killer was most likely a vagrant.

With her brother-in-laws assessment echoing in her head, Holly Bancroft Cole suppressed a shiver. Rubbing her arms, she cast an appraising glance around the Halloween party at the Community Aid Center in Morgan Hollow, North Carolina.

New faces dotted the crowd. But were any of them killers?

A loud cheer turned her attention to the festivities. The centers volunteers had all dressed up in goofy, creative and occasionally creepy costumes to entertain the citys homeless and underprivileged children. At the moment, two clowns led the kids on a wild scavenger hunt for candy, while Holly, wearing her bridal gown, oversaw the refreshments. The childrens parents hovered along the walls, as well as a few men who were regulars at the donated clothing room or the centers soup kitchen. While the party was billed as a childrens Halloween bash, no one had been turned away.

Flipping back her bridal veil for a better view, Holly scanned the unshaven, bedraggled faces of the vagrants whod gathered this Friday for free hot cider, entertainment and a warm place to pass the chilly October afternoon. Could one of these men have killed Ryan for his watch, wallet and Reeboks?

Apprehension and suspicion crawled up her spine.

Little evidence had been collected at the crime scene just over a year ago when her husband had been murdered and robbed. The local police, including her brother-in-law Robert, called Ryans death a tragic, random attack. Robert held out little hope that Ryans killer would ever be caught.

But Roberts gloomy outlook didnt sit well for Holly. She wanted resolution to the many mysteries concerning Ryans attack. She wanted justice. And she needed closure. While shed come to grips with Ryans death and had begun picking up the pieces of her shattered life, she hated all the blanks in the account of what happened the night Ryan was killed.

Maybe the police wouldnt ever have enough evidence to bring a suspect to trial, as Robert projected. But any tiny shred of understanding would go a long way in settling the nagging questions she had.

You know, you should have smeared some blood on your face or worn a scary mask.

Carol Hamburgs comment yanked Holly from her morose thoughts.

That wedding dress is great, but you could have come as the Bride of Frankenstein or something.

Tucking a stray wisp of her blond hair behind her ear, Holly shrugged as she faced the Community Aid Centers petite director. Id considered fake blood, but I really didnt want to risk getting makeup on the dress. I wore this gown when I married Ryan, and Ive worn it every year since for Halloween. Its a tradition.

Really? Howd that get started?

Holly smiled wistfully. After our wedding, I complained to Ryan about how much the dress cost, to be worn only once. So, frugal and practical man that he was, he dared me to use it every Halloween as my costume. She paused and sighed. I almost didnt put it on today. But Im glad I did. It makes me feel closer to him.

Carol blinked her surprise. Im just jealous youre still the same size you were when you got married.

Before Holly could reply, a loud cry rose over the chatter in the room. She and Carol exchanged a concerned look before moving together in the direction of the commotion. The crowd of curious children, startled mothers and homeless men shrank away from a little boy in superhero pajamas lying on the floor unconscious.

His lips were blue.

Icy horror washed through Holly in concentric waves as the reality of what was happening sank over her.

Call 91-1! she shouted to Carol as she dashed to the boys side and dropped to her knees.

Hes not breathing! the childs mother screamed. The woman dragged the child up by the arms and began pounding on his back.

Dont do that! One of the unshaven men separated from the others and rushed forward. He placed a hand on the frightened mothers shoulder and met her eyes. Let me have him.

The woman hesitated only a second before relinquishing her son to the dark-haired man. Please! Save him!

Ill do my best, he replied, his voice deep and calm. He gently laid the boy back on the floor. After feeling for a pulse in the boys neck, he leaned close to listen and look for signs of breathing.