Free Christmas In High Heels by Gemma Halliday

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    CHRISTMAS IN HIGH HEELS

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    “Maddie, what is that?” a deep voice asked behind me.
    I looked up at the green sprig I was currently pinning to the ceiling of my boyfriend’s living room.
    “Mistletoe.”
    “Mistletoe?”
    “Yeah, you know, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”
    I felt a pair of large, warm hands at my waist as I strained forward on my stepladder. “I know what it’s for. I just don’t get why you’re risking life and limb to stick it to my ceiling. Whoa, careful,” he added, grabbing my hips as I teetered to the left.
    “Use your imagination, big guy,” I responded, stepping down to face him.
    “Hmmmm.” He looked up. We were standing directly underneath the green sprig. “Good point.”
    He leaned in close, his warm breath hitting my lips just a second before his mouth did. He tasted like coffee and the rocky road ice cream we’d had for dessert. Yum. I kissed him back. Hard. With tongue.
    “So,” he said when we finally came up for air. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
    I nipped at his lower lip. “Use your imagination, big guy,” I repeated with a grin.
    Tonight was Christmas Eve. Our first together. Not that it was the first Christmas Eve that had passed since we’d started dating, but it was the first one we’d spent together . In fact, it was the first holiday of any kind that we’d really spent together.
    Jack Ramirez was tall, dark, and handsome with a capital H-O-T. He was also a homicide detective with a captain who tended to call at all the wrong times. Like on my birthday when our opera tickets had gone to waste over a double homicide in the West Hills. And last Valentine’s Day when he’d made reservations at this romantic, little Italian bistro with drippy candles and everything. Then had to cancel when some stockbroker got hopped up on one too many triple lattes and shot his partner in their office downtown. And then there was Halloween. My best friend, Dana, had thrown this huge costume party, and Ramirez and I were supposed to go as two-person horse. An outfit that doesn’t work so well when the front half gets called to a triple homicide near the airport.
    So, when Ramirez had sworn on his grandmother’s grave that his captain was not only not calling him in this Christmas but was also in Vancouver visiting his mother, I immediately made the agenda for our evening. Ramirez, me, and a nice romantic evening at home. Quiet. Alone.
    Possibly even naked.
    And from the look in Ramirez’s eyes, I’d say he was totally on board with that plan.
    He leaned in close again, doing a sort of deep growl thing in the back of his throat, before his hands snaked up my sides, pulling me taut against a six-pack Budweiser would kill for.
    I planted my lips squarely on his, nibbling again until we both started panting like Dobermans.
    But just as his fingers began flirting with the button fly of my jeans, the “William Tell Overture” rang out from my purse.
    Ramirez groaned.
    “Hold that thought,” I told him, quickly locating the offending cell and hitting the on button.
    “Hello?”
    “Merry Christmas, Maddie,” my mom’s voice sang out from the other end.
    “And Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, and Yule, too!” I heard Faux Dad (as I’d affectionately dubbed my stepfather) add in the background.
    “Thanks, same to you guys, too.”
    “We’re heading to your cousin Molly’s right now,” Mom said. “Are you there yet?”
    “Uh, no.” I glanced across the room to where Ramirez was folding up the stepladder, while conspicuously standing just beneath my mistletoe. “We’re actually staying in tonight.”
    There was a pause. Then Mom’s voice rose two octaves. “What do you mean staying in tonight? Don’t you know it’s Christmas Eve?!”
    “Yes…” I hedged.
    “A holiday.”
    “Yes…”
    “A day for spending with family.”
    “Mom, I swear I will be at your house for turkey dinner tomorrow. But, Ramirez and I wanted to spend