Santa's Kissby Jan Scarbrough
New Beginnings Baby Boutique
Legend, Tennessee
Three days before Christmas
“Take your hands off my wife!” Graham Winchester grabbed the shoulder of the man who had just spun his pregnant wife around and stuck a camera in her face.
“ He thinks I’m Dawn,” Jane cried, pulling away from the stranger.
“ I don’t care. The bastard needs to keep his hands to himself!” Did his wife look like her famous twin? Hardly. She never had been as glamorous and sophisticated as Dawn, and at nine months pregnant, had lost most of her resemblance to her sister.
The man didn’t seem to notice Jane wasn’t the actress. He shrugged out of Graham’s grasp and whipped around. “Keep your hands to yourself, buddy. I’m just doing my job.”
“ Paparazzi,” Jane hissed.
“ It’s a free country, lady.”
Graham barely controlled his temper. “And that gives you the right to accost a woman in public?”
In the display window, a toy train circled a stuffed Peter Rabbit and three gaily wrapped Christmas gifts. It tooted sharply.
Lilly, the boutique’s owner, peaked from behind a rack of upscale clothing for babies and toddlers. Concern clouded her eyes and she stepped toward them. “Can I help you, mister?”
“ I’m from Gossip Magazine,” the man told them. “I’m looking for Dawn Smith, and I thought you people might know where she’s hiding.”
The “you people” comment raised Jane’s dander. Graham saw annoyance flash in her eyes, tightening her lips. Lilly bristled too. Folks in Legend may be down-home and friendly, but they certainly don’t deserve the derisive label “you people.”
The former English teacher and expectant mother poked an accusatory finger at the photographer’s North Face parka. “If I knew the whereabouts of my sister, what makes you think I would tell you?”
“ We haven’t seen Dawn in a year.” Graham backed his wife.
“ Graham’s right. Dawn’s at home in Southern California.”
The reporter scowled, his body language saying what he didn’t voice aloud—stupid, Podunk hicks. “You’re behind the times, lady. Dawn Smith blew out of town after the news broke about her lover.”
“ What about her lover?” Jane asked.
His wife didn’t know about her sister’s latest heartache, and Graham was trying his hardest to keep the facts from her. Jane was already overdue, for God’s sakes, and he wanted nothing to disturb her at this crucial time.
But the photographer had no such compunction. “Don’t you read the news? It was all over the papers and the Internet. The unfortunate guy died of an overdose two weeks ago.”
“ You mean that millionaire, Chris something-or-other, is dead?” Jane sounded confused. “But Dawn only dated him a few times. Why call him her lover?”
Graham knew what his wife was thinking. They both understood dating was a way for Dawn to get her name in the paper. It helped her stalled acting career. Since her divorce almost two years earlier, she had been seen with many well-known men, never any serious relationships.
“ Lover, friend, whatever,” the man scoffed and stuffed his camera back into his carry-on. “I don’t care what you call the guy. The fact is Dawn Smith was seen with Chris Newton the night of his death. After the police questioned her, she left town. No one knows where she is.”
Jane’s hand slowly lifted to her mouth. “Oh, no.” She gave Graham a frightened glance.
He read the questions and the worry in her eyes. Damn! This was just what he didn’t want right now. Jane didn’t need to be upset. Thankfully, Dawn had understood and it was one reason she had begged off coming home for the holidays.
“ Maybe something’s happened to Dawn,” Jane said.
“ Nothing has happened to your sister.” Graham put his arm around his wife and pulled her into his comforting embrace.
“ That’s right. Don’t worry, Jane,” Lilly spoke up, turning toward the reporter. “But something’s about to happen to you, mister, if you don’t get out of my shop.”
“ Okay, sweetheart, I’m going.”
Graham tightened his hold on his wife. He didn’t want to lie to her. “You know Dawn,” he whispered. “She’s just gone to ground, hiding from the likes of this guy.”
No lie there. That’s exactly what Dawn had done, and with his help, she was closer than the interloper from Hollywood knew. But Mr. Paparazzi didn’t need that information and neither did Jane.
Graham’s male protective instincts that had kicked in some time during the first trimester burned brightly in his gut. His wife and his child were what mattered now. Dawn was a big girl. She could take care of herself. He would keep her secret as long as he could, but whatever mess Dawn was in, it was up to her to handle.
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