Naughty or Nice Read online

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Wishes for Christmas

  Perfect Match

  A Family Affair

  Forget Me Not

  The Blossom Sisters

  Balancing Act

  Tuesday’s Child

  Betrayal

  Southern Comfort

  To Taste the Wine

  Sins of the Flesh

  Sins of Omission

  Return to Sender

  Mr. and Miss Anonymous

  Up Close and Personal

  Fool Me Once

  Picture Perfect

  About Face

  The Future Scrolls

  Kentucky Sunrise

  Kentucky Heat

  Kentucky Rich

  Plain Jane

  Charming Lily

  What You Wish For

  The Guest List

  Listen to Your Heart

  Celebration

  Yesterday

  Finders Keepers

  Annie’s Rainbow

  Sara’s Song

  Vegas Sunrise

  Vegas Heat

  Vegas Rich

  Whitefire

  Wish List

  Dear Emily

  Christmas at

  Timberwoods

  Fancy Dancer

  The Sisterhood Novels

  In Plain Sight

  Eyes Only

  Kiss and Tell

  Blindsided

  Gotcha!

  Home Free

  Déjà Vu

  Cross Roads

  Game Over

  Deadly Deals

  Vanishing Act

  Razor Sharp

  Under the Radar

  Final Justice

  Collateral Damage

  Fast Track

  Hokus Pokus

  Hide and Seek

  Free Fall

  Lethal Justice

  Sweet Revenge

  The Jury

  Vendetta

  Payback

  Weekend Warriors

  The Men of the

  Sisterhood Novels

  Double Down

  The Godmothers

  Series

  Classified

  Breaking News

  Deadline

  Late Edition

  Exclusive

  The Scoop

  eBook Exclusives

  Desperate Measures

  Seasons of Her Life

  To Have and To Hold

  Serendipity

  Captive Innocence

  Captive Embraces

  Captive Passions

  Captive Secrets

  Captive Splendors

  Cinders to Satin

  For All Their Lives

  Texas Heat

  Texas Rich

  Texas Fury

  Texas Sunrise

  Anthologies

  When the Snow Falls

  Secret Santa

  A Winter Wonderland

  I’ll Be Home for

  Christmas

  Making Spirits Bright

  Holiday Magic

  Snow Angels

  Silver Bells

  Comfort and Joy

  Sugar and Spice

  Let It Snow

  A Gift of Joy

  Five Golden Rings

  Deck the Halls

  Jingle All the Way

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  FERN MICHAELS

  Naughty or Nice

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2015 by Fern Michaels

  Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  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.

  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.

  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.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5389-7 (eBook)

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-5389-7 (eBook)

  Table of Contents

  Books by Fern Michaels

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Naughty or Nice

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Naughty or Nice

  Prologue

  December 2015

  Teresa Amelia Loudenberry—known as “Toots” to friends and family and “Nana Tootsie” to her precious grandchildren, twins Jonathan and Amy—stood in the center of the formal living room of the home she shared with her adored and adoring husband, Dr. Phillip Becker, inspecting the Christmas decor in order to make sure it was historically accurate, looking just as it had more than two hundred years ago. She and Phil, along with Sophie, Goebel, Abby, and Chris, had spent months researching and locating antique Christmas ornaments exclusive to the late eighteenth century, since they were all participating in the annual holiday showcase of historic homes.

  Donations would be accepted but were not necessary. They had all agreed that whatever money was collected would be donated to the new organization Toots and Phil had recently started, Hope for Heroes. It was their hope to build as many homes as possible for those hundreds of war veterans returning from overseas. A new start, a small reward for their service. It was her latest endeavor, and she planned to make this as successful as her other charitable organizations. Maybe even more so, given the necessity. She focused her thoughts back on the present.

  Strangers would be traipsing in and out of their home, and Toots knew that a few of her snooty South Carolina so-called friends would also take advantage of the opportunity to get a bird’s-eye view of her Southern mansion. And knowing some of them, they wouldn’t bother dropping one red cent into her latest and, to her, most important project to date. Knowing her critics, meaning those “so-called friends,” who were really nothing more than a bunch of rich old women with nothing better to do, she realized that they would note every imperfection. Over the next four weeks, from six to eight in the evening, when her doors were open, Toots planned to disappoint them. She and Phil had hired a team of Charleston’s hottest holiday designers, Blanche Harding and Associates.

  Their charges were astronomical, but Toots didn’t care. Some would have squawked at such a large sum, but she knew she would get her money’s worth, and then some. Personally, she disliked Blanche intensely, but the woman’s decorating eye was spot on, and her specialty was Southern plantation homes. If asked, neither Toots nor Phil could say anything nice about her other than that. They had both observed the way she treated her underlings on more than one occasion since she had been hired, and they most definitely did not like what they had observed. After the holidays, Toots planned to give the snooty, pumped-up harridan a piece of her mind.

  She walked over to the fireplace and moved the exquisite crystal candleholders away from the edge. Now three years old, Jonathan and Amy were growing by leaps and bounds. She was sure that if either of them chose to, they could reach the delicate crystal and topple it over. Satisfied that the tapered red candles and holders wouldn’t cause harm to her grandchildren, Toots stepped back to admire the decorators’ work.

  The fragrant evergreens flanking the floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room with the sharp scent of pine. The sweet-smelling magnolia blooms, which she had personally picked from her trees, had been placed in exquisite vases throughout the main room. The hoity-toity Blanche had insisted that the main room was to be referred to as the “parlor.” To Toots, it was simply a beautiful formal living area that in no way was off-limits to anyone, especially not her grandchildren. However, for the month of December, she would allow the fine citizens of Charleston to parade through her “parlor.”

  The focal point of her “parlor” was the twelve-foot Fraser fir in the corner, beside two large windows. Velvet red and green ribbons tied in large bows, hundreds of miniature white lights, and the many antique ornaments Toots had collected made her tree unique, one of a kind. Blanche Harding thought the lights too modern, but there was no way Toots was going to have a tree as gorgeous as this without Christmas lights. She knew candles were used back in the day, and she also knew many a home had been destroyed by fire. No, she’d stick to store-bought lights. Let someone else take a chance with the candles.

  Christmas was her very f
avorite time of the year. The decorations, the sweet smell of baking, packages wrapped in bright, shiny colors, the added cheerfulness of store clerks, and most of all, the looks she was bound to see on Jonathan’s and Amy’s faces when they opened their present this year, or rather when they saw their present, as it was much too big to wrap. Last year they’d been excited, but as most toddlers did, when their presents were opened and tossed to the side, they had more fun playing with the ribbons and boxes. This year would be different. Both had a vocabulary that could rival that of a ten-year-old, and they knew all about Christmas. Abby and Chris had taught them the true meaning of the holiday, and every time Toots would ask the children what they wanted for Christmas, both would respond with, “We want to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to the baby Jesus first,” and then they would recite a litany of the latest board games they wanted.

  Toots was sure Abby was never this smart at such a young age, but she knew the times were much different. Jonathan and Amy each had their own iPad mini, and both were quite proficient as they navigated their way through the many apps that were for older children. Both knew how to write their name, they knew their address and phone number, and just in case that wasn’t enough, they knew they were to call 911 in an emergency. They were still having a bit of trouble distinguishing what a true emergency was, but Toots had faith in Abby’s and Chris’s parenting skills.

  She smiled when she thought of her daughter and how her life had changed. At one time, Abby had lived and breathed Hollywood gossip; she had spent several years working as a tabloid reporter. Of course, when Toots had learned that Abby might lose her job at The Informer, she had purchased the tabloid on the sly and had made Abby the editor in chief. This was all behind the scenes, but when Abby was kidnapped by the paper’s former owner/editor and held for ransom, Toots had had no choice. She’d revealed that it was she who’d purchased the struggling tabloid.

  Abby was appreciative, and never once had she accused Toots of trying to control her career. Abby thought it was a grand gesture to this very day, and even though Toots had given Abby the deed to The Informer on the day of her baby shower, and it now belonged exclusively to her, Abby had allowed Josh, a onetime cub reporter, to climb the ranks, and now the day-to-day duties were his alone. Abby had said she didn’t have a reporter’s instincts anymore, but Toots wasn’t so sure about that. Once a reporter, always a reporter.

  Abby’s reporting instincts had simply been transferred to the twins. She investigated every source of food that went into their mouths; every toy they owned was checked and rechecked for safety and recalls, just in case; and last but not least, Abby refused to use any product of any kind that wasn’t organic. Personally, Toots thought this was taking things a bit too far, but she kept those thoughts to herself. She respected Abby’s decisions and always did as she asked. Well, almost always.

  She remembered that just last week she’d brought home dozens of cookies from The Sweetest Things, the bakery she and Jamie owned in Charleston. She’d let both children have three cookies apiece. Abby was okay with one, because she knew the goodies at the bakery were made with top-quality ingredients, but sugar was sugar regardless. Sugar was something Toots would never give up, but she wouldn’t even think about getting the grandkids addicted to the stuff. Nor would she smoke around them. She was down to just a couple of cigarettes a day, thanks to the new vapor smokes she’d started using. Her and Sophie’s days as bona fide smokers were coming to an end. Maybe.

  She swept another glance over the room, making sure everything was in its place. Tonight was the first night of the parade of homes, and if there were any last-minute details she needed to attend to, now was the time. She walked the length of the room, stopped to fluff several red velvet pillows on her emerald-green sofa, which she thought just happened to be a perfect match to her Christmas tree. She refolded a soft golden fleece throw that the decorators had casually placed over the arm of one of her newly reupholstered cherry-red, Queen Anne–style chairs facing the fireplace. The room was a bit too overdone with antiques, but for now, it was what it was. After the holidays were over, she would put the antiques she’d had Phil and Goebel bring downstairs back in their rightful places in the upstairs guest bedrooms.

  Seeing that everything was in perfect order, at least by her standards, Toots whirled out of the room like a tornado. She had a long to-do list to get through before six o’clock tonight, when she would officially open her home up for all of Charleston to see.

  When Abby had approached her with the idea, she’d had doubts about opening her home to strangers, but Abby had convinced her to join in, and it’d been her idea to use this opportunity as a fund-raiser for Hope for Heroes. Abby and Chris had spent hours researching the Clay/Clayton Plantation, as their home was called in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Toots had become quite the expert on the old plantation’s history, which reminded her that she’d promised to bring Abby that old leather-bound book entitled The Book of Life and Death. She had found it in a box filled with Garland’s things and wanted to return it to its rightful owner, Chris, her stepson, her son-in-law, and Garland Clay’s son by his first marriage.

  Once they’d started planning, Toots and Phil had jumped right in feet first. Toots had convinced Sophie and Goebel to join in, too, since they’d just recently finished remodeling their new home.

  Ida had purchased a beautiful home on the Battery, where she and her husband, Daniel Townsend, were living, and Toots had invited them to join in, but Ida was adamant. She was not letting strangers in their house. Period. End of story. Instead, she and Daniel had donated a large sum to HFH, and for that, Toots was very appreciative.

  Mavis was staying with her while her husband of less than two years, Wade Powell, was away in connection with the funeral-parlor franchise operation they were setting up, and she’d been a godsend this past week. Toots was so lucky to have those she loved so close. Sophie, Ida, and Mavis, Abby’s godmothers, whom Toots had known since they were all teenagers, were located in Charleston now.

  Life was good and was about to get even better, when she revealed her secret surprise. Yes, this holiday promised to be one to go down in the record books—at least in her own.

  Chapter 1

  “No!” Abby shouted seconds before she caught the antique crystal vase that Amy was about to topple off the shelf. “This is not for little girls to play with. Remember what I said?”

  Amy, at three years old, was the spitting image of Abby. Abby thought that her daughter, with her big blue eyes, blond ringlets, and rosy red lips shaped in a perfect little Cupid’s bow, was quite exquisite. Ditto for Jonathan, though the feminine attributes looked anything but on Jonathan. He looked like a little man. Of the two, he was the more serious, just like his father. Amy, on the other hand—Abby was reluctant to voice these thoughts—was personality wise a miniature of her grandmother. Everything was funny to her. Only three, yet she could successfully tell jokes with a straight face, and most that she told were quite creative. Abby recalled last night’s joke.

  “Mommy,” Amy had said while Abby helped her into her pajamas.

  “Hmmm?”

  “What do you give a piggy when it’s sick?” Amy had asked.

  Abby had grinned, knowing this was another one of her daughter’s silly animal jokes. She’d been around Dogs Displaced by Disaster long enough to learn a few catchphrases.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Amy giggled, her little button nose scrunching up. “Oinkment!”

  Abby laughed loudly. “That’s very good, Amy! Did you make that up all by yourself?”

  She shook her head up and down. “Daddy said it was the best oink-oink joke in the world. Nana Tootsie said I was a true comeatdone.”

  “A what?” Abby asked.

  “A comeatdone.”

  “Ah, I think you mean a comedienne,” she said, correcting Amy.

  Her head bobbed up and down excitedly. “Yep, that’s what I am.”