The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Carrie Read Online Free PDF Page B

wavering display. Santa was lighter than she anticipated, the metal tray of wrenches balanced on his extended cardboard hands heavier than they should have been. Instead of helping things, her touch pushed Santa over the edge.
    Carrie felt him slipping away. She scrambled, actively grabbing for the toppling effigy. Making noise. Drawing attention. Crap! Santa bucked backward. Wrenches flew into the air, clattering to the ground around her.
    Iris Tobin yelled at her. “Who are you? Get out of here immediately. This is a closed shoot.”
    “Um . . . I . . .” Chagrinned, Carrie dropped to her knees and started picking up the scattered wrenches, unable to look at anyone. Way to go, MacGregor.
    “Stop that. Leave the mess. Get out. Who left the back door unlocked?” Iris Tobin snapped. “Ladonna, you were supposed to make sure the back door was locked. We can’t have gawkers stumbling around and ruining our shoot.”
    “Mellow out, Iris,” Mark said, a sharp edge in his voice. “You’re acting like a bitch.”
    The director glared, nostrils flaring and she clapped her hands. “Olig!” She motioned for the bodyguard. “Escort this person out.”
    Carrie stood, preparing to run before the hulking bodyguard could get to her, cheeks blazing a hundred and twenty degrees worth of shame. Why, oh why hadn’t she stayed put in the Yarn Barn?
    Mark stepped between Carrie and Iris. “She stays,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “This is Flynn’s sister, Carrie. She owns the yarn store next door.”
    “What? Are we inviting in everyone’s family now?” Iris groused. “Should I call my mother? Send her a plane ticket?”
    Mark ignored her sarcasm.
    “I’m going,” Carrie said. “I shouldn’t have been here.”
    “Well what do you know?” Iris said. “We agree on something.”
    Mark reached out, took her hand. Carrie was aware that everyone was watching them. Could they see how his touch unraveled her? Did it show on her face that her stomach was in tumult and her heart, oh her stupid heart, was melting?
    “You belong here,” he said firmly and threw Iris a don’t-make-an-issue-of-this glare. Still holding onto Carrie’s hand, he took her behind the counter, retrieved a stool and carried it to one side of the cameras. “You can sit here.”
    This was a bad idea. She wished she could slink off, but now that he’d made a big deal of it she had to stay. She perched on the stool. Mark gave her shoulder a squeeze, then moved back to take his place in front of the camera. Jesse smiled at her. Flynn gave her a little wave.
    Unhappy Iris Tobin folded her arms over her chest. “Places everyone. Let’s start again from the top.”
    The crew zipped about, doing their jobs.
    Across the room Mark’s eyes met her gaze. No, not just met hers. His gaze devoured her. When he gave her a conspiratorial wink, all the air rushed from her lungs and caused her nipples to bead. What was he doing? Was he trying to rattle her? And why was her shoulder still tingling from where he’d touched it?
    Unable to fight back against his long, lingering stare, she clenched her eyes closed, hauled in a deep slow breath as a stunning realization smacked her.
    Dammit. No matter how much she wished it was not true, she was still crazy about the man.

 
    C HAPTER F OUR

    “T his is no good,” Iris said on the day before Thanksgiving as she and Mark sat in his suite at The Merry Cherub reviewing the footage they’d shot so far. Delicious smells from the kitchen of the B&B drifted upstairs—apples, cinnamon, cornbread, pumpkin, nutmeg.
    The rest of the crew had left, taking the bus back to DFW Airport to catch flights home for the holiday. They would all be back by Monday to continue shooting the “Romance of First Love” episode.
    Iris stubbed out her cigarette in a china saucer that Jenny had brought on a tray with tea and cookies to the suite, and got to her feet.
    “What do you mean no good? There are some wonderful stories