Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 9

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 12 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-11. 
Thank you for stopping by. 



EPISODE 12
Checking on Laura Fleming had become a nightly activity for Craig Banley. He and George would sip an evening brandy while Craig studied the screen. He saw her let Ellen in the house.“She’s done it again! Let in a stranger,” Craig said, his mood darkening.“Ellen Trabner is not exactly a stranger,” George pointed out.“Well, maybe not. But she’s broken the rule again!” Craig pushed to his feet and paced. “This girl is a renegade. Can’t obey the rules. Who knows how many undesirables she’s had in the house?” “You’re overreacting, Craig.”
“You think so? She signed a contract.”“What is it about this girl that upsets you so?” George sat forward in his seat.“Nothing. Nothing about her at all. She’s simply the house-sitter. And she signed a contract. And there are rules and she’s broken them.”“Come now, Craig. You sound like a child,” George raised his glass.Craig poured another snifter from the bottle on the coffee table. “I am not. I’m just asking her to abide by the rules.”George laughed. “Really? Maybe we should return early so you can tell her yourself?”The younger man stopped in his tracks. “Now that’s an excellent idea, George! We’ll arrive early. Take the little liar by surprise. Throw her out on her ass, too.”“And a fine ass it is, I’d say. Although I haven’t even seen her in the altogether, like you did,” George commented.Craig’s face colored. “That was a mistake.”“Does she know you’re spying on her?”“I’d think any intelligent person could see the cameras all over the place,” Craig said, taking a swig.“Really? I thought they said they’d gone out of their way to hide them.”“Well maybe they did. So what? She shouldn’t be breaking the rules,” Craig said, lifting his chin.“And she shouldn’t be undressing in the bedroom, either?” George cocked an eyebrow.“That’s different.” “Really? How? And when she finds out, she’ll probably call the police and accuse you of peeping,” George said, stifling a smile.Craig paled. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”George leaned forward, placing his hand on the younger man’s arm. “She’s a lovely young woman. She’s all alone at the holiday, Craig. How can you go home and toss her out? What a heartless thing to do. And it’s Christmas. Where’s your humanity?”Craig stared at his thumbs. “I suppose you’re right. But she’s not alone. She had a man in there. It’s just a matter of time before he comes to spend the night.”George raised his eyebrows. “You may be right about that.”“He’s beat my time with her. She kissed him. Obviously she likes him. Next step – bed.” Craig’s voice grew smaller.“Then perhaps we’d better return sooner rather than later,” George said.“What’s the point?” Craig sat back on the sofa and drained his glass.“No Banley gives up without a fight. What would C.W. say?”“He’d say I’m a pussy. I should get in there and stake my claim.”“Do you have a claim?” “No. But neither does he, or he’d have spent the night,” Craig said. “I’ll get on it tomorrow?”Craig shot the older man a quizzical glance. “Changing the flights. We need to finish up here and get home, right?”“Oh. Yes. Right.”George bid his boss goodnight and headed to his  bedroom. Craig stood at the window, looking down on Rome. Could he finish his business in a few days and wing back to New York ahead of schedule? His brow furrowed. And if he did, what would he say to Laura Fleming, anyway?

EPISODE 11
 Laura wrapped a scarf around her neck. The night was clear and cold. She’d dragged the smallest chair she could find out onto the tiny terrace that overlooked 81st Street and the Theodore Roosevelt Park, which belonged to the American Museum of Natural History.She spread a blanket on the chair and Ellen sat down. Then the two women wrapped the fleece around the older woman’s legs.“Ah, much better.” Ellen nodded. Laura retrieved two hot, spiked ciders. She stood next to Ellen, sipping the beverage and watching the carolers assemble. The drink warmed her insides as she waited for the singing to begin. They started with Carol of the Bells, one of Laura’s favorites. “Marvelous!” Ellen whispered. This ritual had warmed her heart every year, but not today. Standing against the wind, she shivered as cold penetrated her bones and her heart. Resting her hand on her friend’s shoulder while listening to the lovely carols, loneliness engulfed Laura. She had dreamed of snuggling into the embrace of a handsome, sexy man, the love of her life, while holiday music washed over her.  She had wished for a heart brimming with excitement, awaiting his delight at each gift she gave, to feel the warmth of his touch, his hand holding hers, or his arm around her shoulders. To hear their voices raised together in song as their hearts joined in love, were her most ardent desires. Laura sighed. That is what she had asked Santa Claus for this year; the gift of true love. Santa hadn’t been listening and it didn’t look like that would be in her stocking anytime soon.When she had first come to babysit the mansion, she had been breathless at the chance to stay in such a grand home. To call this luxurious place hers, even for a few weeks had been a thrill beyond imagination, one that had filled her dreams for weeks.Now she had become comfortable living here, in every aspect except one. She wanted to share it with a man. A loving, devoted, funny, attractive man. But there was no one. The picture of CW and his nephew had intrigued her. Not the old gent, but the younger version, was quite attractive. She had wondered where he was. Finding out he lived here had sent a tingle up her spine. Of course she didn’t know what kind of person he was, but maybe her dreams could include staying here with him?She shook her head. What a preposterous idea! What would a scion of such a wealthy family want with the likes of her, a nobody who had done nothing in life? Perhaps she shouldn’t come back next year to the cream-colored house on the West Side?It had been her escape, a chance to leave home for Christmas and salvage something bright and beautiful about the season. She hadn’t heard from Ruger in six months and considered herself well rid of him. But the house, oh how she ached to stay, become it’s mistress. That would never happen. Laura sighed and squeezed Ellen’s hand. The rheumy, blue eyes glanced at her. Would her friend still be here next year? Perhaps not. That would make it harder to return. She’d make the best of being here this year, then find another way to have a Christmas wish come true next year. Dreaming was one thing, but yearning was quite another. Unaware, she rubbed her jacket above her heart. Then she raised her voice with Ellen’s to sing Silent Night.  
EPISODE 10
Ellen picked up a cookie and stared straight at Laura. “This is your third year coming here. The thrill must have worn off by now. Tell me the real reason you keep fleeing your home at Christmas.” She sat back, chewing, waiting for a response.Laura stiffened. Once she set foot in this mansion, her troubles melted from her mind.“Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to spend a few weeks in a palace like this and get paid for it?” Laura swallowed, praying her friend would buy it.“The first year? I could see it. Maybe the second. But the third?” Ellen cocked an eyebrow. “Come on, fess up.”Laura shrugged. Telling her friend the truth couldn’t hurt, could it? “Okay. It’s kind of a long, complicated story.”“We have at least an hour before the carolers arrive. I’m not going anywhere.”“I was married early, right out of college. To one of my professors. Ruger was his name.”Ellen leaned forward a degree or two.“Go on.”“My father died when I was eight. We had been very close. His death was a huge loss to me. My mother remarried a Swiss man. We moved to Geneva and she had two more children. By the time I was eighteen, I realized there wasn’t room there for me anymore. So I went off to college.”“And met this professor.”“Yes. Before he died, my father put a large sum of money in a trust for me. I couldn't touch it until I was twenty-five.”Ellen picked up a molasses cookie, but maintained eye contact. “The marriage had been a bad idea. Ruger, ten years older than I, was controlling. Sometimes he was violent. I left him before I turned twenty-five.”“Aha! The money.”Laura nodded. “Right. He’d married me with an eye to getting his hands on my inheritance. He fought me on the divorce, but I got it anyway. He had hit me twice, and I had called the police, so he couldn’t stop my leaving him.”“An abusive man? How awful, my dear,” Ellen said, clasping her friend’s hand.Laura choked for a moment. “It was. It was devastating.”“But you seem to have recovered.”“I did. But when I got the money, Ruger started coming around. He said I owed him and he wanted at least half.”“Half? Some nerve. I hope you told him off.”“I did, sort of. Then he started harassing me on the job. So quit and started teaching my online writing courses from home.”“And what did he do?”“I put lots of locks on the doors and installed a security system. Still, I was afraid to go out for a long time. Things got better. He left me alone.”“That’s good.”“Until three years ago. He’d have time off at Christmas. You know, school break. And he had some gambling debts. He’d bang on my door. Scared me. So when my friend, who knew about Ruger, told me about this house, I jumped at the chance.”“I guess he can’t find you here.”“Nope. Thank God.” Laura blew out a breath. “I finally took out an order of protection.”“That’s a good thing.”“Yes, but I’m not sure it applies here.” “What about your family? Your mother and stepsiblings?”“They have a life of their own. They’re still in Switzerland. I talk to my mom on the phone twice a year.”“I’m so sorry, Laura,” Ellen said, patting the young woman’s hand.“It’s okay. I’m alone, but I don’t mind. I get to go on adventures, like this one." She glanced at the ornate ceiling and the artwork on the walls. "Spending Christmas in this mansion. I love it.”“You’re a brave girl. I’m glad you come here.”“Me, too. Someday it'll be over. The old man'll die and leave this to a relative. They’ll probably sell it and make a ton of money.”“Oh, I doubt that. Young Mr. Craig seems to like it here, well enough.”
“Young Mr. Craig?”“The old bastard’s nephew.”“He lives here?”“Yes. And a mighty fine neighbor, too. Always bags his trash. Says ‘hello’ on the street.”“Is he married? Does he have children?”“Oh, no, my dear. He’s quite single. And a fine catch, too. You can see how handsome he is in that picture.”Laura sensed heat in her cheeks and turned away. Young Mr. Craig? She had no idea. That changed everything.

EPISODE 9
Laura slipped a handwritten note under the front door of the townhouse next door. An older woman lived there. Her name was Ellen. She’d met Laura the first year she house-sat for C.W.She remembered the jaundiced eye the older woman shot at her, and the third degree she gave her. Her pointed questions flabbergasted the young woman. No, she wasn’t having an affair with that old man. Goodness gracious! How could anyone even ask? But she and the older woman had met again and again in passing. Ellen had invited Laura in for afternoon tea. Ellen and her husband Bill had a wonderful housekeeper who was a talented baker. The three had enjoyed a delicious tea and conversation. Ellen’s husband had died by the next Christmas. She had been devastated. They had been married since “the beginning of time” as Ellen had said. Since she was still obeying the rules at that time, Laura had invited her new friend to join her for breakfast out. One night, they dined together and listened to the carolers from Ellen’s balcony. The singers performed every year from the museum’s park across the street. They had sipped hot toddies while Ellen had recounted past holidays with Bill and their children. This year, Ellen was using a cane. But at Laura’s invitation, she managed to hobble up the steps anyway. The young woman figured a next door neighbor would be an okay visitor. Besides, she'd already broken the rule with Sean. So what the hell?“I’ve always wanted to see C.W.’s place,” she said, slowly crossing the threshold. “Well come on in. I baked cookies this morning.”“What kind?”“Molasses and chocolate chip.“My favorites,” Ellen said, grinning. Laura returned the smile. Her heart warmed to be able to make her friend happy. She closed the door against the cold and showed her friend into the living room. She had set a tray with a beautiful pot of coffee, and two cups and saucers on the coffee table. Two plates of cookies flanked it.Ellen eased down on the sofa, resting her cane against the arm. She gazed around the room. “So this is what that old skinflint C.W. spent his money on!”“He was stingy?” Laura poured two cups, handing one to Ellen, who added sugar and cream.“Oh yes. Notorious tightwad. What a piker! That’s why he never married. No woman could stand it. Knowing he had such a big bank balance, yet holding on to it so tight. He’d never wine and dine his lady friends in the best restaurants. Always used coupons and took them to cheaper places, taking advantage of saving every penny.”“Did you ever date him?”“For a very short time. His cheapness ticked me off! Then I met Bill. He was a true gentleman and generous to a fault.” She sighed.“I’m so glad,” Laura said, touching her friend’s arm. She scowled at a smiling oil portrait of the old gent. Ellen spied it and stuck out her tongue. “Old bastard,” she muttered.Laura was shocked to hear that word from her very proper friend. “Now, what time are the carolers due tonight?”
EPISODE 8
In a suite in the Grand Hotel Via Veneto in Rome, Craig stood up from the table and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It was four o’clock  and Craig was hungry. Dinner wouldn’t be until eight, so George had ordered tea and a snack, a plate of Christmas cookies.
At the knock on the door, George went to answer it. The two men had been working since nine. Craig was pleased with his progress. They had amassed all the figures from the year and prepared the coming year’s goals. George begged off refreshments and headed for his bedroom to take a nap. Craig poured the tea and took a pastry off the plate.“I wonder what our little Cinderella’s been up to,” he said to no one. He figured at ten in morning, she’d be dressed. With a grin, he set his phone on the table and tapped on the security app. The first room to come up was the living room. No one there. He checked every room. Emitting a sigh, he took another sip of tea and picked up another sweet. Clicking back to start, he saw the front door open. A smile of anticipation, of seeing the lovely Miss Fleming again, graced his face. Then he saw it. His eyes widened. He rubbed them and looked again. Then blinked, rubbed and looked again. No, he wasn’t mistaken. There was a man following Laura into his home. A man!Every curse word he knew came flying out of his mouth at record decibels. George raced into the room. “What is it? What’s the matter?” the older man said, suppressing a yawn.“She did it! She did it! She broke the rule!” Craig lunged forward from his chair to his feet. He paced across the room. “Damn it! Damn it! She did it.”“What?”“She brought a man home. A man!”  Craig picked up a cloth napkin and threw it down on the table. Then he returned to his phone and hit “play”. There was no sound, but they saw Sean kissing her.
Fury flew through Craig’s veins. He called her every vile name in the book, while stomping across the floor. She was there with a man. Tired out by his anger, he slumped into a chair. Miss Laura Fleming was kissing a man in his house. And it wasn’t him. He dropped his head to his hands. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. 

 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

***************************************

EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
**********************************
EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













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THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 11 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-10. 
Thank you for stopping by. 



EPISODE 11
 Laura wrapped a scarf around her neck. The night was clear and cold. She’d dragged the smallest chair she could find out onto the tiny terrace that overlooked 81st Street and the Theodore Roosevelt Park, which belonged to the American Museum of Natural History.She spread a blanket on the chair and Ellen sat down. Then the two women wrapped the fleece around the older woman’s legs.“Ah, much better.” Ellen nodded. Laura retrieved two hot, spiked ciders. She stood next to Ellen, sipping the beverage and watching the carolers assemble. The drink warmed her insides as she waited for the singing to begin. They started with Carol of the Bells, one of Laura’s favorites. “Marvelous!” Ellen whispered. This ritual had warmed her heart every year, but not today. Standing against the wind, she shivered as cold penetrated her bones and her heart. Resting her hand on her friend’s shoulder while listening to the lovely carols, loneliness engulfed Laura. She had dreamed of snuggling into the embrace of a handsome, sexy man, the love of her life, while holiday music washed over her.  She had wished for a heart brimming with excitement, awaiting his delight at each gift she gave, to feel the warmth of his touch, his hand holding hers, or his arm around her shoulders. To hear their voices raised together in song as their hearts joined in love, were her most ardent desires. Laura sighed. That is what she had asked Santa Claus for this year; the gift of true love. Santa hadn’t been listening and it didn’t look like that would be in her stocking anytime soon.When she had first come to babysit the mansion, she had been breathless at the chance to stay in such a grand home. To call this luxurious place hers, even for a few weeks had been a thrill beyond imagination, one that had filled her dreams for weeks.Now she had become comfortable living here, in every aspect except one. She wanted to share it with a man. A loving, devoted, funny, attractive man. But there was no one. The picture of CW and his nephew had intrigued her. Not the old gent, but the younger version, was quite attractive. She had wondered where he was. Finding out he lived here had sent a tingle up her spine. Of course she didn’t know what kind of person he was, but maybe her dreams could include staying here with him?She shook her head. What a preposterous idea! What would a scion of such a wealthy family want with the likes of her, a nobody who had done nothing in life? Perhaps she shouldn’t come back next year to the cream-colored house on the West Side?It had been her escape, a chance to leave home for Christmas and salvage something bright and beautiful about the season. She hadn’t heard from Ruger in six months and considered herself well rid of him. But the house, oh how she ached to stay, become it’s mistress. That would never happen. Laura sighed and squeezed Ellen’s hand. The rheumy, blue eyes glanced at her. Would her friend still be here next year? Perhaps not. That would make it harder to return. She’d make the best of being here this year, then find another way to have a Christmas wish come true next year. Dreaming was one thing, but yearning was quite another. Unaware, she rubbed her jacket above her heart. Then she raised her voice with Ellen’s to sing Silent Night.  
EPISODE 10
Ellen picked up a cookie and stared straight at Laura. “This is your third year coming here. The thrill must have worn off by now. Tell me the real reason you keep fleeing your home at Christmas.” She sat back, chewing, waiting for a response.Laura stiffened. Once she set foot in this mansion, her troubles melted from her mind.“Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to spend a few weeks in a palace like this and get paid for it?” Laura swallowed, praying her friend would buy it.“The first year? I could see it. Maybe the second. But the third?” Ellen cocked an eyebrow. “Come on, fess up.”Laura shrugged. Telling her friend the truth couldn’t hurt, could it? “Okay. It’s kind of a long, complicated story.”“We have at least an hour before the carolers arrive. I’m not going anywhere.”“I was married early, right out of college. To one of my professors. Ruger was his name.”Ellen leaned forward a degree or two.“Go on.”“My father died when I was eight. We had been very close. His death was a huge loss to me. My mother remarried a Swiss man. We moved to Geneva and she had two more children. By the time I was eighteen, I realized there wasn’t room there for me anymore. So I went off to college.”“And met this professor.”“Yes. Before he died, my father put a large sum of money in a trust for me. I couldn't touch it until I was twenty-five.”Ellen picked up a molasses cookie, but maintained eye contact. “The marriage had been a bad idea. Ruger, ten years older than I, was controlling. Sometimes he was violent. I left him before I turned twenty-five.”“Aha! The money.”Laura nodded. “Right. He’d married me with an eye to getting his hands on my inheritance. He fought me on the divorce, but I got it anyway. He had hit me twice, and I had called the police, so he couldn’t stop my leaving him.”“An abusive man? How awful, my dear,” Ellen said, clasping her friend’s hand.Laura choked for a moment. “It was. It was devastating.”“But you seem to have recovered.”“I did. But when I got the money, Ruger started coming around. He said I owed him and he wanted at least half.”“Half? Some nerve. I hope you told him off.”“I did, sort of. Then he started harassing me on the job. So quit and started teaching my online writing courses from home.”“And what did he do?”“I put lots of locks on the doors and installed a security system. Still, I was afraid to go out for a long time. Things got better. He left me alone.”“That’s good.”“Until three years ago. He’d have time off at Christmas. You know, school break. And he had some gambling debts. He’d bang on my door. Scared me. So when my friend, who knew about Ruger, told me about this house, I jumped at the chance.”“I guess he can’t find you here.”“Nope. Thank God.” Laura blew out a breath. “I finally took out an order of protection.”“That’s a good thing.”“Yes, but I’m not sure it applies here.” “What about your family? Your mother and stepsiblings?”“They have a life of their own. They’re still in Switzerland. I talk to my mom on the phone twice a year.”“I’m so sorry, Laura,” Ellen said, patting the young woman’s hand.“It’s okay. I’m alone, but I don’t mind. I get to go on adventures, like this one." She glanced at the ornate ceiling and the artwork on the walls. "Spending Christmas in this mansion. I love it.”“You’re a brave girl. I’m glad you come here.”“Me, too. Someday it'll be over. The old man'll die and leave this to a relative. They’ll probably sell it and make a ton of money.”“Oh, I doubt that. Young Mr. Craig seems to like it here, well enough.”
“Young Mr. Craig?”“The old bastard’s nephew.”“He lives here?”“Yes. And a mighty fine neighbor, too. Always bags his trash. Says ‘hello’ on the street.”“Is he married? Does he have children?”“Oh, no, my dear. He’s quite single. And a fine catch, too. You can see how handsome he is in that picture.”Laura sensed heat in her cheeks and turned away. Young Mr. Craig? She had no idea. That changed everything.

EPISODE 9
Laura slipped a handwritten note under the front door of the townhouse next door. An older woman lived there. Her name was Ellen. She’d met Laura the first year she house-sat for C.W.She remembered the jaundiced eye the older woman shot at her, and the third degree she gave her. Her pointed questions flabbergasted the young woman. No, she wasn’t having an affair with that old man. Goodness gracious! How could anyone even ask? But she and the older woman had met again and again in passing. Ellen had invited Laura in for afternoon tea. Ellen and her husband Bill had a wonderful housekeeper who was a talented baker. The three had enjoyed a delicious tea and conversation. Ellen’s husband had died by the next Christmas. She had been devastated. They had been married since “the beginning of time” as Ellen had said. Since she was still obeying the rules at that time, Laura had invited her new friend to join her for breakfast out. One night, they dined together and listened to the carolers from Ellen’s balcony. The singers performed every year from the museum’s park across the street. They had sipped hot toddies while Ellen had recounted past holidays with Bill and their children. This year, Ellen was using a cane. But at Laura’s invitation, she managed to hobble up the steps anyway. The young woman figured a next door neighbor would be an okay visitor. Besides, she'd already broken the rule with Sean. So what the hell?“I’ve always wanted to see C.W.’s place,” she said, slowly crossing the threshold. “Well come on in. I baked cookies this morning.”“What kind?”“Molasses and chocolate chip.“My favorites,” Ellen said, grinning. Laura returned the smile. Her heart warmed to be able to make her friend happy. She closed the door against the cold and showed her friend into the living room. She had set a tray with a beautiful pot of coffee, and two cups and saucers on the coffee table. Two plates of cookies flanked it.Ellen eased down on the sofa, resting her cane against the arm. She gazed around the room. “So this is what that old skinflint C.W. spent his money on!”“He was stingy?” Laura poured two cups, handing one to Ellen, who added sugar and cream.“Oh yes. Notorious tightwad. What a piker! That’s why he never married. No woman could stand it. Knowing he had such a big bank balance, yet holding on to it so tight. He’d never wine and dine his lady friends in the best restaurants. Always used coupons and took them to cheaper places, taking advantage of saving every penny.”“Did you ever date him?”“For a very short time. His cheapness ticked me off! Then I met Bill. He was a true gentleman and generous to a fault.” She sighed.“I’m so glad,” Laura said, touching her friend’s arm. She scowled at a smiling oil portrait of the old gent. Ellen spied it and stuck out her tongue. “Old bastard,” she muttered.Laura was shocked to hear that word from her very proper friend. “Now, what time are the carolers due tonight?”
EPISODE 8
In a suite in the Grand Hotel Via Veneto in Rome, Craig stood up from the table and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It was four o’clock  and Craig was hungry. Dinner wouldn’t be until eight, so George had ordered tea and a snack, a plate of Christmas cookies.
At the knock on the door, George went to answer it. The two men had been working since nine. Craig was pleased with his progress. They had amassed all the figures from the year and prepared the coming year’s goals. George begged off refreshments and headed for his bedroom to take a nap. Craig poured the tea and took a pastry off the plate.“I wonder what our little Cinderella’s been up to,” he said to no one. He figured at ten in morning, she’d be dressed. With a grin, he set his phone on the table and tapped on the security app. The first room to come up was the living room. No one there. He checked every room. Emitting a sigh, he took another sip of tea and picked up another sweet. Clicking back to start, he saw the front door open. A smile of anticipation, of seeing the lovely Miss Fleming again, graced his face. Then he saw it. His eyes widened. He rubbed them and looked again. Then blinked, rubbed and looked again. No, he wasn’t mistaken. There was a man following Laura into his home. A man!Every curse word he knew came flying out of his mouth at record decibels. George raced into the room. “What is it? What’s the matter?” the older man said, suppressing a yawn.“She did it! She did it! She broke the rule!” Craig lunged forward from his chair to his feet. He paced across the room. “Damn it! Damn it! She did it.”“What?”“She brought a man home. A man!”  Craig picked up a cloth napkin and threw it down on the table. Then he returned to his phone and hit “play”. There was no sound, but they saw Sean kissing her.
Fury flew through Craig’s veins. He called her every vile name in the book, while stomping across the floor. She was there with a man. Tired out by his anger, he slumped into a chair. Miss Laura Fleming was kissing a man in his house. And it wasn’t him. He dropped his head to his hands. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. 

 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
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THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 10 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-9. 
Thank you for stopping by. 



EPISODE 10
Ellen picked up a cookie and stared straight at Laura. “This is your third year coming here. The thrill must have worn off by now. Tell me the real reason you keep fleeing your home at Christmas.” She sat back, chewing, waiting for a response.Laura stiffened. Once she set foot in this mansion, her troubles melted from her mind.“Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to spend a few weeks in a palace like this and get paid for it?” Laura swallowed, praying her friend would buy it.“The first year? I could see it. Maybe the second. But the third?” Ellen cocked an eyebrow. “Come on, fess up.”Laura shrugged. Telling her friend the truth couldn’t hurt, could it? “Okay. It’s kind of a long, complicated story.”“We have at least an hour before the carolers arrive. I’m not going anywhere.”“I was married early, right out of college. To one of my professors. Ruger was his name.”Ellen leaned forward a degree or two.“Go on.”“My father died when I was eight. We had been very close. His death was a huge loss to me. My mother remarried a Swiss man. We moved to Geneva and she had two more children. By the time I was eighteen, I realized there wasn’t room there for me anymore. So I went off to college.”“And met this professor.”“Yes. Before he died, my father put a large sum of money in a trust for me. I couldn't touch it until I was twenty-five.”Ellen picked up a molasses cookie, but maintained eye contact. “The marriage had been a bad idea. Ruger, ten years older than I, was controlling. Sometimes he was violent. I left him before I turned twenty-five.”“Aha! The money.”Laura nodded. “Right. He’d married me with an eye to getting his hands on my inheritance. He fought me on the divorce, but I got it anyway. He had hit me twice, and I had called the police, so he couldn’t stop my leaving him.”“An abusive man? How awful, my dear,” Ellen said, clasping her friend’s hand.Laura choked for a moment. “It was. It was devastating.”“But you seem to have recovered.”“I did. But when I got the money, Ruger started coming around. He said I owed him and he wanted at least half.”“Half? Some nerve. I hope you told him off.”“I did, sort of. Then he started harassing me on the job. So quit and started teaching my online writing courses from home.”“And what did he do?”“I put lots of locks on the doors and installed a security system. Still, I was afraid to go out for a long time. Things got better. He left me alone.”“That’s good.”“Until three years ago. He’d have time off at Christmas. You know, school break. And he had some gambling debts. He’d bang on my door. Scared me. So when my friend, who knew about Ruger, told me about this house, I jumped at the chance.”“I guess he can’t find you here.”“Nope. Thank God.” Laura blew out a breath. “I finally took out an order of protection.”“That’s a good thing.”“Yes, but I’m not sure it applies here.” “What about your family? Your mother and stepsiblings?”“They have a life of their own. They’re still in Switzerland. I talk to my mom on the phone twice a year.”“I’m so sorry, Laura,” Ellen said, patting the young woman’s hand.“It’s okay. I’m alone, but I don’t mind. I get to go on adventures, like this one." She glanced at the ornate ceiling and the artwork on the walls. "Spending Christmas in this mansion. I love it.”“You’re a brave girl. I’m glad you come here.”“Me, too. Someday it'll be over. The old man'll die and leave this to a relative. They’ll probably sell it and make a ton of money.”“Oh, I doubt that. Young Mr. Craig seems to like it here, well enough.”
“Young Mr. Craig?”“The old bastard’s nephew.”“He lives here?”“Yes. And a mighty fine neighbor, too. Always bags his trash. Says ‘hello’ on the street.”“Is he married? Does he have children?”“Oh, no, my dear. He’s quite single. And a fine catch, too. You can see how handsome he is in that picture.”Laura sensed heat in her cheeks and turned away. Young Mr. Craig? She had no idea. That changed everything.

EPISODE 9
Laura slipped a handwritten note under the front door of the townhouse next door. An older woman lived there. Her name was Ellen. She’d met Laura the first year she house-sat for C.W.She remembered the jaundiced eye the older woman shot at her, and the third degree she gave her. Her pointed questions flabbergasted the young woman. No, she wasn’t having an affair with that old man. Goodness gracious! How could anyone even ask? But she and the older woman had met again and again in passing. Ellen had invited Laura in for afternoon tea. Ellen and her husband Bill had a wonderful housekeeper who was a talented baker. The three had enjoyed a delicious tea and conversation. Ellen’s husband had died by the next Christmas. She had been devastated. They had been married since “the beginning of time” as Ellen had said. Since she was still obeying the rules at that time, Laura had invited her new friend to join her for breakfast out. One night, they dined together and listened to the carolers from Ellen’s balcony. The singers performed every year from the museum’s park across the street. They had sipped hot toddies while Ellen had recounted past holidays with Bill and their children. This year, Ellen was using a cane. But at Laura’s invitation, she managed to hobble up the steps anyway. The young woman figured a next door neighbor would be an okay visitor. Besides, she'd already broken the rule with Sean. So what the hell?“I’ve always wanted to see C.W.’s place,” she said, slowly crossing the threshold. “Well come on in. I baked cookies this morning.”“What kind?”“Molasses and chocolate chip.“My favorites,” Ellen said, grinning. Laura returned the smile. Her heart warmed to be able to make her friend happy. She closed the door against the cold and showed her friend into the living room. She had set a tray with a beautiful pot of coffee, and two cups and saucers on the coffee table. Two plates of cookies flanked it.Ellen eased down on the sofa, resting her cane against the arm. She gazed around the room. “So this is what that old skinflint C.W. spent his money on!”“He was stingy?” Laura poured two cups, handing one to Ellen, who added sugar and cream.“Oh yes. Notorious tightwad. What a piker! That’s why he never married. No woman could stand it. Knowing he had such a big bank balance, yet holding on to it so tight. He’d never wine and dine his lady friends in the best restaurants. Always used coupons and took them to cheaper places, taking advantage of saving every penny.”“Did you ever date him?”“For a very short time. His cheapness ticked me off! Then I met Bill. He was a true gentleman and generous to a fault.” She sighed.“I’m so glad,” Laura said, touching her friend’s arm. She scowled at a smiling oil portrait of the old gent. Ellen spied it and stuck out her tongue. “Old bastard,” she muttered.Laura was shocked to hear that word from her very proper friend. “Now, what time are the carolers due tonight?”
EPISODE 8
In a suite in the Grand Hotel Via Veneto in Rome, Craig stood up from the table and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It was four o’clock  and Craig was hungry. Dinner wouldn’t be until eight, so George had ordered tea and a snack, a plate of Christmas cookies.
At the knock on the door, George went to answer it. The two men had been working since nine. Craig was pleased with his progress. They had amassed all the figures from the year and prepared the coming year’s goals. George begged off refreshments and headed for his bedroom to take a nap. Craig poured the tea and took a pastry off the plate.“I wonder what our little Cinderella’s been up to,” he said to no one. He figured at ten in morning, she’d be dressed. With a grin, he set his phone on the table and tapped on the security app. The first room to come up was the living room. No one there. He checked every room. Emitting a sigh, he took another sip of tea and picked up another sweet. Clicking back to start, he saw the front door open. A smile of anticipation, of seeing the lovely Miss Fleming again, graced his face. Then he saw it. His eyes widened. He rubbed them and looked again. Then blinked, rubbed and looked again. No, he wasn’t mistaken. There was a man following Laura into his home. A man!Every curse word he knew came flying out of his mouth at record decibels. George raced into the room. “What is it? What’s the matter?” the older man said, suppressing a yawn.“She did it! She did it! She broke the rule!” Craig lunged forward from his chair to his feet. He paced across the room. “Damn it! Damn it! She did it.”“What?”“She brought a man home. A man!”  Craig picked up a cloth napkin and threw it down on the table. Then he returned to his phone and hit “play”. There was no sound, but they saw Sean kissing her.
Fury flew through Craig’s veins. He called her every vile name in the book, while stomping across the floor. She was there with a man. Tired out by his anger, he slumped into a chair. Miss Laura Fleming was kissing a man in his house. And it wasn’t him. He dropped his head to his hands. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. 

 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 9 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-8. 
Thank you for stopping by. 


EPISODE 9
Laura slipped a handwritten note under the front door of the townhouse next door. An older woman lived there. Her name was Ellen. She’d met Laura the first year she house-sat for C.W.She remembered the jaundiced eye the older woman shot at her, and the third degree she gave her. Her pointed questions flabbergasted the young woman. No, she wasn’t having an affair with that old man. Goodness gracious! How could anyone even ask? But she and the older woman had met again and again in passing. Ellen had invited Laura in for afternoon tea. Ellen and her husband Bill had a wonderful housekeeper who was a talented baker. The three had enjoyed a delicious tea and conversation. Ellen’s husband had died by the next Christmas. She had been devastated. They had been married since “the beginning of time” as Ellen had said. Since she was still obeying the rules at that time, Laura had invited her new friend to join her for breakfast out. One night, they dined together and listened to the carolers from Ellen’s balcony. The singers performed every year from the museum’s park across the street. They had sipped hot toddies while Ellen had recounted past holidays with Bill and their children. This year, Ellen was using a cane. But at Laura’s invitation, she managed to hobble up the steps anyway. The young woman figured a next door neighbor would be an okay visitor. Besides, she'd already broken the rule with Sean. So what the hell?“I’ve always wanted to see C.W.’s place,” she said, slowly crossing the threshold. “Well come on in. I baked cookies this morning.”“What kind?”“Molasses and chocolate chip.“My favorites,” Ellen said, grinning. Laura returned the smile. Her heart warmed to be able to make her friend happy. She closed the door against the cold and showed her friend into the living room. She had set a tray with a beautiful pot of coffee, and two cups and saucers on the coffee table. Two plates of cookies flanked it.Ellen eased down on the sofa, resting her cane against the arm. She gazed around the room. “So this is what that old skinflint C.W. spent his money on!”“He was stingy?” Laura poured two cups, handing one to Ellen, who added sugar and cream.“Oh yes. Notorious tightwad. What a piker! That’s why he never married. No woman could stand it. Knowing he had such a big bank balance, yet holding on to it so tight. He’d never wine and dine his lady friends in the best restaurants. Always used coupons and took them to cheaper places, taking advantage of saving every penny.”“Did you ever date him?”“For a very short time. His cheapness ticked me off! Then I met Bill. He was a true gentleman and generous to a fault.” She sighed.“I’m so glad,” Laura said, touching her friend’s arm. She scowled at a smiling oil portrait of the old gent. Ellen spied it and stuck out her tongue. “Old bastard,” she muttered.Laura was shocked to hear that word from her very proper friend. “Now, what time are the carolers due tonight?”
EPISODE 8
In a suite in the Grand Hotel Via Veneto in Rome, Craig stood up from the table and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It was four o’clock  and Craig was hungry. Dinner wouldn’t be until eight, so George had ordered tea and a snack, a plate of Christmas cookies.
At the knock on the door, George went to answer it. The two men had been working since nine. Craig was pleased with his progress. They had amassed all the figures from the year and prepared the coming year’s goals. George begged off refreshments and headed for his bedroom to take a nap. Craig poured the tea and took a pastry off the plate.“I wonder what our little Cinderella’s been up to,” he said to no one. He figured at ten in morning, she’d be dressed. With a grin, he set his phone on the table and tapped on the security app. The first room to come up was the living room. No one there. He checked every room. Emitting a sigh, he took another sip of tea and picked up another sweet. Clicking back to start, he saw the front door open. A smile of anticipation, of seeing the lovely Miss Fleming again, graced his face. Then he saw it. His eyes widened. He rubbed them and looked again. Then blinked, rubbed and looked again. No, he wasn’t mistaken. There was a man following Laura into his home. A man!Every curse word he knew came flying out of his mouth at record decibels. George raced into the room. “What is it? What’s the matter?” the older man said, suppressing a yawn.“She did it! She did it! She broke the rule!” Craig lunged forward from his chair to his feet. He paced across the room. “Damn it! Damn it! She did it.”“What?”“She brought a man home. A man!”  Craig picked up a cloth napkin and threw it down on the table. Then he returned to his phone and hit “play”. There was no sound, but they saw Sean kissing her.
Fury flew through Craig’s veins. He called her every vile name in the book, while stomping across the floor. She was there with a man. Tired out by his anger, he slumped into a chair. Miss Laura Fleming was kissing a man in his house. And it wasn’t him. He dropped his head to his hands. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. 

 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 8 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-7. 
Thank you for stopping by. 


EPISODE 8
In a suite in the Grand Hotel Via Veneto in Rome, Craig stood up from the table and stretched his arms to the ceiling. It was four o’clock  and Craig was hungry. Dinner wouldn’t be until eight, so George had ordered tea and a snack, a plate of Christmas cookies.
At the knock on the door, George went to answer it. The two men had been working since nine. Craig was pleased with his progress. They had amassed all the figures from the year and prepared the coming year’s goals. George begged off refreshments and headed for his bedroom to take a nap. Craig poured the tea and took a pastry off the plate.“I wonder what our little Cinderella’s been up to,” he said to no one. He figured at ten in morning, she’d be dressed. With a grin, he set his phone on the table and tapped on the security app. The first room to come up was the living room. No one there. He checked every room. Emitting a sigh, he took another sip of tea and picked up another sweet. Clicking back to start, he saw the front door open. A smile of anticipation, of seeing the lovely Miss Fleming again, graced his face. Then he saw it. His eyes widened. He rubbed them and looked again. Then blinked, rubbed and looked again. No, he wasn’t mistaken. There was a man following Laura into his home. A man!Every curse word he knew came flying out of his mouth at record decibels. George raced into the room. “What is it? What’s the matter?” the older man said, suppressing a yawn.“She did it! She did it! She broke the rule!” Craig lunged forward from his chair to his feet. He paced across the room. “Damn it! Damn it! She did it.”“What?”“She brought a man home. A man!”  Craig picked up a cloth napkin and threw it down on the table. Then he returned to his phone and hit “play”. There was no sound, but they saw Sean kissing her.
Fury flew through Craig’s veins. He called her every vile name in the book, while stomping across the floor. She was there with a man. Tired out by his anger, he slumped into a chair. Miss Laura Fleming was kissing a man in his house. And it wasn’t him. He dropped his head to his hands. It wasn’t him. It would never be him. 

 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 7 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-6. 
Thank you for stopping by. 


 EPISODE 7
After breakfast, Sean insisted on walking Laura home. “It’s not dangerous at ten o’clock in the morning.”“So?” He took her hand.“Don’t you have work to do? Setting up for lunch?”“My sister, Maureen, said she’d take over. I have time.”Laura swallowed. What was she going to do? She wasn’t supposed to let anyone in the house, and that included Sean. But he’d expect to come in, and maybe he’d expect more. Still, it would be their secret. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be only a few minutes?They passed a small bookstore with lights strung around the window. And a Starbucks. “I love it here. Like a small town in the big city.”“If you want to see a small town, you should come to Pine Grove, sometime,” she said.“Is that an invitation?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. Sean in her house was a different matter. Would she invite him? Could he take the time away from McGinty’s?“And what would you do if I did invite you?”A look of surprise passed over his face. “I thought so. You’re married to McGinty’s. A weekend away would put you in cardiac arrest.”“No one can run that place like I can. And I do quite well, if I do say so, myself.”“Glad to hear it. Then breakfast didn’t break you,” she replied.“I could take you on a World Cruise, Miss Laura Fleming, and it wouldn’t break me,” Sean said, stopping. “This is it, right? Old man Banley’s?”She nodded. “What’s on the first floor,” Sean asked, peering in the shuttered window. “Maeve told me that’s where he has his office.”“Pretty convenient. Walk downstairs and you’re at work. Well, are you gonna let me take a look at the place?” He put one foot on the step.“Of course. Come on.” She tripped up the metal steps with him behind.She unlocked the door and turned to him. “Before I let you in, you have to promise not to tell anyone you came in. Understood?”“The old man’s that dotty?”“Those are the rules and I’ve always obeyed them.”“Until you fell under the spell of Sean McGinty,” he responded. “Promise?”“I swear. Cross my heart,” he said, drawing an ‘x” over the left side of his chest.  Laura steered him through the small entryway into the living room. It was a grand room with high ceilings, crown molding and a white marble fireplace. The room was painted a lemon-chiffon yellow with bright, white trim.  “Holy smokes! You weren’t kiddin’ when you said he had bucks.” Sean said, strolling around the room, staring. Over the mantle was a portrait of a couple. Laura guessed it was Banley’s parents or grandparents, probably the first to build this place. A stiff-backed sofa, facing the fireplace, was flanked by two wing chairs. The furniture was upholstered in a blue, yellow and white striped fabric.
A small rolltop desk hugged one corner. Two long windows sat close together. They viewed 81st Street and the museum. Gauzy white curtains filtered out the bright, southern light. As Laura stood at the window, Sean stole up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “Lovely, Laura. You belong here.”She laughed. “I wish. Nope. Just for a few weeks a year.”“Can I see the bedrooms?”The glint in his eye told her what he had in mind. She twisted out of his embrace. Before she could speak, he kissed her, long and hard, making her breath hitch in her throat. She broke from him, her pulse racing and put her fingers to her lips. “I don’t think I should take you on a tour.”“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon. For you, that is,” he said, his eyes glowing.“That’s it, exactly. Too soon.”He kissed her hand, glanced at his watch and headed for the door. “Crikey, it’s late. Thanks for showin’ me this place. Like something from a museum.”“It is. Thanks for breakfast.”“We’ll do it again before you go,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. She brushed his lips with hers and shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it, she let out a breath. “Laura Fleming, you goody-two-shoes. You’re breaking all the rules. Wouldn’t Mr. Banley be shocked if he knew?” She giggled and headed for the kitchen. Time to bake something for the carolers who were arriving tonight.
She wrote out an invitation for Ellen to join her for dinner and caroling. You already broke the damn rule. What’s one more person gonna hurt? She donned an apron and pulled out the flour canister. Jasper entered, meowing. He rubbed against her legs and she gave him a treat. At the push of a button, the radio played Christmas music. 
EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 6 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-5. 
Thank you for stopping by. 



EPISODE 6


Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.
This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air. The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions. 
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


*********************************


EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

***************************************

EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
**********************************
EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













#noraroberts
#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 5 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-4. 
Thank you for stopping by. 





EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite. “I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?”                                   The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow.  Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.



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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.  Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery. 
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  


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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him. 
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2




Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine. 

 This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
**********************************
EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays. 
This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street. 
He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.













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#debbiemacomber

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODE 4 #christmasromance #holiday #romance

Welcome! Today is episode 4.


Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.  Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged.  So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room. Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit,  and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery.
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?  
Thank you for stopping by. Come back tomorrow for another episode. 

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODE 3 #romance #holiday #christmas #holidayromance

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Welcome to my continuing story, The House-Sitter's Christmas. This takes place in New York City. Scroll down for Episodes 1 & 2, which were part of Tuesday Tales. There will be an episode published here every day for the month of December. Please note that this story is not edited, so there may be some mistakes or typos. Thank you for stopping by
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Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep. “I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but  you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom. He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him.
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system. 
Thank you for stopping by. Comments are always welcome. If you're curious about my writing, you can check out my books on my website, HERE

     EPISODE 1


EPISODE 2