This year was no different. This morning Olivia had presented Rae with diamond earrings, a special gift for her twenty-fifth. “Really, sweetie,” she had said, “you’re independently wealthy now. A legitimate heiress. Time to start dressing and acting the part.”

Olivia had been dressing and acting the part for years. She’d never been the real deal. Rae was the real deal. Thanks to Olivia’s first husband, the father Rae had lost at age two.

Just now Olivia was upstairs with husband number four, a man Rae despised, taking forever and a day dressing for the first of three parties on their meticulously calculated social calendar. Amazingly, Olivia had invited Rae along. Although maybe not so amazing. As of this morning, Rae was stinking rich, a magnet for attention, something Olivia breathed like air.

Not wanting to insult her mother, especially since Rae was trying to forge some sort of genuine bond, she’d sucked it up, agreeing to attend the dinner party being hosted at the Beverly Wilshire. Rae had never been a social butterfly, but she could endure a formal dinner, and besides, the proceeds went to a local children’s hospital. She’d simply beg off after, leaving the wilder, drinking parties to Olivia and Geoffrey while she took advantage of their state-of-the-art kitchen.

Rae planned to spend her Christmas Eve birthday whipping up a holiday cupcake that would make the Cupcake Lovers proud, then chowing down and drinking wine while watching a marathon of sappy holiday movies on the Hallmark Channel. Movies celebrating friends and family, old-fashioned values, open hearts, and love. Movies that celebrated the kind of Christmas Rae had always craved and—double whammy—reminded her of the down-to-earth folk she’d been surrounded by in Sugar Creek. Being filthy rich couldn’t compare to being happy.

Rae eyed her mother’s professionally decorated, artificial tree, weathering a wave of melancholy as her mind exploded with the visions and scents of naked Vermont pine. Over the last two months Rae had done her best to forget her attempt at lying low and living incognito in the Green Mountain State under the mousy, shy guise of Rachel Lacey. All she’d wanted was a few months of anonymity, time to assess a dicey situation with Geoffrey, time to contemplate her future without her shallow mother breathing down her neck.

Losing herself to find herself.

Hiding until she had the funds to fight fire with fire.

Being a nobody had paid off in ways she’d never dreamed. Working with the children at Sugar Tots had been a dream. Joining the Cupcake Lovers and baking cupcakes for charitable causes had been a joy. If only Sam McCloud hadn’t fallen for her. (How could any man fall for drab, aloof Rachel?) If only Rae hadn’t fallen for Sam’s cousin, Luke Monroe.

Another dicey situation.

Disappearing, again, seemed the best course. No one would miss her, right? People came and went all the time—at least in Rae’s life.

“Stop moping, Deveraux. Jeez.” Disgusted with her blue mood, Rae pushed to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles of her cocktail dress. “It’s your birthday. You’re a millionaire.”

Surely it was sinful for someone so fortunate to feel this miserable.

Time to find new happiness. Honest joy and real contentment. As for love …

There was always the Hallmark Channel.

“Someone to see you, Miss Deveraux.”

Rae blinked, startled by the depth of her daydreaming. She hadn’t heard the doorbell. She hadn’t even heard Ms. Finch, her mother’s latest housekeeper, enter the room. “Who is it?”

“Said he’s an old friend.”

That heightened Rae’s curiosity. True friends were sacred, a rarity in Rae’s life, and she was certain she didn’t have any in Bel Air.

Ms. Finch, who struck Rae as having a broomstick up her butt, raised her fastidiously penciled, coal-black eyebrows. “He seemed harmless so I allowed him access through the security gate and asked him to wait in the foyer.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you.” Rae dragged her fingers through her Bordeaux-colored, newly cropped hair. In her desperate need to cut ties with Rachel Lacey, she’d invested in a stylish makeover and a chic wardrobe. Months ago she would have been wearing a mid-shin peasant dress and clunky, flat-heeled sweater boots. This afternoon she’d zipped herself into a knee-length emerald green sheath with an Empire waist and donned a pair of platform pumps. A dash of holiday spirit combined with an air of sophistication—perfect for the dinner at the Wilshire.

Rae bolstered her shoulders as she moved across the pristine living area and then through two other rooms in order to greet her old friend—who was more than likely a smooth-talking reporter or an annoying member of the paparazzi. She’d begged Olivia not to brag about her inheritance but that was like asking her mother not to pose for the camera. Nothing would have surprised Rae. Except …

“Luke.” His name scraped over her constricted throat, sounding choked and raspy and, to her utter embarrassment, besotted. Rae had never considered herself shallow, but she’d fallen for Luke Monroe’s boyishly handsome face and incredible body the first time she’d laid eyes on him—much like every other woman in Sugar Creek. His ornery smile and easy charm were irresistible and his devotion to family and friends admirable. The fact that he openly dated several women at the same time should have been a turnoff, except he was honest about his no-strings-attached intentions and that was oddly refreshing.

As always, he was dressed down in faded, baggy jeans and a snug tee that accentuated his muscled torso. He’d rolled up the sleeves of a blue flannel shirt that hung unbuttoned and untucked, and he was wearing heavy boots more conducive to the snowdrifts of Vermont than the sand and sun of California. Rumpled and unshaven, he looked incredibly out of place in Olivia and Geoffrey’s ostentatious mansion.

Luke Monroe’s presence here, now, was surreal and, though stunned, Rae couldn’t suppress a giddy thrill. “What are you doing here? How … how did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

His clipped tone betrayed his anger as did his grim expression. Luke was one of the most jovial, easygoing men she’d ever known. She’d seen him harried once, frustrated, but never angry. Well, except for the fateful night a randy college kid had grabbed her butt when she’d been taking a drink order. Luke had interceded and he’d been angry, no, outraged on her behalf. She’d been smitten with Luke for months, but that night she’d fallen in love.

Rae’s cheeks burned while she grappled for words, while Luke dragged his gaze down her body, soaking in the transformation. She struggled not to fuss with her cropped hair or to tug up her scooped neckline. There was absolutely nothing she could do about her bare legs, and kicking off her pumps would be ridiculous and embarrassing. She’d never been one to flaunt her curves and there was nothing promiscuous about this dress, yet Rae felt naked.

Exposed.

“Born and raised in privilege,” Luke said in the wake of her silence. “Exclusive private schools. Extended lavish vacations.”

Rae flinched at Luke’s caustic tone. He spouted the cards she’d been dealt as though she’d been lucky. As a teen, she’d been shipped off to various locations and pawned off on assorted relatives so as not to cast a shadow in her mother’s spotlight.

“College graduate with a master’s degree in education. A freaking master’s,” he said in a low, tight tone, “yet you worked as an assistant at Sugar Tots and then came to work for me as a freaking waitress in a freaking bar. You said, and I quote: I need the money, Luke.” He stuffed his hands into his jeans’ pockets, swept a disgusted gaze over the opulent foyer then back to Rae. “What the—”

“Hello. Who do we have here?”

Rae cringed at her mother’s sultry tone and knew without turning that the woman was shrink-wrapped in a sexy gown and no doubt slinking down the white carpeted staircase. Rae watched as Luke turned his attention to her mother, saw the moment he recognized her as the tabloid famous Olivia Deveraux, one-time starlet, all-time sex kitten. Rae waited for Luke to get that bewitched, lustful expression most men, ages eighteen to eighty, got when they saw her voluptuous and overtly stunning mother in person. Instead, he just looked annoyed.

“Friend of yours?” Olivia persisted, moving in alongside Rae, and reeking of Chanel No. 5 and fruity martinis.

“We worked together,” Rae blurted, because friend didn’t really describe their association. Especially not now.

“Luke Monroe,” he expanded, while offering Olivia a hand in polite greeting. More than he’d done with Rae. “Pleased to meet you Ms. Deveraux.”

“Are you really?” she asked in a coy tone, clasping his palm and pursing her crimson lips in a sexy pout. “You don’t look pleased.”

“Blame it on the long flight and the holiday crush,” he said in a gentler tone that only made Rae feel worse. Instead of celebrating Christmas with his family, a family he was incredibly close with, he’d flown across the country … for what? To give Rae hell?

“You just flew in from China today?” Olivia asked, looking mildly shocked. “Good heavens, Reagan. Invite the man in for a drink. I’ll join you.” She looped her arm through Luke’s and guided him toward Geoffrey’s well-stocked bar.

Rae’s heart pounded as she hurried after them, wondering how she was going to wiggle her way around another colossal lie. Wondering what Luke was thinking just now and wishing she’d booked herself into a hotel rather than buckling under Olivia’s invitation to stay here while seeking a new home suited to her birthday inheritance.