(c) 2007 Stefanie Worth
Can You Believe
Now available from Dorchester Publishing in The Holiday Inn anthology
Whether it's Christmas,
Kwanzaa, or New Year's,
there's only one place to
celebrate love.

When a visit from the Spirit of
Christmas gives newlyweds a
glimpse into a future without
each other, can a trip to the
Holiday Inn persuade them to
make a passionate new
beginning?
Fallon Terry’s having a hard time supporting the songwriting aspirations of her
real-estate selling husband, Naymond. He’s spent the last three months taping a
reality show in L.A., a world away from Detroit and Fallon. Their post-Christmas
anniversary offers a chance to re-connect – until fame and fate intervene.

With devastating problems on one hand and incredible potential on the other,
together they must wade through the trappings of success to discover what
matters most in their marriage.

What will make them believe that they have everything they need for the love and
the life that they want?
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Fallon Terry would've bet her whole week's overtime pay that she'd never get her husband Naymond to Crystal Mountain.
But, if she'd done that, she'd be broke— considering that he surprised her with a getaway to the Northern Michigan ski
resort for their first anniversary. She teetered between anticipation and anxiety, wondering what other surprises awaited
two flights and a few hours into her future.

With her weekend wish list pared down to the simple things—an uneventful trip, unforgettable first anniversary, and a
tad of leftover holiday "magic" to re-connect her heart with her husband and erase the stress of their last three months
apart—Fallon speed dialed Naymond from her cell phone for reassurance.

"Ready for me, lover boy?" She whispered her greeting to avoid the ears of the woman in front of her on the moving
walkway.

"You know I can't wait to see you, babe." Naymond's voice melted through the mouthpiece and drizzled into her ear.

"That's not what I asked." Or rather, not what she meant. Beneath the sugarcoated seduction, her heart begged to hear
that her husband wanted this weekend because he missed her — not just the loving.

"This'll be just what we needed. Watch and see." He spoke faster now. Fallon could hear his footsteps on tile. They kept
pace with his breathing as he raced through the faraway terminal that led to tonight.

Naymond's haste forced him to speak in short, cryptic phrases that made his answer sound a bit patronizing, as if he
was patting her head from afar saying, Quit tripping, Fallen.

"You're right, hon." Time off from their nine-to-fives, which were more like twenty-four-sevens, was the least their first
anniversary deserved. "Thanks for all this. See you there."

"Not soon enough." He sent a kiss through the receiver that calmed her nerves and piqued her libido. "Later."

They ended the call with Fallon feeling less anxious and more eager to see her husband. Can't wait to tangle my fingers
in that untamed 'fro of his.

She smiled at the thought of how he'd bite the corner of his pouty lower lip when she did that, or how he'd glare at her
when she threatened to shave off the fashionable hint of five o'clock shadow he wore across his cleft chin and block jaw.

She imagined that any future babies she bore would inherit a blend of Naymond's maple syrup complexion and her
French vanilla tone and wind up with creamy peanut butter-colored skin. She hoped they lucked up on his hooded brown
eyes, too.

You'll be staring into that sultry face before sunset, Fallon reminded herself. No, she really couldn't wait.

She'd never traveled on Christmas Day, but the trip was cheaper this way. Lugging her carry-on luggage behind her, she
focused on the hum of its wheels to quiet her racing mind and transition her thoughts from a long day of massaging
wounded joints and muscles at the Physical Therapy Rehab Center to the notion of getting a rub-down of her own from
Naymond.

Most travelers had already reached their destinations and loved ones, leaving Fallon with a few Friday night stragglers
who, like her, anxiously awaited the remnants of Yuletide hugs that awaited them across the miles.

Must be close to five o'clock, she surmised by the setting sun outside the concourse windows. That left her a few
minutes to spare, maybe tick off a couple of to-do's before boarding. She swerved into the nearest sundry shop.

Since Christmas would be pretty much over—and the getaway used up most of the money they had saved— they'd
decided to celebrate Kwanzaa, replacing materialism with quality time and focusing on each other. She strolled the
angled aisles, searching for something significant. The cultural celebration called for meaningful gifts—books, things of
that sort—but Naymond was a singer, not a reader. He was too spontaneous and imaginative (and she, too practical
and thrifty) for any of the ordinary souvenirs shelved in this overpriced shop.

"Not quite what you had in mind?"

Fallon turned toward the voice, coming from the somewhat familiar face of a stout woman with gray wisps around her
hairline and faint parentheses in her cheeks that betrayed her youthful tone and sparkling eyes.

Early fifties with one face lift, Fallon guessed. She shook her head at the friendly stranger and responded, "All the good
stuff must be gone."

The quip hung in her throat. She couldn't help but compare the comment to the state of her marriage. They were so
broke, she was so tired, and Naymond had been so far away for so long, that deep inside she wondered if all the good
stuff was gone there, too.

"You'll be all right, Miss Terry."

"Mrs." Fallon instinctively corrected her title. "Do I know you?"

"No, but everybody knows your husband." She paused long enough to unnerve Fallen further. "I recognize you from that
video they did of him on the show. The one with him back home selling houses and you tending your flowers."

"Oh, so you're a Chart Toppers fan." Too old to be a groupie, Fallen hoped the woman was crazy. Reality shows brought
out the best and worst in folks, so she imagined that even a jazzy old woman could get caught up. "Don't believe
everything you see. Nobody's selling houses in Michigan these days and my sister planted that garden," she joked.

"Doesn't matter. We watch that show every week and I've got plenty of reasons to put my vote on your husband." The
woman shrugged as her eyes took on a distant cast. "Don't you wonder why? Or want to know what's waiting for you on
the other side of this trip?"

That would be L.A. and the final taping of the show when we find out who wins. Then we either go home or start a brand
new life—which will probably, unfortunately, include weird people like you.

But Fallon decided to humor the woman. "If I could see into the future, what would I do with today?"
Can You Believe from The Holiday Inn anthology -  Excerpt
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