North Pole Magic

North Pole Magic Contains Three Novellas, All He Wants for Christmas, Santa’s Surprise, and His Only Wish.



Sample from All He Wants for Christmas:

Chapter One


If his hair wasn’t already white, this latest bout of mischief by his beloved daughter would have done the trick. He’d had to take a half dozen of his key elves—his biggest elves—from their tasks in the busy Toy Factory to right Merry’s latest wrong. A “wrong” that could have ended really badly, could have killed her. His heart was still racing at that horrible possibility. If he’d lost her because of yet another foolish bit of mischief…

No. He couldn’t focus on nearly having lost her forever. He had to focus on making sure she understood how much she’d scared him. She needed to fully understand that he’d reached the end of his patience with this type of behavior. His blood pressure couldn’t take any more scares like this or others she’d given him lately. And he worried about his wife, too. No, this had to stop.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Kris knew what had to be done. It wasn’t that he enjoyed disciplining his wayward daughter. He most certainly did not. But enough was enough.

“Home. Now,” he stated grimly, hearing the irritation in his normal cheery tone.

Merry slowly emerged from under the bed of the sleigh she’d managed to tip over. His elves had already talked to her and made sure she was okay before he’d come running out here. He’d seen a vision of the accident while in his office. Never had he moved so fast, even though he’d also seen in the vision that she was unhurt. Thank God. Still, as she crawled out—clearly having been reluctant to face him, he fought the urge to run his hands all over her and make sure she was unharmed.

She dusted snow off the knees of her candy-cane striped leggings and managed to meet his eyes. Her cheeks were pink from the embarrassment of having everyone witness what had happened and facing her upset father. She obviously knew she’d been caught in yet another act of breaking the rules. This close to Christmas Eve the reindeer were not to do anything but rest for their big night. They certainly shouldn’t have been out pulling his daughter’s sleigh and racing through the snow-packed streets. He could see in her guilty gaze that she knew whatever excuse she would try to offer him wouldn’t be good enough.

Of course, that didn’t keep her from thrusting up her chin and giving it a shot. “It was an accident. If…” She let the rest of her ridiculous excuse fade away.

Kris watched each and every one of his nearby hard-working men roll their eyes, now that they were no longer worried she’d been hurt. Through the years they had all witnessed one after another of his daughter’s “accidents.” And they all—especially him—knew there had been far more such problems since she came home to the North Pole this last summer after graduating college. When Merry had too much time on her hands, mischief was sure to follow, even if she never meant any real harm. Without a job, without an actual goal for her life, without a husband—please, God, find her one soon—she was drifting aimlessly. His heart ached for the waste of it all. He wanted so much more for her.

He gave a final look at the sleigh tipped on its side because she’d been careless tearing around the corner of Candy Cane Lane and Sugarplum Avenue. Again, his body tightened, his heart pinched. She could have broken her neck. She could have caused the reindeer to break their necks. It was time for her to suffer an ache as well. His recent lectures had clearly done no good at all.

She decided to try and save herself once more. “There was a really slick spot and…” Her shoulders slumped as she realized the futility of offering an excuse.

“You know how busy we all are right now. My patience is almost nil. Well, completely nil as far as dealing with your shenanigans, Merry Noel Kringle.”

“I didn’t mean to…” She stopped and worried her lower lip.

He ignored her too-late apology. He’d heard it before, heard her promises to find something useful to do and stay out of trouble. Impossible, apparently. “My elves do not have the time to keep fixing the results of your little ‘accidents.’”

Determined to deal with this issue in a way she would surely pay more attention to, he pointed toward their brightly colored, snow-draped home at the end of Sugarplum, only a few buildings away. “Home. Now.”

Then she did something he hadn’t seen her do in years. She stomped one red, ankle-length boot in a bit of tantrum.

“I’m not a child anymore,” she protested, even though that is exactly how she’d behaved.

“Merry,” he warned. “Do not make matters worse.”

For a second, she stood there with that proud chin of hers thrust out. And then she looked resigned. “I don’t think they can get any worse.” Still, enough attitude remained that she turned to flounce away, her much too short for his comfort red velvet skirt fluttering as she walked briskly home.

What was a father to do? He loved her dearly, but she could be such a trial. After twenty-five—only twenty five?—years, he was more than ready to let another man take care of her, deal with her wildly swinging moods and penchant for mischief. A good man. One with a strong heart, not easily swayed by a wink of her flirty blue eyes, and, above all, the strength to love her in all the ways necessary. Meaning someone who wouldn’t abuse his natural physical power, but would show care on occasion when he must turn her pert bottom red for her own good.

Giving a nod of encouragement to his elves battling to lift the sleigh up into proper position, Kris followed slowly after his spirited daughter. He’d been watching a number of years now for such a man. He’d created a list, checked it many times over, and only recently narrowed it down to two possibilities. One man, in particular, but he came with a lot of emotional baggage.

He watched as Merry stopped close to the house, bent down to scoop up a snowball, and tossed it at an innocent candy cane decoration near their front porch. It didn’t break, but swayed wildly. Then she giggled. The sound was a cheery, rich one. Troublesome one moment, lighthearted and irresistible the next, that was his precious daughter. The more he thought about her and the sad, Grinch-like Kansas rancher, the more he felt certain they needed each other.

He dusted the snow off his boots as he hesitated a moment on the porch. Martha hadn’t liked his daring, matchmaking idea when he’d mentioned it a week ago. But then she really didn’t want to see her daughter leave again so soon. Actually, ever leave home again. She’d just have to adjust. A father had to do what a father had to do.

He stepped into the warm house in time to hear dear Martha attempt to soothe their daughter by saying, “I’m sure your father didn’t really mean that he would—”

Kris tugged grim determination around him and interrupted, “Yes, her father does mean to…” He left his intention unsaid, both of his women fully understood what was implied. The burden of loving two willful women was almost too much at times. He had to be strong for all of their sakes.

As Martha turned from watching Merry climb the stairs to her bedroom and faced him, her cheeks had grown pink. She avoided looking him directly in the eye. “Oh, well… I’ve got cookies in the oven about to burn.” With that she scurried toward the kitchen from which the tempting smell of gingerbread drifted.

He almost turned in that direction. He really loved fresh gingerbread. But he had something important to take care of first.

“Fudge and triple fudge,” Merry muttered grumpily as she walked into her pink-everything bedroom. For just an instant she considered how much she hated this too-pink room that hadn’t changed since she’d been a little girl. Every time she mentioned making even the teeniest change, her mother got all teary-eyed and sniffled. It hadn’t been worth the hassle, and she didn’t want to hurt her mother. Still…she was sick to death of pink.

The wooden stairway creaked with her father’s heavy footsteps. She worried about him, about his health. He really needed to consider a Jenny Craig diet, or something. But a thin Santa wouldn’t be Santa to the kids of the world.

At another heavy footstep, she blinked. What was she thinking about his weight for? She was facing a most distressing few moments. She’d once again made it to his Bad List. Actually, she’d been on the list for a while now and today, with this latest folly, she’d moved up that list quite a few places. She knew he was going to deal with that matter in a most unpleasant way.

With a sigh, she toed off her boots, then tossed her red velvet cape on a pink chair beside her pink desk. Pink. Yuck! Annoyed that she’d gotten distracted once more, she blew out a frustrated breath. Then she started nervously tapping her right foot as her father headed in her direction.

As he raised one of his thick, white eyebrows at her tapping foot, she stopped the motion. Ridiculous as it was, she babbled another excuse for what had happened. “If there had been adequate salt on the road… But maybe it was more that the balance on the sleigh needs to be adjusted.” She stopped, knowing she was only digging herself into more of a problem.

“You shouldn’t have been in the sleigh today. Certainly not with Blitzen and Comet.” His cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “What were you thinking, daughter?”

Merry looked down at her stockinged feet. She had grown tired of baking an endless number of cookies with her mother. She hadn’t wanted to join the assembly line in the Toy Factory. What she’d wanted was to feel fresh, brisk air and… Okay, she’d been thinking only of her needs and desires at the moment. In truth, she’d been doing a lot of that lately. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She just didn’t feel like she fit in here anymore.

“I’m sorry, Merry, but it is time I took a harder stand on your recent bout of mischief making. We’ve spoken of this until I’ve run out of words.”

She glanced up at his emotionally passionate speech. His eyes looked sad; his expression grim. She hated seeing his disappointment in her.

“I’m moving to the next step.”

She remained silent until he walked to her closet and reached for the special pink—naturally—paddle with her name on it. In a final effort to keep from experiencing the burn of the paddle, she asked, “How about I clean all of the reindeers’ stalls myself for the next week? Give Rudolph an extra special ration of his favorite treat. Or I could…”

Her father shook his head. “No. We’re dealing with this matter of your having accumulated far too many Naughty checks in my book . And with you nearly giving me a heart attack today.”

Guilt swamped her. She already knew his blood pressure was running high. Her mother had told her that she was worried about him. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

His look softened for a second, but then determination again filled his expression. “I’ve no doubt you are, Merry. Nevertheless it is long past time you had your bottom warmed over all this nonsense.”

As she glanced at the paddle in his hand, her buttocks clenched and she swallowed uneasily. “You’re sure you can’t just accept my apology?”

“I accept it, but this is still going to happen.” He walked over to the sturdy, straight-backed chair beside the window. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got much to do this day. There is a whole batch of bicycles that need fixing, some kind of problem on the assembly line. Plus there’s a new list of addresses I need to put into my GPS.” His expression pinched with stress.

Now she felt worse. She knew how busy he was this time of year and she was only making his life more difficult. If only she could stop feeling so out of place, so in the way.

He sat down and patted his knee in the same manner he did when he invited children to sit on his lap and tell him their Christmas wishes. Only she wasn’t being invited to sit on his lap, but go over it instead. “As to your offer to clean the reindeers’ stalls, I know the stable elves would be for the idea. However, daughter, I’ve got other plans for you these next few weeks.”

”Plans?” Something in his tone made her uneasy. She walked as slow as a snail toward him. This was going to happen, like it or not. “Couldn’t we discuss these plans you mentioned instead of…Well, instead of doing this?”

He patted his knee again.

Feeling as awkward as she ever did in this circumstance, Merry slid over her father’s lap. The ermine pants legs felt soft as always, but his thighs were solid, hard. Her nearly waist-length, blonde hair swept down around her face as she settled her hands on the pink carpet and dropped her head.

“I really don’t like these new short skirts of yours.” He tossed the fabric over her lower back. “But they do make uncovering your bottom easy.”

“They’re in style.” At the moment, she didn’t like them either. But, long or short, he still would have pushed the skirt up and out of his way.

He started to lower her panties as he’d always done, but stopped. “I believe you will still fill the full effects if I leave these thin panties in place.”

It was the first time ever that he’d made this concession to her having become a woman now. And, yes, the thin nylon wouldn’t be any protection at all. Even though he didn’t bare her bottom completely, her face still flamed in embarrassment.

He tucked her next to him, holding her in place with his left arm. As if she was going anywhere. He just sat there a few seconds and she feared he was going to launch into another of his lectures on propriety before he got down to this unpleasant business. She didn’t like being in this position.

Merry raised her head slightly and said, “Can you get on with it?” The instant the words were out she felt him stiffen in annoyance.

His response was to whack her right cheek smartly a couple of times. She dropped her head, sucking in a breath. As he lifted the dreaded paddle, she thought maybe it had been six or seven months since he’d taken her over his knee. She couldn’t even remember just what she had done to deserve that particular spanking. It had been a dozy, though. That much she could remember. Santa wasn’t all cheeriness and laughter, at least not where she was concerned. He was a father, too, and a very I’m-in-charge one sometimes. But she loved him nonetheless. And, admittedly, she could be a handful at times, just as he said.

The sound of a wooden paddle connecting with soft flesh filled the room.

She shrieked and kicked out her legs. The first swat was always an attention-getter. Her mother would probably be standing at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands in dismay at knowing her daughter was getting spanked. She’d told Merry a number of times about having done just that. But she never interrupted the spanking sessions. She knew her husband would never truly hurt their daughter, but he’d definitely make her squirm and regret her misdeeds.

Merry concentrated on keeping her palms flat on the floor, on not crying out again, as the paddling seriously commenced. She didn’t want her mother deciding to break with tradition and come upstairs to witness the spanking. She didn’t want her father to think she didn’t respect his role of taking care of her—even if she wasn’t wild about spanking her being part of that role. She just wanted to survive this lesson he was determined to give her.

She drew in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes tightly as the need to cry out, the need to kick her legs, became more intense. It was clear she had far too many marks on the Naughty side of his list. Vaguely she recalled the reasons for some of them. She’d decided one day to climb the steep roof of their house to look out over Santaville, and ended up sliding off and nearly breaking her arm. Another day she’d decided to lighten up the tension in the bustling Toy Factory and added a bit of vodka to the punch served every day. Okay, it had been far too much vodka. Then there was the time…

As if her father was going over the same thoughts in his mind, he began swatting the paddle down even harder. He mumbled something about “never seen so many drunk elves” and the paddle blazed against her lower cheeks.

“Yeouch!” Merry gasped and tried to wriggle off his lap. Her bottom was on fire. Tears welled in her eyes. Without thinking first, she cried out, “I’m going to burn that damn paddle.”

Huge mistake. Especially the damn part. Santa—her father—did not like cursing of any kind. To force that point home, he went into a what-not-to-say lecture and made sure she understood every word.

She was a sobbing mess by the time he stopped. As usual, he allowed her a moment of recovery and then pulled her skirt back down.

Merry scrambled off his lap, wincing as the skirt brushed against her tender bottom. Ow, ow, ow! She dashed at the tears on her cheeks and sniffled before saying, “I’m sorry, Papa.” She was, too. Very, very sorry. And she had the really sore bottom to support that.

He looked hugely relieved now that the unpleasant task was done. “Do you need some corner time, Merry Noel?”

She shook her head. “I’m good, thank you, though.” Oh no! Had she sounded sassy in her protest? She hated standing in the corner. Had he picked up on her attitude?

He had and he didn’t like it. He motioned to the only corner of her bedroom free of furniture or clutter. “A half hour, I think.”

Wanting to protest, but not wanting to tempt another session over his knee, she gingerly walked to the corner. She hadn’t done this in a year or so. But like falling off a bicycle, going to the corner for extra punishment was something she hadn’t forgotten how to do. She stepped close and stared almost cross-eyed at the corner, crossing her hands behind her back over her throbbing bottom.

Satisfied, her father put the paddle away and walked across the room. “I’ll have Mom bring up milk and cookies after while.” He hesitated in the doorway. “We’ll talk about those plans I mentioned tonight.”

Then he was gone. She was left to keep her nose in the corner, suffer her burning bottom, and wonder what plans he could possibly be talking about. She could leave the corner and rub her bottom, but, unfortunately, her father always seemed to know when she’d disobeyed him and done that. Those freaky Santa instincts, she guessed. So she stayed put.

Snow was falling, the stars were burning bright, and Christmas was in the air. Nick Holiday stood on his front porch and felt his stomach tighten. As it always did this time of year. As it always did when he thought of Christmas. He tried damn hard not to think about it, not to remember…

Disgusted, he turned to walk back inside the too-big-for-one-person log home he’d inherited from his parents. They had wanted a bigger family when they’d built it, but he’d been their only child. There had been a time when he’d dreamed of filling it with a wife and children of his own. That dream seemed so long ago. His reality now was that he’d never allow himself the happiness of a loving wife. He’d never have children. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to them.

He walked in stocking-covered feet to the kitchen, where his bowl of chili waited on the oversized eating bar. He sat on a stool and reached for the spoon next to the bowl. He didn’t know why he was in such a mood tonight. Well, in truth, his mood had been turning sourer by the day ever since the first of November. He’d spotted the first Christmas decorations of the season in the ranch stock supply store in Dodge City that day. He hadn’t set foot in town since then. And he wouldn’t until after the first of the year…just like he’d been doing for the last ten years.

Feet pounded on the back porch, stomping off snow from boots. A short rap on the door later and Rusty, his foreman and best friend, strolled in. The faintest of disapproving looks flashed in his eyes.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to go to that new barbeque place in town,” Rusty said, sidling up to the counter. “Guess not.” He wrinkled his nose. “Do you ever make that stuff without half burning it?”

“Nope.” Everyone on the ranch knew Nick couldn’t cook worth beans, which was why he had a housekeeper/cook. Unfortunately, Sarah had gone off to visit her kids and grandkids for a month, so he was fending for himself until the temp agency sent someone out. “Another day or so and, hopefully, someone else will be doing the cooking.”

“Offer still stands. That barbeque place’ll have something more fitting to eat.”

Nick shook his head. “You never give up, do you?”

A smile split Rusty’s face, making Nick wonder when the last time was that he’d smiled. He was afraid he didn’t even know how to do it anymore.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to go shopping, look at decorations, or to even sing a carol. It’s just a meal. In town.” He ambled back across the room, stopping at the door to add, “One of these days, buddy, you’ve got to let it go.”

Nick tensed and put the spoon down. He couldn’t eat now. “I wish I could. I really wish I could.” But he couldn’t forget, couldn’t forgive…himself.

With a sympathetic glance, Rusty nodded and left again. Left Nick sitting there alone with too damn many nightmarish memories. He’d fight them off, like he always did. If he just steered clear of anything Christmas, he would get through the holiday okay. There certainly wasn’t any hint of it here on his ranch, because the ranch hands all knew better. They’d all had their ears blistered at one time or another when he’d raged at even a Christmas song on the radio, caught them bringing wrapped presents home, or whispering about special plans with their sweeties. He’d turned into a real Scrooge or something.

He looked out through the kitchen window just as a falling star crossed his line of sight. For a second he considered wishing for peace, wishing for happiness, wishing for… Shit. He didn’t deserve it, none of it.

Several hours and a plate of fresh gingerbread cookies later, Merry had put the unfortunate incident—as she preferred to think of the spanking—behind her. She stood at her bay window framed with filmy pink curtains and contemplated her nauseatingly pink bedroom. Maybe she could slowly introduce some white, maybe some yellow into the color scheme. Surely her mother would be okay with that.

As though thoughts of her mother enticed the kindly, prematurely white-haired woman to her room again, suddenly she was there in the doorway. Along with her father in all his regal Santa splendor. She idly thought that he really should consider expanding his wardrobe a tad beyond all those red fur pants. Maybe a pair of jeans… Okay, maybe not. But some casual slacks of some kind. Okay, again, maybe not. She guessed he just wouldn’t be the same without those big, soft velvet Santa pants.

As if waiting for an invitation to enter the room, they stood quietly watching her from the doorway while she contemplated her father’s wardrobe. When she blinked out of that nuttiness, she realized they looked uncomfortable. Something was up. Something that she probably wasn’t going to like. His plan! That’s right. Her dad had a plan. Hmmm.

She waved them inside. “All right, let’s hear about this plan of yours, Papa.”

They moved quietly into the room and sat on the side of the pink canopied bed. Her father looked thoughtful. Her mother appeared nervous, wringing her hands in her ample lap.

Merry perched on the edge of the windowseat and flinched at the twinge of leftover soreness from the prior “event.” That served to make her tone slightly testy when she stated, “I’ll hear you out, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to go along with whatever it is you’ve come up with.”

Her father scowled, although, as always, it was hard to notice beneath that thick beard. His twinkling eyes, though, had dimmed in wattage. Not a good sign. She decided it would serve her well to give him a contrite look, even if she really didn’t feel that way. Whenever he made plans for her, they were more in his best interest than hers. At least that’s how she saw it.

He gave a tiny nod of approval. Her mother continued looking concerned, glancing sideways at her father, and then worriedly back at Merry. But she remained silent, which worried Merry even more. This was something big. Her stomach tightened with nerves.

Finally her father stiffened his shoulders beneath the red shirt with the tiny white reindeers splattered all over it. On any other man the shirt would have looked silly, but not on Santa. He met her gaze and announced, “As they say, Merry Noel, this will be ‘my way, or the highway.’”

She blinked at the rare firmness in his tone. An ultimatum? Really? She’d been driving him that crazy?

Her mother gasped, “Kris!”

He reached over to tenderly squeeze her wrinkled, pudgy hands. “Everything will work out fine, My Love. Trust me.”

She gave him a wobbly smile but there was a distinctive sheen to her eyes when she looked toward Merry. “Your father loves you. I love you.”

Merry’s heart was hammering so loudly in her chest that she could barely hear her mother’s quiet words of reassurance. They hadn’t come to her together this seriously since they’d reluctantly told her the Easter Bunny was gravely ill way back when she’d been six or seven. She’d been afraid they were going to tell her he wasn’t real, something she’d heard whispers about at school. He’d recovered, and so she’d forgotten all about the incident.

Unable to take the suspense anymore, she snapped, “Get to it already! My nerves are shot.”

“You’re going to Kansas tomorrow,” her father stated bluntly.

Her mother sucked in a breath and he squeezed her hands again.

“As in Wizard of Oz Dorothy land?” Merry was confused. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I order it so.”

They’d gone nose-to-nose on this or that. He’d lectured her a thousand…or more…times. He’d burned her bottom when she got too far out of hand. But she’d always known how much he loved her. Still, he’d never ordered her to leave home. Going away to college was different. This was something else.

When she opened her mouth to question him, he continued, “You’re wasting your life, daughter. You have a degree now, in Art. Something which I still don’t understand. Anyway, you’ve apparently no goal in mind for using the degree. You’ve no career plans.”

“I still think she needs more time,” Martha interrupted quietly.

Merry nodded. “Mother’s right. I just haven’t decided amongst my many choices yet.” He looked less than pleased at either his wife’s or her protests. Merry tried again. “I do admit I’m not leaning toward making a career out of managing the candy cane assembly line. Or managing the mailroom and distributing the letters to Santa.”

”Well, I’ve decided you’re going to work elsewhere for a while. You’re going to work temporarily as a housekeeper/cook for a rancher in Kansas.”

Her mother’s hands were again twisting in the apron on her lap. She didn’t like this idea, but it was always hard to go against her father when he’d made up his mind on something.

Merry felt weak in the knees and was glad—sort of—that she was sitting down. “But I can’t cook.” She swept her gaze around the somewhat cluttered room. “And housekeeping is a little beyond my levels of comprehension, as you can see.”

“You make wonderful fudge, dear,” her mother pointed out.

“Not the same as really cooking, Mom.”

But her father was unrelenting. “Nick Holiday is a troubled soul, struggling with the burden of something that happened and that was not entirely his fault. He needs help.”

“My help?” Merry couldn’t believe that anyone would seriously need her help. She didn’t have any special gifts, other than some Christmas magic, of course.

“Yes, your help. He needs your tinkling laughter, your brilliant smiles. He needs your tenderness,” her father explained with pride in his voice.

Pride. In her. The realization warmed her all over. Her heart pounded with a sense of excitement. “I’ve never had a real assignment before, something important anyway.” She blinked away sudden moisture in her eyes. “You really think I can help this man?” Could she?

Her mother stepped back into the conversation. “Merry Noel, you’ve an inherited goodness and generosity that you haven’t used as of yet. It’s time you allowed yourself a chance to blossom beyond the world of Santaville. It’s time you went out into the real world, beyond more than just attending school.”

Could she really do this? What if she failed? What if she caused this poor man more harm than good? She didn’t think she could stand to see disappointment in her return to her father’s eyes.

“Nick has become Grinch-like these last ten or so years,” her father stated, sounding sad. “He’s a good man. He’s just forgotten how good.”

“What if I…” She couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t let them see how worried she was about failing this stranger, about letting them down. Her stomach knotted. And then she admitted, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You must, and you can.” Her father’s eyes turned grim with determination. “This is your one chance to prove yourself, Merry Noel. You have until Christmas Day to bring Nick Holiday around and back to sharing his good heart with those around him. Three weeks.”

Her mother was nibbling on her lower lip like Merry often did when distressed.

“If I fail?” She hadn’t liked the threatening note beneath his demand. Would he ban her from Santaville? Would she have to find her own way in the world? Could she?

“If you fail—which I don’t think you will, you will let yourself down even more than me, daughter.” He tipped up his chin and sucked in a breath. “And you will be assigned to managing the Toy Factory, forever.”

“The Toy Factory!” she gasped. That had to be the worst job in all of Santaville. Boring at times, hair-pulling crazy at others. Stress. Tension. So not her. “You can’t mean that.”

The look in his eyes said he did, but to confirm it, he said, “Absolutely mean it.”

Sample from Santa’s Surprise

Prologue

Kris looked out his office window over the busy workshop filled with his beloved elves working their hearts out in preparation for this season’s special day. A little over two months to go. Every year at this time he wondered if they would make their deadline. Every year—especially the last few—he had wondered if he could handle the enormous responsibilities he bore. He loved everything about Christmas. He loved all the cheerful, loyal elves. He positively adored his sweet wife, Martha, of over fifty years. And he cherished his precious children, although they had given—and still gave—him headaches and heartaches.

He waved down at his shop foreman and wondered where his daughter and her cowboy husband were. Merry had said they would be here yesterday. He’d fretted all night because they hadn’t shown up. Martha had calmly told him only an hour ago, “Merry is pregnant now with our first grandchild. She’ll be here soon. Be patient.”

He sighed and moved back to his desk covered with more toy requests that he needed to read. Once upon a time he’d had infinite patience. The man filling Santa’s shoes had to have oodles of patience. He spent months winding down from one hectic holiday season, months gearing up for another one. He dealt with elf issues, like this nonsensical union a few of them were talking about…fortunately, not seriously talking about. He dealt with the demands for more high-tech improvements all around the workshop. He had to learn how to work a computer, find his way around that vast Internet world, had to deal with a mind-boggling inventory management program that periodically went nuts. He sighed again and slumped into his chair. This was all becoming too much for him.

His blood pressure had been up again this morning. Martha had known it and had tsk-tsked him when he insisted on having a large cup of his favorite extra-deep-chocolate hot chocolate instead of the horrible tasting de-caffeinated coffee she’d made him. A man with all of his pressures had a right to rebel and enjoy himself now and then. He’d needed chocolate. In fact he wouldn’t mind another cup of it right now, but he wasn’t feeling brave enough to take on his sweet guard dog of a wife to get one.

The warning light about intruders entering the outer zone of Santaville flashed on his monitor and drew his attention. Only it wasn’t intruders. His daughter and son-in-law had finally arrived. The pleasure of that curled through him and lightened his mood. Soon he would be a grandfather. He so looked forward to that, even if Martha was already setting down rules. There would be no extreme spoiling of the grandchild. He would have to keep the toy and gift giving only to the appropriate times and then not to disproportionate amounts. There would be no excessive visits to Merry and Nick’s home. Well, his Martha was being “excessive” with her rules! He’d spoil his grandchild if he wanted to. And he’d visit their home as often as he wanted to as well.

He watched the warning light go off and saw the outer gates opening on the security monitor. Before he could look forward to doing all of that spoiling and all of that visiting, he needed to take care of his problem. He needed to turn the Santa responsibilities over to his oldest son, Nicholas. That was a dilemma all in itself. Where Merry had been a handful of impish trouble all her life and he’d spent a lot of time trying to tame her ways, he’d done a poor job with his sons. They hadn’t required a hands-on touch like she had. They hadn’t gotten into mischief… Well, not as much as Merry. When they’d gone out into the world to college, he had loosened his parental reins on them too much it now appeared. Both Nicholas and Pere had made new lives for themselves far from the North Pole. He hadn’t even gone to see them in several years, pitiful father that he was. At least he knew where they were. Pere had made his home in Scotland, even taken to wearing one of those plaid skirt things, which made Kris shudder at the thought alone. And Nicholas had finally settled down on Kauai, having decided he much preferred living in the warm climate of the Hawaiian Islands and running around half-naked much of the time to freezing here in Santaville. His oldest, most obstinate son would just have to rethink that. At least he wasn’t married or even seriously involved with a woman, so that was one less problem to deal with. Pere wasn’t married or involved either, but that wasn’t important right now.

Kris knew it was time he started mending fences with his sons, especially Nicholas. His son had a duty to live up to. And it was time Kris moved to that next step in his life, to retirement. All he had to do was convince Nicholas that he couldn’t keep running from the role he was destined for, that of being the next Santa Claus.

Chapter One


The day started out as most of them on this sunny side of Kauai, absolutely gorgeous. Besides that, Nick’s tourist adventure business was booming. So much so that he needed more help. The ads he’d run lately hadn’t turned up anyone, at least not like they did when he advertised during the summer. By late October his usual source of college kids were back in school. But the business would somehow survive, although he had been working his current staff of five nearly to death lately. Himself included.

He stood up from the disorganized desk where he’d been searching the local on-line ads for people looking for work again. There had been times when he’d gotten lucky that way. Not today. He stretched, yawned, and went to the battered wooden counter and leaned tiredly on it. As if the lack of having enough employees wasn’t bad enough, he’d been growing depressed for personal reasons since September. He always did this time of year. The holiday season was fast approaching. For a lot of people that was a good thing. For him, not so good.

His gut clenched and he rubbed it. Ulcers? Maybe. Anxiety, definitely. Worry, again, definitely. This year he felt more than his usual discomfort with the approaching Christmas season. Somehow he sensed there was something happening back home. Something he didn’t want to think about. He was not ready. No, he would never be ready.

Disgusted with the thoughts, he started to head to the back room for a rejuvenating glass of green tea. The wild jingling of the bell above the front door stopped him.

With a sigh, he turned around and gaped—yes, he was certain his mouth had fallen so far open that his jaw hit his neck. There in the sunlit doorway stood a dripping wet woman in a black, extremely low-cut, one-piece swimsuit that hugged an absolutely amazing body and showed off a pair of please-let-me-touch-them breasts to perfection. Every cell in his body jerked to alert status.

He heard the slap-slap of bare feet as she marched with purpose across the wooden floor. Not that he saw her feet; no he couldn’t take his eyes off the sweet sway of her hips or the bounce of those breasts. But he did see her infuriated expression.

She raised a face mask and slapped it down on the counter in front of him. Then she tossed some long, partially-dry strands of caramel-brown hair over a shoulder and snapped, “You rent out shoddy equipment. Dangerous equipment.” Brown eyes sparked with irritation. “I demand my money back on the rental.”

Dazed, a little bit amused, Nick asked, “What?”

She looked at him as if he were dimwitted, which apparently he was at the moment. Then she stepped back to point down at her leg. “The mask wouldn’t un-fog. It caused me all sorts of aggravation while I was snorkeling. And it made me slip and scrape my knee on a bed of spiny coral.”

He’d been watching the agitated bounce of her breasts as she’d told him off. She was really something in a snit. It took him a few seconds for his mind to become fully functioning again. When he did finally see the badly scraped right knee with blood trickling down a very shapely leg, he knew first aid was needed. Besides, he wanted to touch her and was willing to use any excuse handy.

So, while she watched him cautiously, he walked around to her side of the counter. She wasn’t a short woman, but the top of her head still only came to his shoulders. But then he was four inches over six feet and the tallest of his family. Even soaking wet, he doubted she weighed much more than his surfboard. He reached toward her, catching the scent of ocean water and woman. It was the woman scent that had his body heating into dangerous territory.

Her eyes, slightly tipped up at the corners, widened. “What are you doing?” she questioned curiously.

Nick gave her his most charming smile and nodded at her leg. “That needs attention.”

Without waiting for a response, he picked her up and easily set her on the counter. The oddest tingling sensation had swept up both of his arms, starting from where his hands had clasped her waist. He wasn’t sure what that had been all about, but a glance at her face told him that she’d experienced something peculiar as well.

“Do you always manhandle strange women?” she questioned, a sassy smile slipping into place. She didn’t appear wary of him now.

“Only hot ones in kill-a-man swimsuits.”

He heard her soft laugh as he walked to the backroom for paper towels and the first aid kit. He liked her laugh, a lot. He saw a lot of good looking women pass through his shop, but none of them had ever affected him the way she did.

“Was that a pick-up line?” she teased when he returned to set the items on the counter beside her.

She held out her leg and he gently cleaned the wounds. “Did it work? Will you go out to eat with me tonight?” He glanced up with a devilish look. “Maybe we could skip dinner and go right to the ‘go to bed’ thing?”

Where had that come from? Sure, he liked to flirt. And he darn sure enjoyed making love. But he couldn’t remember ever having been this bold, this quickly. He eased back, wondering what she could possibly think of him, besides his being a jerk.

But she simply laughed. “A handful of trouble, aren’t you?” Those incredible spirited eyes danced with amusement. “Do you really think I’m that kind of woman?”

Pretty sure that she wasn’t going to slap him silly for being so forward, Nick stepped closer again. He carefully put first aid cream on the cuts. “A guy can hope.”

She flinched as he touched a particularly painful spot. “I’ll think about it.” As he applied a couple of Band-Aids, she said, “About the face mask problem…”

He bent down and feathered a kiss over her knee. Again, he felt a bizarre tingling sensation and heard her startled intake of breath. Feeling embarrassed at his brazen action, he gave a crooked smile and said, “Sorry. Mom used to kiss our boo-boos when we were young. I couldn’t resist.”

“No problem, it just surprised me.” She watched him, seemed to study him.

He stepped back, uneasy now. “Maybe I need to rethink that whole going-to-bed offer. You’re sending some peculiar electrical charges my way.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought it was you.” She shook her head and hair fluttered over her slender shoulders. “I’m really just interested in getting my money back anyway.”

Nick started to walk away. “No problem. How about I give you free use of another face mask and throw in a free snorkeling lesson?”

“Hey!” she called out, stopping him. “A little help here.”

He hesitated, balking at experiencing that odd zapping feeling again. But he really did want to touch her once more, so he bucked up and went to set her on her feet. Yep, there it was again. He didn’t really mind it, though. And, damn, she smelled even better now. Her suntan lotion? Arousal? Dare he hope so? Whatever. She smelled good.

She pulled him back from his wandering thoughts. “I don’t need lessons, thank you. I’ve been snorkeling and diving and most anything sport-related to water most of my life.”

Oddly, he was disappointed, but he shrugged and nodded understanding.

A soft smile settled onto her face. “I suppose going out to eat later would be all right.”

He grinned. He had the strangest feeling that he’d just won some kind of prize. “You don’t happen to need a job, do you? I’m pretty short-employed right now and the tourists wanting a good time at water play are streaming in here more every day.”

She worried her lip a second and then when he was going to tell her he wasn’t serious—even though he actually had been, she said, “I could work here a while.”

He fought down the urge to raise a fist in the air and yell “Yes!” Instead he went for as much composure as he could muster. “Starting…” He looked at the dolphin clock on the wall. “Oh, say in a couple of hours? Or maybe tomorrow?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder again and smiled. “No references? You don’t even want to know my name? Or tell me yours?”

Nick fought not to thump his forehead at his idiocy. Chagrinned, he held out his hand and said, “I’m Nick. Nick Allen. And I obviously own the place.”

She took his hand and gently shook it. “Misty McGuire.”

Their eyes held for a few seconds. He wanted to kiss her and she looked like she wouldn’t turn him down. But he resisted—mentally patted himself on the back for being such a gentleman. “How about dinner tonight and you start working tomorrow?”

Taking back her hand, she nodded and moved toward the door, clearly no longer concerned about the rental refund. Sunlight again surrounding her breath-taking body, she gave him a teasing smile, with a heated glance that nearly brought him to his knees.

“Why don’t we eat at my place? The little pink and turquoise cottage just on the other side of Old Koloa Town. That resort. Do you know the place?”

“Yes.”

She winked. “Maybe we’ll see if you get lucky.” Then she was gone.

Damn. He already felt lucky.

* * *

The morning sun slipped in through the cracks between the blinds and danced over Nick’s golden-tanned skin as they lie naked on her bed. Misty loved mornings like this. She liked waking up first and having a chance to spend time staring at the handsome devil with a sexy laugh and a penchant for making her forget about anything but being with him.

When she’d walked back into his adventure shop almost two weeks ago to demand a refund, she’d never expected to have her life change like this. She wasn’t sure what it was about Nick that drew her so much. His cocky attitude? His endless, sinfully playful teasing? The way he looked at her and she wanted to just melt into him? Okay, she liked all of that. And so much more.

She watched the gentle rise and fall of his back and the slight play of muscles with his deep breaths. How had he managed to escape the clutches of the single women on this island? He was such prime lover material. Probably would make an amazing husband, too. She’d been so fortunate to find him, just when she’d been feeling really down about where her life was going at the moment. The very day they’d met he’d brought back her smiles and made her laugh again.

She thought back to his offer of free use of his rental equipment and private lessons in safe snorkeling. A giggle escaped her. Just last night he’d teased her about having not only mastered all of his equipment necessary for safe water sports, but also she’d mastered how best to use his “personal” equipment.

Unable to keep from touching him any longer, Misty leaned over and kissed his left shoulder. His upper body quivered in response. An instant later the heavy breaths stopped and he lie still. He was awake now, waiting. Pleased, she began whispering kisses down his spine. Finally she stopped to lightly nip his left buttock.

It clenched and he groaned, “Naughty, naughty.” He shifted to his back and looked up at her with darkened eyes filled with longing. He was always ready.

Misty sat up primly, delighted when his gaze shot to her breasts. He was definitely a breast man. He kissed them, massaged them, suckled them, and lightly bit them. She adored him for every bit of his attentions. Her breasts ached already; the nipples hard and eager to feel the heat of his mouth on them.

“So what are you going to do about it?” She asked huskily, reaching up with her hands to cup the breasts that held his interest. She thumbed the hard buds, watched his eyes darken even more.

A glance down his torso and she saw how his cock was already swelling. Just what she wanted. Heat pooled low in her body.

He scooted back so that he was sitting up and leaning against the headboard. A devilish look danced in his eyes. Then, to her surprise, he snagged her hand and gently pulled her forward until he slid her across his lap. “I think a little spanking is called for, my naughty woman.”

For just a second she was drawn back to less pleasant times over a man’s lap. Times when a spanking had been for real and painful. But Nick lightly laid his hand on her bare bottom and she tingled everywhere. She forgot all of the other memories. This wasn’t about punishment. This was about something far more intriguing.

“Have I been bad?” she silkily teased, wriggling slowly over his hard thighs. She felt his powerful erection next to her hip. Moisture beaded between her legs. Soon she would want that delicious shaft deep inside her.

Nick lightly spanked her bare buttocks a couple of times and she arched backward into his hand. “You bit me.”

He spanked her once sharply and then trailed his fingers between her legs, seeking that tender nub already aching. She nearly rocketed off his lap when he found it, when he began playing with it, when he eased a pair of fingers in and out of her. “Just a nibble, really,” she gushed, her body clamping around his fingers.

Those magical fingers danced within her. His thumb rubbed her clit harder. “Spread your legs, my naughty one.”

She didn’t even hesitate to obey. He focused on her nub again, tormented it until she couldn’t lie still. After that he feathered his fingers up and down between her legs until she was panting, until she was squirming for all she was worth. “Oh, Nick! Oh, please.”

He took the little game to the next level. His fingers pulled free of her sensitized body and he spanked her. A half dozen smacks just hard enough that she felt a light sting. Just long enough that she grew crazed with need.

“I can’t take any more!” she cried and scooted off his lap. Her whole body was quivering, her heart racing with desperation.

He flashed his now familiar cocky grin. “So what are you going to do?”

Challenged, determined, Misty grabbed his legs and jerked him down until he was stretched out on the bed. He came willingly, of course, and his cock waved at her in temptation.

“I like a woman with a goal in mind,” he said huskily. He reached down to rub his hard shaft a couple of times. “Are you after this, sweetheart?”

Was she drooling? That would be embarrassing. Shoving the thought aside, she straddled him. He held her gaze and his cock until she rose up enough that she could slide down over him. Feeling each pulsing inch disappear deeper and deeper inside her, she shivered and breathed in rapid, shallow breaths. Then once she surrounded all of him, she looked down haughtily. “I’m going to wear you out, Stud Boy. Make you melt right into this bed.”

“Give it your best shot.” He grinned up at her, clearly okay with the idea.

Then she went to work to prove she could do it.

Sweaty, boneless, happily worn out, Misty watched Nick crawl off the bed and make his way toward the bathroom and a shower. Such a fine ass. The kind you just wanted to go over and pinch. Yummy. The man was definitely yummy. Adonis-like perfection, except for a few scars, that is, from occasionally being a little too daring in one of the many water sports he enjoyed. Like her, he was tanned and toned, although part of her darker skin tone was due to her mother having been Hawaiian. Nick’s tan was earned by spending a lot of time in the sun. Evidently a lot of time naked, too. Hmmm. And she liked the way he wore his golden-blond hair slightly scruffy. Lots of hair to run her fingers through, to grab hold of when she wanted to hold him to her as he feverishly sucked her breasts or as he…

Heat warmed her cheeks. She sat up, pulled her knees up and hugged them, and tried to put some of the very wicked things he could do to her out of her mind. It was a struggle, though. She’d had other lovers—not that many, but others. None had touched her like he did. He touched her with his body and with his heart. He was open and honest with her, although she suspected he had a few things about his life that he kept to himself, just as she did. He could easily be “the one” for her and it frightened her to think that way. The timing wasn’t right in her life. She didn’t think it was right for him either.

She listened to the shower, pictured water dripping down over his scrumptious body. She could join him, but she was honestly too tired to think about having another wild session of sex with him. And that was exactly what would happen if she stepped into the shower. No, she needed to conserve her strength.

With a sigh, she thought about all of the things she had to do today, beginning with telling the precious man in her life that she was quitting her job and moving in the next few days. They hadn’t made any kind of commitment to each other. Yet there was something unspoken that tied them together. She’d come to care so deeply for him, fast. With all that she’d gone through in the last year after losing her parents in the plane crash, after basically abandoning their store in Hanalei and fleeing from the home she’d lived in all her life… Well, she needed to get her life back on track before she considered taking this relationship any further. If Nick even wanted to do that. He’d never said anything to imply that he wanted something more permanent than their current hot and heavy relationship.

As the water continued pouring over him, she climbed out of bed and went to the half-bath in her rental beach bungalow. She’d make him a nice breakfast and then make her announcement.
* * *

Nick scooped a forkful of scrambled eggs and sighed in bliss as he savored the first taste. “Have I told you how much I like your eggs?” His sexy little Hawaiian was amazing in the kitchen, even more so in the bedroom. Or the living room, or on the beach, or…

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had to stop wandering into those kinds of thoughts. They both needed to get to work soon.

He glanced across the table and smiled. She chewed on a bite of pineapple and returned his smile, weakly. Something in her eyes told him that his vegetarian had something on her mind beyond the bits of pineapple, mango, guava and strawberries in her bowl. Something he had a feeling he wouldn’t particularly like. He didn’t want to think about it. His life was perfect. He had a highly successful tourist business that he’d started thinking about expanding to a couple more locations on Kauai. He liked living here on this small Hawaiian island, liked the warm climate, even the frequent rainstorms didn’t bother him. And he had a woman in his life that just enjoyed being with him. She shared his work life and most of his personal life as well. Yet they both had things in their lives that they didn’t talk about. He knew he should ask about the occasional sad look that passed in her eyes, the pain he saw there. But he feared she would, in turn, question him about his occasional bouts of moodiness. So he didn’t ask and she didn’t question. Still, he was pretty sure that he’d grown to love her in the short time they’d been together. And that scared him almost as much as… No, he didn’t want to go there.

In his usual manner of avoiding anything too intense, he asked, “Have I told you what an amazing lover you are? How beautiful you are?”

As he’d hoped, the sadness faded from her eyes “I’d say the same thing, but you already have an inflated ego.” She laughed and then took a bite of mango.

He really liked her warm caressing laugh. He liked how she’d left her hair hanging down this morning, too, so that it brushed over her shoulders, how it looked so silky and soft. He liked how her lips still looked full and plump from the kiss they’d shared just before they sat down to eat. She’d initiated the kiss, as she often did. Damn but the lady could kiss. He shifted in the chair again.

“Keep licking your lips like that and…” He let the rest of his comment fade away, certain she’d already seen him squirming around on the chair. She knew him. She knew he sometimes grew hard and aching just looking at her, just being in the same room as her. Now she was killing him with the way her tongue kept sliding along those pink lips to dab off the juice from the mango.

For a second she looked ready to tease him back like he expected. Then she blew out a breath, grew serious, and said in a rush, “I’m quitting, Nick.”

Panic punched him in the gut. “What did you say?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

She set down her fork. “I should have done this before now. I’ve been avoiding some things in my life, but I just can’t any longer.”

Nick didn’t know how he managed to stay calm, but he said, “I don’t suppose offering you more money, even a partnership in my business, would make you change your mind?”

“It’s never been about the money.” She straightened the fork, lined up the juice glass with her bowl of fruit. “I have to do this. Quit. Leave.”

The storm of panic swirled higher within him. “Leave?” Quitting was one thing, her leaving was unacceptable. Why hadn’t he fought against his ridiculous fears? Why hadn’t he already asked her to marry him? Should he do it now? Could he?

“I’m not leaving Kauai, Nick. I’m just going home. I have a house near Hanalei,” she said in a whisper, like it was difficult to admit, probably because she’d led him to believe that this cottage was her home.

He drew in a steadying breath and felt the panic easing back to frustration. She wasn’t leaving the island. Good. More than good. He could still see her. Kauai wasn’t that big of an island and the north shore she was talking about wasn’t really that far away. Still, he was going to miss her during the days. A lot.

“When?” He cleared his throat. “When are you moving? I can help you pack, help you move.” He didn’t want to, but he would.

“This weekend.” Her gaze flittered around the small kitchen and then to the nearby cozy living room. “This is a rental, so not much of anything is mine. Mostly I just have my clothes and a few odds and ends to pack.”

This weekend! Two days away. The thought of eating anymore made him sick. No, it was the thought of not waking up with her in the mornings and then sharing breakfast that made him sick. Not that they did it every day because he still had his own apartment above his business. And they both needed space sometimes. Maybe he’d needed it more than she had, or so he’d thought. Until now. Now he didn’t want space from her. But now he had to give it to her because she seemed to need it.

Nick pushed back from the table and stood. “I don’t care if you only have one lousy suitcase to take, I’m helping you.” He bent to pick up his plate of half-eaten food and stopped to glance at her. “Or maybe you’d rather I not tag along to see this house of yours?”

Her brown eyes glistened with tears. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Nick. Or to hurt us, whatever the definition of ‘us’ is. This is just something that I need to do. Please try to understand.”

She got up and walked around the table, threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. “I’d really like you to see my home. Actually, it was my parents’ home until last January… Until.” She hugged him tighter, quietly cried against him. Her tears soaked his shirt. “Until they died in a plane crash.”

Nick held her, stroked her back, and kissed the top of her head. She’d never mentioned her parents or any family at all. But then he’d never asked because of his own problems with his family. Now he knew that he should have. He felt so damn heartless. She’d lost her parents in a tragic accident. He couldn’t imagine losing his, even if he had distanced himself from them. He couldn’t imagine the world without his father in it. So many people didn’t believe in him, but his father believed in them. He truly loved each and every one of the children he tried to make at least a little bit happy at Christmas time. Such a special man, his father. A man that Nick knew he had no hope of ever being truly like. He’d already failed his father in so many ways. He didn’t want to fail the children of the world, too.

“Nick,” she leaned back to look up at him. “I need you to hold me. I need you to…to make love to me again. Please.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he scooped her up and almost ran down the hallway to carry her back to where they’d spent endless hours making love last night. He wanted this every bit as much as she did. Only they’d go slower this time. He wanted to savor each moment with her. Not that he intended this time to be their last. No. It couldn’t be.

He gently put Misty on the rumpled bed that still smelled of their lovemaking. In a weak attempt to lighten the mood, he said, “I should warm your bottom for real for telling me you’re leaving me.”

Heat flared in her brown eyes as they met and held his. “But I haven’t been naughty this time.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Yet anyway.”

He pulled off his T-shirt, his heart pounded, his blood raced hotly. “Oh, but you have. You’re breaking my heart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah, so now you’re playing Drama King.”

“You don’t believe me?” He forced a teasing smile, glad that she didn’t suspect how much she meant to him. Even he was struggling to realize how much she did. For now it was best for both of them to keep things lighter, keep things more focused on the physical. They both certainly enjoyed the physical elements of their relationship.

He fell off that train of thought when she pulled her shirt off and revealed the fact that she wore no bra. How had he missed that? His mouth watered at the sight of the breasts he was so fond of. Then when she shoved her shorts down to reveal a tiny red thong, he struggled not to drool, not to forget all about taking this slowly. He was putty in her so delicate hands. Her “boy toy,” as she sometimes called him. Proud to be it, too. Maybe if he made love to her just right… Maybe if he could find a way to get the words out of his mouth about some kind of commitment… He really didn’t want her to move away.






Sample from His Only Wish

Chapter One

“You have lied to me all these years. Telling me that you married and then that your husband died three years ago. He is not dead. Nor have you ever lived as husband and wife, have you?”

Nikki was still struggling with having been basically blinked—magically transported—from her condo in Las Vegas to this cottage in Santaville by her father, Pere Fouettard. A currently very unhappy man. It did not pay to cross the man whose job until recently had been to give out lumps of coal or to give spankings to naughty French children on Christmas Eve. What she’d done went way beyond “crossing” him. This was big time trouble.

“Well…” How could she dig her way out of this mess? From the tight expression on his face, it didn’t look possible.

He stood across the unfamiliar bedroom, scowling at her in a too familiar way. His eyes darkened to nearly black. “Have you not lied to me? Am I mistaken?”

She fidgeted with the side of her thigh-length sweater. “It’s complicated.”

“Not so much. Either you married Pere Kringle or you did not.”

It was cool in the room, but sweat had begun to form between her shoulder blades. Her palms were sweating as well. Who the heck was Pere Kringle? ”How do you know about Perry Ingle?” Maybe he’d had the name wrong.

“Pere Kringle. ‘Perry Ingle’ is a name he legally adopted.” Her father’s age-lined face remained set in anger. “His name matters not. And clearly you did marry him.”

Pere Kringle…Perry Ingle! She staggered back to sit on the side of the high poster canopy bed. Oh. My. Gosh! How had she been so naïve, so stupid not to have put this all together sooner? Especially now that she was here in Santaville. Especially since she’d always known Kris Kringle and her father were good friends. She’d known Kris had two sons and a daughter, but she’d never paid attention to their names…if they’d ever been said in front of her. Now she understood some things about Perry—Pere—that she’d noticed but never really questioned. Again, stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Did you dare to join in a marriage of convenience just to get away from me?”

“How did you figure this out? That Perry and I were married?” She’d thought they’d been so careful.

He looked annoyed that she wasn’t answering his questions. “Kris and I were talking recently, catching up on our lives, on our families. We simply figured it out. Neither of us is as incompetent as you believed.” He sucked in a breath and added, “I repeat, did you do this just to g