Santa, Baby

by Lisa Renee Jones

  She was a breath of fresh air in the midst of secrets and lies. And he couldn’t seem to fight the urge to see her just one more time. Besides, who was he kidding? He knew he was going to see her when he’d sent that package. That note she’d left him had all but been a challenge—and he’d never been one to walk away from a challenge.

  APPARENTLY BEING MARILYN came with more perks than just Baxter Remington for a night. By midmorning Monday, The Book Nook had not only debuted its new romance loft, but done so with a rush of Christmas shoppers.

  Things were so crazy that, in a panic, Kasey had called her roommate, Alice, to ask her to come in and run the register. And though Caron didn’t fool herself into thinking things would remain this busy—after all, there had been coupons and special deals announced at the charity event—even a small portion of this traffic would do a world of good toward paying back her grandmother.Standing behind the front counter, half supervising Alice, Caron finished preparing the “Romance in a Bag” special advertised at the charity show, which included a candle, a bookmark, a pen and a book of choice from the loft. Alice wished a customer a good day and seemed to be doing well. Kasey had the other customers handled. Things were finally calming down. Caron finished arranging the display she had set up by the front door with the Romance bags, and then started for her office.

  “Oh, wait!” Alice called out. “This came for you a few minutes ago.”

  Caron frowned and accepted the shoe-box-sized delivery with no return address, wondering at the funny flutter in her stomach that seemed some sort of premonition. Brushing off the feeling, she weighed the package with her hands—it was light, maybe the silk scarves she’d ordered.

  A few moments later, she sat at her desk, the flutter in her stomach back again as she cut open the box. Tissue paper covered the contents; a note card sat on top of the paper. She flipped open the card, a few slashes of masculine writing on the simple white page.

  You never know when you might find an occasion to wear it again. But I kept the panties. I didn’t get a goodbye. You owed me a keepsake.

  There was no signature.Caron lifted the tissue and then shoved it back down, her heart thundering against her rib cage. It was her wig. Oh, God. Baxter had sent her the wig. And kept her panties! She reread the note; her heart raced some more—as erratically as three drums playing to different tunes. You never know when you might find an occasion to wear it again. As in, with him? No. That was insane. She was so not his kind of woman. He was not her kind of guy, not that she really knew what kind of guy was her kind of guy. But not Baxter. Not a filthy rich playboy who controlled everyone and everything around him. He’d sure controlled her. And well…that had been rather pleasurable, but just for a night. A fizzle of excitement lifted the corners of her lips. Of course, she’d done a good deal of controlling, too. And making that man moan had been so erotic.

  “The toilet is stopped up again,” Kasey announced, appearing in Caron’s office doorway and blasting away her fantasy with a hard knock of bitter reality. “I sealed the door and, ah, well, sprayed some of the perfume samples.”

  Caron slammed the box top shut, taking in the announcement with painful disbelief. “Oh, please, no,” Caron said, her hand pressing to her rolling stomach. “Not today.” The bathroom was in the romance loft, of all places.

  Kasey gave a stop-sign motion with her hands. “Before you freak out,” she said, “I called the plumber and screamed, so you don’t have to. He said he’d be here in thirty minutes and that was fifteen minutes ago. It took me that long to get away from a customer to come tell you. And as much as I hate to show this to you,” she said, she set a piece of paper on the desk, “you need to see it before he gets here.”

  Caron studied the plumber’s bill from Friday night and about fell over. “Five hundred dollars!” she exclaimed. “Is he insane? And it’s broken again on top of that?”

  Kasey nodded, her expression saying she knew the plumber was going to be sorry for both—the bill and the broken toilet.

  “There are people everywhere,” came the blurted announcement from Alice as she appeared in the doorway. “I need help.” She lowered her voice, “And, oh, my God, there is this really hot guy who just came in and all the women are panting. Me included.” She disappeared again.

  Kasey cleared her throat. “Sounds like the situation requires attention.” She disappeared.

  On another occasion, recognizing that Kasey’s urgency translated to “I really have to go see this guy, if he’s that hot,” Caron might have laughed at the youthful folly. As for Caron, there were only two men on her mind right now and both had her in knots. The plumber who had her pipes clogged and her temper hot. And Baxter, who also had her hot, but in a totally different way.

  She grabbed the box and held it over the trash can, telling herself to stop thinking about the man, but she couldn’t make herself drop the package. With a heavy sigh, she shoved the box under her desk. She should return the wig to the costume shop, as Betsy had requested when Caron had picked up her purse and dropped off the dress. She bit her lip. Or just pay for the wig. Make it her keepsake, as Baxter did her panties.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. He had her panties. It means nothing, she told herself. He was just paying her back for her little “nice” note, which had clearly been a mistake. No doubt, a man such as Baxter had to end things on his terms. Which really irritated her because part of what had made that night so spectacular was the way he’d shared the power, the way he’d made her laugh, and feel as if they were sharing more than their bodies.

  Power plays didn’t sit well with Caron, and this felt like that to her. His way of making it clear who had seduced who. Her note had been a joke, a funny memory of their night together. And damn it, he didn’t seduce her. She’d seduced him. Or maybe they’d seduced each other. She grimaced. This was why she kept to the real world, her fantasies between the pages of books. “Except for Friday night,” she whispered.

  “He’s here!” Kasey yelled from down the hall. “He’s here, Caron!”

  Caron rounded her desk, ready for a battle. She charged down the hall and cut a fast right to the stairwell, her focus onefold now—the plumber and his ridiculous bill were getting a whack of her attention. She exploded on him in the bathroom to find him packing up his bag to leave.

  “It’s fixed?” she demanded, bringing into view the same cranky fifty-something plumber from Friday night. He shot her an irritated look that said he wasn’t answering a stupid question. Picking up his bag, he casually tossed it over one shoulder. “Wait!” she demanded, walking to the edge of the toilet to inspect his work. “For real, this time?”

  “Old pipes, lady,” he said. “Replace the entire system or use this.” He handed her a plunger and another bill. “That’ll save you some money next time.” He started walking toward the door.

  Caron gaped down at the invoice for two hundred dollars and whirled in pursuit, but stopped dead in her tracks to avoid running into the man now blocking the exit.

  “Baxter?” she whispered, shocked to find him here, looking every bit as scrumptious in a dark suit as he had in a tuxedo.

  Amusement danced in his dark eyes as he glanced at the plunger in her hand before returning his gaze to her face. “Problem?”

  Heat rushed to Caron’s cheeks as she realized how far from her Friday-night fantasy she must look—brown hair twisted neatly at the back of her head, a prim black suit, and well, the damn plunger in her hand.

  She shook off the embarrassment. Unwilling to let the plumber escape, she thrust the plunger at Baxter. “Hold this,” she said and started forward but rethought her rash rudeness. “Please. And thank you.” With an inhaled breath, and no time to lose, she squeezed past Baxter, an instant charge darting through her body.

  Caron rushed down the stairs, liquid fire shimmering through her limbs, memories of intimate, shared moments with Baxter fluttering through her mind, of being naked and entwined. She couldn’t believe he was here, in her
store, and instead of challenging him over the meaning of that package he’d sent, she was chasing after the plumber. She had to deal with one man and his mischief at a time. But Baxter’s turn was coming.

  8

  BAXTER STOOD IN THAT BATHROOM doorway and shook his head, a low chuckle sliding from his lips. Never in his life would he have imagined his efforts to seduce a woman would result in him holding a toilet plunger, nor would he have ever believed he would actually find himself in pursuit of the woman who’d given it to him.

  Disposing of the plunger, Baxter followed in Caron’s wake as she pursued the plumber, a path that took him to a hallway leading to a back door.“I am not paying seven hundred dollars for a plunger!” she hollered to the back of the guy’s head as the back door slammed shut.

  Caron threw her hands up in the air and then pressed her hand to her face, turning to blink Baxter into focus. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I—it’s just that…I’m having plumbing problems.”

  “I remember that from Friday night,” he offered, biting back a smile.

  She frowned, a cute dimple forming between her brows. “Friday night? I don’t remember telling you about my plumbing problems. No. I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Did she really think he didn’t remember her from the front door of the hotel? “You told the doorman.” He lowered his voice, though the hallway curved away from the store, away from the ears and eyes of potential eavesdroppers. “I liked the pink sweat suit almost as much as the dress. I didn’t go looking for Marilyn. Or for Audrey. I went looking for the woman in that pink sweat suit.”

  She looked surprised, her gaze shifting to the store—ensuring they weren’t being overheard, he assumed. Then, “I didn’t know you knew that was me. I…” She stopped, sealed her lips. Then, drew herself up straight. “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  He laughed. There was the Caron he’d found so adorable—equally flustered, direct and to the point. It was her way of hiding vulnerability but it didn’t work. Not with him.

  “I need a birthday gift for my sister. Kasey seemed to believe you could help. She said you have a knack for picking the perfect gifts.”

  She looked as if she might refuse, but Kasey quickly nixed that idea by appearing.

  “Oh, good,” she said to Caron. “He found you. I told him you’d have a better idea than me about a gift for his sister.” She glanced at Baxter. “Again, I’m sorry I wasn’t more help. It’s crazy busy, and Caron is better at picking gifts than me anyway. I don’t want to steer you wrong for such an important occasion.” She glanced at Caron. “It’s his sister’s thirty-fifth birthday. She likes to travel, and she considers herself an amateur chef, right?”

  “Thank you, Kasey,” he said, offering a nod, and Kasey’s face filled with a schoolgirl flush, before she quickly excused herself.

  Baxter fixed Caron with an expectant look, his brow arched. “So?” he asked. “Will you come to the rescue and help me find the perfect gift?”

  CARON LOST HERSELF in Baxter’s dark, probing stare—a stare that intimately stroked her into such a frenzy of awareness that she wanted to run away. Or run to him. Maybe bury her nose in his jacket for just a tiny minute and inhale that delicious spicy scent of his. A dangerous proposition that said she needed to expedite his departure before she went and did something like sleep with the man again. He didn’t want her. She didn’t care if he claimed he wanted the girl in the pink sweats—he’d been enthralled with the fantasy. Now he wanted the fantasy woman in the wig and a chance to end things on his terms. She wanted no part of being used. The man had her panties; he wasn’t getting anything else. She had to take this situation and get it under control. Put him in his place, not the opposite, which she was certain was his intention.

  “You came for a gift,” she said flatly, her disbelief meant to be obvious.His eyes held mischief and mayhem, proving he was not at all affected by her directness. A sound rich and masculine, escaped his lips—lips she knew to be firm but gentle.

  “I really do need a gift,” he said, his hands held up in defense. “My sister’s birthday is Saturday, and I’m headed out of town tomorrow for the rest of the week.”

  “Don’t you have an assistant who does that sort of thing for you?”

  He gave her a knowing look—as if he knew she was trying to turn him into the bad guy. And she was. If he were the bad guy, then ignoring his hot body and charming smile would be oh-so-much easier. “I’d never allow anyone else to pick out a gift for my sister.”

  She wasn’t letting him off that easily. Tilting her chin up, she fixed him in a steady stare and walked toward him, pausing next to him. “So, just by coincidence, you happened to end up in my store to buy it.”

  “No coincidence,” he promised in a low, velvety voice. “I came here for you, Caron.”

  Caron’s breath hitched in her throat at that announcement, her body betraying her decision to resist. I came here for you, Caron. No. She rejected that claim. He came for a game of cat and mouse, and control. A game she feared would only end badly. She liked Baxter, liked him far too much to delve any deeper into this thing, this whatever it was, going on between them. She’d get hurt. He’d simply walk away without a glance back.

  She opened her mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms she wasn’t interested, but found herself cut short when Alice’s voice cut through the air.

  “Caron! Kasey! Someone. Help, please!”

  Caron inhaled and turned to find her new helper struggling with the cash register, which was known for jamming, while three customers patiently waited to check out.

  “She’s new,” Caron murmured to Baxter, more than a little happy for a quick retreat to gain some composure. “I’ll be right back.”

  She scurried away, aware of every step taken under his watchful regard. Her skin prickled. A few punched keys, and Alice was set. Kasey appeared, as well, with a customer in tow, her eyes alight with as much mischief as Baxter’s. Mischief that said she’d intentionally brought Baxter to Caron—no doubt, playing matchmaker. Little did Kasey know, the match had been made, and with a blonde bombshell packing a gel bra—a temporary persona that was apparently more successful with the opposite sex than the real her. That costume had empowered her and allowed her to escape her inhibitions, even when it had been discarded. Morning had come and she’d gone back to her simple reality where her seduction prowess was a big whopping zero. That realization sat uncomfortably. She knew she had to deal with Baxter and be done with this.

  Caron found Baxter patiently leaning against a wall, still watching her—inspecting her with an attentive, heavy-lidded stare that explained the heated flush of her skin that refused to cool.

  “This way,” she said, motioning to the back of the store, where bookshelves lined walls and came together in a far too secluded corner. A narrow, round table sat in the center of the snug aisle to allow customers to sit and study their potential purchases. And though privacy with a man like Baxter could easily prove dangerous to a girl’s willpower, Caron decided it had its merits right about now, offering a chance for confrontation.

  The instant they were out of sight of the rest of the store, Caron whirled around to confront Baxter. She found him closer than expected. So close. Too close.

  “Why are you really here?” she demanded, intending to get the obvious out in the open and, therefore, end this awkward torture of the unspoken between them.

  “I needed a gift. I wanted to see you.” His attention flickered over her lips, before he prodded, “Aren’t you even a little pleased to see me?”

  No. Yes. She was. She didn’t want to be but she was. That was why she wasn’t about to answer that question, “This is about my note, isn’t it? You took it as some kind of challenge.”

  The air crackled with instant challenge. “Was it?”

  “No!” she hissed in a whisper, his question telling her that he did, indeed, see it as a challenge. This was not about her, but his male ego. “It was a joke. Over
. Done with. A way to say goodbye.” Wasn’t it? Had she subconsciously wanted to challenge him? No! She shook off that idea, refusing to analyze herself.

  Find the gift and get some distance, she told herself. She redirected the conversation. “Kasey said your sister loves to travel and cook?”

  He didn’t immediately answer, his expression indecipherable but for a tiny hint of calculation ticking away in his dark eyes. Then finally, his expression shifted, softened, and he said, “She’s a high school teacher, world history, and world culture is her obsession. She thinks experiencing that culture makes her a better teacher. That includes learning about the food and trying to re-create it for her classes. Right now, Russia is her obsession. I thought maybe something that would feed that interest.”

  There was genuine thoughtfulness behind his words, in his expression. He really needed a gift, she admitted, and not only that, he cared about making it special for his sister. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  “I’m probably too late for this, but I don’t suppose you would have a cookbook that has Russian cuisine?”

  “No,” she said. “Typically, smaller stores don’t stock something so customized to a small niche market, especially with the Internet so readily accessible.”

  He grimaced. “I should have planned ahead. I don’t want to show up with some generic, meaningless gift.”

  She thought of the FBI agents, and noted Baxter had his own little “plumbing” problems going on. She considered telling him about the agent who’d approached her but decided it might be better left alone.

  “No worries,” she replied, sympathizing with the hell he must be going through. “I can special order something that will fit the bill and have it delivered to wherever you’d like in time for her birthday. But,” Caron said, and held up a finger, “I have an idea.” She bent down to the bottom row of a shelf and removed a large, glossy book.