by Sandra Hill
“Minneapolis,” he replied.
“Tell us about your family,” said Greta Taylor, who had lived all her eighty-five years in the small beach town.
“My father’s in real estate, and my mother does charity work,” he replied. “I have five older sisters, all married but no babies.”
“You’re a handsome guy.” Edna winked at him as she added coconut to the macaroon batter. “Why haven’t you settled down?”
“I haven’t met the right Mrs. Claus.”
The grandmas all giggled like girls.
Edna offered everyone tea, and once the pot boiled, the older women grabbed their cups and moved to the living room to put up their feet. They were tired from standing.
One last bite of snickerdoodle and Alex crossed to Holly at the kitchen counter. She was decorating sugar cookies in all the holiday shapes and sizes.
She hated the fact they were now alone. She had no buffer against this man. His closeness made her fidgety.
He nudged her with his elbow. “Can I help?”
She pointed toward three bowls of frosting and an assortment of sprinkles, gumdrops, dried fruit, nuts, and colored sugars.
“Frost, then decorate,” she instructed.
Alex selected a star-shaped sugar cookie. He spread buttercream icing with a narrow rubber spatula, then shook on yellow-colored sugar. The star glistened.
“Good job,” Holly begrudgingly praised.
She went on to decorate her own cookies, only to set them aside when she caught Alex fashioning a bikini on Mrs. Claus. The cookie had a peppermint frosting top with red gumdrop breasts and a slivered almond thong. X-rated.
“What?” he asked when she glared daggers.
“These aren’t adult sugar cookies,” she hissed. “They’ll be eaten by children.”
“Guess Rudolph won’t fly either then.”
Off to the left, a perfectly good chocolate reindeer with caramel sprinkles now had raisins for balls.
Holly picked off the raisins. “Go have a cup of tea.”
“I drink strong black Columbian, not Earl Grey.” He broke off the top of a Christmas tree, one recently decorated with green and red icing. He moved closer, their faces almost touching. He tapped her lips with the cookie. “Bite?”
She turned slightly, parted her lips. She hoped he’d leave after she’d taken his sample.
Alex moved on her so quickly, she never saw him coming. He caught her mouth, slipped her his tongue, and mated with slow, sensuous thrusts. He tasted of sugar and spice and all that was naughty.
He wrapped her in his arms, drew her into him. She settled her hands on his shoulders, absorbed his scent and heat. He was one delicious man.
They struck immediate sparks. There was curiosity and intensity between them, a warmth and rightness to their kiss. Her hormones went wild, and her insides totally melted. She was all sensitive skin and wobbly knees.
His erection thickened and rose against her belly.
Her center warmed and went liquid.
He was turned on, and he told her so. “I want you,” he nuzzled near her ear.
She desired him too. The realization hit swift and jarring. Their intimacy had been as electric as it was fleeting. He’d kissed her with a lot of tongue and experience. It took her a moment to breathe properly.
Nothing about Alex spoke of promise, destiny, forever. His interests lay with blond twins in Miami, not with a nutcracker from Holiday.
She was his Christmas distraction, nothing more. They stood in Edna Murdock’s kitchen where the older women could return at any second. She didn’t want them catching her lip locked with the ballplayer, even if he had caught her by surprise.
She eased back, kept her voice light, “Sugar cookies certainly turn you on.”
His blue gaze narrowed. “It’s not the cookies.”
“Baking with the grannies always warms my heart,” she said. “Maybe it’s rubbed off on you too.”
“I’m still more humbug than ho.”
“I’m all about the Christmas spirit.”
“I’d let you jingle my bells.”
“I don’t do horny for the holidays.”
“When do you do horny?” he asked.
“Not on the first date and only with the right man.”
“I’ve known you two damn days, and we’ve spent a lot of time together.” One corner of his mouth tipped, slow and sexy. “I’ve a fetish for nutcrackers. You could wear that big wooden head to bed.”
His teasing made her blush, and her whole body went hot. Alex was too handsome, too rich, too experienced. She had no business playing in his league.
“Back to the kitchen. We have ten dozen cookies left to bake.” Holly heard Edna Murdock moving their way.
She was grateful for the grannies’ return. Flattening her hands on Alex’s chest, she felt his heartbeat against one palm—strong, vital, and faster than normal. She gave him a push, and he reluctantly stepped back.
“It’s time to make reindeer dust,” Emily Ison said as she entered the kitchen. “All holiday baskets must contain a big jar.”
“What’s with the dust?” Alex asked.
“It’s a mixture of oatmeal and glitter,” Holly told him. “The reindeer feed on the oatmeal. The glitter is like a landing strip for airplanes. Kids spread it across their front yards so Santa knows where to land his sleigh.”
Alex nodded. “Pretty cool. I’ll help mix.”
He stood by Holly’s side, adding his glitter to her oatmeal, then shaking the jar until it blended together.
Alex pressed close, his breath warm near her ear. “If you sprinkled reindeer dust on your yard, I’d bring you a present.”
“You have no idea what’s on my Christmas list.”
“You could sit on my lap and tell me,” he said, his voice deep and suggestive. “I’d promise to deliver.”
“I want peace on earth and good will toward men.”
“That’s a tall order, even for Santa.” He scratched his jaw. “My thoughts were on gifts we could both enjoy. I’d wear a pair of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer boxers, the ones with the blinking nose on the fly, and you could slip into a green teddy with tiny gold bells at the nipples and a satin bow—”
She jammed her elbow into him so hard he sucked air. He immediately moved down the counter. Holly sent him a glare. The man didn’t give up. He had Christmas sex on his brain, and she refused to let him unwrap her.
“Save the teddies for your Miami twins.” She kept her voice low. “Bare Essence has a two-for-one sale through the end of the week, a big bang for your buck.”
Alex Boxer rubbed his side. Holly’s elbow could’ve broken a rib. Damn, she was difficult.
He’d never worked so hard to get a woman into his bed. He wanted more than one evening—he’d planned three all-nighters. That would give him plenty of time to enjoy and pleasure her.
He cut her a glance. She looked pretty tonight with her blond hair styled in a French braid. Her brown eyes shone warmly; her lips were glossed a soft pink.
A red tunic slanted off her shoulder, the strap of a green tank top visible beneath. Clusters of holly berries backed the pockets of her white jeans. Strappy sandals showed off her artful pedicure: tiny Christmas trees decorated her toes. The lady was a walking, talking advertisement for the season.
He kept one eye on Holly as he assisted Edna Murdock with a batch of angel-pink divinity. He sampled several pieces of the fancy candy, which melted in his mouth.
A knock on the kitchen door drew his attention to a new arrival. Hank Conrad, the moose from the mall. He also owned Frosty’s on the boardwalk, Alex recalled. He hadn’t officially met the man, who now shouldered a large cardboard box and greeted the grannies with high spirits and holiday hugs.
He advertized his good cheer by wearing a Santa hat and a T-shirt scripted with “Dreaming of a White Christmas.”
It was doubtful that Hank would get his wish, Alex mused. They were in Florida, where sunburns trumped snowflakes
.
Holly smiled up at the sandy-haired man with the lanky build. She seemed genuinely glad to see him. There was a cozy familiarity between them.
Alex’s gut tightened when Hank set down the box and draped his arm about Holly’s shoulders. She leaned into his side. There were long looks and intimate whispers. They acted like a couple.
Alex drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter, waited for an introduction. It was damn long in coming.
“Alex Boxer, Hank Conrad,” she finally managed.
Hank nodded to Alex. “Hello, Santa.”
“Moose,” Alex acknowledged.
“I came to decorate the mistletoe arch,” Hank explained. “Tomorrow we set the arch by Santa’s Workshop. It’s time for holiday kisses.”
“It’s tradition,” said Edna Murdock. “The town gets in the spirit.”
“It costs a dollar to stand under the arch.” Greta Taylor slid the last batch of mocha-cinnamon meltaways off a cookie sheet. “The money goes to charity.”
“Everyone has hot lips,” Edna added. “Friends, lovers, married couples. No one resists.”
“No one?” Alex looked at Holly.
“Mistletoe legitimizes holiday kissing,” Edna chuckled.
Alex liked Holiday’s way of thinking. He’d lay down a few singles to kiss the nutcracker. Hell, he’d drop a hundred if necessary, knowing she couldn’t refuse.
Shortly thereafter, Greta Taylor started packing the Christmas baskets with cookies and containers of reindeer dust. Edna’s turn came next; she took over and wrapped the handles with big red satin bows.
“The line for the arch will be as long as the one to see Santa.” Greta grinned.
“There’s a lot of teasing and blushing,” Edna added.
“And most donate more than a dollar,” said Hank.
Everyone’s thoughts ran to kissing until Holly went to the sink to wash her hands. She’d bottled the last of the reindeer dust, and the glass containers sparkled with glitter. Santa would have the perfect landing strips for his sleigh.
Her hands now dried, she lightly touched Hank’s arm. “I’ll help with the arch,” she offered.
“So will I,” Alex surprised himself by saying. “I’m good with arches.” He knew nothing about arches.
Holly’s raised eyebrow doubted his capabilities.
Hank gave an offhanded shrug and led Alex to the garage where twelve feet of wire twisted like a pretzel. “Edna backed her car over the arch last week,” Moose Man said as he set the cardboard box filled with mistletoe on the cement floor. “It needs to be restructured before we can attach the sprigs.”
Hank shoved his hands into work gloves, then held out pairs for Holly and Alex. “Be careful with the wire—it’s sharp in places.”
Holly accepted a flowered pair of gardening gloves. Alex, however, worked best bare-handed. He didn’t need sissy gloves. His hands were strong, rough, callused.
Holly and Hank tackled one end of the arch and Alex began untangling the other. Small cuts caused his thumb to bleed, but he hated to ask for a Band-Aid. He’d refused the gloves and wasn’t about to complain.
They worked in silence until Hank asked, “Has Libby Baker had her baby?”
Holly nodded, smiling. “A boy, Raymond Jay, born late yesterday afternoon. He weighed six pounds, seven ounces. Her husband stood on the corner of Main and Third and handed out cigars. I’m sure he stopped traffic.”
“I saw Jane Palmer at the bank this morning. Her golden retriever had six puppies,” Hank said. “You’ve been offered the pick of the litter.”
Holly looked thoughtful. “Might be the perfect Christmas gift to myself.”
“I’d buy the pup if you’d let me,” offered Hank.
Alex watched Holly’s face soften. “Save your money. The T-shirt shop beside Frosty’s on the Boardwalk is going out of business next month. You could use the money to expand.”
Alex listened as the two of them hashed over square footage, and the idea of adding a short list of sandwiches to Hank’s menu. Holly made sound suggestions; she had a good head for business. Alex liked the way she looked at the expansion from all angles. She listed both pros and cons and commented on the best local contractors. She was damn smart.
Most of the women of Alex’s acquaintance partied and passed out. Two-syllable words were the extent of their vocabulary. The sex and gratification were immediate. Dates were out the door before dawn.
He eavesdropped as Holly and Hank discussed other store owners, the refurbishment of the Boardwalk, and close friends they had in common. It was small-town talk, centered on grandmothers and their knitting, the weather, as well as the new stock of beach-and-boardwalk postcards being sold at the Holiday Tourist Center.
Alex felt excluded. The hometown chatter rode his last nerve. He had an unsettling urge to bump Hank aside, so Holly would focus on him again.
“How’s the ice cream shop?” Hank asked her.
Holly cut Alex a look. “I’ve added a new flavor called Swing and a Miss. It’s vanilla ice cream with chunks of red licorice and chips of peppermint.”
Alex pulled a face. “I hate peppermint.”
“I know.”
She looked smug, Alex mused, as if she’d struck him out. He didn’t take to scoreless innings. Home Run would have been a more appropriate flavor for her ice cream.
Hank straightened another foot of wire before he turned to Holly. “Will you be caroling at the community center tomorrow night?”
Holly drew up a step stool, needing extra height as she curved the wire near the top of the arch. “I’ll be there once the cookie baskets are delivered,” she said.
“Need help?” Hank offered. “Driving and dropping off could take hours.”
“We’ve got it covered.” Alex had found a way into their conversation. “Holly requested my assistance when we were making reindeer dust.” An outright lie and damn pathetic for a grown man to go to such lengths to date a woman.
Holly’s gaze narrowed on him. She could have busted him, but she was bred and born polite. Alex was known to hit low.
She cleared her throat, kept her cool. “You never fully committed,” she managed.
“I agreed after our kiss.”
Holly’s fingers froze on the twisted wire. Alex, on the other hand, kept right on working. He winked at her. “You were quite convincing, sweetheart.”
Hank shifted, looked uncomfortable.
Holly snapped off a piece of wire, shaped it like a noose. She looked ready to strangle him. “The kiss meant nothing,” she defended. “There was—”
“Tongue,” Alex interrupted. “You jingled my bells, babe.”
Hank swallowed hard, paled.
Holly inhaled sharply, blushed torch red.
Alex knew he was being a prick. He deserved Holly’s glare. Somehow she’d gotten to him, in a most unwelcome way. He could feel her around his heart and under his skin. He refused to analyze her indefinable effect.
He’d never done deep or serious, yet he hated being the odd man out as she discussed small-town news with the moose. Alex had been excluded and wanted to reclaim ground.
He needed to regain her attention and hold it.
Even if he had to play dirty.
Hank was too much of a gentleman to cause a scene. The man cleared his throat and went on to ask, “How about Sue Schaffer’s Christmas party? Need a date?”
“Holly invited me this morning.” Alex was knee deep in lies. “She’s buying a new red dress, one that shows Christmas cleavage.”
Hank’s eyes popped, and Holly’s jaw dropped.
“I invited you?” She was slow to recover.
“You don’t remember?” Alex feigned hurt. “We were at the Jingle Bell Shop, putting on our costumes. I was standing in my boxer briefs, and you wore lavender panties. You mentioned the party as we were checking each other out.”
The corners of her mouth pulled tight. “We had just returned from show and tell at the elementary school
,” she quickly explained to Hank. “Alex took a shower in the loft and I was downstairs, changing behind the screen. It was all perfectly innocent.”
“I found it intimate,” Alex reflected. “I’m a fan of demi-cups and bikinis. How about you, Hank?”
Moose Man’s jaw shifted, but he didn’t share his preference in women’s underwear. Alex caught the man’s hands shaking as he continued with the wire.
Hank was a decent man, Alex had to admit. The moose didn’t discuss undies in mixed company, and he no doubt believed sex belonged behind closed doors. Alex was certain Hank slept in pajamas and socks and stuck with missionary.
Alex believed Holly needed a little naughty with her nice. Experimentation raised the temperature in the bedroom. He liked his sex hot.
In fairness to the man, Alex knew that Hank would never break the law or the speed limit. He wouldn’t fantasize about blond twins in Miami. He’d be happy with Holly.
Holly. Masculine jealousy shot bone deep, irritating in its intensity. Alex hated the feeling. It was new and sharp and stuck him in the heart. He wasn’t used to coming in second when he compared himself to another man.
His breath hitched, and his palms dampened. Hell, he’d only known the woman two days, yet the sensation of losing someone he’d never truly had bent him low.
He shouldn’t give a rat’s ass whom Holly liked or whom she dated. For some strange reason, it mattered. Too damn much. She was about to complicate his life. Big time.
The way Holly now looked at Hank irked Alex. She didn’t want Hank to think poorly of her. Alex decided she must like Hank a lot.
Alex sucked it up, made repairs. “Our kiss was one between friends,” he retracted. “The three-paneled screen protected Holly when she changed clothes.”
Hank stopped working, stared at Alex. “Stop pawing the ground, dude. We don’t have to lock horns over Holly. There’s no need to explain your actions. You’re her business, not mine.”
Alex was lost. “I thought you were a couple.”
Hank had the nerve to grin. “We’re cousins. We look out for each other, so stop being such an ass, Santa.”
Cousins? A fact Holly could have easily mentioned when they’d first been introduced, yet she’d skipped that part. He’d made a fool of himself over her. Alex didn’t like being played.