by penny watson
“Hurry up, Sven.”
“Impatient much?”
“Quit teasing me.”
He lowered her to the sofa.
“Watch my stitches—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll stay on your left side…”
“Ow. There’s a burn over there…”
“I’ll be gentle.”
“You smell so good. I want to rub my face all over your hairy chest forever.”
Sven smiled. “That works for me.” He flinched. “Did you just bite me?”
“Just a little bit.” She lifted a brow.
“Spitfire,” he whispered.
He slid inside her wet heat and they both stopped talking. For a moment, they gazed at each other with relief, with only the sounds of the crackling fire behind them. He hovered over her, propped on his elbows. He studied her face, and he knew.
Andi De Luca was his destiny.
She tilted her hips as encouragement. Sven lowered his face to her neck. She smelled like lily of the valley. She tasted like heaven. He began to pump, in a steady, satisfying rhythm. Her breathy moans drove him wild, and his tempo became frenzied. Which Andi did not seem to mind in the least.
When they finally climaxed, sternschnuppen sparkled around their bodies—naked and panting and slick with sweat. Andi’s face lit with joy and wonder, and Sven silently thanked the magik in Glasdorf for making this perfect for her.
For once, the magik in Glasdorf made sense.
“Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me?”
Andi’s mouth fell open as she gazed upon what should be one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
Santa’s Toy Shop!
An enormous industrial-sized room was filled with hundreds of tables and workstations. The intoxicating scent of freshly cut wood enveloped her. Cedar, pine, sandalwood. Olive, almond, cinnamon. Walnut, cherry, balsam. She saw lumber in every color, texture, and size organized on shelves. The buzz of power saws alternated with chiming Christmas bells and the chatter of busy elves.
Millions of strands of holiday lights were suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. The efficiency and organization of the toy production was staggering. As soon as one elf completed a project, another elf rolled by with a cart. She watched in amazement as a wooden truck slid down a worktable, flew into the wagon, and was pushed to the delivery area. All in split-second timing. There were areas designated for cutting and sanding, for assembly, and for painting.
Sven elbowed her in the ribs. “Your mouth is hanging open.”
She elbowed him back. “I can’t help it. This is… This is beyond anything I ever imagined.”
Sven leaned down to her eye level. “Are you having second thoughts about the story?”
Am I having second thoughts about the story?
She shook her head. “No. No second thoughts.”
And strangely, she honestly was not. She was at peace with her decision. It was crazy. She’d just sacrificed the biggest story of her career and it barely registered. All she could focus on now was Sven—that heady feeling when she made him laugh, when she made his eyes go dark with arousal, when the lion looked like it was about to pounce. She had developed an addiction to the Chief Toymaker in Glasdorf. He wasn’t a laid-back hippie; he was an intense, dedicated woodworker, a loyal brother, a man of integrity and courage.
Andi was falling in love.
For the first time in her life, she could imagine spending her future with a man. Trusting him, loving him, depending on him.
It was exciting. It was exhilarating.
It was terrifying.
Making the decision to scrap the story had been relatively simple. But the idea of jumping into a relationship with Sven Klaus was scaring the hell out of her.
“Anyway, a photograph could never do this workshop justice. You have to see it to believe it.” She kissed him. “Thank you for trusting me and inviting me into your studio.”
“My pleasure.”
He hooked an arm around her waist and continued with the tour. “This is Manny. He specializes in baby blocks. See the intricate carvings? He kicks ass at this.”
Manny blushed to the tips of his pointy ears. “I don’t know about that. But I do enjoy it. This year we’re carving fruits and vegetables into the toys.”
Andi picked up one of the blocks. “Z is for Zucchini. Cute!”
Manny shrugged. “Thank you, ma’am. Always nice to get compliments.” He gestured to Sven. “Of course, no one here makes anything quite like the boss. His stuff is legendary, ja.”
Sven pounded Manny on the back. “You’re being modest. We get thousands of letters a year from new mothers gushing about how great these blocks are. Manny is the legend.”
Andi glanced down at the worktable and gasped. It was incredible. The interior of the table was burled walnut, and it looked alive with flame and light, glossed to a high sheen. On the edges were letters of the alphabet paired with coordinating images. The level of detail was astounding. She ran her fingers of the surface of the table and sighed.
“Who made this? It’s gorgeous.” She leaned closer. “I keep finding more layers of detail the longer I look at it.”
Manny puffed up with pride. “See what I mean? That’s Sven’s work. My boss is the best woodworker in the world.”
Sven laughed and ignored the effusive praise. “It takes a village, as they say. And the whole team is involved in our success. I’m just one little part of it.” He grabbed Andi’s hand. “Shall we?”
They continued with the tour, investigating toys for babies, interactive designs for older kids, amazing architectural projects, and Andi’s personal favorite…trains that glided along their tracks with real puffing smoke and blaring horns. By the time they arrived at his office, Andi’s mind was buzzing with ideas.
“Remember when you asked me about multi-tasking? About following your heart’s desire and getting the job done? When we were in the tunnel?”
Sven frowned. “Yes. I remember.”
“Well, I think the answer is yes.”
“What answer?”
“The answer to the question, “Can you do both?” I think you can. And I think you should. You have about a million elves working here. Why can’t they do the bulk of the traditional, standard designs—like the toy trains and trucks—and you can focus on more innovative stuff, like the multi-sensory projects. That would free you up to work on your furniture designs, too.”
Sven plopped down in the chair behind his enormous walnut desk and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Huh. That’s not a bad idea.”
“Huh. I know.”
“I guess…I could put Ulrich permanently in charge of the Glasdorf Toy Department. He’s been covering for me while I’m in Manhattan and doing a bang-up job. God knows he’s been here long enough. He knows the score.”
“I’ll bet that would make him feel great. To know you trust him with that responsibility.”
“It would. It would be a huge promotion.”
“Judging from my email correspondence with him, he seemed super organized and efficient.”
Sven smiled. “You mean the opposite of a laid-back hippie? We have a system. I get completely involved in my work and lose track of time. Ulrich organizes all the details of my life so I don’t forget stuff.”
“He sounds like a great partner. And like he has the potential to be an awesome toyshop manager.”
“He does. Absolutely. I’m just not sure how my dad will feel about that.”
“You won’t know until you tell him. It’s time, Sven. And I don’t see how he could possibly be upset if the toys continue to be produced in the same high quality.” She peered outside the office and watched the elves working diligently. “They sure seem like they know what they’re doing.”
“They do. They’re the best.” He leaned forward on his chair. “I think you’re right. Ulrich can run this place without me. He could take care of the general holiday orders. And I could do the special projects.” H
e laughed. “How’d you get to be so smart, Andi De Luca?”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, years of writing crappy tabloid articles. It requires extreme-creative thinking. I’m a professional.”
“You certainly are. And while we’re on the subject, remember when we decided to talk about your newspaper career later? It’s later.”
Andi froze. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad. We’re talking about it now. I have a few contacts in the city. You should be getting an email when you get home. From The Pulse Of New York.”
Andi gasped. “No. Way. If I decide to get a new job, I’ll do it on my own. I don’t need your help. Sven.” She cringed when she heard the sarcasm in her voice.
He held up a hand. “Don’t get pissed at me. I’m just getting your foot in the door. That’s all. You have to do the rest of the work yourself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure years of writing for the The Scoop will be a big selling point for those high-end publications.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve written serious exposés, freelance feature articles, creative writing, everything. Not to mention you are the most stubborn, determined person I’ve ever met in my life.”
She chewed her lip. This is what I wanted. Right? Then why am I so terrified?
“I need the money. I have a lot of family members counting on me. That’s the main reason I work at The Scoop.”
“You can qualify for positions that earn a good salary, Andi. You’re not a rookie anymore. Take a chance, honey.”
“What if…”
“What?”
“What if I don’t have what it takes, Sven? What if my soul has already been sucked out by the lies and deceit? Maybe I’ve lost my humanity already. Maybe…it’s too late.”
“You don’t really think that, do you?”
She shrugged. “You don’t understand. Everything you touch, everything you create is something special and unique. You make people happy. You make children happy.” She stared down at her feet. “I write about crooks and the dregs of society. I make up stories that are both ludicrous and horrifying.” She glanced back up at him, ashamed of the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Not really something to aspire to, is it?”
Sven circled the desk and pulled her into his arms. “I know for a fact that Andi De Luca has not lost her humanity. You could have sold us all out for that story. But you didn’t. You might not want to admit this to yourself, but you know how you’re always talking about Hannah’s sweetness and goodness? You have it, too. Granted, it was hidden for a while. But it’s still there.” He stroked her hair and Andi closed her eyes at the comforting sensation.
“I think you’re looking at me through rose-colored glasses, Klaus. I’m not like that.”
He ignored her. “And furthermore, you are underplaying your skill as a writer, as a researcher and reporter. I looked at some of your articles. The one you wrote about the Literacy Program, where you highlighted inner city kids? It was inspirational. The poetry you published that won you that award? I read those pieces. They were raw, emotional…excellent. And even your big Yeti story—”
“Ugh. Please tell me you didn’t read that one.” She winced.
Sven laughed. “I read it. I thought it was hilarious. Just because it was obviously fiction doesn’t make it any less entertaining.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Is he right? Can I chuck the asinine stories and write real news?
“Open your eyes, Andi.”
She did. And she found dark chocolate eyes, filled with kindness and concern, staring back at her.
“You can do this.”
“I can do this?”
Sven nodded. “Repeat that once more without the question mark at the end.”
“I can do this.”
“Better.” He kissed her.
“I can do this.” She repeated it again, and actually started to believe it. “Maybe…it’s time to leave Bigfoot behind. Maybe it’s time to report on real news. To educate the public about current events. Not trick them.” She tugged on his shirt. “I can do this?”
Sven nodded again. “You. Can. Do. This.”
“Okay. I can do this thing.” She sent Sven a sly smile. “You know, I’ll probably need a new desk at home. Since real journalists need serious furniture to write their groundbreaking articles. And since you owe me—big time, I might add—maybe I could get a friends and family discount on a Klaus Designs original. In cedar, please.”
Sven chuckled. “I do owe you big time. One desk, coming up.” He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Now all I have to do now is tell my dad about this whole thing.” He cringed. “That should go over well.”
Before Andi could respond, she heard a ruckus in the toyshop. She peeked outside Sven’s door to see a parade of people heading to the back of the warehouse. A fit older gentleman and a silver-haired pixie headed up the train. She recognized both of them from the gala. A group of ancient elves trailed behind, arguing and yelling.
Sven grimaced. “Oh, shit.”
“Oh shit, what? Who are they and what’s going on?”
Sven released a long-suffering sigh. “Time to meet Santa Claus.”
Sven was still reeling from the conversation with Andi. Was it possible? Could he hand over the reins for the Glasdorf Toyshop to Ulrich and focus on custom orders and his furniture business? It was a brilliant idea, and if he could get Santa on the same page, it might just be the answer to his prayers.
Unfortunately, Santa was looking pretty pissed off at the moment.
Nicholas Klaus Senior stormed into his office.
“Sven!”
“Dad.” Sven sighed.
“Santa!” Andi whispered under her breath. “Hey, why isn’t he fat?”
Sven whispered back. “He works out. A lot. So does my mom.”
Andi nodded. “Okay… That’s weird.”
“Sven.” His mother shook her head as she gazed at Andi in Sven’s arms.
“Mom,” Sven answered.
“Santa’s wife!” Andi chuckled. She leaned close to Sven. “She looks great!”
Sven grinned. “Triathlete.”
“Sven.” Hector hobbled into the room with a pinched expression on his face.
“Hector. Nice to see you again.”
“Do I detect sarcasm, young man?”
“Absolutely not. Thank you for taking such good care of Andi. Her stitches are healing nicely.”
“You’re Hector.” Andi reached for the elf’s hand. “You sewed me up after the Yeti attack. Sven told me. Thank you so much.”
Hector looked startled as she pumped his hand in gratitude. But after a moment, he shook back. “Your aura is pure, little one.”
“My aura?” Andi glanced at Sven.
“Don’t ask.”
“Hello, Sven. I’m glad to see you made in back in one piece.” Ulrich bowed slightly. He turned to Andi and raised a brow. “You must be…Andrea De Luca. A.k.a., The Pit Bull. I’m Ulrich Munsterman.”
“Ulrich!” Andi threw her arms around Ul’s neck and gave him a warm hug. He froze, but eventually began to pat her back in an awkward manner. Sven tried not to laugh.
“Clearly you don’t have issues with personal space.” Ulrich’s face was red as a beet.
“Sorry. I just feel like I know you already since we corresponded this fall. Thanks for the gift certificates and the chocolates.” She scanned his outfit and giggled. “Oh my God. I love your cute bow tie and suspenders!”
Sven’s assistant shot him a bewildered look. “Yes…well…um, I surely hope the issue of the newspaper article was indefinitely postponed.”
“Don’t worry, Ul. Andi has decided not to pursue the exposé.”
Hector smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Miss De Luca’s aura looks promising.”
The band of ancient elves nodded in agreement.
“Here we go. Time for the touchy-feely aura-speak.” Sven leaned back on his
desk and kept Andi firmly tucked within his arms.
“Yes. She has a good heart.”
“I can see she is devoted to family.”
“We can trust her.”
Andi whispered to Sven. “What is going on?”
“It looks like we’re having an off-the-cuff Tag der Rache.”
“Tag der what? What are you talking about?”
“This is the Council of Seven, the governing body in Glasdorf. The Tag der Rache is the ‘day of reckoning’…basically, the elves decide how much trouble we’re in after breaking the rules.”
Andi’s face fell. “We broke the rules? What rules?”
Hector folded his arms across his chest. “Sudlanders are not permitted in Glasdorf without obtaining permission prior to their arrival.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess we didn’t have time to ask for permission while we were trying to avoid being eaten by a giant Yeti!” Andi shouted forcefully enough to startle the elves.
Alena grinned. “You tell ’em, Andi!”
Hector held up a hand to silence the room. “That’s enough.” He glared at Andi. “From all of you, elf and human alike. Although the rules were broken, there seemed to be mitigating circumstances. And the magik clearly interfered with this entire scenario. Based on these facts, both Sven and Andi are exonerated of any wrongdoing. Miss De Luca’s aura indicates she is honest. We can trust her.”
Santa roared. “We can trust her? Has the council lost its freakin’ mind? She is a tabloid reporter for The Scoop!”
Andi jumped and hid behind Sven. His jaw clenched in anger and he took a step closer to his father. “Do not yell at her.”
“Now, Nicky, just calm down—” Alena said.
“I will not calm down!” Spittle flew from Santa’s mouth. “You brought a tabloid journalist to the North Pole! What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I had no choice. There was a huge snowstorm in Barrows. I couldn’t leave her behind. It was too dangerous—”
“Too dangerous?” his father bellowed. “What could be more dangerous than inviting a tenacious underhanded reporter into Glasdorf?”
Sven felt Andi poke her head out. “Hey! That’s not fair. Yes, I’m tenacious. But I’m not underhanded. And I promised Sven not to write the story.”