by Jill Shalvis
“A reminder of what we had.”
“What we had was a fling,” Sandy said. “A very hot, wonderful fling, but then you left.”
“I had contractual obligations,” he reminded her. “And you’re not remembering all of it.” He brushed his lips across hers. “We said we’d keep in touch because we had something.”
“Chemistry.”
“Yeah. Let me remind you just how much.”
This kiss was deeper, hotter, and far more intimate as he opened his mouth over hers. She told herself to shove him away, to regain some badly needed dignity, but her brain sent the wrong message to her fingertips, and she hauled him closer instead, pushing herself against him. He was hard. Everywhere. She was on the edge, and he’d barely touched her. This did not say much about her will to resist him.
And truth be told, she had just about forgotten why she wanted to.
Because he made you fall for him—hard—and then he walked his sweet ass right out of your life. It hit her like a bucket of cold water. She unfisted her hands from his shirt and gave him a push.
Logan stepped back and looked at her from beneath his sexy, hooded eyes.
“Don’t do that,” she said, annoyed at her own breathlessness.
“Don’t kiss you?”
“Don’t kiss me. Don’t touch me.”
He smiled. “Because you can’t resist me?”
His smile weakened her knees. She gave him another push and then slid into her car again. “And don’t do that either.”
“Talk?”
“Smile.” She turned the key and started her car. “In fact, don’t anything in my presence. Go back to your bigger-than-life world, where women drape their panties on your hotel room doorknob and scream your name and want to be with you.”
“I don’t want to be with any of them. It’s Christmas, and I want to be with you.”
But could she really believe that? “You should go home, Logan.”
He was quiet, too quiet, and she made the mistake of looking at him. He was standing there all leanly muscled and gorgeous by moonlight. “That’s the thing, Sandy,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I am home.”
Until the season starts up again, she told herself, and revved her engine. “Stand back. I don’t want to run over your foot.”
Not a stupid man by any means, he took a step back, but his eyes never left hers. “I’m going to prove myself to you, Sandy.”
Afraid of him doing just that, she hit the gas and drove off into the night. Don’t look back…
She totally looked back. Logan was standing in the middle of the lot watching her go.
Sandy spent the evening staring at her bedroom ceiling, her body bereft and achy, like she’d betrayed it by not taking Logan home with her.
Sleep, she ordered herself. Concentrate.
But the truth was, she hadn’t been able to concentrate in months. Sleeping through the night had become a forgotten luxury. Instead, she’d toss and turn, remembering the feel of Logan’s hands and mouth on her body, and how he’d made her burn for him…
You could be burning right now, instead of lying here staring at the ceiling.
Ignoring herself, she gave up trying to sleep and showered, then drove to work. She pulled into the lot and blinked in surprise. The old ’72 Buick was gone, replaced by a… BMW.
She stared at it, then strode into the building. “Where’s the Buick?” she asked Kali, the front-desk clerk.
Kali was twenty-four, an avid snowboarder who supported her habit with this minimum-wage position, along with her minimum experience. She was quivering with excitement. “I can’t tell you.”
“Excuse me?”
Kali flipped her cute blond ponytail to the left and then the right, and when she’d satisfied herself that no one was looking or listening, she leaned close and whispered, “He paid me not to tell you.”
Sandy already knew damn well who “he” was, but she asked anyway. “Who paid you not to tell me what?”
“Well, not me exactly…” Kali swiveled her chair and pointed to the side counter, which was set up with three large money jars, each for a different charity, the Humane Society, the senior center, and disabled athletes.
Each was full. Shocked, Sandy moved closer. “Oh my God.” Each jar had been crammed with money.
“And those aren’t just one-dollar bills, either,” Kali said in an awed whisper. “Those are twenties. He said he’d have done it in hundreds, but the bank wasn’t prepared to give him that many hundreds on such short notice.”
Sandy’s eyes narrowed as a bad feeling came over her. “He.”
Kali smiled. “The cutest guy in the history of all cute guys.” From her desk, she pulled out last week’s People magazine and opened it to the Star Track page. There was Logan in full color in his racing gear, hot, sweaty, gorgeous… holding up a trophy and giving the grin that never failed to melt her panties.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no… this was bad. “Logan,” she hissed through her teeth.
“Yes!” Kali beamed at her. “Got it in one.”
He was just trying to impress her with the charity jars, she told herself. That was all. And he had more money than God himself, so it wasn’t like he’d done that much.
Except stay up all night and get the old Buick piece-of-shit towed away.
Replace it with his BMW.
Go to the bank and clean them out of twenties.
And stuff the charity money jars full. “Kali, you have one thing to do today.”
“What’s that?”
“Find me a Santa.”
Sandy was head deep in a mountain of paperwork at noon when sushi was delivered.
From a little place in Seattle, her favorite.
She eyed the small card that had come with it. She blew out a breath and opened it.
Sandy,
Enjoy.
Love, Logan.
Love? He wouldn’t know love if it bit him on his very fine ass. But then again, she admitted with a soft sigh, she wasn’t sure she would know love either. Mostly she preferred books or work over men, not that they were beating down her door.
All she knew was that Logan was back in town—for how long she had no idea. She couldn’t imagine it would be more than a few days—and she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but think of him.
She eyed the sushi, and her mouth watered. Okay, maybe she could eat, just a little…
Jax Cullen, town mayor and longtime friend, walked by her office and stopped, brows up. “You went out for sushi and didn’t ask me?”
Jax was leanly muscled and broad shouldered and… well, gorgeous. They’d almost had a thing once, a very long time ago, but they’d settled for a friendship, a comfortable one. “I didn’t go out,” she said. “This was delivered.”
“You have a secret admirer?”
“Not so secret. Logan’s back in town.”
Jax leaned against the doorway, settling in. “You going to admit to him that you’ve been pouting since he left?”
“Hell, no,” Sandy said.
“You going to admit to him that you’ve always wanted to stop being a small-town homebody and travel the world?”
“Hell, no.”
Jax shook his head. “Are you going to admit anything?”
“Would you?”
Jax smiled at that. “You suggesting I out-stubborn you?”
“I’m not suggesting,” she said. “I’m flat out saying it.”
“Yeah.” Jax nodded with a laugh. “Maybe. But I’ve changed my ways, and now I’ve got the woman I want in my bed every night. Change your ways, Sandy. He might surprise you.”
She wasn’t ready to go there. “Don’t let the door hit you on your very fine ass,” she said.
He laughed again and left, and Sandy spent the afternoon at her desk, with one ear glued for Kali’s footsteps to come down the hall and tell her that she’d located a Santa replacement.
“Nothing,” Kali said at th
e end of the day.
Sandy put her pen down. “Are you telling me that there’s not one man in this entire county willing to be Santa for the kids of Lucky Harbor?”
Kali rolled her lips together. “Um. Yes. No. I mean, not exactly.”
Sandy narrowed her eyes. “Then, what exactly?”
Kali covered her face. “Okay, so there was something else he paid me to do.” She said “he” like he was the second coming. “He paid me not to find you a Santa.”
This took a full moment to compute. “So… you didn’t make the calls.”
Kali bit her lip. “He said—”
“He who?” she asked, knowing damn well who.
“Logan. The one in my People magazine.”
“I know who he is, thank you.”
“Right.” Kali giggled.
Sandy worked on not completely losing her ever-loving mind. “So what was it?”
“What was what?”
“Why weren’t you supposed to find me a Santa?” Sandy asked with what she felt was remarkable calm, even though she wasn’t calm. Not even close to calm.
“It’s a secret,” Kali said; then with a softly uttered apology, she whirled and ran off. “See you at the parade in an hour!” she yelled back.
Sandy turned and stared at the costume in the corner chair. She was wearing her favorite emerald-green wraparound dress, but that was about to change. “Great. I’m going to be merry and fat for Christmas.”
“I think we can do better than that.”
With a startled gasp, Sandy whirled to find Logan lounging in her doorway, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Logan.”
His eyes heated. “You look like a Christmas treat. Good enough to eat.”
She pointed at him. “No. No charming me, remember?”
“You said no talking, touching, kissing.” He pushed off the doorjamb and stalked her across the office. “You didn’t say anything about charming.”
Well, shit. She was in big trouble.
Chapter 4
Logan didn’t have to get any closer to Sandy to see that she was stressed, anxious, and exhausted. Poor baby needed some TLC, and he was just the man to give it to her.
“This isn’t going to work,” Sandy told him, backing away as he advanced. When she nearly tripped over her own office chair, he put his hands on her hips to hold her steady. Surprised to find her quivering beneath his touch, he softened his hold. “Sandy,” he murmured softly while brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
“You can’t charm me.” She shook her head from side to side. “You can’t.” She fisted her hands in his shirt and glared up at him, her eyes huge and wide. “I don’t have time to be charmed, Logan!”
“I know.” He ran his hands up and down her arms. “I know.”
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but having Kali not get me a Santa… There are kids out there. Kids, Logan, and they came to see Santa. So no matter what the hell you think you’re doing here playing with me, I can’t have it, not now. You’re not what I need right now.”
“I’m exactly what you need.”
She stared up at him, then dropped her head to his chest with a little moan. Because he couldn’t help himself, he stroked a hand down her slim back and brushed his cheek along her hair, loving the scent of her, the feel of her against him. “I’ll prove it,” he said.
“What?” She lifted her head and leveled him with her pretty eyes.
He slid his fingers into her hair and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. God, he’d missed the feel of her skin. The way she looked at him. How she challenged him at every turn, treating him like…
A regular guy. “I’ll prove it,” he said again. “That I’m exactly what you need.” He gestured to the Santa suit lying lifeless in her spare chair.
She stared at it, then at him. “You? But you’re a national celebrity, and you’re… gorgeous, and you have a lot of really good qualities, but sweet isn’t one of them, and—”
He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to her desk.
She abruptly stopped talking and stared at him.
Nice to know that he had that power. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and slid it out, tossing it down on his shirt.
Sandy’s mouth was open, as if maybe she needed it that way to breathe. “Um…”
He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and shoved them down, kicking them off. She took in his only item of clothing left—black knit boxers—and drew in a shaky breath. She seemed to like what she saw. Ditto. Maybe he did have a few good qualities as she’d pointed out, but if that was true, she was his best quality.
The very best.
And he couldn’t lose her.
“Logan?” she whispered, her eyes glued to his body in a way that was working for him. So was her new breathlessness.
“Toss me the Santa suit, babe.”
She didn’t move.
“Sandy?”
She nibbled on her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth, making it all plump, her eyes locked on his abs—which wasn’t even his best part. “Hmm?”
“The Santa suit.”
She blinked, then jerked her eyes to his. “You’re actually going to wear the Santa suit. For me.”
She sounded bowled over at this, so utterly shocked that he felt a tightening in his chest. Hadn’t anyone ever offered to do something nice for her? “Yeah. I’m going to wear the Santa suit.”
“It’s going to be cold on the pier. Don’t you think you should leave your clothes on?”
Yeah, he probably should have. “I was trying to make a statement.”
She shook her head, still looking bowled over. Because she wasn’t moving, he walked by her and grabbed the suit, pulling it on.
It was thick and itchy. And Christ, what was up with the fat belly? “Santa needs a gym,” he said, looking down at himself. “And a whole hell lot less carbs and fat in his diet.”
Sandy snorted, then covered her mouth, still staring at him.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Hand still clamped over her mouth, she shook her head. Then she nodded. Yes. Yes, she was laughing at him. Her eyes were sparkling. She was smiling. She was beautiful. Leaning in, he kissed her on the end of her adorable nose. “You can trust me to have your back.”
She hesitated, then nodded, but he could tell she didn’t believe him, not wholly. That was okay. He was well used to proving himself, over and over again. It was one thing he could do and do well.
Or so he hoped. Because this wasn’t a race, and it wasn’t a game. Getting Sandy to believe in him, in them, was going to be the most important thing he’d ever done.
Sandy stood at the end of the parade, watching as the crowd celebrated and the kids rushed Santa.
Logan.
He was in the hat, glasses, wig, and beard, and he’d even let her redden his nose. The costume was too short for him, but they’d stuffed the hem of the red pants into the black boots to be less noticeable. The belly was over-the-top—hell, the whole thing was over-the-top—but Logan was completely immersed into the role.
It shocked her.
He shocked her. She had the world-famous NASCAR driver wearing a Santa costume for a small town he’d never even heard of until five months ago.
He isn’t for me. She’d finally convinced herself that he was too into his career and the glitz and glam world that went with it, that he’d never be interested in making anything work with a small-town girl like herself.
But then he’d shown up.
For how long?
He glanced up and looked at her with that soft, tender, heated expression, the one that told her that she was the only woman on his mind.
Her.
When he could have had anyone. He sat on the throne at the end of the pier that had been set up for Santa, complete with a faux winter wonderland and lights and all the decorations the evening called for. As Sandy mingled and made sure the line stayed
in control and that everyone was enjoying themselves, she kept one eye on Logan. Kid after kid jumped into his lap and whispered their greatest wishes for Christmas morning.
He had a smile for each of them, and she had to admit, she couldn’t tear her eyes off of him. He was doing this, coming through for her like no one else ever had, and he was doing it with good grace and utter sweetness.
Realizing that the line had died down, she slowly walked toward him. The only part recognizable was his eyes. Eyes that tracked her approach.
He let out a slow smile. “Got a wish, little girl?”
Yes, for you to stay. “I’m a little old for wishes.”
His smile went from playful to serious. “You’re never too old for wishes.”
Chapter 5
Logan watched Sandy absorb his words and realized that she wanted to have faith in him; she wanted that badly.
But she wasn’t sure she could.
His own fault. He’d had things pretty fucking easy most of his life, and he knew it. He was spoiled, and he knew that, too. But now was the time to change, time to learn from his mistakes.
Time to work his ass off for what he wanted, for what really mattered.
And that was Sandy. She mattered. She was his.
She just didn’t know it yet.
She hadn’t had anything easy, ever. She gave so freely of herself to others, and she cared. Deeply. She wasn’t used to people noticing, but he noticed. He wanted to kiss away her worries and keep them away forever.
The crowd was gone. He gave her a “come here” crook of his finger, and she surprised him by sitting on his lap. “I can’t tell you my wish,” she said softly, hooking her arms around his neck. “Or it won’t come true.”
He would have liked to make her tell him. He could have done it too, sliding his hands under her dress until she lost herself. But he’d prefer somewhere far more private. Rising, he set her on her feet, stretching, going still when she laughed.
“You look like an old man,” she said.
“An old, fat man,” he corrected, and narrowed his eyes when she laughed again. Enjoying her amusement, he grabbed her hand. “In fact, I’m so old, you’d better take me home.” He led her up the pier to the BMW, which she stared at with open fascination. He knew for a fact that she had several speeding tickets and a few fender benders, so it was a real testament to his feelings for her when he handed her his keys.