Red Hot Santa

by Cherry Adair

  “Not necessary,” he said. “I only broke a few rules. Nothing to get your panty hose in a twist. I need you to call in the boys in blue. I’ve got two addresses for trafficking. If they move fast and they’re smart, they can catch some scum and set some girls free.”

  “You know I could fire you for not sticking to the assignment.”

  “I took a little side trip. That’s all,” he said, playing down his efforts to locate Christine.

  “She talked you into helping her find her friend, didn’t she?” Roz asked.

  Rick raked a hand through his hair. Hilary was a huge complication in more ways than one. “No time to hash that out. Miss Winfree’s friend has apparently been beaten and dumped on the side of the road.”

  The silence on the other end of the line brimmed with deathly anger. “Give me the coordinates.”

  Rick gave them to her.

  “I could fire you,” she said.

  “But you won’t because I’m good at what I do,” he returned.

  “True,” she said. “I could dock your pay instead.”

  Rick saw the upgraded GPS system for his yacht disappearing before his eyes. “Have a heart. It’s Christmas.”

  “Or I could just take you off my cookie list.”

  “Not that,” he said, alarm rushing through him. “Not the cookies. I don’t get home-cooked anything these days. Don’t take away the cookies.”

  Roz laughed. “It’s good to know your Achilles’ heel.”

  He shifted as his glance caught on the sight of the high heels Hilary had kicked aside. Her silky legs were spread slightly apart as if she didn’t realize he could see almost to the tops of her thighs. The inviting sight distracted him and he forced himself to look out the window. “I’ve had enough of heels for a while.”

  “What do you mean?” Roz asked.

  “I’ll tell you another time. You’ve got some calls to make.”

  “And you’re delivering a package to California,” Roz said firmly.

  “Exactly,” Rick said, feeling Hilary’s curious gaze. “Till later. Thanks, Roz.”

  “You’re welcome. Just deliver the package. Bye for now.”

  He turned off the phone.

  “Who was that?”

  “The manager of the Agency. She’s got the kind of contacts to get people moving even at this time of year. Police should be swarming this route within an hour.”

  Hilary’s face turned solemn. “But it may not be enough,” she said.

  “True. I have to take you home by Christmas,” he reminded her.

  She crossed her arms around her waist. “I don’t want to leave until Christine is found.”

  “Everything that can be done is being done.”

  She studied him curiously. “Do you have some kind of issues with dominating women?”

  “Oh great, now I get a free analysis. Not until I met you,” he muttered in a mocking voice. “Señora was determined that you would be punished. I chose the least of the evils.”

  “Because it was your job to keep me safe,” she said, studying him.

  He stared at her for a long moment and felt something strange happen in his stomach. “Right. It was my job.”

  She moved closer to him. “Thanks,” she whispered, and pressed a kiss against his jaw. “How’s your head?”

  “I’m fine. It’s no big deal,” he said, caught off guard by the quick caress but not moving away. He liked the way she smelled. He liked the way she felt.

  She lifted her hand to his head and she winced. “That’s a huge knot.”

  “It probably looks worse than it is,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” Hilary said, lightly running her fingertips over the swollen place. “It’s what my mom used to call a goose egg. I bet you wish you’d never taken this job.”

  “Maybe,” he said, thinking the soft touch of her hands felt good. He closed his eyes. “Or I could have already dumped you off and been on my yacht for my Caribbean Christmas.”

  “You have a yacht?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh,” he murmured.

  “Caribbean Christmas,” she echoed. “That sounds wonderful. Were you taking any family with you?”

  “No family. I never met my father and my mother died of cancer a few years ago,” he said, feeling a pinch at the memory of his mother. “Just me and my yacht.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  “Yeah. She wasn’t much for going to the doctor, and they caught it too late.” He paused, struggling with the sense of helplessness he felt whenever he thought about his mother. “She didn’t tell me before she died. I nagged her to go see the doctor and was ready to take her in myself.” He sighed. “She left a note for me to read after she died, telling me she hadn’t wanted me to worry. It was just her time.”

  “Bet you wanted to wring her neck if she hadn’t already passed away,” Hilary said.

  A dry chuckle rose from his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

  “So you kinda knew how I felt about wanting to try to find Christine, didn’t you?”

  He opened his eyes. “Yeah, I did,” he said because he’d struggled with his guilt for years.

  “What did you do before you worked for this private agency?”

  “A specialized branch of law enforcement,” he said, figuring that was vague enough. “I was invited to join the Agency when I was put on probation by my administrator. The rules frustrated the hell out of me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she said more than asked with gentle amusement in her voice. “How much trouble are you in because of me now?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Exactly what can’t you handle?” she asked.

  He liked the kick of challenge mixing with admiration in her eyes. “You can be damn sure I won’t be asking for any assignments that include a dominatrix like Señora Catalina.”

  “So you’re not into bondage or S&M?” she asked.

  The self-consciousness in her voice amused him. “No more than the average man,” he said. “What about you?”

  “Not at all,” she said and was silent. “What do you mean ‘no more than the average man’?”

  His amusement grew. “I mean there’s a certain thrill in the idea of being in charge and taking a woman to a new high, or reversing the situation. The pleasure is what we do with out bodies together.” He closed his eyes and an image of Hilary, naked in heels, filled his mind. He argued with the mental picture. She wasn’t the type to dress for a man. She would be one uptight little princess in bed, he told himself, and the definition of a clinging vine. Not his kind of woman.

  Chapter Six

  BY THE TIME THE LIMO CROSSED INTO THE AREA WHERE Christine was most likely located, it was dark and late. Although Hilary was starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep, she couldn’t imagine accepting Rick’s offer of a nice hotel bed when she knew Christine was still out there.

  Using information from Rick’s agency, they stopped at a crossing where several police cars were parked. In the distance, Hilary saw flashlights alongside the road.

  “It’s going to be very difficult to find her at night,” Rick warned her. “The only thing we’ve got going for us is a full moon.”

  “That’s enough for me,” Hilary said. “But I want to change into some jeans and a sweatshirt and some different shoes.”

  Rick glanced at her red heels and the vision of her naked in those heels rolled through his mind again. “Good idea,” he muttered. “I’ll get your suitcase out of the trunk.”

  “I’ll give you some room to change,” he said when he returned with her suitcase and started to close the door.

  “Wait,” she said. “If you want to take a break, maybe Jensen could stay with me,” she suggested, then thought of what she’d done to the man’s poor eye. “If he’s not afraid of me.”

  Rick gave a rough chuckle. “Nice of you to be concerned,” he said. “But I’m okay. You’re stuck with me until Christmas in Californ
ia.”

  She felt a twist at the prospect of not seeing him anymore and immediately told herself that was a bizarre thought. Surely due to lack of sleep and the tension of the situation. She turned her focus to her suitcase. Hilary felt as if she’d been given a treasure chest. They’d been in such a hurry once they’d left Señora Catalina’s house, they’d made only one pit stop and Hilary had forgotten to ask for her suitcase.

  Thrilled to ditch her slutty Santa suit once and for all, she stripped it off along with the strapless underwire push-up bra. She decided to skip wearing a bra and pulled on a T-shirt, sweatshirt, and jeans. She’d almost swear her feet began to sing when she pulled on a pair of snuggly socks and tennis shoes. Pushing open the limo door, she stepped outside, where Rick and Jensen talked with a man in a uniform.

  She walked toward them. “Where do we start?”

  All three men looked at her. “We were just discussing that,” Rick said. “We’re going to drive farther down the road and search there.”

  Hilary glanced at the flat horizon and wondered how bad Christine’s injuries were. She wondered how long she’d been left. She wondered if they could possibly find her, and if they did, would she be alive.

  Rick searched the scrubby Texas ground for signs of Christine at the same time that he kept an eye on Hilary. She walked for hours without one complaint. When she periodically called out for Christine, the pleading sound in her voice did something to him.

  The first sliver of dawn broke and he saw Hilary begin to weave. She stumbled and he caught her against him. “Okay, sweetheart, I think you’re about done.”

  “No, no,” she protested. “I just need some coffee.”

  “Hilary, there comes a point of diminishing returns.”

  “I’m not ready to give up,” she said, her voice breaking. She sobbed and the sound wrenched at him. “I don’t want them to stop looking. I have to stay—”

  “Whoa,” he said, turning her in his arms, surprised at the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not saying we stop searching. I’m saying you need to take a break.”

  She closed her eyes and buried her head in his chest. “Do you think we’ll find her? Do you think she’s alive?”

  He lifted his hand to touch her and caught himself. The urge to comfort her overwhelmed and shocked him at the same time. He held his hand in midair for several seconds. Despite her lack of resources, she’d acted fearless from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Now she was afraid. He could hear it in her voice, feel it in her body.

  He lowered his hand to her head and cradled it against him. “We’ve still got a shot, and it helps that we aren’t the only ones looking for her.”

  She sighed into his chest and it gave him the oddest pleasure-pain he could remember feeling.

  Pulling back slightly, she swiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Sorry. Wuss moment. It won’t happen again.”

  “It will if you don’t get something to eat and take a breather. A shower and a nap would do you a world of good.”

  She shook her head. “Coffee and food, but I can do without sleep.” She shot him a half smile. “You forget I’m a professional student, so I’m an expert at dealing with sleep deprivation to study and finish papers.”

  He frowned in frustration. “The problem with you professional students is that you might be able to stay awake, but you’re used to sitting on that gorgeous rear end while you do it.”

  She blinked. “I didn’t know you’d noticed my rear end.”

  “I’m trained to notice everything.”

  “So it’s nothing personal,” she said.

  “Right,” he said, but his gut told him that was a lie.

  He called Jensen to bring the limo and it arrived within a few moments. After helping Hilary inside, he instructed Jensen to head back to the main road where he’d seen a couple of fast-food restaurants.

  Hilary looked so tired he feared she would collapse if she remained standing, so he stuffed her in one of the booths and ordered extra coffee and juice along with everything on the breakfast menu.

  “Do you always order everything?” Jensen asked, helping to carry the food to the booth.

  “I didn’t know what she would want. I figure you and I can take the leftovers.”

  Jensen shrugged. “Works for me. Does this woman ever sleep?”

  “I think she’s getting close,” Rick said, glancing at her and shaking his head. “She looks like a zombie.”

  He slid into the booth and set the food in front of her. “What’s your pleasure? Biscuits, eggs, pancakes, or breakfast burritos?”

  “No to the breakfast burrito,” she said, reaching for the coffee with an unsteady hand. “Yes to everything else.”

  Swallowing an oath, Rick saw a disaster waiting to happen. “Let me help with that. Cream or sugar?”

  “Both,” she said, pulling her hand back and closing her eyes.

  He fixed her coffee and moved beside her on her bench, lifting the cup to her lips. “Here, drink a little.”

  Hilary took a few sips. Rick felt Jensen’s curious gaze and felt a ripple of discomfort. Jensen was still in training and this assignment had been unusual from the get-go. He held the cup for Hilary to drink more and fished in his pocket for his wallet. “Take ten and get whatever you want.”

  Jensen nodded slowly. “Okay. You want me to get something for you?”

  “No, the burrito is mine.”

  Jensen left and Hilary met Rick’s gaze. “Steel-plated stomach to go with the steel-plated muscles?” she said with a little smile.

  He felt a ridiculous relief at the sight of that smile. “Yeah. Give me an antacid and I can handle just about anything.”

  “Even me,” she said, and unwrapped a biscuit.

  The odds were better with the breakfast burrito, he thought. He watched in amazement as she devoured the biscuit and eggs and plowed through most of the pancakes. She downed her coffee and juice and finally paused, meeting his gaze.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

  “Just wondering where it all goes,” he said, cocking his head toward the food wrappers.

  “I have the metabolism of a hamster running in a wheel that never stops.”

  “High-strung,” he said, sipping his coffee.

  She made a face. “I wouldn’t have described it that way. I—”

  His cell phone beeped and she broke off. He pushed the button to answer the call and lifted it to his ear. “Rick Santana.”

  “This is Sergeant Cox,” a man said. “Our search team has located Christine Gordon.”

  “What’s her condition?” he asked, feeling Hilary’s gaze searching his face.

  “Serious,” Sergeant Cox said. “She has multiple fractures and is dehydrated. She’s being taken to County Hospital.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Before he could punch the off button, Hilary pulled on his arm. “What’d he say? Is she okay? Where is she?”

  “She’s at County Hospital and she’s in bad shape, but she’s alive.”

  Hilary shot to her feet. “Oh, thank God. We have to go right now.”

  He rose. “I’ll take you, but she’s in serious condition. They probably won’t let you see her.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, gathering the food wrappers and tossing them into the trash. She grabbed Rick’s hand and dragged him toward the door. “Come on, Jensen,” she called to the driver who was sipping his coffee as he sat at the other end of the room and watched a television hung in the corner. “Get the lead out.”

  Jensen shot Rick a questioning glance and Rick nodded. “They found Christine.”

  “Wow,” Jensen said, and immediately rose. “Tell me where you want to go. Is she alive?”

  “Yes,” Hilary said.

  “For now,” Rick muttered under his breath. “County Hospital,” he added.

  They left the fast-food restaurant and climbed into the limo. Hilary clung to
his hand. He wondered if she realized it.

  Biting her lip, she turned to him. “I have to thank you for this. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t agreed to help me.”

  “I didn’t find her. The search team did.”

  “But you stuck with me,” she said. “And you got the information from Señora Catalina. And you broke Agency rules to do it.”

  He felt a mixture of warmth and discomfort at the fierce gratitude he saw in her eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. I told you she’s in bad shape.”

  “She’s gonna be okay,” Hilary said. “I feel it. I know it.” She dropped his hand and put both her arms around his neck. “She wouldn’t have been found without you. Thank you so much.”

  With Hilary pressed against him like there was no tomorrow, Rick felt an odd lump in the back of his throat. He could feel the honest relief in her hug and a swarm of emotions buzzed through him, bouncing against doors he’d kept shut for years. He couldn’t resist the urge to lift one of his hands to her head and her hair felt silky and sweet in his fingers.

  She lifted her head slightly and met his gaze. At that moment, he could have drowned in her eyes. Her expression gradually changed from grateful to something that combined feminine curiosity and hunger for more than pancakes. He felt her gaze hover on his mouth and she lifted her lips to his, pressing, searching, asking.

  A stinging surge of arousal whizzed through him, taking him by surprise. Off guard, he acted on instinct, taking her mouth more fully, tasting the flash-fire edge of her passion. His heart pounding in his chest, he felt the burn for more.

  But he knew he shouldn’t even have this much. He broke away. “Whoa,” he said, and the dark wanting in her eyes felt like a soft seductive stroke. He sucked in a quick breath of air to clear his head.

  “Why whoa?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “We—uh—” He cleared his throat. “I’ve already broken enough Agency rules. I don’t need to push this one.”

  “What? No kissing the client?” Her mouth tilted in a sexy half smile. “No problem. I’ll just kiss you instead.”

  She moved toward him and he stopped her by gently holding her shoulders in place. He shook his head. “You’re confused. You’re grateful. You’re redirecting your emotions. Trust me. As soon as I leave you with your parents tomorrow, you’ll forget me by the new year.”