by Jule McBride
“Okay.” Cyn sighed warily. “Go ahead.”
He felt his heart drop to his feet. Did this mean Cyn would eventually be willing to let him into her life, too? “Amanda?”
“If I gotta go to jail, do I meet my daddy?” Amanda whispered.
Santa winced. “Amanda, this is going to be confusing, but I want to tell you something very important.” How am I going to tell her this?
“Listen to Santa,” Cyn said softly.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Analise and Paxton nearby, urging him on. Cyn’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. She squeezed, in support. Amanda stared at him intently and his heart started to pound. “This is going to be a little confusing.”
Amanda’s eyes looked murderous. “You said that, Santa Claus.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Cyn squeezed his shoulder harder. Hell, just say it. “I’m your daddy, honey.”
Amanda looked nonplussed.
“I used to be a policeman,” Santa continued. “That’s what I was when I first met your mother.” He watched for a reaction, but Amanda looked baffled. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t know where he was headed with this, either. “I was working undercover, so your mother never really knew my real name. She thought my name was Jake Jackson.”
Amanda’s eyes widened.
“I’m your daddy,” he said again.
“You’re my daddy?” she asked in astonishment.
“That’s the main point,” Santa conceded. Amanda wrenched around in his arms and stared at Cyn.
“It’s true, Amanda.” Glistening tears caught in Cyn’s lashes. “He really is.”
Amanda’s mouth formed a round, perfect O. She turned around again and stared at Santa, as if she’d never seen him before. “When I went to Mr. Mor’sey’s, you got married and had a wedding?” she asked slowly.
Santa was beginning to feel as if he were going to collapse. He glanced at Cyn, who averted her gaze. “No,” he said.
“So, you gotta get a wedding now?”
His throat was so dry it was beginning to ache. “I suppose we could,” he said gently.
Amanda wiggled in his lap. “You gotta, to be a daddy.”
When Cyn looked at him, he wished he could read her mind. Tears shimmered in her eyes, as if she might start sobbing. Her lips were twitching, almost as if she might laugh. Her eyes had widened in surprise. He was a master at reading people, but he couldn’t have second-guessed her if his life depended on it. And maybe it did, he suddenly thought.
Santa became conscious of the fact that they were in a corner of a crowded toy store. People milled around them, casting curious glances their way. Even so, they remained a blur. He’d found his inner circle—his family. He belonged with Cyn and Amanda. Yeah, he thought, suddenly Christmas doesn’t seem so lonely, after all. “Cyn?”
She looked as if she’d guessed what he was about to say, but couldn’t quite believe it. “What?”
“Will you marry me?”
She gasped. “Are you serious, Santa?”
“He’s serious, Mommy.” A pleading tone crept into Amanda’s voice. “I can tell.”
“Marriage is a lifelong commitment,” she murmured, as if that might not have crossed his mind.
Was Cyn going to turn him down? Somehow he managed to smile. “That’s the general idea.”
Amanda tugged on his sleeve. “If we get married, do we all live in our house?”
He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving Cyn’s. “We do.”
“Cyn!” Bob wailed. “There are a hundred kids downstairs!”
Santa glanced toward Bob. He was hovering nearby, holding two pillows and a belt. Santa sighed and looked at Cyn again. “I’d tell you to think it over, but I don’t really want to wait until tomorrow.”
“But who could say no on Christmas?” Cyn whispered.
“Exactly,” Santa returned.
“It’s not that I don’t want—” She squirmed in the armchair, straightening her posture. “I mean, I do want to marry you. It’s just—so many things have happened. I haven’t really thought too much...”
He squinted at her. “But you want to marry me?”
“Oh, yes.” She sounded shocked.
Amanda flung her arms around his neck. “You’re my daddy!”
“She just said yes!” Bob exclaimed. Amanda scurried to the floor as Bob gripped Santa’s elbow and jerked him to his feet. Cyn rose gracefully from the armchair. She was smiling, even though her eyes were misty. If she’d really said yes, it was the most convoluted yes he’d ever heard, he thought.
“I just said I was going to marry you, Santa,” Cyn said, huskily. “Aren’t you going to kiss me or something?” She reached across the space that separated them and gave him one of her trademark pokes in the chest. “Scared, Santa?”
“Oh, terrified,” he drawled, catching her finger. He pulled her close, his lips hovering above hers.
“You’re not really, are you?” she asked, snuggling against his chest.
“Me? Never.” His lips grazed hers as he spoke and his arms tightened around her waist. “You want to know why?”
“Why?” she returned raspily.
“Remember that gut feeling I was telling you about?”
She gazed deeply into his eyes. “The one that’s never wrong?”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve got it right now.”
“Mind telling me what it’s saying?” Cyn murmured.
“That you’re a sure thing, Mrs. Santa Claus.” She smiled against his lips when he kissed her, just the way he meant to keep her smiling for the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
Sunday, December 25, 1994
“Get up.”
Santa bit back a smile and kept his eyes squeezed shut. He’d meant to return to the guest room but had fallen asleep in Cyn’s arms. Not that Amanda cared. She was now wetting her fingers, presumably by sticking them in her mouth, and then repeatedly wiggling them in his ears. When he suddenly opened his eyes, catching her in the act, she giggled naughtily. He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Amanda.”
His daughter hovered over him. “You gotta get up, so maybe it will be,” she crooned. Santa glanced down at his bride-to-be, who nuzzled against his shoulder and opened her eyes.
Cyn squinted at him, then at Amanda. Was it really Christmas morning? she wondered. And was she really lying here with Santa? It all seemed like a dream. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured.
“Santa came,” Amanda announced. She shifted from one foot to another in excitement, and fidgeted with her gown, tugging the front of it. “I know, ‘cause he ate those cookies we left on the stool by the chimney.”
Somehow Santa managed not to smile. They’d been chocolate chip. His favorite. “Why don’t you go sit on the sofa? And your mom and I will be out in a minute.”
Amanda bugged her eyes and pursed her lips, in an exaggerated show of pique. “Don’t be a fem’nist.”
Santa arched a brow.
Cyn giggled, feeling comfortably cozy nestled against Santa’s rock-hard chest. “She means an annoyance, remember?”
“Ah.” Santa grinned. “Your mother and I may be feminists, but the sooner you go, Amanda, the sooner we get up.”
Amanda flew from the room. Over her shoulder, she called, “Okay, but hurry.”
Once she was gone, Cyn squirmed upward and kissed Santa, still not quite believing she’d said she would marry him. Not that she had reservations. All she was mulling over was the date. She grinned. “Since you’re such a feminist, Santa, why don’t you go start my shower?”
He chuckled. “I’ll even wash your nooks and crannies.”
Cyn’s whole left side turned a little colder when he rose from the bed. She rolled to her stomach, so she could soak up the warmth from where he’d lain. “Santa,” she murmured sleepily. She told herself she had to get up, but shut her eyes and drifted for a moment. She just felt too cozy for a shower, even if it was warm.
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sp; It was thinking about Santa in the shower that finally got her moving. Just as she dragged herself into the bathroom, he emerged. “Hmm,” she said. “Stark naked and dripping wet. It sure looks like I got what I wanted for Christmas.”
He laughed and grabbed her, hugging her tight, thinking he had a whole lot more to give. “Just wait till I put that bow on my head.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, leaping back, just as the water from his dripping hair splashed her cheeks. She realized her gown had soaked clear through, and that they were standing in a puddle.
He grinned, hauled her into his arms again and playfully swatted her backside. His hand lingered for a moment, grabbing a palmful of her soft flesh. “Last one to the Christmas tree’s a rotten egg,” he said as she slipped by him, pulling off her gown. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Cyn really was magnificent. When she coyly tossed her gown at him, he caught it. Even though she snapped the curtain across the rod and disappeared, he remained on the other side for a moment, smiling.
Then he went into overdrive. By the time Analise and Paxton rang the bell, Amanda was dressed and breakfast was in the oven. Usually Cyn made a full-scale brunch, but this year, she hadn’t had time. The previous night, before they’d put out the remainder of Amanda’s gifts and stuffed the stockings, the two of them had picked up scones, beignets, bagels and fruit. They’d made an omelet casserole from a recipe he’d found in one of her cookbooks. And it had been his first taste of relaxed, domestic bliss.
“Merry Christmas!” he called, emerging from the kitchen and heading down the hallway.
“Merry Christmas!” Paxton boomed.
“Morning, son-in-law.” Analise hugged him and planted a smack on his cheek just as Paxton clapped a hand on his shoulder.
From her doorway, Cyn took in the scene. It was the homiest she’d seen in a long time. Her parents were back together. Apparently Evan had manipulatively tried to drive a wedge between them. And because her parents had their differences at the time, it had worked. Paxton had explained the whole story about Santa’s past to Analise, too.
Where Analise didn’t believe in keeping secrets and would have accepted Jake Jackson as Amanda’s father—jewel thief and all—Paxton had wanted to protect Cyn. Later, thinking his lies about Cyn’s marriage to Harry were the reason Analise had left, Paxton had done what he could to track down Jake. Instead, he’d found Anton Santa. Of course, Paxton had known Cyn wouldn’t take kindly to the truth...at first. So, when the opportunity arose, he’d decided to both protect Amanda and play matchmaker. He’d hired Santa. And the rest was now history.
They were together again. A family. As her soon-to-be husband fiddled with the CD player, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” began to play. Cyn grinned at Amanda, who was standing in front of the package-laden tree, with her hands on her hips. She was wearing her new appliquéd sweatshirt and, for once, it wasn’t on backward. Santa Claus was in front, just the way he was supposed to be. Analise was madly snapping pictures.
“Mommy! Can I open them now?”
Analise and Paxton headed for the sofa, and Santa placed a cup of hot coffee in Cyn’s hand. “Sure, honey.” She’d nearly reached the sofa herself when Santa pulled her into an armchair and onto his lap. “My coffee,” she murmured as it splashed.
“That’s what saucers are for,” he returned absently, his gaze riveted on Amanda. The sound of tearing wrapping paper filled the room, and the first bow flew through the air.
The adults sipped their coffee, snapped photos and listened to carols, while Amanda gasped and oohed and aahed. When she’d opened half her presents, Cyn noticed Amanda stacking some of them by the front door. “Honey, why are you carrying them over there?”
Amanda whirled around. “I’m gonna give lots of them to that Harrison House where we Christmas caroled,” she said breathlessly. “Just like in our story.”
Santa glanced from Amanda to Cyn and back again. It was such a sweet thing to do. But didn’t his daughter want her toys? Just because the girl in Little Amanda’s Perfect Christmas gave her gifts away didn’t mean his Amanda needed to do so. “You don’t have to,” he reminded.
Amanda charged toward him and Cyn. “I got what I want.” She giggled, wet her fingers again and stuck them in his ear.
“You did?” he asked in surprise, suddenly realizing he’d left his present for her in the guest room.
“A daddy for Christmas!” she squealed. She hopped up, kissed him on the cheek, then ran back to the tree, just as Analise snapped another picture.
Cyn chuckled. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Your present’s in my room, Santa.”
He rubbed her hip. “You better go get it,” he drawled. “Or else.”
As soon as Cyn hopped off his lap, Santa rose and headed for the guest room. He and Cyn emerged at the same time, and within seconds they were ensconced in the chair again.
“Is that for me, Daddy?” Amanda asked, eyeing the three-foot-tall box in front of the armchair.
“Sure is,” he said as she walked over slowly and plopped down in front of it.
“But first, you gotta do this.” Amanda nervously handed Santa a flat, square box.
He smiled and gingerly opened his gift. When he saw it, he had to fight back a belly laugh. He should have known what she’d get him. It was an eight-by-ten green frame, with a red mat. Inside, was a glamour photograph of Amanda. Her dress was slinky, her hair was topped by a rhinestone tiara, and she had on enough makeup that she could have passed for thirty.
“She insisted we go for the glamour shot,” Cyn whispered.
“I’m a knockout,” Amanda announced. Even though she’d seen the picture before, she looked stunned at seeing herself so dolled up.
“You sure are,” he said with a chuckle. He knew it wasn’t in his best interest to tell his little knockout that he loved her just the way she was. Nevertheless, his fingers curled possessively around the frame, and he sighed, already dreading her teen years. No doubt, he’d be running off her countless suitors with his shotgun.
“Why don’t you open yours, sweetheart?” he asked. This time, Amanda unwrapped slowly, running her small fingers beneath the paper folds and disengaging the tape. She solemnly folded the wrapping neatly when she was finished, too. Cyn leaned and helped her with the cardboard lid.
“Oh, Daddy!” Amanda murmured in awe, scrambling onto a footstool and staring inside.
Santa leaned around Cyn and pulled the gift from the box. It was a hand carved, delicately painted nutcracker soldier that was as tall as Amanda. Santa realized his daughter was staring at him with wide-eyed wonder, as if he’d discovered her innermost secrets. She gasped. “When I grow up, I was gonna get me a prince.” She averted her gaze and stared into the nutcracker’s eyes. “How’d you find out?”
“Just a lucky guess,” he said softly.
Amanda inched toward the armchair, stood on her tiptoes again and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled as Amanda seated herself next to her nutcracker.
“Analise,” Paxton said. He sounded nearly as solemn as Amanda as he placed a box in his wife’s hands.
“I bet I know what this is,” she whispered happily, slowly opening the gift. Inside was a black velvet jeweler’s box. Analise snapped open the lid and held up the contents for all to see. Sure enough, it was another red and green link for her lucky Christmas necklace.
She smiled at everyone. “Christmas, our wedding anniversary, and an engagement all rolled into one.”
“It could have happened sooner if Paxton had just told me the truth when I asked him,” Santa chided. He winked at Paxton.
“For all I knew at that point, you would have been on the next plane out of town!” Paxton chuckled.
Analise hugged her husband and reached into the pocketbook at her feet. She handed him a tiny box.
“Cuff links!” he exclaimed after a moment. “I’ve been such a mess without you, darling.”
&
nbsp; “But I’m back now,” Analise whispered as he kissed her.
“For good?” Paxton asked.
“For good,” Analise returned.
“Well, aren’t you going to open it, Santa?” Cyn asked, poking Santa’s chest. While he was watching Analise and Paxton, she’d surreptitiously put his gift in the very lap where she now found herself squirming. Santa glanced down.
“This looks promising.” He picked up the small box, then gazed into her eyes.
Cyn smiled and wiggled her brows. She felt her heart beat double time as she watched him open her little package. The second she’d seen it, she’d known it was the perfect thing.
“A pocket watch.” He gazed downward, feeling the heavy weight of the gold in his palm.
“I had it engraved yesterday,” Cyn nearly whispered.
Santa unlatched it, his eyes roving over the tiny cursive letters of the inscription. “For My Husband,” he read aloud. “In Memory Of The Time We’ve Lost—In Happiness For The Future We’ve Found.” His voice suddenly caught. “Love Cynthia.”
His hand closed tightly around it; he was still holding it when he handed Cyn her gift. “This looks pretty promising, too,” she said huskily. Somehow Santa found it difficult to smile. He realized Cyn’s hands were shaking.
“Tiffany’s—” She stared into her lap and laid the shining gold wrapping paper aside. It had been days since she’d seen Santa inside Tiffany’s. Had he already decided to ask her to marry him? No. It couldn’t be a ring. She turned in Santa’s lap and gazed into his eyes.
“Open it,” he said.
“Open it, Mommy,” Amanda whispered.
Cyn swallowed around the lump in her throat. He was thinking about proposing before yesterday afternoon. But then, I’ve been thinking about marrying him since the day I was born. With trembling fingers, she managed to open the box, then the jeweler’s box inside.
“It’s lovely.” She cocked her head and gazed at her engagement ring. She was barely conscious of the fact that Amanda was now standing, and that Paxton and Analise were craning their necks. “Somehow, it looks like me,” she murmured as Santa lifted it and nestled it on her finger. “Guess this makes it official?”