All He Wants for Christmas

by Lisa Plumley

  Not that he intended to do anything about it. He couldn’t. He’d already sworn to himself that he wouldn’t even flirt with her. That meant that, say, putting his hand on her jeans-clad thigh, right then, was definitely off limits. Forever.

  . . . and now he couldn’t quit thinking about her thighs.

  Brilliant. He was terrible at self-control. Not that he’d ever had to exercise much of it. Jason wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he’d gotten in way over his head with this.

  Maybe this was what came of actually going inside one of his own stores. At Christmastime. With more to come and no escape possible for days. He was right to have avoided it.

  On the other hand, it wasn’t as though he could just have his way with Danielle. She was clever. She was ambitious. She was willing to call him on his bullshit, too. He respected her for that. She’d recognized right away that there was more to his visit to Kismet than Chip Larsen had let on. She was no rube.

  Inadvertently proving it, Danielle gave him an astute glance. “Now that your scandal has followed you here,” she said, “you realize that you’ve put my store at risk, right? Along with my promotion? If we don’t meet our sales targets, I’m toast.”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way. Now that he had . . . it sucked. He wasn’t sure how this problem kept getting bigger.

  But he also wasn’t willing to discuss it at length.

  “That ‘scandal’ should have died down by now.” At least talking about it obliterated the need to hide his lap with his coat. Jason opened it all the way, hoping to cool off from the tropical heat wave she’d induced on his behalf. “I don’t know why it’s keeping people’s interest. It’s just one photo.”

  “It’s ‘just one photo’ that raises a few questions about you. About your character.” Danielle braked to allow a group of workers carrying municipal holiday decorations to cross the road. Their huge, light-up jingle bells and neon ornaments bopped along in their arms, lending a quirky vintage Christmas vibe to the iced-over street they’d stopped on. “People trust you. They think of you as ‘that nice guy who brings toys to my kids.’ They don’t want to feel they’ve mislaid their trust.”

  “They haven’t mislaid their trust.” This was veering dangerously close to doubting his integrity. Again. Jason frowned. Besides . . . “I never made any promises to anyone.”

  “Maybe not outright, you didn’t.” Danielle turned a corner, then cruised down a side street lined with small houses. Most of them boasted Christmas lights strung on their eaves and lawn ornaments propped in their snowy yards. One or two also had snowmen. “But after a while, people make assumptions. You’ve been in the public eye. You’ve built charities. You’ve been on TV. Familiarity builds trust. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Maybe for some people.” Gullible people.

  “Trust leads to vulnerability,” Danielle argued. “Vulnerability leads to hurt. That’s why people are mad.”

  Huh? “You make that sound inevitable.” He waited. Her silence told him she believed it was. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “How do you know that? Are you standing in their shoes?”

  “Are we still talking about my public peccadilloes?” Jason aimed a speculative glance at her. “Or something else?”

  Like, oh, I dunno . . . your busted-up marriage, maybe?

  Her ex-husband must be a real piece of work, he decided.

  “Peccadilloes? Nice vocab, boss.”

  Nice diversionary tactic on her part. His estimation of Danielle went up another notch. Affably, Jason said, “You can thank my board of directors for my diverse vocabulary. I think they were running out of new ways to describe how wrong I was.”

  “Aha. If the board had to go over things multiple ways with you, you must be the stubborn type. Hence, your non-apology.”

  “It’s not stubbornness. It’s standing my ground.”

  “Fine. All I’m saying is, nobody likes being duped.”

  “I didn’t dupe anyone. All I did was go to a party while on vacation and get photographed in a compromising situation.”

  “Mmm-hmm. That sounds reasonable enough. I wouldn’t suggest using that as your opening salvo in your public apology, though. You sound zero percent contrite.” Sagely, she shook her head. “You think the facts are all you need here, but they’re not.”

  “I already told you—I’m not making a public apology.”

  She briefly tightened her lips, which told him Danielle thought he ought to. But Jason didn’t care. He’d already made up his mind.

  “What you need to do is address the real problem,” she told him, moving on without missing a beat. She was dogged. He’d admit that. “You need to change the way people feel about you.”

  “I don’t remember asking for advice.”

  Coolly, Danielle adjusted her knit beanie. She squinted into the rearview mirror. “Maybe you should have.”

  “Maybe I’m getting it anyway.”

  “Maybe you are.” She grinned, then turned a corner. A renovated gas station came into view, surrounded by a parking lot crammed full of cars. “Look, all I want is for you to make sure my store doesn’t turn into a battleground. I can’t afford to have the place full of noncustomers right now. This month, I need shoppers in Moosby’s, not reporters and protesters.”

  “The reporters will go away now that the meet-and-greet is over.” Now that they can’t catch me in another incriminating situation. “I already took care of the protesters.”

  “Actually . . . I saw that. It was masterful.”

  “Masterful?” It was his turn to grin—and to feel a weird, warm glow spread in his chest, too. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Keep up the good work, then.” Danielle pulled into the parking lot. She parked her car, then looked at him directly. “Do whatever you have to do to fix this problem. Okay?”

  What he had to do was make himself look perfect, Jason knew. Probably, with her smarts, Danielle realized that, too.

  “Feel free to use me to help out,” she went on as she grabbed her purse. “I’m motivated, I’m capable, and I’m well connected around here. It benefits us both if your visit to Kismet is successful, right? If I were you, I’d be working overtime to do whatever makes the Moosby’s board happy.”

  Jason blinked at her, once again surprised at her savvy. She’d sized up the situation and was meeting it head-on.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he told her. “Don’t worry.”

  Whatever else happened, it occurred to him, at least he wouldn’t have to tiptoe around Danielle’s feelings. She wasn’t just blunt; she was pragmatic, too. He liked that about her.

  Now, if only she were also ridiculously well-liked, thoroughly respected in Kismet, and capable of single-handedly renovating his image for him. Then he would be set.

  Because now he had carte blanche to use her to help him. Not that he planned to, Jason knew. But if push came to shove . . .

  Well, Danielle had volunteered to be part of his Mr. Clean image rehab, hadn’t she? That meant she knew exactly what he needed from her. She’d recognized that he wasn’t A: apologizing, so she’d moved on to strategy B: making over Jason Hamilton into a new and improved, G-rated, triple-A-approved CEO.

  “Telling me not to worry is like telling Christmas not to creep into stores the day after Halloween.” Danielle gave him a wry smile. “The only antidote is to do. So whatever you need—”

  What he needed, Jason realized in a single crazy moment, was to get closer to her. Closer, closer, nakedly closer . . .

  No. He should not be thinking about getting closer to Danielle. He should be taking his cues from her instead. She was busy strategizing how best to rehab him. He was fantasizing an under-the-mistletoe tête-à-tête. Their two different approaches only underlined the truth. Danielle Sharpe was hardworking, wholesome, generous, and kind. Jason was . . . not. Maybe, he hoped, her positive aura would rub off on him while he was in town.

  And that was as far as he w
anted to go to “use” her.

  “I won’t need you to do anything special,” Jason told her. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already done more than enough.”

  “What?” She laughed. “Of course I haven’t already done enough! We’ve barely gotten started. You haven’t even seen what I can do. Not firsthand.” She shook her head at him. “At least let me have a chance to impress you before you turn into Mr. Munificent, okay? I’m looking for a win here, not a gimme.”

  “It’s not going to be a gimme.” If what Jason suspected was accurate, morphing himself into someone family friendly enough to satisfy the media mob and his board of directors would be hard work. “It’s going to take effort, luck, and diligence.”

  It’s going to take not exploring my interest in you.

  “Effort, luck, and diligence? No problem.” Clearly undaunted, Danielle shrugged. “I’m aces at all three.”

  “You can’t be ‘aces’ at luck.” Also, he wasn’t 100 percent sure what “Mr. Munificent” meant. Her describing him that way puzzled him. Not for the first time, Jason wished he’d gotten a degree. Instead, he’d gone to work full-time for Mr. Moosby. Given his background, making a living had been more important than getting credentialed—not that he could have afforded college anyway. “It’s luck. It either happens or it doesn’t.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “That’s what I know.”

  He also knew that Danielle looked really cute with her beanie and her glasses and even her dumbass fluffy coat. When those things were mixed with her take-charge demeanor and her extrasharp mind, the combination made for an intriguing package.

  “I know that luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity,” Danielle informed him. “I make my own luck.”

  “I make my own popcorn and cranberry garland.”

  His deadpan delivery made her grin. “Ha. Nice try. Spend another hour in Kismet, and that’ll be true.”

  Jason snorted with disbelief. “Never.”

  “You keep saying that. ‘Never’ apologize. ‘Never’ admit you’re wrong. ‘Never’ pay twenty bucks for a short car ride.” Her grin flashed again. “You’ll see. In this town, cynicism doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does disagreeing with me.”

  Uh-oh. This again? “If you think I’m going to back down—”

  And apologize, he was about to say, but her telltale stubborn expression made clarifying himself unnecessary. She understood his position perfectly. She just didn’t accept it.

  Maybe he was wrong about Danielle being pragmatic.

  “I think,” she mused, “that by the time I’m through with you, you’ll do whatever I want.” Danielle nodded toward their destination. “I could have taken you anywhere. I’m taking you here to soften you up before making the rest of my moves.”

  Diligently trying not to hope that her “moves” involved performing some sort of naughty striptease for him, Jason peered through the windshield at the people coming and going from . . .

  “The Galaxy Diner?” He examined the renovated gas-station-turned-diner. He appreciated its appeal. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve experienced cheeseburgers and pie before.”

  “Not like this, you haven’t.”

  He remembered the waitress, Avery, and her friend, Amy, from his meet-and-greet at Moosby’s. “Aha. We’re not here to eat. We’re here to make sure everyone knows I’m in town.”

  “Bingo. Sooner or later, everyone comes to the Galaxy Diner.” She gave him an approving look. “See? It’s not so bad being reasonable and responsible. You’ll get used to it.”

  Jason doubted it. Semimorosely, he eyed the place. It appeared even busier than Moosby’s. “I’m going to get mobbed.”

  “If we’re lucky. Yeah.” Danielle tossed him another cheeky grin. “Half the town is in here. You’re going to impress them.”

  “And you’re going to reap the rewards when they all troop off to Moosby’s afterward, or tomorrow, hoping to see me again.”

  Her nod reminded him of the facts: Danielle considered him man bait. Even under these bizarre circumstances, she was still trying to conduct booming business . . . whereas he was considering giving up everything just so he could be free to pursue her.

  He never had been any good at impulse control.

  Fortunately, at that instant, Jason caught a distracting glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. It looked as though his unknown shadow from the street-side parking incident had followed him to the Galaxy Diner. But how? And why?

  He couldn’t be sure. But that flicker of movement reminded him that there was a lot at stake here. For Mr. Moosby’s sake—and for Danielle’s, even though she didn’t realize it—he had to succeed. If Chip Larsen and the board were spying on him . . .

  He had to be squeaky-clean. Unimpeachable.

  “Well, I make it a point not to let people down.” Jason meant her. And Mr. Moosby. And even Charley, who’d gone out of his way to try to prevent Chip’s corporate coup—even if he had gotten the details wrong about Edna Gresham being the store manager in Kismet. “So let’s get this ball rolling.”

  “Right. Let’s.” Danielle nodded. She inhaled. She gave him a final grin. “Last one inside pays for both of us!”

  Then she opened her car door and sprinted through the snow.

  Chapter Seven

  With a strategic head start, Danielle reached the finish line—aka, the Galaxy Diner’s packed entryway—in record time. As usual, the place was jammed with customers, all of them eager to taste Kristen Miller’s famous pie-in-a-jar specialties . . . and to be wowed, however unexpectedly, by the “Sexiest CEO Alive.”

  Jason might not have come to town to apologize, Danielle reminded herself as she waited for him to catch up with her, and he might have refused to back down in his standoff with Moosby’s board of directors. But he’d also delighted her customers today, and he’d offered to promote her on the spot, too.

  She couldn’t help feeling encouraged by that. After all, what else could Jason have meant when, earlier, he’d confided that as far as he was concerned, she’d already “done more than enough”? That sounded as though he’d already made a decision about her promotion. About her. About her future.

  Who knew playing hooky with the boss could be so lucrative?

  Not that Jason’s enthusiasm was unjustified, Danielle knew. She was an impressive, innovative toy store manager. She was extraordinary in other ways, too, she knew. For example, just moments ago, she’d managed to rein in her urge to grope him again (although she’d had to grip her steering wheel extra hard to keep her hands to herself). And, of course, she was notable in her determination to make Jason see reason and just apologize already, so she could get on with being awarded her promotion.

  So she could get on with leaving Kismet. Sooner rather than later. For the sake of her kids and their future. And herself.

  Despite everything, though, Danielle was savvy enough to realize that impressing Jason wouldn’t be enough. Not if his own board of directors was mad at him. To be on the safe side, she needed to make sure Jason and the board were on friendly terms.

  She needed to make sure he apologized, just the way Chip Larsen wanted him to. She’d already made inroads toward that goal, too. Jason had reacted with surprising cooperativeness when she’d demanded he keep the media and protestors out of her store. She’d been blunt, but her direct approach had paid off.

  Obviously, so far, she’d chosen the right tactics to use with Jason. But that didn’t explain the way he’d reacted when she’d offered to let him use her—and her store’s exemplary sales performance—to his advantage. As far as Danielle could see, his being associated with a Moosby’s model store would only impress the board and the public. So would his official apology, once she persuaded him to give it. She was sure she could do that.

  She could do a lot, once she put her mind to it.

  Today, for instance, she’d wanted to assure Jason that, even in his current predicament,
she could be an asset to him. He’d responded as if she’d promised him he’d get everything he wanted under the Christmas tree this year . . . and more. She didn’t understand his reaction. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep going forward with her plan to make the most of being with him.

  She didn’t need to understand Jason Hamilton to help him. Just as she didn’t need to believe in the myth and celebrity of her company’s CEO to benefit from that mythos. Because Jason had been right: Danielle did intend to drive traffic to her toy store by using his incredible magnetism to her advantage.

  Why not? It wasn’t as though Jason was oblivious to the effect he had on people. He knew people were drawn to him—including her. He didn’t mind getting to know his company’s customers. And she wanted him to get to know her. Intimately.

  Except that wasn’t part of her plan. It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  Breathless from her sprint inside, Danielle glanced toward the parking lot. She spotted Jason. He’d been waylaid outside the Galaxy Diner by a pair of excited Kismet tourists. Their multiple shopping bags—all from kitschy downtown antiques stores and expensive boutiques instead of discount stores—were dead giveaways. So were their knit stocking caps emblazoned with the words HAVE A VERY KISMET CHRISTMAS and the van that waited to ferry them back to one of the local B&Bs after their shopping spree.

  Watching Jason amiably chat with the two tourists, Danielle couldn’t help feeling even more attracted to him. He was just so nice. So generous. So ridiculously good-looking. Seeing him in the midst of her humdrum hometown surroundings was as bizarre as finding him in her car amid snack wrappers and homework papers.

  Jason Hamilton didn’t belong in her world. But he was all the more compelling because of it. What woman hadn’t fantasized about meeting a gorgeous stranger . . . one who only wanted her?