Santa's Mail-Order Bride

by E. E. Burke

  Maggie glanced down at her oh-so-average form. Looking up, she met his gaze, and blushed. Saints above, had he seen her examining her bosom?

  Fannie inched toward Sum to retrieve her prize. For some reason, she appeared reticent to approach him, even though she’d had her eyes on him the entire time. She might think it strange that a man had come by to see her Aunt Maggie.

  Heaven knows her callers had been few and far between. Then again, she hadn’t found a man she wanted to encourage, not until she’d met the one man she shouldn’t encourage.

  Her niece took half the cookie out of Sum’s hand. “My Da says you aren’t nice—”

  “Fannie!” Victoria called sharply, at the same time Maggie sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe the child didn’t realize she’d offended Sum because David had made disparaging remarks in her presence. It was time to put an end to that.

  Sum didn’t react like a man who’d been insulted. In fact, he smiled kindly at Fannie. “Your father must’ve read the naughty list and seen a name that looked like mine.”

  Maggie breathed easier.

  Victoria managed to hide her displeasure behind a cool façade. “Fannie, please take the cookie into the kitchen, and then I’d like for you to meet me in your room.”

  Fannie’s eyes grew wide and bright with tears. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

  “Don’t fear, your name isn’t on a naughty list,” Sum assured her. “Old St. Nick allowed me to help out this year for the parade, and I’ve checked. You’re definitely not on that list with the other naughty children, and neither is Alice.”

  Faith, what a sweet man… Maggie withheld her applause. Had she been sitting next to him, she might’ve given him a hug.

  Fannie offered him a tremulous smile before obediently heading into the kitchen.

  Victoria waited until Fannie had completed her task and disappeared down the hallway and they heard the sound of her door closing. “Thank you, Mr. Sumner, for your kindness. I hope you’ll accept my apology on behalf of my daughter…and my husband.”

  “No need to apologize,” Sum replied in his usual friendly tone.

  Victoria excused herself and went after Fannie. As soon as she left the room, he stood.

  “Probably best if I leave,” he said.

  So he had been offended but was too much of a gentleman to admit it.

  Maggie came to her feet. “I’m so sorry.” She followed him to the door, retrieving his coat and hat. What a fiasco. She should never have invited him to her brother’s home, not with the high probability of conflict. “Please forgive me for bringing you here, and causing you embarrassment.”

  Sum’s smile turned rueful. “If I’m suffering from embarrassment, I have no one to blame but myself. Fannie’s right. I haven’t been nice to your brother. That’s something I intend to correct—within the bounds of friendly competition.”

  Maggie’s eyes stung at a sudden welling of gratitude. There had been a time when she’d viewed him as poorly as David did. Sum had proved them wrong. Today, he’d handled an uncomfortable situation with humor and understanding, and put Fannie at ease. He would make a good Santa, being easy to approach and good with children. He didn’t have any, as far as she knew, but then again, she knew very little about him. She must get to know him better, in order to write his advertisement, of course. That meant she would need to go to him.

  “I’ll be over tomorrow to discuss the article for the parade.” She handed him his coat.

  “And you promised to help me with a personal advertisement, don’t forget that.” He maintained a straight face, so she couldn’t tell if he intended the remark as a joke, or simply as a reminder. Either way, she didn’t back out on commitments, and she was determined to find this remarkable man a very good match.

  “I haven’t forgotten. I’ll write something up, and you can take a look at it. We want it to be perfect.”

  “If you’re writing it, I’m sure it will be.” He replaced his hat, tugging the brim in a brief farewell. He didn’t kiss her.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised…or disappointed.

  Chapter 6

  The week before Christmas couldn’t have started out more perfectly, in Sum’s opinion. Shoppers turned out in hoards and sales were better than ever. The parade costumes had been finished on time. Best of all, Maggie would arrive at any moment.

  Sum checked the pot of tea on the stove. His personal preference was coffee, but he’d take up tea if it meant he could drink it with Maggie.

  He’d spent a blissful two weeks in her company. Each evening after the stores closed, she would come over to work on parade posters and nitpick his article about the fundraising drive. Each time she brought up the personal advertisement, he put off discussing it. If things progressed as he hoped, he wouldn’t need it.

  One night, Victoria O’Brien had invited him to dinner. Her husband remained polite, if not talkative, perhaps deciding he shouldn’t say anything if he couldn’t say something nice. Maggie acted nervous. To relieve her tension, Sum spun tales about Santa Claus and his wife and the reindeer and everything else he could recall reading about the jolly old elf. He succeeded in making Maggie and Victoria laugh, and even David O’Brien started to smile.

  The fact that he’d be concerned about gaining the good opinion of his competitor confirmed his pathetic condition. The worst part, he didn’t mind taking the head-over-heels tumble and had no interest in getting over it. He hadn’t planned on this, wouldn’t have gone out looking to catch it, but ever since Maggie had come into his life, he couldn’t imagine going on without her.

  A knock sounded. She was never late. That was a good sign. Try as she might to hide it, he could tell she was as eager to be with him as he was to be with her. This nonsense about finding him a bride was just her quirky way of resisting the inevitable. He adored her quirks.

  He opened the door, and a swirl of cold air followed her inside. “Come in and get warm.”

  She drew back her hood. “It is warm in here. You must use more fuel than David does.”

  Sum frowned, not liking the image of her shivering in the cold. “He allows you to freeze?”

  “Of course not. He’s just frugal. I can always put on a coat.”

  Maggie turned to allow him to take her heavy cloak. She’d pulled her thick hair up with combs, leaving a few silky curls to escape down the back of her neck. He couldn’t resist a quick kiss just below her hairline.

  She whirled around, startled. “No kisses, we agreed.”

  “Did we? I don’t recall.” He wasn’t promising any such thing.

  Her fingers moved up the tiny jet buttons on a fitted jacket, as if she were checking to make sure each one remained fastened. He imagined undoing them and following the trail with his lips.

  God, he burned for her, and she wanted him as well. All signs pointed to it: her eagerness to be with him, her secret smiles and adorable blushes, the way she watched from beneath her lashes when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  “No more kisses,” she said sternly. “I have my reputation to protect, and you’ll soon be marrying someone else.”

  Her remark didn’t fool him. It did, however, irritate him. She kept insisting they were just friends, reminding him that after the first of the year she would go back to her teaching job in Kansas City and he would send off for his bride.

  The only bride he wanted was Maggie. Whatever the obstacle—be it her brother, her job, or her own uncertainty—he would overcome it. Nothing would stand in the way of getting what he wanted, not even Maggie.

  “Come sit down. I’ll pour you a cup of tea.” He ushered her to the rear of the store where he’d set cups out on the counter. She refused to go upstairs to his office or apartment, for propriety’s sake. Fine, he’d wait until they were married to bed her.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She settled onto a stool and adjusted her skirts. “I had dinner before I came over. No need for you to feed me.”

  Why not
? It was an excellent idea, slipping her morsels in between kisses…something to look forward to.

  She fished out a folded sheet of paper and a pencil from a serviceable leather bag she’d placed on the counter. “I took the liberty of working on the advertisement…”

  Sum poured tea into two cups. He unbuttoned the front of his tweed coat and took the neighboring stool. Seeing as she wouldn’t be dissuaded, he would play along. “Can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with.”

  Maggie’s attention remained on the paper. She smoothed it out on the counter and studied it, almost too intently. Annoying, how she refused to look at him. He could make her notice.

  With his forefinger, he smoothed a silken strand away from her face. The touch drew a reprimanding look, which softened at his smile.

  “You take too many liberties.” She scolded in a voice too soft for her to be put out.

  “Do I?” He considered taking more, such as drawing her to him and kissing her thoroughly. But then she would accuse him of violating his promise and that would give her a convenient way out. No, he had to remain patient. Seduce her by inches, not yards.

  Without apology, he picked up his cup and took a drink. He’d work with her on this silly advertisement and in the process make her admit she was his perfect match. At least, that was the plan. His biggest worry—his plans, like his father’s, had a way of going awry. He wouldn’t allow that to happen this time. “Read what you’ve written so far.”

  “Successful merchant in fast-growing Western community seeks educated young woman with exemplary reputation for purposes of marriage. Applicant must be willing to work long days and will need patience—”

  He laughed, nearly spitting his tea, and set down the cup. “Patience? Am I that trying?

  “You didn’t let me finish. Will need patience with children.” She glanced at him with a wry smile. “I assume you’ll want children, and your wife will need patience if you expect her to work in a store and look after them.”

  Her assumption would’ve been wrong a mere few weeks ago. “Children? When did I start wanting those?”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie searched his eyes, as if she’d find an answer there. She would if she looked very hard. “Have you been married before? Did you have other children?”

  “Never married. No children.” None that he knew of, and he’d been careful.

  “Was it after you agreed to play Santa?”

  “That decision had nothing to do with children, entirely selfish; I wanted to wear the green robe.” He loved the little flutter and eye roll she did when he made a joke.

  “Maybe it was after you met Fannie?”

  “Your niece’s bluntness endeared her to me, but no, it had to be after I met you.”

  “Ah, because I’m a schoolteacher.” Maggie sidestepped his blatant admission with admirable dexterity. She must be practicing at home.

  Undaunted, Sum gazed into her eyes. This close, he could see they weren’t black, but a deep, rich brown, the way he liked his coffee. “What about how she looks?”

  Maggie’s lips parted like she might say something, but forgot what it was. She jerked her attention to the sheet of paper on the counter. “You mean to say, you want an attractive bride. We can add that. Remember, the personal advertisements run forty words. It’ll cost you extra for every word thereafter.”

  “We’re not to forty words yet.” Didn’t matter, at any rate. By the time he finished listing his requirements, there would be no question in her mind as to which bride he wanted.

  She sighed, and picked up the pencil. “I haven’t even gotten to the part about you.”

  “I like what you wrote about me being a successful merchant.” That’s what he wanted her to believe, and it would be so, once he’d cleared his debts. He saw no reason to enlighten her as to his current financial instability. She might let something slip. Not to hurt him, but because she seemed to think her brother would qualify as a saint.

  She bent over the paper and scribbled something. “The difficulty in writing a personal advertisement is effectively selling yourself while remaining completely honest.”

  Sum leaned in and inhaled her scent. “Honest, yes… You smell of peppermint.”

  Maggie glanced at him with alarm and slanted away. She reached into a pocket on her jacket. “I forgot I had these in here. Would you like one?”

  He plucked a red and white candy out of her palm. “Thank you. I love peppermints.”

  “You do? They’re my favorite.”

  “Mine, too.” They’d become his favorite ever since he’d started associating the smell with Maggie. Who knew candy could be so provocative? He would keep a jar in their bedroom. “Include that in the advertisement. Favorite candy must be peppermint.”

  She laughed, revealing white teeth that were, for the most part, even. One tooth near the front slightly overlapped another. The imperfection endeared her to him even more. He couldn’t meet the standards of a perfect woman. “Sum, be serious. Only include what’s most important.”

  He rolled the sweet minty candy around in his mouth, remembering the taste on her lips. “That’s pretty important, don’t you think?”

  “I can think of other things more important.”

  “Such as?”

  Maggie lifted her cup and blew across the tea, sending ripples over the dark surface, before taking a careful sip. That he found everything she did fascinating concerned him because she didn’t appear to suffer from the same condition. He could tell she liked him and even desired him, but as for being smitten… Well, if she’d fallen, she did a good job hiding it.

  She set her cup down and picked up the pencil. “We need to list your good traits so your bride knows what she’s getting.”

  That would be a short list. “You said I was successful.”

  “That’s not a trait.”

  He ventured out on a limb. “What, in your opinion, are my good traits?”

  She tapped the pencil on her pursed lips. Perhaps that helped her think. He hoped she didn’t have to think too hard to come up with something.

  “Your sense of humor,” she said at last. “It’s not always proper, but you can make me laugh, even when I’m vexed with you.”

  “That’s self-preservation.”

  She smiled, and wrote witty on the paper. More words followed: engaging, affectionate, generous…

  He felt each stroke of the pen across his heart. “Are those traits appealing enough?”

  “I would think so, but I’m not the one you need to convince.”

  “Your opinion matters.” In fact, her opinion was the only one that mattered.

  She ignored another clear hint and went on. “We need to describe you. You’ll send a photograph, but that doesn’t tell her the color of your hair or eyes.”

  He made a face. “I thought you said this list needed to impress her.”

  “You know you have impressive looks, don’t act so humble.”

  His lips tugged into a foolish smile at her praise. He did try to make the best of what God had given him, but he had never considered his looks impressive. “Some women don’t appreciate red hair.”

  “Your hair isn’t red. It’s…” She eyed the top of his head. “It’s more the color of sassafras leaves in the fall. Only deeper, richer.”

  He passed his hand over his hair. Up until this moment, he’d despised the color. “I’ve never heard my red hair described quite that way.

  Maggie shook her head at him. “I told you, it’s not red. More of a deep orange with rich umber tones, auburn perhaps, though I don’t think that word does it justice. And your eyes aren’t just blue. They’re the color of a winter sky after the clouds have cleared and the sun comes out.”

  His heart lodged in his throat. She couldn’t describe him in those soaring terms and not want him. “What about her traits?”

  “We listed those. Educated, hard-working, patient, attractive…”

  “That’s not specific enough.”
>
  “All right, then. What specifically do you want?”

  Now, he would make his requirements crystal clear, and they could stop this nonsense about mail-order brides. Although if she wanted to wax poetic about his looks, he’d encourage her, preferably while they lay in bed together.

  Holding her gaze, he reached out and captured a curl dangling near her ear. “She has to have black hair that glistens and feels like silk, and gypsy eyes, dark as coffee.”

  Maggie’s gaze widened. Her delicate nostrils flared, and her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips, all signs of sensual awareness and mutual desire. Her reaction made his body tense and his heart pound harder.

  She shook herself and batted his hand away. “Stop this.” Her expression shifted from angry to anxious to regretful. “You aren’t making it any easier by teasing me.”

  Sum’s smile fell away. To hell with these games. He grasped her arms and drew her to him. “Who’s teasing? You asked for my requirements.”

  * * *

  Before he could kiss her, Maggie turned her face. His lips landed on her cheek. Without missing a beat, he blazed a trail to her ear. “Write it down,” he whispered. “Then add that I want her to smell like peppermint, and to roll her eyes at my jokes, and go along with my crazy scheme to put Mrs. Claus in the parade—”

  She slammed her eyes shut, but that didn’t block out his words, or keep her skin from shivering as his breath gusted in the shell of her ear. He delicately traced the edge with the tip of his tongue, sending another spasm of quivers rippling through her.

  “Please, Sum…stop…I don’t want this…” Liar. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone or anything.

  “You do want this, so do I.” His mouth moved to her neck and he grazed his teeth against her sensitized flesh.

  Her shivers became trembles, and an urgent ache started somewhere deep in her core. She couldn’t break free of his tight grip on her arms without dragging them both off the stools, and the possibility of ending up on the floor on her back put the fear of God into her. Desperate, she braced her hands on his heaving chest, trying to push him away so he’d stop tormenting her.