Naughty or Nice

by Kari Lee Harmon

  “Looks like your fellow Redemption business owners are starting to warm up to you.”

  Nathan waved back. “Thanks to you, but they’re not the ones who vote on the display.”

  “And that’s where phase two comes into play.”

  “Phase two?” he asked in a wary voice.

  She laughed. “It’s not that bad. You just need to win over the local citizens.”

  “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you have in mind?”

  “No questions, remember? Trust--”

  “Trust you. I got it, Boss. And for the record,” his gaze softened as it met hers, “I do.”

  A warm glow wrapped itself around her heart. She was afraid to speak, afraid of what might come out of her mouth, so she just nodded on a smile before she got all misty and did something stupid like falling for him.

  “All right, back to work,” she finally said. “We have a lot to do before tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  She winked and tried not to giggle. “You’ll see.”

  He studied her for a long moment, and then said, “Fine, but just remember what they say about payback, and never forget...your nights are mine.”

  Chapter Five

  “Come on, you big chicken.” Samantha grabbed Nathan’s hand and pulled him out the door the next day at dusk.

  They’d worked hard all day, getting the window display ready for the big reveal. They’d recovered it so no one could see the final touches they were adding, but now it was time to put phase two into action. So many people had misjudged Nathan, including herself. They had no idea that beneath that cold, aloof, arrogant exterior beat the heart of a man who truly cared. The façade he put on was all for show. That way no one got close enough to hurt him, but never in a million years would he admit it. He wasn’t so different from her. They just guarded their hearts in different ways.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, wearing a baffled yet bored expression, but she saw the glimmer of excitement he couldn’t quite hide.

  She donned her lavender ski jacket, matching boots and gloves, snatching up a stack of papers, while he grabbed his wool coat, knit hat and gloves, following her.

  “I thought about inviting more people to our little party, but I really wanted you to shine. So it looks like it’s just you and me.”

  “Okay. Should I be afraid?” He arched a thick black brow as he stared down at her from his impressive height.

  She grinned up at him. “No worries, McScroogy. I’ve got your back.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a scrooge?” he said with much less bite this time.

  She shrugged and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “If the personality fits...”

  He looked at her dryly. “If I were a scrooge, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

  “True.” She dipped her head. “I guess there’s hope for you after all.”

  “Depends on what we’re doing, Darling.” He tweaked the end of her nose. “You ever going to enlighten me?”

  “Absolutely.” She walked up the steps to a house at the end of Main Street. “It’s dinner time, so everyone should be home. You ready?”

  He glanced at the door and then back at her with a puckered brow as he came to a stop by her side. “For what?”

  She smiled and then she pushed the doorbell without uttering a single word.

  The door swung open, while a husband, his wife, and his three children looked at them curiously. Before they could even say hello, Samantha jabbed him in the side with her elbow and help up her stack of papers before him. She started singing Silent Night, Holy Night in the best voice she could muster. She might not be able to dance, but she knew she could sing. The question was...could he?

  His jaw dropped open wide, but then he cleared his voice and started to sing along with her. He was right; payback really was fun because he couldn’t sing a note on key to save his life. She tried not to wince as he struggled through phrase after phrase but never stopped singing. The husband and wife looked at him and tried not to grimace, but in the end, they smiled fondly and clapped louder than they needed to. Nathan bowed gallantly, albeit his face was redder than normal, and then he marched regally away with his hand on Samantha’s back.

  “Touché,” he said when they were out of earshot.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning innocence

  “I get it. Payback for making you dance at the charity dinner.”

  “You don’t get anything. This wasn’t about payback at all, Mr. Snow. It was about letting the townsfolk know you’re human—vulnerable—just like the rest of us. They need to see you’re not perfect.” Her gaze met his as she thought, And so do I.

  He took her hand. “Trust me, Ms. Darling. I’m anything but perfect.”

  “Good,” she responded softly. “Because, neither am I.”

  He squeezed her hand and led her to the next house. “Then let’s do this thing.”

  For the next hour, they proceeded to sing for house after house until they reached the end of Main Street. The looks they received were wary, then surprised, then endearing. Nathan had no idea how much it meant for people to see him as less than perfect. To relate to him. To feel for him.

  The snow started to fall in fat heavy flakes, the sky an inky black, and the air surrounding them still and silent. It felt like being in the middle of a snow globe. Nathan suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her to a field past the dead-end road.

  “What are you doing?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Last I checked, it’s officially night.” His gaze met and locked with hers. “Now I’m in charge.”

  She swallowed hard. “Oh. Well. What exactly do you have in mind?”

  He grinned like a schoolboy, surprising her and warming her heart. “Snow angels.”

  Her jaw unhinged, and she found herself smiling right along with him. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t you know by now I’m the serious sort, Darling?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. After today, I found you quite humorous.”

  “Did you, now?” He advanced on her, backing her up to the edge of the dead-end road.

  “Wh-What are you doing?”

  He didn’t say a word, just kept stalking her.

  “Okay, you’re freaking me out.”

  “Welcome to how I felt when I realized I had to sing. Did I tell you I’m tone deaf?” His eyes narrowed, and a look so intense and passionate and downright scary rendered her speechless.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she finally got out. “It’s freezing. Way too cold to make snow angels.”

  “Trust me,” was all he said as he pounced, tackling her and rolling at the last second so she landed on top of him.

  “I-I--” was all she could get out as she stared down into eyes so dark and passionate and full of so many repressed emotions she couldn’t resist stroking his cheeks.

  “I know...me too,” he responded, then rolled her over and covered her mouth with his own.

  Warm full lips pressed hotly against hers, and every cell in her body came alive. When his tongue slipped between her lips to dance with her own, heat infused her system, warming her core and steaming out her pores. He tasted delicious. His kiss full of coffee and spice and sin all rolled into one mouth-watering morsel.

  When he finally came up for air, she panted heavily, managing to get out, “What was that all about?”

  “A friendly kiss to warm you up.” He winked and rolled to his feet. “Let’s go, Darling. That snow is way too tempting. Race ya.” He jogged into the middle of the field where the snow was the freshest and deepest.

  She took a deep breath, letting her heartbeat slow a bit as she watched the muscles of his legs and gluts play beneath the material of his jeans and had to agree: Snow was about the most tempting thing she’d seen in a year, and that kiss had been a hell of a lot more than friendly. She was afraid the ice around her heart had started to melt, but what she feared the m
ost was getting hurt by the frost he could bite her with.

  ***

  Wednesday morning dawned bright and sunny, the freshly fallen snow from the night before sparkling as though it was covered with millions of precious diamonds. There was nothing more magical than a white Christmas. Samantha and Nathan had spent the night making snow angels, then stopping into Cindy’s Café for hot chocolate. He didn’t have a function that night, so the evening felt suspiciously like a real date. Not to mention his so-called friendly kiss to warm her up.

  She knew he found her attractive, but he’d also made it perfectly clear he was married to his work. That was enough for him. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, just a good time. Samantha had to admit, she wasn’t looking for a relationship, either. She was terrified of getting her heart broken again. Maybe her friends were right, and she needed to have an affair to get Mark out of her system once and for all. If she went into this knowing the expectations up front, then her heart should be safe. Except, she’d never been an affair type of girl.

  She didn’t have a clue where to start.

  Food. Her mother always said food was the way to a man’s heart. The only problem was, Samantha couldn’t cook. An idea came to her, and she knew exactly what they were going to do today. Bake Christmas cookies for the church bake sale. How hard could that be?

  A knock sounded on her door. Smoothing the front of her pale pink clingy sweater that accented all of her curves in a good way, she took one last look at her reflection. Snug jeans, cute high-heeled boots, her hair hanging free in soft curls, and the pink in her cheeks the perfect accessory. She opened the door and tried not to look nervous.

  His gaze ran over her long and slow, an appreciative expression softening his hard chiseled features. She equally appreciated him in his black nylon warm-up pants and jacket. Dressy, sporty, or casual...always looked amazing.

  Finally, his eyes met hers. “What’s on the agenda for today, Boss?”

  “Cooking.”

  One sleek black brow arched high. “Come again?”

  She held up her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. I said I couldn’t cook, but you said you could. I figure it’s only fair since I made you sing.”

  “Judicial. I like that. So what kind of cooking are we talking about?”

  “Baking Christmas cookies for the church bake sale. It will be a great way for you to win over the community even further.”

  “Beauty and brains. You’re amazing. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “No, but feel free to any time the spirit moves you.” She laughed, patting his arm and resisting the urge to turn her pat into a caress, then she led the way out into the shop. “Let’s see what we can do about scrounging up some baking supplies.” She started rifling through cupboards and drawers.

  “I know exactly where we can find the best,” he said from behind her. When she turned around, he held out her coat.

  She looked at him curiously as she took her jacket. “I’m sure you do. Let me guess, a high-end store on the other side of town?”

  “On the other side of town, yes. I high-end store...not exactly. Follow me.” He opened the door to the shop.

  “Where to?” Samantha asked, as she trailed behind him and watched him lock up. Roz would be in soon to open the store. Samantha put up no protest over working off site because that meant she would have a day off from having to deal with Ms. Pit.

  His gaze fixed onto hers as he said, “My place.”

  A thrill ran through her. “Okay.”

  He hesitated, looking surprised. “No argument?”

  “Not a one,” she said softly, then added, “I trust you.”

  “Oh-kay,” he responded slowly, almost warily. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. I’ve just gotten to know you.” She walked along beside him, surprised when he passed his car and opted for a leisurely stroll in the sunshine. Something he wouldn’t have even thought of doing just a short time ago. “You’ve changed.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, wrapping her palm around his bicep as they walked.

  He stiffened slightly but kept walking as he stared straight ahead. “Maybe, a little, but don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m all warm and fuzzy like you.” His words said one thing, but his actions spoke volumes as he bent his arm to secure her hand more tightly against him, almost as if he didn’t want her to let go. But she wasn’t naïve enough to make any grand assumptions. Besides, she didn’t want any grand assumptions, she reminded herself.

  “McScroogy warm and fuzzy? Never.” She laughed a little too loudly. “I just figure we’re halfway to goal, and surprisingly, we work well together.” She shrugged. “I’m curious to see how the other half lives. Besides, we’re both adults, and the entire town knows I can’t leave until my sentence is up. They’d know if I suddenly went missing so it’s not like you can do anything to me.”

  His wariness evaporated as his heavy lidded gaze dropped to hers, and the heat from his eyes pooled in her midsection. “You think you know me, Samantha, but you have no idea what I am capable of. What I plan to do to you.”

  “L-Like what?” she asked breathlessly at the sound of her name on his lips, trying not to sound eager. Excited. But for the first time in a long time, that’s exactly what she was.

  He stopped, turned, pulled her into his arms and slowly lowered his head to hers. Her eyelids started to flutter closed in anticipation. As she parted her lips, she heard his deep chuckle as he whispered in her ear, “Teach you how to make cookies.”

  “Huh?” Her eyes sprang open.

  “That’s what I plan to do to you.” He swatted her on the fanny, and she jumped as he stepped away to open the door to his townhouse.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “This is where you live?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “This other half prefers to live modestly.”

  “But you must have several places where all of your businesses are.” She followed him inside and shut the door.

  “And they’re all like this,” he said matter-of-factly. “I prefer to spend my money on more important things than mansions. I leave those to people like my parents.”

  “I see,” she said, kicking herself for putting the tension back in his voice. “I like modest,” she added, following him through a decent sized living room with two bedrooms and a bathroom to the right, a dining room straight ahead, and a kitchen to the left.

  “Thanks,” he said, already pulling out pots and pans as though more than ready to change the topic.

  “Love the antiques,” she added.

  “Thanks.” He shot her a warm genuine smile that deepened the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and made the butterflies dance in her belly. “Ready?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She bit her bottom lip, then frowned. “Um, wait. For what?” He had a knack for turning her brain into mush.

  He wagged his brows. “To get cooking. What did you think I was talking about?”

  “Nothing,” she answered a little too quickly.

  “Bet I can make better cookies than you,” he challenged.

  “I said I couldn’t cook. I never said I couldn’t bake.” Her grin came slow and sweet. “You’re on.”

  “You saying you hustled me, Darling?” He advanced on her, backing her up against the counter. “Because last time I checked, that was naughty. I thought you were being nice these days.”

  “I can be very nice, just tell me what you’d like for me to do?” she responded innocently and then licked her lips, feeling more daring than she had in, well, ever.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, and he was rendered speechless for a moment. Then he responded in a husky voice, “You’re the boss. You tell me what to do. I’m good, remember?”

  “Prove it,” she dared him.

  “Careful what you ask McScroogy for, Darling. You don’t have to be nice for me to deliver.”

  “Deliver what?”

  “You really want to go there?”

  She
opened her mouth to reply but then chickened out and said, “Yup, I want to go to the stove. We have cookies to bake, you slacker.”

  He blinked, but then a loud laugh burst out of his chest and he looked as though he’d surprised himself. “You never cease to amaze me, Darling.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” She winked.

  For the next hour, he proceeded to out bake her in every way imaginable.

  “You were right when you said you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He laughed. “Cuz from where I’m standing, I’m not seeing much progress on your part other than making a colossal mess.” He wiped flour off the end of her nose.

  “Hey.” She swatted his hand away and then made a swipe at his face, but he caught her wrist. “I do believe you’re the one who hustled me.”

  He turned her hand, palm up, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “It’s not called hustling when I was up front about my culinary abilities.”

  “Well, it sure as heck is called something.” She snorted.

  He just stared at her, not saying a word, but his body language screamed, It’s called foreplay, Darling. She swallowed hard, knowing it was what she wanted, but not knowing how to make the first move. His lips tipped up in a full delicious lazy grin that said, Allow me. He hooked the front of her apron with his finger and started pulling her toward him. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a soft sigh, awaiting the touch of his mouth to hers.

  The smoke alarm started to screech, and they both jumped, ruining the moment as the kitchen filled with smoke. Nathan bolted to the stove, grabbing oven mitts along the way, and pulling out a sheet of charred cookies. Meanwhile, Samantha opened the window, snatched a towel, and started fanning the smoke detector. When the horrendous noise finally ceased, they looked at each other and laughed.

  “Someone forgot to set the timer.” She smirked at him accusingly.

  “Someone was a bit distracted.” He smirked back. “I believe we were in the middle of--”

  “Finishing our cookies for the church bake sale. You’re exactly right.” She tried not to giggle at his you’re-killing-me expression.

  “Lucky me.”