Desparately Seeking Santa

by Red Rose Publishing

Mandy’s breath stalled while her heart upped its antics and her nerves, already totally shattered from dealing with memories and emotions she had thought eradicated, only to be proved totally wrong, fired a salvo directly through her heart. “That’s not fair, Tate.”

  “Tough, I’d say you owe me, don’t you.”

  For a moment she simply stared at him. Gorgeous. Even more than she remembered. And she remembered it all. Damn him.

  Leaving the door ajar, she turned on the balls of her heels, and walked down the hall and into her lounge. She couldn’t fight him anymore.

  Her house was tiny.

  Tate wasn’t. He dwarfed the rooms, filling her with a sense of claustrophobia, with nowhere to run.

  “Coffee?” She didn’t wait for his answer, but escaped to the kitchen and switched the kettle on, glad to be able to do something and keep her distance.

  With the coffee made, however, she had no choice but to leave her short-lived sanctuary. She passed Tate his coffee. Funny how she remembered how he liked it.

  “You remembered?” he said as if he could read her thoughts. She sure hoped not.

  Her mouth twitched into a tight smile. “One sugar, a little bit of milk,” she said.

  He didn’t wait for her to sit down, but sank into one of the two overstuffed armchairs. She did the same.

  He said nothing and her nerves shot up a couple of notches. She sipped her coffee, taking her time, while eying Tate, trying to discern something different. Anything.

  Nope. He hadn’t changed. And yet he had. The boy she’d grown up with, fallen in love with had gone, replaced by a formidable presence. A man she wasn’t quite sure she could lock horns with and win.

  “What do you want?” she stated blankly.

  “Not how are you, Tate? Nice to see you.”

  “Cut the pleasantries. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours for that.”

  “There’s always time for friends.”

  “Are we friends?” They’d been lovers. Could they be simply friends? She wasn’t so sure.

  “We were once.”

  “A long time ago, Tate.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Five years, Mandy. Five years where you never explained why you upped and left me standing at the altar.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “What? The phone lines were down.”

  “I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

  The fingers of Tate’s left hand drummed a staccato beat on the side table beside his chair. “And you couldn’t ask my mom? She hasn’t left town.”

  “No. Only you left.”

  “Succoring my wounds, sweetheart.”

  “You never came back.”

  “No. Business got in the way.”

  “Obviously not the Santa business,” she snapped, and then felt a wash of color fuse her cheeks. “You’ve done well. I hadn’t heard,” she conceded.

  Tate snorted. “That’s not great for a man’s ego, hearing that you never checked up on me.”

  Mandy offered him a shrug of sympathy. But what she didn’t say was that she had in fact tried. Lots of times. But every time she came up blank.

  “So you’re a success then?”

  “Extremely.”

  “I’m very happy for you...” Her words trailed off. This was hard. Actually more than hard, it was painful. Where once they could talk about anything and everything, had fun, were happy and laughing, this stilted conversation only exacerbated the reality. It showed how far they’d drifted apart. They had nothing to say to each other. And the anger she’d felt towards him at the store had died. Just like love.

  Liar!

  She finished her coffee, placed the cup firmly on the small coffee table between them, hoping he’d take the hint.

  He didn’t.

  Her nerves once more erupted into a stirring mish-mash of tangled emotions churning in her belly. “Well,” she said, standing. “I won’t keep you.”

  “Why not?”

  Don’t! She wanted to plead with him to just go, turn around and walk out.

  Why?

  Because...Her gaze flickered around her lounge, coming to rest on the cold blackened fireplace framed by the richly carved oak mantle. Gilt-edged photo frames lined its length.

  Family. Her mother.

  That’s why! She breathed, the sound rushing out in a hurried whoosh, unaware she’d been holding it. It seemed simple now, obvious, but back then it had haunted her days and nights prior to their wedding, until nothing seemed simple.

  Belle and Rita. Two women who shaped her life. One who had a right to. And one who had no right, but didn’t care.

  “There’s no use raking over old coals, Tate,” she finally said. “It’s dead.”

  “You weren’t dead in my arms last night, but very much alive. You burned for me, Mandy.”

  She didn’t want to hear this, or even acknowledge the truth of his words and squeezed her eyes closed.

  Big mistake. All she could see, even in the darkness was Tate. Naked. Lying next to her.

  “Tate, please.”

  “That’s exactly what you said when I...”

  “No! Don’t say another word. I’m tired.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he gunned back. “Too much loving, Mandy Brooks. It does that to a person.”

  “Too many hours working when someone else won’t do their job,” she countered without thinking.

  “You mean Maxwell?” he queried instantly.

  Mandy colored, and refused to look at him. Damn. She had to remember Tate Sullivan was her boss now.

  “Mandy? Answer me.”

  “I’m not at work. You can’t ask me anything.”

  “Perhaps not, but I thought that for old times’ sake you’d help out a friend.”

  “Huh! Just like I helped out and played Mrs. Santa. Look where that got me?”

  “Right into my arms.” He smiled then; that slow easy smile that did way too exciting things to her insides. She wished he wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure she was up to holding out much longer.

  “Mandy?” He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. It burned right through her thin gown, scalding bare flesh. His fingers caressed her cheek; so gentle it almost snapped her in two.

  Then he kissed her. Oh, dear Lord. Again and again, and again. She couldn’t hold him off. Didn’t want to. Instead she kissed him back, taking, yearning for more, wanting so much of him. All of him. It was as if five years of trying to forget were washed away in the moment his lips touched hers.

  Clothes discarded. Bodies entwined. Heat and lust and a frantic need took over. Mandy raked her fingers down Tate’s bare back.

  When had his shirt come off? She smiled. She didn’t care. Only that she could feel the texture of his skin against her nakedness.

  She went with him, backwards, against the wall. His body hard up against hers. He hooked her leg around his hip, lifting her so that she fit snugly against him.

  Then he slid inside her.

  She’d been ready for Tate Sullivan the moment she had opened the door to him. There were no words, simply hot, needy sex. Mandy needing Tate. Feeling his thrusts, his mouth teasing one nipple then the other into hard buds, aching and full in his hands.

  And then the world changed, and she changed, her body firing until the explosion could be held back no longer. She held him tight, brought his mouth to hers and drank from his beautiful lips. Tasted him. Gloried in their union, as he cupped her buttocks bringing her ever closer, and him deeper as her orgasms rolled, one after beautiful and delicious one, till she could take no more and she sagged against him.

  Her ragged breathing roared in her ears, her heartbeat’s erratic dance joining in.

  “Mandy?” Tate’s breathless whisper sang in her ear, his lips so close they brushed the tip of her lobe.

  But reality bit hard. What had she done?

  Horrified at her wanton actions, she stiffened. But she was still joined with Tate, so blatant. Real. He
must have realized her discomfort and lifted her from him. Her feet dropped to the floor and she slid down the wall, grateful for its support behind her.

  She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Her world had just collapsed. “Go, Tate. Now. Just go please.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. This is my home, and I’ve asked you to leave.”

  “You’re running away again.”

  “I...” Was she?

  He answered her silent question. “Yes you are. Maybe not physically as when you turned away from our marriage, but you’re still running. Have you ever stopped, Mandy?”

  With that, he snatched up his clothes. A frown creased her brow. When had they actually come off? She couldn’t remember that. Only that as her body sizzled from the best sex she had ever had, she struggled to function, while thinking wasn’t really an option.

  With his jeans on, though his torso still bare, Tate turned and strode to the door. For a fraction of a second Mandy stayed rooted to the spot, then quickly hauled herself to her feet, grabbed her robe and shoving her arms into the sleeves and wrapping it tightly across her, she sprinted after him. Already on the doorstep, he turned to her. “Before I go. I thought you might like this?” And he pulled something from his jeans’ pocket. He held it up.

  Her bra.

  The black see through lacy bra she’d worn beneath the red dress.

  Mandy’s eyes bulged, while every syllable stalled on the tip of her tongue. He held it in front of her, between forefinger and thumb as if it burned to touch.

  “You left it behind at the store. Didn’t think Maxwell should get his beady eyes on it, do you?”

  Mandy snatched it from him. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said offering her a wink. And with that, Tate Sullivan turned around and walked out the door, down the path and into the late afternoon of the first Christmas Mandy had celebrated since she dumped him at the altar.

  “Some celebration,” she whispered, holding the undergarment to her near naked body. “Sex, and more sex.”

  Well, you can’t say they aren’t great presents, Brooks! Better than chocolate.

  Eating chocolate is good.

  But sex with Tate was way better.

  Where to now?

  Home?

  Tate wasn’t ready for that yet, instead he drove around Oakville, seeing the old place from fresh eyes. The snow ploughs were out in force, so too were those trying to unearth their cars from the mound of snowfall, while others cleared a path from their front doors.

  He turned down Valley Road, and slowed. Franklin High School hadn’t changed much. The place he’d first seen Mandy, her fresh face beauty captivating him forever. He shook his head. So long ago. So many years, moments, changes.

  He’d refused to go to out of state for college, not wanting to be parted from Mandy, knowing she couldn’t afford to follow. He also remembered his mother’s anger and her sulky disappointment.

  And then their day had come. They were to be married. Excitement had been paramount, a feeling of completion, and the sense that he and Mandy were about to start a huge adventure together.

  Then she destroyed it.

  No word. Just her brother Chris saying she wasn’t coming. Adventure had died right there and then and everything his mother had warned him about came true.

  Of course he had had done what every red-blooded twenty-five year old male would do. He partied. Hard. Fast. Chased everything in a skirt until he couldn’t face another morning of waking up bleary eyed, not knowing who the blonde, the brunette, or the redhead beside him was. So he made a decision and walked away from it all. From his home. His family. From the memory of Mandy and instead drowned himself in work and more work.

  His success proved what hard work could achieve and now with a portfolio of properties behind him, he was worth millions.

  Not bad for five years hard work, he rued.

  Then his father died, and Tate’s life had been turned upside down. Again.

  Ignoring the beauty of the snowfall, his eyes shuttered and he slumped back in the car seat.

  Now what?

  He thought he knew it all. Could make it work. But he hadn’t counted on Mandy. On his emotions. And yet that had been his motivation.

  Revenge.

  “Yeah, Sullivan, you thought one look and she’d fall into your arms—just because you have,” he muttered into the darkness. His curses echoed around the confines of his car.

  Why the hell had he gone to Mandy’s house? He should have left it well alone. He’d done what he set out to do.

  Have the last laugh! The last stand.

  Fool! The laugh was definitely on him.

  But oh, no, he couldn’t do that. Talk about a dog with a bone. The truth was he’d gone around to explain—and to expunge his guilt at duplicity. Instead, they’d had sex.

  Yeah, but it was great sex. Hotter than hot.

  Despite himself, Tate couldn’t help but grin. It had been H.O.T. The best sex he’d ever had. Sex with Mandy eclipsed everything else.

  But you still didn’t tell the truth!

  Tate slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. Damn it. Sex once again had gotten in the way. It always had with Mandy. And sex with Mandy had been on his mind since he’d seen her in the street all those months ago.

  And now you’ve done the wild thing, are you over it?

  He gritted his teeth. Hardly. It had only fueled a stronger need. Yep, he’d been right to come home.

  Revenge was sweet.

  Chapter Seven

  How could her body betray her so easily?

  Sex was the culprit.

  Mandy arched her back, letting the steaming hot water cascade over her. She wished it would wash away the rampant thoughts crowding her brain.

  Tate Sullivan. And sex.

  His body over hers, her legs around his hips, holding him tight as he slid inside her. Pulsing. Urgent. Complete.

  Dear Lord! Her eyes flashed open, blinking away water droplets clinging to her lashes. That was the problem. Nothing was complete.

  He had left her wanting more. A lot more.

  Tate’s return opened up wounds and brought the past crashing down around her. She’d thought she’d pocketed it away.

  Another mistake.

  His arrival had made her face the reality she created for herself, a reality she had clung to where she refused to consider the alternative, or what could have been.

  Flicking off the faucet, she stepped out of the shower. Her body hummed, tingling with a renewed awareness of herself. She reached to the back of the bathroom door for her robe, catching sight of herself in the mist-coated mirror. She stilled, and turned to face her reflection full on. Shrouded by the fine moisture dancing in the small bathroom, she eyed herself critically.

  Full breasts.

  Fuller because of him.

  Nipples rigid.

  Because of him.

  She circled one hard bud, her touch firing memories. So beautiful. So erotic. Tate’s mouth sucking across her flesh, the scrape of his teeth over the hardened bud, teasing, tempting, and causing her body to buck and moisture to pool between her thighs.

  Her throat thickened, lips parting as she struggled to breathe. Tate Sullivan tempted her as no other man ever had.

  Her gaze lowered to her stomach. He had licked her skin, the tip of his tongue delving into the tiny recess of her belly button. It had sent her off the edge.

  A hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth and her hand slipped to her thighs, grazing the still silky smooth skin.

  Tate’s skin had been textured, an aphrodisiac as it slid over hers. And when his mouth sought her cleft, sucking the folds with a gentle reverence bringing her across the divide to something revisited once more in his arms, she had known there would be no turning back.

  The shrill peal of the telephone shocked Mandy from the brink of mindless wishing. She snatched up her robe and jerked her arms into the sleeves; yanking the two si
des together and roughly tied the belt.

  Fool! You thought...

  That she could love and let go again.

  Fool! Fool! Don’t you learn, Mandy Brooks?

  Mandy sank into the depth of her sofa; grateful for its comforting support, unsure her legs would actually support her. Dear Lord she had been virtually masturbating on memories.

  “Hello,” she whispered into the phone.

  “Mandy it’s Mom.”

  “Mom?” Why now?

  “Merry Christmas, darling. Tried phoning you last night, but got no reply. Where were you?”

  Making love, mom, reliving a past I tossed away.

  “Just busy at work, Mom,” she replied.

  Yeah, busy having sex!

  “Well, never mind, I thought I’d bring you some Christmas spirit. You really should come down and join in. Lots of fun. Christmas is so special,” her mother enthused. “You used to love Christmas.”

  Used to.

  She didn’t announce this fact however. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” she said, perfunctorily.

  “Did I tell you I’m in love?”

  “Again?” Mandy responded without thinking. “How many does this make, Mom?”

  “Now, now, dear. Don’t be like that.”

  Mandy gave an involuntarily shrug. This was too hard. Too real. “I hope you’ll be very happy.”

  “We will. Oh, Mandy he’s just so darn sexy. I know he’s the one.”

  Really? Hadn’t her mother said that about the last one, and the one before that? “I’m sure he is, Mom.”

  “Mandy, I know you think I’m a bit of a ditz.”

  “Mom...”

  “No don’t Mom me, I know what you think and you’re probably right, but beneath it all, Mandy, every man I’ve loved, I have really loved. Okay, so I made some mistakes, but at the time, they weren’t mistakes. They were wonderful, Mandy. I loved them, and they loved me back and gave me a companionship I needed.”

  “I know, Mom, but I’m not....”

  “What? Not like your mother,” the older woman giggled down the line. “I know you’re not. Thank goodness. You’re strong. Smart. Sensible. But ask yourself one thing, Mandy. Does sensible keep you warm at night? Does it give back all the love you can give, and then some? Does it?”

  Mandy didn’t want to hear any more. To ask herself those questions or even contemplate answering them.