Tate picked up something from beside the tree. A Santa hat. He plopped it on his head, bringing a burst giggles at the sight of him with the hat dangling at a jaunty angle. “Very becoming,” she admitted.
“You think?” His head tilted sideways and the hat fell off. “Oops. Not very Santa like,” he chuckled along with her.
Popping it back on, he reached for small parcel beside the tree and handed it to her. He never said a word, but his eyes did. Lots of words. All unspoken, but everyone filled her heart with joy, with belief, and a smattering of hope.
She took it from him, her gaze resting on his long tanned fingers spread across the riot of colorful wrapping paper and the flurry of trailing ribbons and bows.
“This is for you,” he said formally.
She took it, but simply held it for a few minutes, unable to untangle the emotions racing through her brain, and her heart. She looked up at Tate with confusion in her question. “Why?”
“Just because,” he shrugged with that boyish charm that had captured her so many years ago. “It doesn’t need a reason, sweetheart, but is just because I wanted to do something for you, just you.”
“But you’ve been away.”
His humor vanished. “A long time, Mandy.”
“Yes. It has been.”
“Open it, sweetheart. Please.”
Mandy heard the plea in his voice and couldn’t refuse him. With shaking fingers she tugged at the bow, and found herself excited about Christmas all of a sudden. For the very first time she wanted to be a part of something. Something special. Christmas.
No it was more than that. She wanted...everything.
“Do you like it?”
Mandy lifted the lid on the small box. It was a picture frame set with exquisite crystals and silver filigree twining around the frame. “Oh, Tate.” Tears glistened in her eyes, mirroring the crystals of the frame. “It’s beautiful.”
“I saw it and thought of you. The beauty reminded me of you, Mandy.”
Her heart swelled. “Thank you.”
Tate spun around and grabbed a second parcel. “But wait, there’s more.”
“Another?”
“Nothing but the best for my...” His words died off and Mandy looked at him, a question on her lips that went unspoken. She didn’t need to ask it. She saw the answer already in Tate’s eyes. Desire. Hot. Blatant. And very urgent.
“Open it,” he prompted.
Mandy did as he asked, again pulling at the voluptuous bounty of ribbons and paper. It was an antique silk rose, faded in its beauty. Tucked beneath it was a packet of flower seeds. Mandy frowned, unsure why this present. “Flowers grow, Mandy. You’ve grown.”
“Oh, Tate.” Her throat thickened. She wanted to tell him everything, but the words wouldn’t come, still hindered by uncertainty. She didn’t want to repeat her mother’s disasters; unsure if she was strong enough to make something last, make it work. Even now she wasn’t sure she had enough faith in herself.
Tate had decided to give it a shot. It was his last chance. He wasn’t about to let Mandy slip through his fingers. Revenge had blossomed into something far, far better.
“You’re wondering why I did this?”
“It had crossed my mind,” she said, giving him a hint of a smile. That smile warmed his heart. Maybe, just maybe.
“Remember when I told you why I came home?”
“Your father.”
Tate nodded, battling to douse the guilt that warred within him. He should never have been gone so long, ignored his family. When it came down to it, family was everything. Now he hoped he could put right those wrongs. He shook his head. “Coming home gave me a wakeup call. Made me think what I wanted. And I want you.”
“Me?” Mandy’s brows knitted together, “But you never came back.”
“You didn’t want me back. It was you who walked out Mandy. You who refused to say ‘I do’.”
“So you had this profound light bulb moment and thought you’d just walk back in and say hi I'm here and how about it babe.” She saw his slight hesitation. “You did. I can see it in your eyes. I could always read your eyes.”
“A man’s soul.”
“It’s black,” she countered.
“You’re making me out to be the bad guy, you dumped me.”
“And you came back and tricked me into...”
“Into what?”
“Loving you,” she finally blurted. “To loving you, Tate, and I’m scared. I don’t want to.”
“But you do, so what’s the problem?”
“That nothing has changed. That I’ll be a pushover. I can’t compete with your mother, or with mine.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t be stupid. She’s here in town. The matriarch of the whole damned place. She didn’t want some upstart from the wrong side of the tracks sneaking into her distinguished lineage. Not then, and not now. Plus, what example has my mother set? One man after another traipsing through the house. How do I compete with both weakness and strength?”
“You don’t have to, I’d be with you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you be with me, Tate?”
But if she had hoped he would say the words he knew she needed to hear, she was disappointed.
“Stop. Can you actually hear what you’re saying, Mandy? You’re comparing yourself to your mother. You’re nothing like her.”
“I’m her daughter,” she countered.
Hell and damnation, this wasn’t going right. Frustration warred through his veins and he dragged a hand through his hair tipping off the Santa hat. “True,” he said, “but look what you’ve achieved.”
Mandy offered a shrug. “So I made assistant manager.”
“Not an easy feat. You’ve worked hard. Made good. Marry me, Mandy.”
Despite his words, Mandy didn’t hesitate to question him. “Why?”
“Why do you think? It’s us. It’s always been about us. You and me. And love. I love you. I want you.”
“Lust,” she countered.
He grinned then, that cheeky boy grin that lit up his whole face, eyes sparkling with mischievous desire. “Sure there’s that. But it goes deeper. Holds on fast. Never lets go. I won’t let you go a second time, Mandy. Be mine. My wife. Forever.”
“I can’t. My...”
“Job?” He chuckled, though the light in his eyes dimmed slightly. “I knew you’d say that.”
She went to speak; to apologize, but the tip of his finger touched her lips. Her eyes shuttered a fraction as she dampened down the urge to lick the tip of that finger.
“It’s okay. I understand. We’re both driven. Both strive for success.”
“Only you didn’t come from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Sure family wealth gave me the edge, but I can’t apologize for it either. When you walked out on our wedding, I vowed I would make my own life, without you. You hurt me. I turned away from my family and its buckets of money.”
Mandy stilled, shock holding her captive. “You mean you did all this,” she said, spreading her arms out as an all-encompassing act indicating the entire store and all she knew about him.
“Yep. All mine. None of my family’s money. I did it because I wanted to prove to you I could stand without my family, but when my father died, I realized family is family and you can’t escape them. I also learned I couldn’t escape love. And I understand I can’t live for revenge either.”
Her brows creased and the color quickly drained from her flushed cheeks. “Revenge?”
“I thought revenge would be sweet. I vowed I would make you love me and then leave you. It was a game for a fool.”
Mandy pressed herself back into the chair, shock at Tate’s declaration slicing her heart. “You wanted to hurt me?”
“No! Yes. Oh, shit, Mandy, I don’t know. For years I thought it was all your fault. But it wasn’t. I realized that the moment I saw you in your Santa dress.
You looked...”
“Like a tart,” she said interrupting him.
“No, you didn’t, you looked beautiful, just like I remembered and all the things I thought I hated, along with the hurt, vanished in that instant. Revenge isn’t sweet. It made me a fool. It made me realize I love you, sweetheart. That the love hasn’t died. If you would forgive a fool, Mandy,” he said with severity. “I have this for you.” And he turned and retrieved the last of the boxes from beneath the tree. He handed it to her. “Go on, open it.”
Mandy frowned. She didn’t like surprises, they made her edgy and right now edgy was mild to how she felt. This whole scenario had tipped her off the scales.
She took the gift from Tate, ensuring her fingers didn’t touch his. She didn’t want to touch; too scared she’d not be able to let go. Oh, she knew, deep down inside her she loved him. But his admission had shocked her.
She opened the gift.
It was small, no bigger than a small jewelry box. But this velvet-covered box had no name on the front and in fact the velvet was slightly discolored. Her fingers trailed over the expensive fabric.
“I’ve had it a while,” he said with a sheepish grin that tugged at her heart. He nodded toward the box. “Please open it Mandy.”
She did. And her heart broke with joy. “Oh.” She couldn’t say a word. Not one. Tears welled and her heart filled with love for this man.
“I brought it five years ago, Mandy,” Tate said quietly. “It was to be my wedding gift to you.”
Her lips parted, but still no words came.
“I kept it. In fact,” he said, pointing to the other two gifts. “Those too. I brought them after that day. I would see things in a shop that reminded me of you, so I bought them. They’ve sat waiting for me to give them to you. For the right moment.”
“And this is it?” she finally managed to ask.
“It is. It’s the day you agree to marry me, Mandy Brooks. Our second chance. But there’s one small problem.”
Mandy’s heartbeat stalled.
Tate withdrew something from his pocket. He handed it to her. With shaking fingers, she unfolded the single page. “It’s a sale document, Tate. What is this?” She read the heading. Sale and Purchase for Wentworth’s Department Store. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. “It’s for the store.”
“That’s right. You love me, sweetheart. I know it.”
Mandy dropped her gaze. She couldn’t deny him, so it was easier to look away. But Tate knew too and his fingers cupped her chin, lifting it so that her gaze rested with his darkly loving eyes. “Mandy Brooks. You’re one smart cookie. I admire you; you’ve done great things. I know where you’ve been and where you’re going. You want independence, freedom of choice. You’ve got it. This document details the sale of the store...to you.”
“Me? Tate, don’t be stupid. This is your flagship store for the state.”
He offered her a shrug of his broad shoulders. “So?”
“But why me?”
“Because I love you. Because I want to marry you and company policy says employees can’t have ‘relations’ with another employee. Besides, I don’t think sleeping with the boss is a good idea.”
“You don’t?” she queried offering him a shy smile.
“Nope. But then if I’m not the boss and you were, well heck, I could sleep with whoever I liked.”
“Whoever?”
Tate chuckled. “Yep. The world’s my oyster.”
Oh dear god. “Tate Sullivan, is this where you take revenge, because it is.”
“No, sweetheart,” he said pulling her into his embrace. It was wonderful as his arms wrapped around her. Like coming home. “This, Mandy Brooks, is about new beginnings. About me loving you, and you loving me. You can do what you really desire. You have come a long way. Be proud of that. I know I’m proud of you. Marry me, Mandy?”
Mandy’s heart swelled with love for this man. “Thank you for coming back.”
“Took me a while,” he admitted as his lips began a trail of tempting butterfly kisses along her jaw.
Mandy struggled to focus. Her mouth parted, tongue sliding along her lips. “At least you came. But I have one condition.”
“Only one? Heck that’s okay. I figure I’m getting off lightly.”
“How about you wear that Santa suit again. You look rather becoming in red, Mr. Santa.”
“Ditto baby. Mrs. Santa is definitely hot!”
The End
www.janebeckenham.com
Author Bio:
Author Jane Beckenham found literature at a young age. In books she discovered dreams and hope, stories that inspired in her a love of romance, and travel. Years later, after a blind date, Jane found her own true love and married him eleven months later.
Life has been a series of ‘dreams’ for Jane. Dreaming of learning to walk again after spending years in hospital. Dreaming of raising a family and subsequently flying to Russia to bring home her two adopted daughters. And of course, dreaming of writing.
With her family growing up, life is a round of playing mum's taxi service, all the while wondering what her hero and heroine are up to behind her back! Writing is Jane’s addiction—and it sure beats housework.
You can contact Jane via her web site www.janebeckenham.com or email her at [email protected] Want to join her newsletter, a monthly chat about books, authors and fun. Go to Jane's Newsletter or her myspace page.
Red Rose Publishing
The Sheikh’s Proposal
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Love in Waiting
Treble Heart Books
Be My Valentine
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He’s The One
Desparately Seeking Santa Page 9