“I’m sure. Nice meeting you, and I’ll see you later.”
“Same here, Belle.” With what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace, Taryn left the shop. Instantly she began drinking as fast as possible without scalding her tongue. The caffeine would give her the courage she’d need for what she was about to do.
Once she was out of sight of the coffee shop, she chugged the last of her coffee and tossed the cup in a nearby trash can. Then she picked up the pace, but she couldn’t run. That would attract attention.
She slowed down again twenty yards from the Evergreen building. She couldn’t pant when she called out a greeting to Jolie S. Garland. She would have trouble acting normal as it was.
Jolie smiled at her. “Did you get your coffee, dear?”
“Sure did. Drank it already. Back to work!” She kept moving. Her hand trembled and she had to swipe Belle’s card twice before the elevator doors opened. Luck was with her. It was empty. And lo and behold, all the numbers were lit.
Her finger hovered over the button for fifteen, but pressing it would have been stupid. No doubt she’d run smack into Cole the minute she stepped off the elevator.
Wait a minute. Besides the fifteen floors above ground, there were five below. She hadn’t been able to see those with her original access card. And everyone knew secrets were always hidden in the basement. She punched B5.
The car started its slow glide down, and her stomach began to churn. She reminded herself Cole had promised nothing bad was going on in this building, and Cole was incapable of telling a lie. Unlike her. She was both a thief and a liar. She prayed Cole loved her enough to forgive her.
The elevator slid to a stop and the doors rumbled open to reveal...a paint and body shop? She wasn’t tremendously familiar with them, but she recognized the giant paint sprayers. Positioned in the middle of the area, its new coat of red gleaming in the overhead lights, was a giant sleigh. The curved metal runners had been taped, as had all the metal fittings. A workbench along one wall was lined with various sized brushes and a large can of paint.
No one was in the shop, so she crept forward and looked at the white label on top of the can. Sleigh, Gold Pinstriping, Formula 896 had been typed on the adhesive label. Could this be a prop for an advertising campaign?
If so, she couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t be allowed to see it. No wiser than before, she returned to the elevator and rode to the next floor. This time, as the doors began to open, she was greeted by quite a racket. Staccato tapping filled the space, as if dozens of tiny hammers were being wielded by...elves.
Stepping through the open doors, she stared at tiny people wearing pointy caps, green tunics and leggings, and shoes that curved up at the toe and were each decorated with a bell. They didn’t notice her. Of course they wouldn’t. Christmas Eve was drawing near and they were making toys for girls and boys.
She blinked, but the scene didn’t change. Conveyor belts snaked through the two-story work area carrying finished toys to a wrapping machine. The toys emerged covered with bright paper and festive bows. Then they disappeared into a tunnel.
Slowly she backed into the elevator. This couldn’t be real, and yet she was wide awake. She pinched herself to make sure. The secret, the one Cole had refused to tell her, was incredible, but she couldn’t deny it now. Evergreen Industries, through some process she didn’t understand but Cole obviously knew inside out, was responsible for making Christmas happen.
* * *
Cole glanced at the clock. Taryn would have her coffee by now, and he should probably contact her to see how she was getting along with the database. Texting her seemed like the best option. He’d begun composing one when his phone chimed. Noelle’s name popped up on the screen.
He abandoned his text message and answered the call. “What’s up?”
“You’d better get down here.”
He’d never heard Noelle use that tone, which was part command and part freak-out. “Be right there.”
Moments later he was in her office staring at the pictures coming from her surveillance cameras and swearing softly under his breath. “How did she get in there? Her access card was only coded for the IT floor!”
“Don’t ask me, but we officially have a major security threat.”
Cole’s chest tightened. Deep down, he’d known this would happen. He should never have brought her here. “Do you have the cocoa ready?”
Noelle hesitated. “Yes.”
“Will it work?” He was worried about Noelle’s slight hesitation.
“It should.”
“It will erase all memory of me and of this place, but nothing else, right?”
“Uh, yes.”
He didn’t like the faint tremor in her voice, which told him she wasn’t all that confident about the cocoa. But even if the effects only lasted for a while, it would buy him some time, and it was better than nothing. “Get me some and bring it to my office. I’ll go find her.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
At this point, he didn’t have to hide his powers anymore. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to B4, where Taryn was wandering through displays featuring the historical origin of the Christmas tree. He materialized next to her while she gazed up at a Scotch pine with candles attached to its branches.
“Having fun?”
She jumped and turned toward him, wide-eyed. “Where did you come from?”
He looked into her eyes. “I’m a wizard.” In some ways, it was a relief to finally say it. “I can travel simply by wishing it.”
“You’re a...” She stared at him, her face drained of all color.
“A wizard. From the Winter Clan. As you’ve just discovered, we’re in charge of Christmas.”
“But you can’t be. What about the North Pole? How does that figure in?”
“It’s a decoy. The North Pole would be way too much trouble—no decent facilities at all up there. Colorado is much more convenient for our purposes.”
“So this is what you couldn’t tell me.”
“That’s right. And because you’ve breached our security, I have to take care of that. How did you, by the way?”
“I stole Belle’s access card while we were in the coffee shop. Don’t blame her. It’s not her fault.”
“I don’t. If anybody’s to blame, it’s me for bringing you to Gingerbread in the first place. But I’ll fix that.” He held out his hand. “Hold on.”
“Why?”
“We need to go to my office, and this is the quickest way.” He gazed at her. “Trust me, please.”
“All right.” And she put her hand in his.
That simple act broke his heart. But he had a job to do, so he closed his eyes and willed them to his fifteenth-floor office. When the swirling stopped, he kept holding her hand. Anyone new to apparating needed some time to adjust.
She took a shaky breath. “Wow. How many Gs do you think we pulled?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never tried to measure that.”
“Next time you should. It would be fun to know.”
“Fun? This isn’t about fun, Taryn.”
“Of course it is! This is a blast. I just found out the man I love is a wizard. How cool is that?”
“I don’t think you quite understand.”
“No, but I want to. Where do you live? Can you tell me now?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt. The Winter Clan has a lodge up on Mistletoe Mountain.”
“I knew it! That’s why Belle warned me not to go hiking up there.”
“You wouldn’t have found it even if you had. We have it cloaked.”
“Cloaked! I love it! What about the elves? Where do they live?”
“Their village is just below the lodge. They travel to and from the workshop through unde
rground passageways.” He looked into her shining eyes and frowned. “At this point any normal person should be hyperventilating and questioning her own sanity. Why aren’t you?”
“You’re kidding, right? This is me you’re talking to, the woman who has read Lord of the Rings at least four times and has watched the movie more times than that. Cole, you’re a wizard. Like Gandalf, only way sexier! I’m geeking out!”
“Knock, knock.” Noelle appeared in the doorway holding an ornate silver mug on a silver tray. “I have the cocoa.”
“Thanks, Noelle. You can set it on my desk.”
She did. Then she walked over to Taryn and held out her hand. “I’m Noelle Frost, temporary head of security. I don’t know how you breached our system, but I’m impressed. I wish I could get to know you better.”
“Maybe you can,” Taryn said.
“I don’t think so.” Noelle glanced at the cocoa and then at Cole. “It should be fine.”
“What?” Taryn whirled around to face him. “What’s with the cocoa?”
Cole stepped forward and grasped her shoulders. “It’s a special batch. I can’t allow you to remember all you’ve seen, so the cocoa will erase those memories. Then you can return to your life, your family and your job as if this never happened.”
“No, I can’t.”
Noelle cleared her throat. “I’ll just head on back to my office. Call if you need me.”
“I will,” Cole said. Then he returned his attention to Taryn. “Yes, you can. It’s the way things need to be.”
“I didn’t finish my work in IT.”
“That’s okay. I can do it.”
“What if I hack back in?”
He shook his head. “You won’t. I’ve asked Noelle to brew this batch so your memories of me will be selectively removed.” He hoped Noelle had managed that.
“First of all, you may be a wizard and all, but that doesn’t sound doable. I don’t think it’s possible to untangle my memories of you without screwing up all my memories from MIT.”
“I believe it can be done.”
“You mean you want to believe, but I can tell you’re not a hundred percent sure.”
“Taryn, listen to me. We have to try so you can live a normal life. I saw the pictures on your mantel. The burden of keeping a secret like this from those you love would be huge.”
She gazed at him for several seconds. “Now I get it. The burden would be huge for you, because being open with those you love is so important. It’s important to me, too, but if I have to keep a secret from my friends and family so I can be with you—it’s no contest.”
“Taryn, I—”
She cupped his face in both hands. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And now, on top of your brains, your sexy body and your intense love for me, you’re a wizard. Do you think for one minute I’m going to dutifully swallow some iffy potion that might make me forget you? I intend to remember you for the rest of my life.”
A tiny kernel of hope took root in him and began to grow. “You need to think this through very carefully. Snap decisions are never a good idea.”
“I’ve been thinking it through for ten years, buster. And when I hacked into your site, I promised myself if I ever got my hands on you again, I would never let go.”
He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face. “Really?”
“Really.” She wiggled out of his grip and walked over to the desk. “Is this one of those fancy offices with a bathroom attached?”
“Yes. Do you need to use the facilities?”
“I do. Where are they?”
“Through that door.” He was a little perplexed, but when a woman had to go, she had to go.
“Good.” Taryn picked up the mug of cocoa and marched through the door he’d indicated.
“What are you doing?” He heard the toilet flush.
She came back bearing the mug and set it on the tray. “No more cocoa. You’re stuck with me, Cole Evergreen. And you really need me, too, because you can’t run this corporation and the IT department. I’ll take that on.”
Heart full, he gathered her in his arms. “I just plain need you. But I was so afraid I’d ruin your life.”
She gazed up at him. “Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Can we do that apparating thing again?”
“Why? Where do you want to go?”
“Your bedroom in the Winter Clan lodge. It’s time I saw where you live.”
He drew her closer. “It’s the middle of a business day.”
“Yes, but you’re the CEO. Besides, I want to see your magic wand. You do have one, don’t you?”
“Is that a loaded question?”
“What do you think?”
“I think it is. And that’s what I love about you, Taryn Harper.” Closing his eyes, he carried them both off to begin a life more magickal than he ever could have imagined. And he had one hell of an imagination.
* * * * *
She’s a
Mean One
Rhonda Nelson
NYT bestselling author, two-time RITA® Award nominee, RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee and National Readers’ Choice Award winner RHONDA NELSON writes hot romantic comedy. You can find her at www.readrhondanelson.com, follow @RhondaRNelson on Twitter and like her on Facebook.
For my fellow novella-mates, Vicki, Andrea and Kira. I believe this book represents what makes us work as dear friends and plotting partners—sheer magic. Love y’all bunches!
Prologue
December 24th, 1996
Seven-year-old Lark DeWynter sucked in a startled breath, and then shut her eyes tightly. “He’s not there. He’s not there. He’s not there,” she repeatedly whispered. “And I am not crazy,” she added, defiantly lifting her chin, a bit of a growl entering her voice.
The scent of sugar cookies and hot cocoa suddenly wafted around her and a low chuckle sounded from directly in front of her. “Of course you’re not crazy, child,” a merry voice said. “Whoever told you such nonsense?”
Lark’s eyes popped open. And there he was.
Santa.
Just like he was every year. Red suit, black belt, snowy white beard tumbling from a rosy-cheeked face and the kindest, twinkling eyes Lark had ever seen. Just looking at him made bubbles of happiness burst in her chest.
Lark choked back a sob and flung herself at him, knocking a surprised grunting laugh from his big belly. She clung to him, profoundly relieved that he was real, that she wasn’t crazy, but more than anything, that everyone else was wrong. “Oh, Santa!” she cried. “They don’t believe me! They don’t believe that you’re real, but I know that you’re real. I know that you are!”
“Whoa, there,” he said. “What’s all this about?” he asked, drawing her away so he could look down into her face. Concern clouded his gaze. “You’re not supposed to cry on Christmas Eve. You’re supposed to be tucked away in bed, dreaming of toys and surprises.”
Lark scrubbed a tear off her cheek and peered up at him. “But I never do that. I always wait for you.”
His eyes softened and his especially pink lips curled into a warm smile. “That you do,” he said fondly. “You’re one of the very, very special few who do that, Lark. Did you know that?”
Her? Special? Really? “But they don’t believe me.”
He inclined his head, a grave expression on his face, though she sensed that he was merely pretending. “Ah,” he said, as though giving it some thought. “Well, that’s hardly surprising. Adults have a hard time believing in magic,” he said. “Isn’t that sad?” He cast a significant glance around the living room. “They can see the tinsel and the lights and the stockings, but the actual magic of Christmas?” He gave his head a tragic shake and tsked. “It eludes th
em, the poor dears.”
She’d never thought about it that way before and for a moment felt pity for her parents and for sad Dr. Nancy, who had lots of wrinkles and smelled like mothballs. How terrible that they couldn’t see Santa, that they didn’t notice the occasional wink of a toy soldier, the flash of a smile from a nutcracker, the flutter of angel wings from the topper on their tree, the extra shimmer on many of the other ornaments.
There was one, in particular, that seemed to shine with an internal glow.
The snowman.
It was pearly white, like moonlight on ice, and seemed to change a bit from year to year. This time he had ivy sprigs on his top hat instead of holly berries, reindeer on the scarf around his neck in place of the snowflakes that were there the year before—even his expression changed. Some years he looked happier than others, when his eyes beamed with a mischievous twinkle. There were years, too, when he looked almost bored. It was odd, but in a strange sort of way it was comforting.
Naturally, that ornament was her favorite, and every year when it came time to dismantle the tree, she fought to keep him out. She had even gone so far as to hide him in her room. It seemed a tragedy to put away all of the decorations, but even more so when it came to her special snowman. He wasn’t merely a “Frosty,” Lark had decided, and had renamed him Mr. Cool.
She glanced at him now, where he hung front and center on the tree, nestled between a handprint reindeer and a green glass ball, and grinned when his raisin smile widened, his button eyes gleaming with encouragement.
An upside-down head suddenly emerged from the chimney. “Oy, what’s the hold up? We’re on a schedule here, Big Red,” the little man hissed impatiently, the point of his cap dangling dangerously close to the flames. He cast a glance around the living room, stopping short when he spotted the pair of them.
“Oh. It’s you.” He rolled his eyes—which looked especially odd since he was upside down—and heaved a put upon sigh. “I should have known.”
Lark smiled at the elf, despite his surly greeting. “Hello, Edgar.”
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