Kissing Kris Kringle

KISSING KRIS KRINGLE By Erin Quinn ISBN: 978-1-927111-37-6 PUBLISHED BY: Books We Love 192 Lakeside Greens Drive Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2 Canada Copyright 2011 by Erin Quinn Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2011 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Dear Readers With Kissing Kris Kringle, I'm stepping out of my comfort zone (not to mention the dark that my stories usually thrive in) and trying my hand at something light for the holidays! I hope you'll enjoy this tale of love, Christmas magic and the spirit of giving. Make sure to check out the picture when you finish reading--the little pup, Cupid, is based on my own lab, Nala, who brought life to the character! No matter what your beliefs, I hope this holiday season brings you closeness to your loved ones and much joy! And of course, may the New Year be filled with dreams-come-true! Erin Quinn

Chapter One Kris woke up spread eagle on his kitchen floor feeling like he’d been hit by a runaway sleigh attached to twelve rabid reindeer. He remembered going to Yule Tide’s with Nick and Rudy—two school buddies he hadn’t seen in ages. Rudy, because he’d moved away from the tiny town of North Pole, Maine years ago and now lived in New York City. Nick, because even in a town with the population of twelve hundred and two, life got in the way. Plus, with everything going to shit between the economy, lagging tourism and finally, the last insult, no snow…well, it made a person want to hole up and be alone. Kris had been doing a lot of that lately. But Rudy was in town for a short trip and he’d been buying. They’d drank beer, then tequila, then something pink and sweet with the word fuzzy in it, then more beer, then…well, who the hell knew what then. Certainly not Kris. He sat, holding his pounding head on his shoulders with one hand to make sure it didn't roll off. The other clutched a black velvet bag. Kris stared at it for a moment. WTF? He had no idea where it had come from or how it had come to be in his possession, but he had such a tight grip on the thing that his hand hurt. The bag was huge and at the bottom was a bulge that indicated it wasn’t empty. Jesus, had he robbed somebody? He discarded the horrified idea at once. No way. He hadn’t been that drunk. Had he? Cautiously, he loosened his grip and peered inside. He caught a glimpse of something red, something white and something kind of creamy yellow. Frowning, he reached inside and one of those somethings moved. With a shout he released the bag and hit his feet. WTF? As he stared at the bag, the bulge at the bottom separated, became two bumps—one stationary and the other squirming like a whole nest of snakes. Except it wasn’t making snake noises. As Kris watched, the wiggling bump moved to the lip of the bag and out popped… A puppy. A puppy? Where the hell had he gotten a puppy? And why had he stuffed it in a bag? “Hey, there,” he said, hunkering down beside it. It was a cute little lab with golden fur and big brown eyes. It wagged its whole body in its excitement to see him, set its front paws on Kris’s thigh and stretched up to lick his chin. “Where did you come from?” “Wruff,” it answered and licked him again. Kris rubbed the little fat puppy’s belly before digging in the bag again, intrigued at what else might be in there. He pulled out a red hat with a white trim at the crown and a fluffy white ball at the end. A Santa hat. Ho, ho, ho. Scowling, he reached in again and out came a Santa suit—jacket and pants. Shiny black belt and boots followed. At the very bottom was a cheesy beard, wig and…a miniature Santa hat and a leash. “I think that one’s yours,” he said to the dog. “Wruff,” the puppy answered.

As he stared at the bizarre collection and the black bag which, of course, was meant to hold toys for all the good little boys and girls, he had to wonder yet again…what had been in that fuzzy, pink drink? He had no recollection of when, where, or why he’d lifted a puppy and a Santa suit, but somewhere in that alcohol saturated memory of his, he remembered a guy dressed like the jolly fat man himself, scolding Kris for being such a Scrooge and telling him he’d been relegated to the Naughty List. Kris let out a shaky laugh that made his head hurt even worse. Had to be a dream—a nightmare. Kris dreaded Christmas—had since he was a boy and his dad had died on Christmas eve, followed a few years later by his mother—not on Christmas eve, but close enough to make December and all the holiday cheer, just a grim reminder of two people he’d loved who died too young. He shook his head, rattling the few brain cells that had survived the drinking binge, and returned his attention to the bag, the suit and the puppy. Where had all this stuff come from? The pup gave him another lick, pranced in a circle around his feet and then trotted over and peed on his kitchen floor. “Outstanding,” he said, shaking his pounding head. With a weary sigh, he got out the paper towels and disinfectant. The pup tugged at his pant legs as he cleaned the puddle, thinking it all great fun. “You may be cute, but you’re not that cute.” Deciding he’d better take the little mutt out before it decided to do other things to his floor, Kris scooped it up and headed for the door. The squirming bundle of fur thought this a grand adventure and nearly wiggled right out of his hands in its effort to lick Kris’s ears. Kris tried not to be charmed by the creature, but who could help it? He turned the knob on the backdoor and pulled. The door didn’t budge. He tried again, finally risking putting the puppy down so he could use both hands. He twisted and turned, pulled until the tendons in his arms bulged and it felt like his head might explode. Nothing. Cursing under his breath, he double checked that he’d thrown the locks, confirmed that, indeed, the bolts were back. But the damned door wouldn’t open. At his feet, the pup whined. “I know, I know,” Kris muttered. He moved to the front door, dog at his heels. That door wouldn’t budge either. “Damn it,” he shouted, putting his weight into the task, thinking the wood must have swollen in the damp. But it wasn’t damp out. It had been the driest winter anyone could recall. No snow. No rain. No hint of either. A heat wave in North Pole, Maine with Christmas just around the corner. It was beyond comprehension. Pissed off and hung-over, he turned around in frustration and let out a startled shout. The Santa suit and bag he’d left on the floor now lay carefully arranged over the back of his sofa. Jacket spread out above the pants, belt looped at the waist. Boots at the end of the white cuffed legs. Hat beside them. Kris looked at the puppy. The miniature Santa hat sat propped at a jaunty angle over one of its ears. “How’d you do that?” he demanded. Predictably, the puppy answered, “Wruff.” Angry now, feeling like the brunt of a joke he hadn’t gotten, Kris stormed to the back door and jerked on the knob again. It gave not an inch. Feeling trapped, confused, and at the end

of his rope, he turned and found the Santa suit had relocated to the kitchen. With the same meticulous placement, the suit sprawled across his kitchen table. “What the fuck is going on?” he demanded. Another ten minutes of trying to escape his own damn house and Kris grabbed a hammer from his tool belt and busted one of the panes of glass in the backdoor. He reached out and tried the knob from the other side with no success. Cursing wildly now, he busted all the glass panes in the door, pounded down the spindly frames and tried to climb through the opening. An invisible force pushed him back so hard he fell on his ass. Shaken, freaked out, pissed off and still hung-over, Kris gave it the good fight, trying again and again while the puppy watched with its head tilted curiously, offering encouraging barks every once in awhile. Finally, exhausted and so confused he couldn’t think straight, Kris collapsed on the floor, sitting with his back to the wall and his hands dangling between his bent knees. The puppy happily jumped on his lap and begin licking him again. A shower made him feel better. Clean, shaved, teeth brushed and three extra strength aspirin later, he’d convinced himself that he’d overreacted. The doors had been stuck—sure. But that stupid suit hadn’t moved and nothing had pushed him back from crawling through the broken glass to freedom. Obviously he’d still been a little drunk and considering he’d consumed enough to forget how he’d ended up with a puppy and the Santa bag, he shouldn’t be too surprised that a few hours sleep hadn’t cured his intoxication. But now he felt clearheaded and ready to face the day, return the stolen goods if he could find their owners, and get on with things. He reached for the clean clothes he’d set on the bathroom counter. They weren’t there. Towel wrapped around his hips, he went into the bedroom, thinking he’d been mistaken about where he’d left them. What he found was the Santa suit spread out on his bed. The puppy snoozed in a little ball, half in, half out of one of the toppled boots. Frowning, Kris hurried to his closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and socks. He yanked the shirt over his head, donned a pair of boxers and stepped into his jeans, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he reached for his work boots. He was dressed in the Santa suit. The sight of his reflection caught him like a blow. He spun, looking at the bed where the suit had been laid out. His jeans and t-shirt waited in its place. *** For half an hour, Kris had tried to get the stupid suit off but like the doors that wouldn’t open, he’d failed. Finally, after being manipulated by God knew what freak of nature, he’d found himself fully garbed, from white wig, to beard, to shiny black boots. His front door opened without so much as a squeak. The back door, too. The puppy yapped with glee when he put on its leash and headed out, its little red and white hat bobbing merrily as it trotted ahead of him. It seemed to know where it wanted to go. Dazed and numb, Kris followed it. The streets of North Pole, Maine, looked bare and sorrowful with only a few intrepid shoppers out and about. He remembered going to Las Vegas once. He’d arrived at night amidst the glow of casino lights. The place had seemed magical to him. But the next morning, lit by the unforgiving sun, it had looked dry and dirty and completely without allure.

That’s how North Pole felt these days. The flailing economy had taken a toll on this town. An apartment building just off Prancer Street that had once sported blooming poinsettias and immaculate lawns had been foreclosed on. Rumor had it that new owners had bought in, but Kris couldn’t see any signs of life in its future. The dark windows and dead plants served as a grim reminder of North Pole’s future. It felt like the whole town might dry up and blow away before too long. “Look, Mommy, Santa Claus!” a little girl cried in delight as Kris walked by. Kris recognized her mother, Merry. They’d been neighbors and gone to school together as kids. He smiled and gave her a self-conscious wave. Yeah, I know I look like an ass. “Hey, Merry,” he said. Merry returned the greeting with a frowning, nervous glance and kept walking, dragging her kid along when the little girl obviously wanted to pet the puppy. She’d acted like he was some creepy stranger in a Santa suit out trolling for kids to molest. Granted, after Mr. White—who’d been the town’s Santa for as long as anyone could remember—died, they’d had a couple of really bad Santa wannabes. The first had had the personality of a rock and the second didn’t know what sober might feel like. But Kris had known Merry most of his life and even if they weren’t best friends, she should recognize him behind the ridiculous beard and know that he wasn’t some creep. Surprised and a little hurt by her reaction, he kept walking. Frank Elveson, another native to North Pole who Kris had known since childhood, passed by, gave him a cheery wave and said, “Hey, Santa,” but Kris didn’t see even a flicker of recognition in his eyes. No curiosity about why Kris would be traipsing down Main Street in a freaking Santa suit. No teasing about the white beard and wig. It made no sense. Kris had been known as the town Scrooge for years. No one should take Kris dressed as Santa as the norm. Disgusted with everything, he veered into Sugar Plums Bakery for a cup of coffee and a muffin or two. The puppy sniffed with interest and let out a couple of excited yaps as the enticing scents of fresh baked muffins and cookies wafted around them. Jenny Bells—who he now remembered had appointed herself designated driver after finding Kris, Nick and Rudy shitfaced in the bar last night—twinkled at him and the puppy, served him coffee, two pumpkin muffins and a few doggy bagels which, she said, contained only organic ingredients and would be good for the little guy. But not one single flicker of recognition crossed her features. “Thanks, Jenny,” he said as she handed the bag over the counter. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re welcome, Santa.” He stared at her, noting how her eyes scanned his features, searching for something familiar. Searching, and not finding it. This day just got weirder and weirder. A startled bark of laughter burst from his lips. Only it didn’t come out as a chuckle, rife with sarcasm. It came out, ho ho ho. No. No. No. Kris beat it out of there as fast as he could, mindlessly following the puppy which strained at its leash, some destination in mind. It came to a stop at the big, gaudy Santa chair waiting empty, outside of Always Christmas Department store in the shadow of the looming Christmas tree which hadn’t been lit this year due to budget cuts. No money for fixing all the busted and burned out lights. “Oh hell no,” he told the little dog.

But once again, something gave him a shove and Kris found his ass planted in the chair. Three attempts to get out of it were all it took for Kris to get the message. Like the doors, like the stupid suit, he wouldn’t be escaping until whatever crazy force had hijacked his day was good and ready to set him free. “What do you think you’re doing?” a woman demanded before he even had the chance to catch his breath. Kris turned and found Holly McClaussen standing beside him, reaching for a sign that lay face down on the ground beside Santa’s throne. He must have knocked it over. When she lifted it he read, “Santa is out feeding his reindeer.” Kris took a sip of his coffee, letting his gaze roam lazily over her tight expression and stiff shoulders, thinking seeing her was the best thing to happen to him all day. What he really wanted to do was admire all the nice rounded curves below the scooped neckline of her sweater, but he forced himself not to go there. “I said, what are you doing in Santa’s chair?” Holly repeated. “Just enjoying the view,” he murmured, fishing a doggy bagel out and giving it to the puppy before snagging a muffin for himself and taking a bite. He’d had a thing for Holly since he was thirteen that he’d never really outgrown. But she’d always be a little too…everything for him. Too pretty, too smart, too untouchable. Thinking about her was as far as he ever got. She’d been trying to turn around the downward spiral of her daddy’s department store for years. Rumor had it that old man McClaussen was just too set in his ways to listen to any of her ideas, though. Recently he’d heard that the store teetered at the edge of bankruptcy and some big chain—Smart-Mart—had been sniffing at the property. Nothing good could come of Smart-Mart moving in on them. Holly brandished the sign in front of him. “This sign was on that chair for a reason, Kris,” she said. He’d been half certain she, like everyone else, would be fooled by the ridiculous Santa suit and look at him like he was a leper in red felt. Her use of his name filled him with relief. “You know who I am?” Her brows shot up. “Funny. The suit is good. Very authentic. But it’s not exactly the greatest disguise in the universe. I can still see your eyes.” She paused at that and stared into his eyes. Kris found himself staring back at her, thinking he’d recognize hers anywhere. They were as blue as the bright sky above them and they reflected every single thought she had. He wondered what they looked like after she’d been kissed breathless. He’d wondered that before. Many times. “I am surprised to see you in that suit though,” she went on, oblivious to his rising…awareness. “I thought you hated Christmas.” He did. His dad had been a UPS driver and he’d been delivering those last minute packages when a drunk driver had hit him head on, killing them both. The doctors blamed influenza for his mother’s demise years later, but Kris knew she’d died of a broken heart, made worse by all the garish merriment of the yuletide season. Before he could answer, Holly said, “I can’t pay you. You can sit here until Christmas comes and goes, but there’s nothing in the budget for Santa.” He felt himself blushing. “I’m not sitting here to get paid.” “No? Then why are you?” “I’m trying to drink my coffee,” he said, popping the last bite of his muffin in his mouth and washing it down with caffeine.

She stared at him for a long moment. “You realize that kids are going to see you. They’re going to want to talk to you.” Inside his head, a multitude of angry curse words played out. “Yeah, so?” She sighed with exasperation and Kris couldn’t help but watch her breasts strain against her sweater. He’d thought about them before too. “So you have to be nice, Kris,” she said. “You can’t tell them to get lost. You have to smile.” He glared at her. “Let me hear you say ho ho ho.” Not on her life. He opened his bag of muffins and pulled the second one out, snagging doggy bagel number two for the puppy as well and tossing it down. Holly watched him through narrowed eyes and after taking a big bite, he offered it to her. “Bite?” She almost smiled. “I mean it,” she warned. “If I hear any complaints, I’m going to….” She trailed off and he sat calmly, eating his muffin and drinking his coffee. Finally he prompted, “What? What are you going to do to me, Holly?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so suggestive—okay, maybe he had—but he and Holly had been circling each other since junior high. Somehow they’d always managed to avoid connecting. He’d gone away to school and by the time he’d come back, she’d gone and gotten married for about a week and a half to some dick she’d met at Boston University. He’d met the guy when she’d brought him home. Kris hadn’t liked him on sight. But as she stood there now in her boxy red sweater that tried to hide all her lush curves, her straight skirt that covered most of her shapely legs and those sensible heels, Kris wanted nothing more than to change the status quo between them. Except he was stuck in this damned Santa suit and who could take a man dressed like Santa Claus seriously? Especially when said man had been cursed with a name like Kris Kringle in real life? As if she’d heard his thoughts, she shifted and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “This is a bad idea,” she said. “I think you should take your muffins and your puppy and go home, Kris.” “I’d really like to do that Holly,” he said. “But I can’t.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him. He got a whiff of perfume that smelled so good he wanted to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer. Hell, he wanted to wrap both arms around her and pull her right onto his jolly, old lap. She frowned. “Are you drunk?” “Nope.” Not anymore. He was stone cold sober now, like it or not. His disclaimer seemed to do little to lighten her mood. She said, “You’re not on our payroll. You’re not covered by our insurance. If something happened… If someone tripped on the way up to see you. If you fell out of your chair—” Kris choked on his coffee. “If I fell out of my chair?” he repeated. “It could happen.” He laughed and dammed if that ho, ho, ho didn’t boom out like fireworks on the Fourth of July. All around them people who’d been bustling by, wrapped in their own thoughts, faces strained with the burden of a holiday season without any cheer—all of them stopped and stared. “Jeez,” Holly said. “That was impressive. But it doesn’t change a thing.” Actually, it did. Because in that instant, Kris once again had a glimmering memory from the night before. A voice, deep and merry, telling him he’d been a very naughty boy and that it was time to make amends. Disturbed and unsure now if it had been real or an alcohol-induced

hallucination, Kris tried to follow the echo of the voice to its source but came up with a blank wall. People in this town told tall tales of meeting Santa Claus in the strangest places, but Kris had never believed. Holly waved her hand in front of his face. “Come on, Kris. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Out of the chair.” Just looking at her was making things harder than they had to be, but he didn’t suppose she’d appreciate the humor of that. He would love nothing more than to get out of the chair. But he felt like his ass had been cemented to it and he knew that he wasn’t going anywhere. He tossed the last doggy bagel down to the puppy waiting so patiently at his feet, brushed the crumbs off his beard and jacket, drained his cup, stashed it in the bag and handed it to her. “Could you toss that for me, beautiful? Looks like I’ve got a line.” “Beaut…” She sputtered for a second. “Don’t call me that.” “Why not?” Her face pinked and her eyes flashed. She glanced down at herself with a look so selfdeprecating, that it made something in his chest tighten. When she met his eyes again, he saw anger and hurt. She didn’t know just how beautiful she was. The insight hit him hard in a morning that had been filled with startling realizations. “You need to look at yourself through my eyes for awhile,” he said softly, not meaning to actually speak the words. But there they were, clear and true, thickening the air, pulling taut a connection that might have always been there, too lax to notice. Now it thrummed between them. Holly stared at him speechless, emotions flashing in her eyes, awareness practically shooting sparks across the short distance separating them. Then, flustered, still blushing, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that at least twenty-five people stood in line, children dancing beside their mommies and daddies in their excitement to see Santa. Kris hadn’t thought that twenty-five people had been out but evidently some invisible, silent Christmas bell had been rung and a crowd had gathered. Holly leaned in, poking him with a finger. “This is not over, Kris.” He caught her hand, pried open her fist and pressed a kiss to her palm. Her mouth fell open as she watched him but she didn’t jerk her hand away and so he kissed it again, letting his tongue dart out for a taste of her. She smelled like heaven and he couldn’t wait to get her alone— because in that moment he made up his mind. The time had come to stop circling Holly McClaussen. Just as soon as he could ditch the Santa suit. “I’m banking on that, Holly,” he answered, catching her eye and winking, trying to look as if his Santa drawers hadn’t suddenly become painfully tight. She stood utterly speechless for a moment before snatching her hand away, tucking her sign under an arm and waving the first child up to Santa with all the aplomb of an orchestra director. But that tell-tale blush colored her pretty face and for the first time in a long, long time, Kris felt a little Christmas cheer settle low in his gut. He heard her caution people to be careful not to slip as she headed back to the store. At the door she paused and gave him one, last searching look that damn near set his blood on fire before primly about-facing and marching inside. Despite his determination to never, ever laugh again while dressed in that stupid suit, he let go another ho ho ho as she disappeared from sight.

Chapter Two A hundred times that day while Holly went through the motions of running a busy department store that wasn’t so busy anymore, she looked out the window at Kris. Kris Kringle sitting in a Santa suit. She never thought she’d live to see it. Everyone knew about Kris’s parents. Everyone knew how hard Christmas must be for him. He’d made no secret of his derision, his disbelief in the magic. If he hadn’t grown up here in North Pole, she doubted he’d have ever visited the charming town. But small towns had a way of grabbing people and keeping them. She knew that first hand. Kris had inherited a lovely old house from his parents and even if he wanted to leave it, chances were he couldn’t sell it for anything close to what it was worth. And his trucking business, Kringle’s Special Delivery, which she’d followed since its inception, had been booming just before the floor fell out of the economy, but now…. She figured Kris was as trapped in North Pole as she was. She sighed. She’d had the hots for Kris since she was twelve and she’d caught him kissing a high school girl three years older than him on the deserted school playground. For years after, she’d daydreamed about being that girl. He’d been a bad boy even before he lost his mom and dad. Afterwards, with only his aged grandparents to rein him in, he’d been the baddest of bad boys. He used to call her Holly McHottsen and though she pretended outrage, it had thrilled her that he thought of her that way. She didn’t look so hot these days though. She’d never managed to shed the twenty plus pounds she’d gained after giving birth to her daughter, Joy, even though five years had passed. And though she tried to hide the extra weight beneath baggy sweaters and oversized shirts, she felt it every day. Before her disastrous marriage to Martin Sloan, the world’s biggest liar and asshole, she’d been fit—if never slender—and had felt sexy when she donned her high heels and come hither face. But after the divorce and going through pregnancy and parenthood alone, how she looked hadn’t seemed that important. But the way Kris had looked at her today. She sucked in a deep breath. It had been a long time since Holly had felt like an attractive woman, but when Kris had pressed those soft lips to her palm…. Holy cow! She’d felt it from her ta-tas to her toes. She gave herself a mental shake and focused on the columns on her spreadsheet. The store had dipped into the red twelve months ago after last year’s disappointing Christmas. It had never emerged and, from the looks of things, never would. Her father had retired the following January, leaving Holly holding the bag. She knew he’d never accept “the economy” as an excuse for the store failing after forty-six years of success, but even though he’d handed the reins over to Holly, he still managed to shoot down any new ideas she had for creating revenue. With a dejected sigh, she made the announcement over the store’s PA system that closing time would be in ten minutes, turned out the lights in the office and went to make her rounds. As she shooed her last customer out, Joy came racing up, followed by her babysitter who dropped her off at the store each evening. “Mommy, where’d you find the Santa?” “Well, actually, he found me. Don’t you recognize him?”

Though Holly and Kris didn’t move in the same circles, he’d been making deliveries for the store since he’d started his business. Joy had met him any number of times. And though she still believed in the real Santa Claus, Joy knew that the jolly old St. Nick the store hired each year—well, every year but this one—was just a helper. “Of course I recognize him. He’s Santa. Duh.” And with that Joy took off at a run to wait for her turn to talk to him. Holly had her “Santa’s feeding his reindeer” sign with her and she followed her exuberant daughter to the dwindling line, surprised as she realized that not once today had the queue been empty. Joy danced in place, so excited she could hardly contain herself. “I’m going to ask for a puppy,” she said. Inside, Holly sighed. She knew that as soon as Joy got a peek at the cute little pup snoozing at Kris’s feet, she’d be begging for one just like it. They couldn’t afford a dog, though. Not with the fear of bankruptcy looming in the future. And Holly worked so many hours that she couldn’t, in good conscience, bring a dog into the house. Who would care for it all day? The shadows had grown long and the night held a bite to it. No snow did not mean mild nights by any stretch. Usually this time of year, the enormous blue spruce in the courtyard would be glowing with lights and a huge star at the top. But when they’d tried to turn on the lights this year, they discovered that age had finally won out and none of them would light. Without a budget to buy new ones, without the tourists to oooh and ahhhh over the brilliant tree, there’d been nothing to do about it. They’d put up the decorations but once night fell, darkness draped the tree. Saddened by yet another symptom of the economy, she and Joy waited their turn in Santa’s line. Just as they reached Santa’s chair, though, dazzling light exploded around them and gasping, Holly and Joy looked up at the towering pine. It sparkled with bright, twinkly lights. Even Santa seemed caught off guard by the radiant display. As they watched, a man came down a ladder at the side of the tree. Nick Santos jumped off the last rung and admired his handiwork while the small crowd milling around Santa applauded his efforts. He made a courtly bow and when he stood, his gaze seemed to snag on Kris. The two men exchanged a cryptic glance for a charged moment. Holly wondered what they were thinking, but then Nick had turned away and Joy raced up to Santa for her turn. “What’s your puppy’s name?” she asked, bending to pet the cute little dog. Thrilled at her attention, the puppy rolled over and gave Joy his belly to rub. Holly had brought it some puppy chow and water earlier. And yes, she’d brought Kris a sandwich and coke, too. Both had been pitifully grateful. “I haven’t thought of a good name for him yet,” Kris told her daughter. “Maybe you could help me.” Groaning on the inside, Holly watched her daughter enchant the big man in the Santa suit as she tried to pick an appropriate name for such a cute puppy. Finally, she clapped her hands and said, “How about Cupid? Like the reindeer?” Kris grinned at Joy. “I like it. What do you think, Cupid?” The puppy gave a happy bark that sounded something like wruff. Joy scooped Cupid into her arms and crawled boldly onto Santa’s lap. She was only five and she’d never been shy. Staring into his face, she said, “You’re the best Santa I’ve ever seen. Your beard doesn’t even look fake.” Kris looked disconcerted by this statement. He reached up with tentative fingers and gave his beard a tug. Holly had to agree, it looked very real. But she’d seen Kris walking to Sugar

Plum’s for coffee just yesterday and she knew that he didn’t have a beard—especially a white one. Kris usually sported a disreputable five-o’clock shadow. Coupled with his dark hair and green eyes, he was enough to make any self-respecting woman sigh. As if hearing her thoughts, he looked at her over Joy’s head and smiled. “Do you want to know if I’ve been naughty or nice, Santa?” Joy asked. Kris agreed that he’d like nothing better and he listened with patience that made Holly’s heart hurt as Joy listed all of her good deeds—and, honest to a fault—all of her naughty ones too. When Kris agreed that the good far outweighed the bad, Joy beamed at him. And then came the moment Holly had dreaded. Joy made her Christmas request. “I want a puppy just like Cupid for Christmas. Mommy says we can’t have one because she works too much and no one could take care of it. But I could. And if I had a daddy, then he could help. I mean a real daddy. One that cares about us.” Holly felt tears sting her eyes. She’d tried to sugar coat the reality of Martin Sloan and pretend that though he was absent, he still loved his daughter. But Joy was a smart girl and she saw right through the bullshit. A dad that never came to see her, never called, never sent a birthday card—let alone a gift—didn’t care. All Holly could do was try her hardest to convince Joy that it was Martin’s loss, not hers. She wiped her eyes and felt Kris’s gaze on her. “Santa will see what he can do, sweetheart,” he told her daughter. “Does that mean I get what I want?” Joy demanded. With equal fervor, Holly silently begged him to tell the truth and to lie. She hated that reality was so cruel, hated that even Christmas came with hollow promises. But just once she’d like her daughter’s dreams to come true. Kris gave one of those impressive ho ho hos and told Joy that Santa never showed his cards before he played them. Joy wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but she took it with good grace, gave his puppy one last hug, and as Holly propped the sign up at Kris’s chair, she took her mother’s hand and led her in the direction of home.

Chapter Three The minute Joy hopped off his lap, Kris knew he’d be able to get out of the stupid chair. Gingerly he stood, expecting stiff muscles and a sore ass. But actually he felt good, better than he had in years. He stood for a moment, puppy at his feet, and gazed at the tree sparkling so brightly in the night. People all around him began to emerge to join him in their silent perusal. A feeling of comfort settled deep inside. He’d known these people his whole life. Having their kids tell him all of their hopes and dreams today had made him feel a part of this community in a way he never had before. He lifted a hand to Nick, who stood on the other side of the tree, admiring it. He wondered what had made his buddy decide to go to work on the Christmas tree today. An uneasy feeling shifted down his spine. Could Nick have had a day like Kris had, filled with the inexplicable? And what about Rudy? What had he been up to today? Kris thought about trudging over to Nick and asking, but just then a woman approached his old friend and Kris decided the conversation could wait. He had more important things on his mind. Moving quickly, Kris made a quick detour for some puppy chow and headed home. *** Less than an hour later, Kris stood at Holly’s front door. When he’d arrived home, he’d had no troubles changing out of the Santa suit. He’d had the undeniable feeling that the suit was somehow satisfied with the job he’d done and had allowed him his freedom. He knew that sounded crazy, but hell…the whole day had been crazy. He looked down at the puppy. “Okay, Cupid,” he said, grinning at Joy’s silly name for it. “Best behavior. Got it?” “Wruff,” Cupid agreed. Kris rang the doorbell, shifting the bag of carryout Chinese food he held as he waited. From behind the door, he heard thunderous footfalls, which had to be Joy racing and Holly calling for her to wait and not open the door. Seconds later, he heard the lock clunk back and then a tug on the door. Another mighty tug, muffled cursing, and then more jerking that inched the shut door open a crack. His flashback on this morning’s antics froze him for a moment until it finally opened and he realized that Holly’s door legitimately stuck. He eyed the wood speculatively, seeing the jagged edges and warped shape. He could fix that with a plane and a level. The thoughts fled though as he caught sight of Holly standing in front of him, her face in shadow. She’d changed out of her shapeless sweater and skirt and now she wore a clingy warmup suit—the kind that came in soft fabrics and lovingly hugged every curve. Holly had many of those, soft curves that a man could get lost in. Curves he wanted pressed up against him in the worst kind of way. “Kris?” she said in surprise, staring at him. Joy peered out from behind her. “I don’t know about you,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “But after today, I’m starving. I brought Chinese.”

He held the bag like a peace offering. Holly stared at it and then her gaze shifted to his face. She studied him for a long, breathless second and he wished he could see her eyes. He wished he knew what she was thinking. At last she opened the door and let him in. As Kris crossed the threshold, all he could think of was that he never wanted to leave—unless he could take both of them home with him. The ferocity of the feeling stole his breath. “How’d you get Santa’s puppy,” Joy asked suspiciously. Obviously she hadn’t realized that it was Kris who’d been wearing the Santa suit. “He asked me to watch the little guy while he took care of some things. He’s a busy guy, you know.” Joy accepted this answer with a knowing nod. While she delighted in playing with the puppy, Kris followed Holly into the tiny kitchen. Her house was more a bungalow, run down and, from the looks of it, falling apart. He couldn’t help noting the many small repairs that she obviously didn’t have the time or the skill to attend to. The place bordered on ramshackle, and yet Holly’s touch was everywhere—in the festive Christmas decorations that brightened every nook and cranny, to the scent of cookies that hung in the air. “What are you doing here, Kris?” she asked, looking nervous as she took plates down from the cupboard. “Bearing tidings of goodwill?” he offered. She laughed and something in his chest tightened at the play of humor on her beautiful face. He took a step closer, unable to help himself. “You’ve never been the spirit of Christmas before,” she said, her back to him as she pulled little white cartons from the paper bag he’d brought. “You’ll have to forgive me for being skeptical of it now.” “Fair enough,” he answered. “I guess seeing you again today made me think I’d better change my game.” She turned at that, frowning. “Why?” “Come on, Holly. You and I…” She raised her brows. “You and I, what?” He shrugged and took another step closer, effectively boxing her into the elbow of the counter. “When I’m standing close to you,” he said softly, taking in the scent of her, the way her blue eyes widened, the lush lips that he wanted to capture with his own. “Everything inside me feels a little scrambled. Like you’re electric and I’m about to get shocked.” He braced both hands on either side of her and pressed closer still. “Tell me I’m the only one who feels it, and I’ll leave,” he whispered, praying she wouldn’t say those words. For a moment, the silence hung between them. Charged. Sparking with everything he’d said…everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. And then he took matters into his own hands and he did what he’d wanted to do since he’d seen her beside his chair. Kris cupped her beautiful face and kissed her. Her lips were soft and silken, her mouth a sensuous feast. She made a small gasping sound and Kris took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid into the sweet hollow of her mouth and danced against hers. The contact seemed to release whatever bonds had held her back and she melted against him, pressing every soft, rounded curve into the hard planes of his body. He made a sound of such supreme satisfaction that it surprised him. He’d never been without a woman if he wanted one. But he’d never wanted a woman as much as he did Holly McClaussen.

Her small hands pressed to his chest and then inched up around his neck as his trailed over her throat to her fragile collarbones. Needing more, wanting every sexy curve pressed against him, Kris couldn’t help himself. Gently he gripped that fine, round ass and pulled her tight. His hard length pressed into her softness and he felt like he’d been set on fire. It took more control then he thought he had to pull back. Holly’s eyes looked dazed as she met his. “What was that?” she asked, her voice so husky that it made him groan. “Something I’ve wanted to do forever.” Something he wanted to do again, but the patter of footsteps reminded them both that they weren’t alone and reluctantly he let her go. For tonight, he’d have to settle with watching her across the small dinette in her smaller kitchen. After dinner, they cleared the table. It all felt terribly domestic and it should have sent terror to the very depths of him. He’d always run from such cozy scenarios. But not tonight. “I heard about the store,” he said when Joy asked to be excused to play with Cupid. She took the puppy into the small backyard and her squeals of delight carried in. “No one is doing well this year,” Holly answered. “How is your business?” Kris’s delivery business had, up until two years ago, boasted six employees—two for each fully equipped truck he had in his small fleet. Holly knew, because his trucks had been delivering for her department store for years. But lately there’d been nothing to deliver. He shook his head. “Not good. Had to lay off all my drivers. It sucked, but there’s nothing I could do.” “Things have to pick up soon.” “They will. A little snow might help.” They worked together to clean up the kitchen. As Holly dried and put away the dishes, Kris asked, “How long has your faucet been dripping?” “Only since I moved in. I told Mr. Frostman, but I’m sure he’s forgotten. He’s so old and I don’t think he’d have the energy to fix it even if he remembered.” “Got a pair of pliers?” Kris asked. In the time it took for her to finish putting away the last utensil, Kris had fixed her faucet. She thanked him, the surprise and gratitude on her face making something curl tight inside him. She needed someone to do these things for her. Someone to help with all the tedious to-do lists that came with life. She needed him. The words hit his mind like a bomb, staggering him in the wake of their detonation. She needed him and, he thought, perhaps, he needed her just as much. Now that’s just crazy. Sure he wanted to touch her, hold her, kiss her until they were both breathless. He wanted to peel that sexy warm-up suit from her body and run his hands over every curvy inch of her. But need her? “…snow might bring some Christmas spirit too,” Holly was saying. “Don’t you think?” He didn’t know what he thought, but he nodded and tried to focus. Fortunately, Joy came back inside, distracting them both. He saw Holly glance at the clock and knew she probably had a hundred things to do. With more regret than he liked to acknowledge, Kris said goodnight and left. That night he dreamed of Santa Claus, of course. Only it didn’t feel like a dream. In it, Santa gave him some very explicit instructions and Kris awoke filled with purpose. It was too early for the Santa chair, so he quickly dressed—no trouble getting into his real clothes this

time—ate and fed Cupid. Then, grabbing his tool belt, he headed for the door, Cupid trotting at his feet. “You know where we’re going, don’tcha, boy?” From Cupid’s big puppy smile, Kris gathered he did. Though Always Christmas department store didn’t open until ten a.m., Kris knew that Holly would be at work already and Joy at the school. He felt like a culprit as he jumped her small fence and made his way to the backdoor. As he’d seen last night, the lock didn’t work and he walked right in. He started with that, installing a new lock and hanging the keys from a hook beside it. Then he moved to the window over the sink that didn’t seal tight, letting in a draft. He worked steadily for two hours, fixing a half-dozen little things from a kitchen cupboard door that hung crooked to a baseboard that had come loose. Then he let himself and Cupid out the way he’d come in, swung by his own house for his “work clothes” and by ten he’d taken his assigned seating in the town courtyard. As he sat in the big Santa chair, he admired the brightly twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. If he wasn’t mistaken, it even seemed a little chilly out. He sniffed the air. Still no snow, but some incredible smells wafted out of Sugar Plums. He hadn’t had the time to stop by and get coffee this morning. His stomach rumbled. No breakfast either. Cupid had gobbled up his puppy chow, but the pup gave him a look that said a snack wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He agreed, but already a line waited. He saw Holly hurry out as soon as he sat down. She looked so pretty today he wanted to grab her, pull her down on his lap and force her to tell him every little thing she might be wanting. It seemed she heard him because she blushed. “Good morning, Santa,” she said in a soft, husky voice as she took the “Santa is feeding his reindeer” sign down. “Good morning, beautiful,” he answered. Her blush deepened and he thought she was absolutely the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. She looked like she might say something, but Jenny from the bakery rushed up with two bags and a cup of coffee. “Here you go, Santa,” she said with a big smile. “I don’t know what magic you’re working out here, but business is booming inside. Thank you.” She was gone in an instant. “It’s true,” Holly said. “I had customers waiting for me to open this morning. I can’t remember the last time that happened.” Feeling pleased and happier than he could remember ever being, Kris fished in his bags, threw a doggie bagel to Cupid and handed a muffin to Holly. “Oh, no. I may as well paste it to my thighs as eat it.” The visual…God the visual of licking the sweet frosting off of Holly’s sweeter thighs made his brain cells gasp as the blood surged from his head to his…. “Your thighs look just fine to me, Holly,” he said softly. “Every inch of you looks…” he swallowed thickly. “Damned near perfect.” She turned the color of his jolly red jacket. He took her hand, set the muffin in it and grinned at her. Then he watched as she walked away, giving him a dazed look over her shoulder. The day went by in a blur. He knew that the people in his line hadn’t come just from North Pole. He could hear the different accents, see the strange faces. Tourists. Like ducks answering the call of the south, they’d come.

By the time the last of them had plopped their child on his lap, Kris was bone tired and hungry enough to eat a reindeer. As if he’d heard the thought, Cupid cocked his head and gave a low bark. “Joking,” Kris told the little dog. “But I’ll bet you’re hungry too. Let’s get some chow and some rest.” But when he got home, he checked the answering machine and discovered that eight delivery requests had come in while he’d been off playing Santa. Eight! Excited, he called two of his drivers and put them to work. Then he fed Cupid, inhaled a cold dinner, showered and hit his bed like a fallen tree. The next day brought more of the same. While Holly occupied all his thoughts, he found himself so busy he barely had time to say hello. Each morning he went to her house and fixed something—the lights, the trim that had fallen off, the front door, whatever he could find that needed fixing. Each day he watched her in the now busy department store and each night he called more of his drivers back to work. He was almost up to full speed and a part of him rejoiced. But a deeper part of him yearned to have a moment just to spend with Holly. On the third day she looked troubled and Kris made his line wait while he found out why. “Someone broke into my house,” she said, brows pulled together. Fear coiled in his stomach. “Were you there? Were you hurt? Did they—” “No,” she said. “I mean, they’ve been breaking in and fixing things.” He almost laughed. Him. She was talking about him. “Like what?” he asked with feigned innocence. “The sink. The window. The front door. Everything but the bathtub.” “What’s wrong with the bathtub?” “It doesn’t drain,” she said absently. “I don’t get it. It’s like I have a guardian angel out there. Joy said it’s a Secret Santa.” As she spoke, her gaze came to rest on him and he saw dawning suspicion in her blue eyes. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” she asked. Kris shrugged. “I’ve been pretty busy, Holly, what with sitting here all day and then the deliveries….” “Business has been amazing,” she said, instantly distracted. “I know,” he answered. “It’s like we all have a Secret Santa out there.” She laughed at that, and the absolute delight he saw on her face cleared all the lines of worry. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to—which he didn’t. He caught her wrist, stopping her when she would have turned away. And then, right there, beneath the giant town Christmas tree, in front of at least a hundred eager tourists waiting to see Santa, he kissed Holly McClaussen. Kissed her hard and deep. Kissed her with promise and possession. The crowd cheered. The children wanted to know if she was Mrs. Claus. Kris’s heart felt like it might stop beating when he finally let her go. Holly looked dazed, delighted and entirely discomfited. It was a good look for her. In what felt like a blink, the next few days flew by and suddenly, it was Christmas Eve. Kris had to get up extra early to take care of dispatching his deliveries. He had all of his drivers working overtime—much to their delight—and he’d even had to give up a couple of deliveries to UPS—a problem he wouldn’t have dreamed of a few weeks ago. Then he’d rush over to the next town so he could do a little Christmas shopping of his own. He’d finished the list he’d been running in his head of repairs at Holly’s house—the bathtub now drained like it

should, the heater had been checked and all the doors and windows opened and closed snuggly but without strain. Shopping was all he had left to do. That, and don his Santa suit for the last time that year. Everyone in North Pole was excited about the celebration planned for today. His Santa chair had been relocated to the gazebo centered in the town square and, in the brilliant glow of the giant spruce, all the other trees had been decorated too. Snow—so long awaited—had finally begun to fall that morning. Fat flakes fluttered from a gray velvet sky and frosted the ground in a wintry icing. It looked more beautiful than any snowfall he’d ever seen. As he thought about it, Kris realized it had been growing steadily colder all week. He should have been freezing sitting outside in it for hours on end, but not once had he felt the chill. Smiling at the bit of Christmas magic that had kept him warm, he came to a stop in front of Holly who was waiting for him at the gazebo. Today she wore a gold sweater that clung to her breasts like a dream and a black skirt that hugged her hips and flattered her legs. Miniature golden Christmas balls hung from her earlobes and a bright red bow adorned her hair. Her eyes held a sparkle that warmed him from inside out. “Good morning,” he said. “I was worried you’d finally gotten fed up with your Santa gig and quit,” she said. But her eyes told a different story. She’d been waiting for him—not because of the kids so anxious to see him, but because Holly had missed him. Because she’d wanted to see him, too. “Wild reindeer couldn’t keep me away,” he told her, his voice dropping so that only she could hear him. “What are you doing after the big celebration, Holly?” She looked startled. “It’s Christmas Eve. I’m doing what every other parent is doing. Wrapping presents. Getting everything ready for tomorrow.” “Would you like some help with that? I have great references.” Her smile started a fire deep within him. “I would like that very much,” she said. “Come around seven. I made a lasagna I just have to pop in the oven for dinner. It’s a Christmas tradition for me and Joy.” Tradition. Something Kris had very little experience with, but he wanted to know what it felt like. He wanted to be a part of Holly’s traditions. In the ten days since he’d awakened with the Santa bag in his hands, Kris felt as if he’d been transformed into much more than a Secret Santa. He’d become a whole person. Funny, when he’d never before realized how many pieces of himself had been missing. Putting on the Santa suit had brought him face to face with a lot of things. Most importantly, it had brought him to Holly and now that he had her in his life, he wasn’t about to let her go. Wrapping presents with her sounded like paradise. But Kris hoped that after Joy had gone to bed, they’d be doing as much unwrapping as they did wrapping. Wisely, he kept that to himself. “It’s a date then,” he said. He heard her laugh as she turned away. “What’s funny?” he asked. “I’ve got a date with Santa Claus,” she told him. “Who’d have thunk it?” If Kris had his way, that date would turn into much, much more. Who knew where they’d be this time next year? He hoped living happily ever after…. The rest of the day was filled with cheerful hellos, many ho ho hos and a feeling of goodwill that had been missing in North Pole for far too long. Kris grew a little sad thinking that today was the last time he’d wear his Santa suit for the year. He’d enjoyed being the town’s Santa more than he’d ever imagined.

As early dusk fell over the town, Holly closed the store and came out with Joy to join in the festivities. Carolers sang and Gramps and Jenny came out of Sugar Plums with Christmas cookies for everyone. Kris was surprised to see Nick and a beautiful woman he recognized as Vixen. He hadn’t seen her in ages but if the look in Nick’s eyes was anything to go by, she wouldn’t be so hard to find in the future. Grinning, he accepted a hot chocolate from her and shook Nick’s hand. When Nick climbed his ladder and placed the star on the top of the tree, the whole town cheered and Kris looked for Holly in the crowd. Cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling, she gave him a smile that warmed him right down to his shiny black boots. Over the laughter and joy, they heard something in the distance. It sounded like…sleigh bells. And what was that emerging from the clouds? Holly and Joy came to the gazebo and stood with him as they watched. “Kris…is that….” “I think it is,” he said, shaking his head. He put one arm around each of them and held them close as lights flickered and the bells grew louder, hushing the gathered crowd below. And then suddenly, a sleigh burst from the cover and soared overhead. Kris’s mouth dropped open as he stared at a sight he never thought to see. Santa Claus, complete with eight reindeer and a sleigh, gliding over their heads like something out of a movie. Stunned they watched him maneuver to a stop in front of the awestruck gathering. Santa gave a ho ho ho and Kris couldn’t help but answer it. All around him, heads swiveled back and forth between the two of them. Santa winked at Kris. “You did a good job, Kris Kringle.” He looked at Nick next and patted the side of his sleigh. “Runs like a Porsche, Nick.” To Rudy he said, “Welcome home.” As the others scratched their heads, Santa gave another booming ho ho ho and then asked, “Now who wants a ride?” The children went crazy and raced forward for a turn. Holly looked a little anxious, but how could she say no to a ride with Santa? As Santa gave them a turn above the town square, Joy waved at them from the sleigh. In a few minutes they were back and Santa Claus was turning his sleigh to the sky. As he flew away, they heard him call, “On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen….” “This is the best Christmas ever!” Joy exclaimed.

Chapter Four After the excitement—the unbelievable visit from Santa—it seemed that everything else should be anticlimactic. But of course, it wasn’t. Holly couldn’t believe how nervous she was as she waited for Kris to arrive. Since the morning she’d seen him sitting in the store’s Santa chair, he’d been in her thoughts. If she wasn’t watching him between customers, she was thinking of him when she came home and saw all he’d done to her house. Because she had no doubt that Kris was the Secret Santa who’d fixed her broken locks and doors, faucets and drains. He’d worked miracles and each time she walked through her front door, she felt the warmth and care he’d put into his tasks. Miracles. This Christmas had been filled with them. Was it too much to hope that one more waited for her? That she and Kris… She sighed. Each morning when she saw him sitting outside in that ridiculous Santa suit, she’d fallen a little more in love with him. Oh, it had always been there, that infatuation with sexy Kris Kringle, but lately…Kris had changed and the maturity, the goodness she saw in him had changed her as well. He looked at her like she was someone special. It would break her heart if that look disappeared the day after Christmas, when he put away his Santa suit and all that had happened this Christmas began to feel like a dream. She shook herself. She couldn’t think about that. She’d dressed in a diaphanous red blouse and soft, satiny pants. Now she stared critically at herself in the mirror. “You look so pretty, Mommy,” Joy said, coming in to sit on her bed and watch. “You don’t think it’s too…tight?” Holly asked, but what she meant was, “Do I look fat? Old? Tired? Like I’m trying too hard?” Always worried about projecting her own self-esteem issues onto her daughter, she didn’t ask any of those questions, though. “No. You look like a princess.” In Joy’s estimation, this was the highest compliment anyone could give. “Are you all dressed up for Kris?” Kris had insisted she call him by his first name and since Holly could see him cringe each time her daughter said “Mr. Kringle,” Holly had agreed. “What do you think of him, Joy?” Holly asked. “He’s got a cute puppy,” Joy said. More praise of the highest order. “And Santa thinks he’s the best assistant he’s ever had. He told me so. I like him.” “Santa?” “Kris. Well, and Santa.” “You don’t mind that Kris is going to spend Christmas Eve with us?” Joy gave Holly a look that seemed too adult for such a little girl. “He makes you happy, Mommy. Everyone should be happy for Christmas.” The doorbell rang and Joy scampered off the bed and raced to answer it. Kris had arrived. They talked all through dinner—well, as much as they could between Joy’s incessant chatter about her ride on Santa’s sleigh and all she’d seen. Holly had worried that Kris would

grow short-tempered as her daughter babbled on, but he’d listened with focused attention, never acting as if her non-stop prattle annoyed him. The one time Martin had come to see Joy, he’d shut down as soon as her sweet daughter opened her mouth. She’d been three and heartbroken when he’d abruptly left after just twenty minutes. Not Kris. They had a leisurely dinner with probably too much wine. But it had been one of the best nights she could remember. Holly didn’t understand the forces that had brought Kris into her life and she couldn’t believe the hot looks he kept casting her way. Plump and worn down by life, Holly was no femme fatale. And yet the way he gazed at her across the small table, made her feel like one. And the way he’d kissed her…. She shifted, feeling overly warm. Her soft clingy pants chaffed her sensitive skin and she was horrified to realize her nipples had hardened beneath his lingering gaze and stood out like signals against her clingy top. “May I be excused?” Joy asked. “I think Cupid needs to go outside.” “Put on your coat. It’s cold.” “I will.” And with that, Joy scurried away, calling happily to Cupid. The silence that fell when she closed the door seemed to resonate from the floor, the ceiling, the walls. Holly felt her face growing hot as Kris’s gaze moved over her, willing her to look up and meet it. At last she could resist no more and her gaze tangled with his, wrought with emotions so dark and sweet she couldn’t begin to decipher them. The way he looked at her… She remembered that first day, when he’d said, “You need to look at yourself through my eyes for awhile.” What had he meant? What did he see when he stared at her? All the worries? All the heartbreak Martin had delivered? All the weariness? Looking into his green eyes, she knew he did. He saw it all. And yet…he saw more than that. He saw the woman she used to be. He saw the woman she was now. And he saw the woman she wanted to become more than anything. But how could any of this be real? How could she hope that he’d be there tomorrow or the day after? Life wasn’t easy and men liked things to be uncomplicated. Hadn’t she learned that lesson with Martin? But she’d been dreaming about Kris Kringle for years. Having him here all tall, dark and sexy…who could blame her for thinking it would never last? They made short work of the cleanup and while Joy played, Holly and Kris wrapped presents. Then they all settled in her tiny living room to watch A Miracle on 34th Street with Joy. Dressed in her favorite reindeer PJ’s, Joy fell asleep before little Susan in the movie got her Christmas wish—no surprise there. It had been a very big day. When Holly made to carry her daughter into her bedroom, Kris stepped in and scooped her up. Holly followed, holding the snoozing Cupid in her arms. She almost wept at the gentleness with which Kris laid Joy into her bed. She settled Cupid at her daughter’s feet and as Kris pulled the covers up, his eyes met hers again. Once more, Holly felt swamped in the power of emotion that filled her. He took her hand as they left the room and she could swear that she felt a fine tremble in his touch. As if he were as shocked by the power of his feelings as she was.

“Joy has your beautiful eyes,” he said as they closed the door behind them. “And your smile.” Embarrassed but infinitely pleased, she moved to the couch. Kris sat next to her and, instead of reaching for the TV remote to change the channel like Martin would have, he turned the TV off and faced her. Holly felt jittery and excited as the silence between them stretched out. What was he thinking? Was he looking for a way to extricate himself from this situation? Did he regret coming over now that he’d had a glimpse of the very dull life she led? He reached for a lock of her hair, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger, watching the play of lights on it with fascination that stole her breath. “The color of your hair,” he said, almost to himself. “It’s like a rainbow.” She looked at him helplessly, unsure how to respond, unsure if she could respond. “What are you doing here, Kris?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper, as if she didn’t really want to know the answers to the questions she voiced. “I mean, what’s with you lately? The Santa suit. The ho ho ho. Me.” He smiled and trailed a finger over her cheek. “Well, the first two I could explain, but you’d never believe me.” “After seeing Santa Claus land in the town square? Try me.” “Let’s just say Santa decided that North Pole needed a little Christmas magic.” “And he decided you were the one to deliver it? I mean, you’ve never been very…jolly.” He grinned at that. “It wasn’t just me and I managed to muddle through.” “You did more than that. Joy says Santa called you his best helper ever,” she told him, grinning. “I think I did some good.” “You did,” she said softly. “I could see it in the faces of everyone who came to see you. Every time you let out that laugh, they laughed with you. Their hearts seemed a little lighter.” He watched her. “And what about your heart, Holly?” he asked. She didn’t say anything at first. What could she say? That her heart had wanted to fall in love with his for more years than she could count? That she couldn’t believe gorgeous, sexy Kris Kringle was sitting beside her—plain, plump Holly McClaussen—right now? “You answered my first two questions—what about the third?” she murmured. “Why am I here with you?” She nodded, feeling heat spread over her face. She felt like she was thirteen again, mooning over him. “Holly, I’ve had a thing for you forever.” She nodded jerkily. “That was before though.” “Before what?” he asked, frowning. “Before I got married. Before I had Joy. Before…” She waved a hand over herself, unable to voice before I got fat. Before I got old. Before I got boring. “Those things,” he said, confusion glittering in his eyes. “Are they supposed to make me want you less? Because they don’t. Your ex was an asshole. Any man who’d let you go had to be a total idiot.” He paused, looking suddenly unsure. “Sorry if I shouldn’t say that.” “No,” she whispered, her throat constricted. “He’s not on my favorite list either.” “When I looked up and saw you that first day, standing beside my chair all bristling with outrage, I felt a bit like an ass myself,” he said, grinning wryly. “I was trying to figure out why I never asked you out. Why it took me so long.”

She shrugged. “You went off to school and by the time you got back I was married and then….” “You weren’t married that long. And you’ve been divorced for almost five years.” But a lot had changed since they were young kids, wild at heart. “I’m not the same girl you used to know, Kris.” “And I hope to God I’m not the same man.” For a long moment, they stared at one another and then Kris did what they’d both been waiting for. He breached the short distance separating them and pressed his mouth to hers. Holly felt the kiss from her head down to her toes. She felt it in her jittery stomach, in her pounding heart, in that place deep down that had been so lonely for so long. He made a sound that rumbled up from his chest and set her afire. It made her feel powerful—beautiful, when she knew that she wasn’t. His hands moved gently over her body and she tried to shut out the voice that cautioned her to be wary. He’d feel the roundness of her belly, the thickness of her thighs. Martin had berated her for the extra weight. Made her feel ugly and ungainly. Kris pulled back and looked at her quizzically. “What happened?” he asked in that deep, husky voice that turned her into a warm puddle. “I just… Men like you. They don’t usually go for women like me.” “What does that mean?” he asked. “I live a pretty mundane life, Kris. It’s not always pretty and well, let’s be honest. Neither am I.” He sat back, shaking his head. “Listen to me, Holly.” When she fixed her gaze on the collar of his shirt and nodded, he reached out and tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Inside the swirling greens, she saw sincerity, frustration and desire barely banked. “I don’t know what kind of head games Martin played with you, but I’m not going to do the same. I want you Holly. I think of you all day and most of the night. And I’m not thinking of you standing in front of the stove, if you get my meaning. When I look at you, I’m seeing a beautiful woman—not a girl who’s playing grownup. A woman, with a mind and a generous heart. I’m seeing a woman whose body—”. She flinched without meaning to. Kris leaned forward, his gaze so direct that she wanted to squirm. “A woman whose body makes me so hard sometimes I can’t sleep.” Her mouth went dry, her heart skipped a beat. Deliberately, he took her hand and pressed it to the front of his pants. Her eyes widened at the long, hard length of him. He couldn’t fake that. And if that was the barometer of his desire, then…what he said had to be for real. He smiled wickedly. “I’ll let you analyze it later. But right now, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I’ve got feelings for you, Holly. Feelings I’ve never had for another woman. I don’t understand half of them. All I know is that I can’t be around you without wanting to touch you. I can’t stand near you without needing to breathe you in. I want to be with you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I want to be there for you.” His mouth moved to her cheekbone. “I want you to be mine.” He kissed the hollow of her throat, the fine collarbones revealed by her blouse. “You’re what I want for Christmas, Holly.” His mouth hovered over hers. “For New Year’s.” His voice dropped until it was barely a whisper. “For…forever.”

A dam within her broke at that and she threw her arms around him and kissed him back, muttering words that made no sense but somehow communicated all that she felt. She kissed him for the years they’d lost. For the years that were yet to come. When he lifted her up, carrying her as easily as he had Joy, she didn’t fight. She didn’t worry about how much she weighed or if she was too heavy. She gave herself over to the bliss of this Christmas miracle. She gave herself over to Kris. “Lock the door,” she said after he set her on her bed. Kris’s smile held sin and Holly thought she might combust from the power of it. After he’d locked them in, he kicked off his shoes and joined her. His big hands roved over her and pulled her tightly against him. She felt the hard length of him pressed against her belly and groaned. “I like these pants,” he muttered, his hands slipping over the silky fabric. “Take them off.” He was already unbuttoning her blouse as she shimmied out of them and then he had her stripped bare. She felt a blush that seemed to cover every inch of exposed skin as he stared at her in the muted lamplight. He trailed his fingers down the fine bones of her chest, over the peak of her breast, light and teasing on her pebbled nipple and then down to the rounded planes of her belly. She wanted to cover herself and hide from his probing gaze, but she couldn’t. Instead, she watched the play of emotion on his face. He looked like he’d just opened the most perfect Christmas present he’d ever gotten. In his expression she saw need and satisfaction, pleasure and yearning. He didn’t find her lacking at all. Then he looked up and smiled and Holly’s heart almost broke from how full it felt. He tugged his shirt over his head, shucked his pants and then he pressed all that naked, glorious skin to hers and kissed her. Kissed her with heart and soul, kissed her deeply with the spice of emotions neither of them could define…not yet. The feel of his tongue against hers, the soft sucking of his lips, the rough scrape of teeth…it turned Holly into a sensuous mass of nerves, sparking feelings and sensations. He moved to her breasts, licking, nipping, sucking until she felt like she would scream from the pleasure of it. And then he slid between her thighs and all thought fled as her entire existence arrowed down to the point where he would become one with her. She stared into his eyes, catapulting over the edge of sanity, knowing he would catch her when she fell. Slowly— God, so slowly—he entered her, inch by inch, burying himself in the hot center of her body. She gasped his name and he answered with a deep rumble of hers. And then he began to move, creating friction and excitement. She felt the tension in her body coil tightly and she arched into it, turned herself over to it, surrendering as he claimed her. He plunged deeply, seating himself to the hilt and then he took her face in his hands. “Look at me,” he breathed and she did, letting him see all of her thoughts and feelings. Letting him have the honesty he demanded. In return he gave the same and Holly caught her breath as she saw love glimmering in his eyes. “That’s right,” he murmured and then he moved, building speed and tension, mating his hardness to her softness. Setting her ablaze and then reforming her into the woman he saw. Beautiful. Powerful. Seductive. His. She cried his name as release took her, hurled her into a world of sensation and fervor. He followed an instant later, muffling her shouted name against her shoulder as he came. Holding her tight as both of them returned to the room, the bed, each other.

With a shaky laugh, he rolled over and pulled her tight to his side. “You’re never getting rid of me, Holly,” he said. “I hope you’re okay with that.” Holly laughed too, happier than she’d ever been in her life. “It’s a sacrifice, but I’m pretty sure I can live with it.”

Chapter Five The snow had continued throughout the night and this morning it lay like a glittering blanket over the ground. The snowplows had been out already, clearing the streets, drivers waving merrily at everyone they saw. The Santa suit now hung in his closet—awaiting another year, but Kris carried his filled Santa bag. He took Cupid and stopped by the bakery where Jenny and Rudy seemed to be cooking up more than just pastries. They both looked flushed and happy as they wished him Merry Christmas. “I wasn’t sure you’d be open this morning,” Kris said. “Well, Jenny’s been baking Santa’s favorite cookies,” Rudy answered, watching Jenny with an unmistakable look of love as she bustled behind the counter. “Can’t eat them all ourselves.” “Nope,” Kris agreed. “You can’t do that.” Rudy gave Kris a dozen cookies, along with a bag of pumpkin muffins, four doggie bagels, two cups of coffee and a cup of hot chocolate. As Kris paid, the two men exchanged a weighted glance. They didn’t need words. Kris knew he wasn’t alone in the Christmas miracle that had taken over his life. “Guess you’ll be sticking around,” he said to Rudy. Rudy grinned sheepishly. “Someone has to keep Smart-Mart from moving in.” Kris raised his brows, knowing it was much more than Smart-Mart that motivated Rudy. They both glanced at Jenny. “Not to mention taking care of the bakery,” Kris teased. “That too.” Whistling, Kris left and headed for Holly’s house. He arrived at her front door a few scant hours after he’d snuck out the night before. “Cupid, you ready?” The pup gave him a doggy smile and let Kris tie a big bow around his neck and gently set him in the Santa bag on top of the other gifts he’d bought for Holly and Joy. Finished he stood and knocked. He heard delighted squeals from the other side and then the door flew open and there stood Holly and Joy, both still in their pajamas, hair mussed from sleep and big smiles on their faces. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “I brought muffins and cookies,” he said. “And presents.” He handed Joy the bag and told her to be careful. “Everything inside belongs to you now.” Joy opened up the bag and screamed with excitement as Cupid popped out. Laughing, Kris turned to Holly. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll be here to help you take care of him.” “How could I mind that?” she whispered, stepping into his open arms. “It’s the best Christmas present anyone ever gave me.” He smiled at that. “Well then, hang onto your stockings, sweetheart. There’s more where that came from.” Like the ring in his pocket that he planned to give her when they were alone. Like the key to his house, where he hoped they’d live for a long time to come. Like his heart, which was hers forever.

About the Author Erin Quinn is an award winning author. Her books have been called “riveting,” “brilliantly plotted” and “beautifully written” and have won, placed or showed in the Booksellers Best, WILLA Award for Historical fiction, the Orange Rose, Golden Quill, Best Books, and Award of Excellence. She lives in Arizona with her husband, two daughters and three dogs (all of whom have made debuts in her stories—the dogs, that is, not the husband and kids.) Erin Quinn loves to talk to readers. If you have a book club or reading group and would like to discuss one of her books, let her know! Please contact Erin for more information by using the contact form on her website. http://www.erinquinnbooks.com/

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