Lone Star Santa (21 page)

Barbara chuckled. “What is that?”

“It’s a body shaper.”

“Your knees don’t need that much shaping.”

“That’s as far as I can pull it up.” She looked pleadingly at her mother. “Help?”

Clearly amused, Barbara brushed aside the lengthy strands of hair. “Stand up.” She walked behind Kristen and tugged and with Kristen pulling from the front she finally squeezed herself into the shaper. She was out of breath and beginning to sweat.

Fanning herself with her hand, she asked, “How
could you ever stand to wear a girdle? How could you even get into one?”

After a disgusted snort, Barbara answered, “My generation was smart enough to get rid of those things. You’ll have to ask your grandmother. Need help with your dress?”

Kristen slipped on her red sandals, stepped into the dress and her mother zipped it. Okay. The struggle was worth it. Kristen turned to the side and admired her flat stomach. Once she arranged her hair, look out Mitch. Except it was supposed to be look out Jeremy, but it wouldn’t hurt to tweak Mitch, too.

Eyeing her daughter, Barbara said, “I hope the women of Sugar Land are still speaking to me tomorrow.”

“M
ITCH, YOUR OWN MOTHER
wouldn’t recognize you and since I am your own mother, I speak on good authority.” And then Patsy looked away. “I can
not
look you in the eyes.”

Mitch wore blue contacts. Even he had trouble looking at himself.

“Good luck.” His father patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll see you there, but pretend not to.”

Mitch gave them a lengthy head start and then followed in their SUV.

So this was it. The big holiday bash thanking the parade volunteers and kicking off the annual Christmas Light Parade. No doubt it was also Mitch’s only chance to salvage his personal and professional reputation and avoid jail time.

No pressure, or anything.

Clearly the entire city had figured out a way to get
invited to the party at the Sloane residence because it would be the only opportunity most people would ever have to see the interior.

When Mitch had been in school, the kickoff party had been hot chocolate and Christmas cookies in the high school gym and the only volunteers had been the parents of the students in the parade.

Now, Santa Claus–costumed police directed cars to the nearby golf club parking lot. People were ferried to the party in a fleet of golf carts.

Thinking about the night ahead, Mitch failed to notice that the group of girls sitting across from him had been checking him out until one nudged his boot-clad foot.

“You from Sugar Land?”

“I grew up here.” He looked up and met a gaze of frank interest. He blinked and noticed three other gazes of frank interest, the kind of frank interest usually directed at Jeremy.

Hot is a state of mind
.

Kristen had rehearsed him on this character she’d created. Something about maintaining an aloof manly confidence. His expression was supposed to convey “We both know I’m hot. What are you going to do about it?”

Sounded like Jeremy to him, but she’d insisted that Jeremy lacked the essential aloofness.

“Do you still live here?”

He smiled slightly and paused. The pause was supposed to be important. “I’m visiting my parents for the holidays.” He turned to watch their approach to the Sloane estate, aware of the looks the girls exchanged with each other.

The place was lit up inside and out. At least he wouldn’t have to skulk around in the dark.

The cart stopped at the front entrance. Great. Now Mitch had to remember the walk that went with this look. An ambling stride. This look was very contradictory.

He must have succeeded because he heard the whispers and giggles behind him.

Either that, or they were admiring the fit of his new two-hundred dollar jeans.

He admired it, too.

Mitch walked his ambling stride up the steps and into the noisy crowd. Everyone was in high spirits in anticipation of the parade, and a constant stream of people flowed through the spacious living areas.

Mitch had never seen so many Christmas sweaters, vests and reindeer ties in his life. He actually felt conspicuous in his black leather jacket and cream cashmere sweater.

He saw Kristen immediately, or rather Kristen the Christmas Vixen every man wanted to find under his tree.

She was easy to find, since a news crew had camera lights trained on her. She…glowed. Glowed, that was it. On one side of her stood the mayor of Sugar Land and on the other a man who, if he wasn’t the handsome governor of Texas, looked a whole lot like him. There were other men around her, men who eschewed flashy holiday garb for suits and a red or green tie. Behind them, more men waited for their turn to orbit Kristen. And behind them were determinedly smiling women who pretended not to notice.

How could anyone not notice?

Mitch swallowed. It didn’t do any good. Her hair…her dress… That wasn’t a dress. It was a couple of coats of red paint.

She’d warned him not to look. Good advice. He wrenched his gaze away from her and strode from the room. To hell with ambling.

He drew a shaky breath as he made his way through the foyer and into the other wing of the house.

She was acting. He knew that. But she was such a very good, very effective actress.

And of all the rich and powerful men surrounding her, Mitch was the only one who’d kissed her. Several times. His lips curled in a smug satisfaction and for once, he understood what drove Jeremy.

Jeremy.

Focus. He needed to focus.

There were more people spilling over into the hallways and the other ground floor rooms than Mitch had anticipated. He headed toward the office and got a sinking feeling as he heard laughter and voices. A group of older teens lounged on the chairs and sofa and flirted with each other, barely noticing him. Jeremy’s laptop wasn’t in the room.

Both good and bad, Mitch thought. It was probably in his bedroom upstairs.

Mitch returned to the main party room so Kristen would know he was there.

He circled the room, aware that he attracted some admiring female notice, which he acknowledged with a distracted smile.

And all the time he watched Kristen and the people
who watched her. And the man handing her a punch cup of wassail.

Jeremy.

Mitch got his own wassail and studied their body language. He didn’t have to hear what Jeremy was saying—he’d heard it all before.

He smiled as Kristen gave him a working demonstration of aloof acknowledgement, which made Jeremy even keener.

He was really pouring it on and Kristen’s reaction was nothing more than polite disinterest. She even let her gaze wander around the room while Jeremy talked, as though searching for someone more interesting.

That was harsh, but beyond effective.

And then her gaze landed on Mitch. He gave her his very best “We both know I’m hot” look and watched her hide her smile behind her wassail cup.

Though Mitch couldn’t tell how she moved, her body language subtly changed and she sent him a sizzling look across the crowded room.

Jeremy noticed, as he was meant to, and turned to see who could have possibly stolen her attention away from him.

Mitch’s heart kicked up a notch, but he leaned against the doorjamb and kept his gaze on Kristen.

Moments later, Kristen said something to the group she was with and went over to the band. That was Mitch’s cue to leave, but a shift in the crowd alerted him that Jeremy was headed his way.

Instinct told him to stand pat.

Jeremy casually refilled his punch cup and, just as casually, came to stand next to Mitch. They both
watched as Kristen approached the microphone and Mitch’s mother announced the “special treat” and introduced her.

Amid enthusiastic applause and wolf whistles, the lights dimmed and Kristen picked up the microphone. There was a hushed expectancy just before she spoke to the crowd about how good it was to be back in Sugar Land.

“You know her?” Jeremy asked.

Oh, great. Mitch deepened his voice and answered in a raspy whisper. “Not as well as I’d like to.”

“We’re old friends.”

Mitch glanced down at him and away. “Maybe she could use a new friend.”

Bouncy music started and Kristen began to sing about rockin’ ’round the Christmas tree.

Jeremy tossed back his wassail and set his cup on a tray. “Not while I’m roasting my chestnuts on her open fire.”

“That’s guaranteed to have her laughing all the way,” Mitch said.

Jeremy looked him in the eyes so long; Mitch was convinced he’d been recognized. And then, without a backward glance, Jeremy made his way toward the bandstand, greeting people along the way, and arriving in time to applaud the end of Kristen’s first song.

Jeremy hadn’t known who he was after all. It fit, because Mitch clearly hadn’t known Jeremy.

He should go find that computer. As he set his cup down, Kristen’s next song started and she began a slow, bluesy, sensual version of
All I Want for Christmas
.

Mitch couldn’t make himself leave. Around him,
men’s jaws went slack while women gritted their teeth in envy. Even the catering staff stopped moving through the crowd and watched the woman in red.

And when she sang directly to him, Mitch broke out in a sweat. It was just a dress. It was just hair.

It was mostly Kristen.

For a few charged moments, they were alone in the room. Mitch could have stood there forever, but Kristen turned her attention to Jeremy. Mitch got the message.

It was now or never.

Chapter Twelve

Kristen had always known the power of perception. It was amazing how people could define themselves with the right props and the right attitude.

It was amazing how people never thought to look past the props and attitude.

The Sloanes, in their roles as generous community benefactors, had welcomed her as though she were visiting royalty. Whispers trying to guess the designer of her dress followed her through the crowd. More than one woman touched her own jeweled neck thoughtfully after taking in Kristen’s spare elegance.

She even outshone the current Miss Sweetest, who stood in the VIP receiving line in her white cotton-candy-like dress, long white gloves, and sparkling crown, necklace and earrings. She looked overdone, while Kristen wore an air of Hollywood glamour and sophistication which was as fake as Chuck Sloane’s integrity.

And then there was Mitch. As Kristen took the stage, she saw him watching her from the back of the room. Her mouth went dry and it was hard to swallow—not good before a singing performance.

And then Jeremy headed straight for him. How had he recognized him? While it was true that all Mitch had changed was his hair style and color, beard and eye color, it was his attitude that made him look completely different. He carried himself differently and when people reacted to him, he settled into his role.

Mitch didn’t have an arrogant bone in his body. He was a good-looking man, but he didn’t depend on his looks. What Kristen had done was bring out his Rocky Road side, something she doubted Jeremy had ever seen.

Still, she was rattled enough that she spoke a few words to the audience to settle her voice before she began to sing.

She didn’t fully get into her song until Jeremy walked away from Mitch.

Her second number was designed to ensnare Jeremy, but she couldn’t resist singing a little to Mitch, especially the “all I want for Christmas is you” part.

She couldn’t be a whole lot more direct than that while still wearing clothing.

It gave her a thrill that he’d stayed to see her sing her sexy Christmas number. Even though accessing Jeremy’s computer tonight might help him clear his name, even with that much at stake, he lingered.

How could she not fall in love with a man like that?

And because she
had
fallen in love with a man like that, she reluctantly sought Jeremy’s admiring gaze and bent toward him. He looked her up and down as though she was a horse he was considering for purchase.

Countless casting calls had hardened her to such
looks and she didn’t have any trouble giving him one right back.

He blinked a couple of times and Kristen turned it down a notch. She sang to some more men and returned to Jeremy, counting on his pride at having been singled out twice in front of the entire room to drive him to try to win her.

And
that
should keep him occupied until Mitch gave her the all clear.

T
HE PASSWORD WORKED
, but Mitch almost wished it hadn’t.

It had revealed a hidden operating system on Jeremy’s laptop, undetectable except to those who knew it was there. A computer within a computer, like the false bottom in a suitcase. Kristen’s father had suggested Mitch might find something like it, but Mitch was still startled when it booted up.

Obviously, Jeremy hadn’t installed it himself, but he sure knew it was there.

Grimly, Mitch examined the contents. It was almost anticlimactic when he found the alternate accounting records. His name was all over them. Whether these were the real laundering records didn’t matter—they looked like it and there was probably enough truth to them to satisfy the FBI.

Mitch connected to the Internet and sent a copy of the hidden drive’s list of contents to his computer. Next, he copied the financial records and sent those.

A few minutes passed. Enough time for him to begin to think. He didn’t want to think, so he poked through a few text files and found copies of e-mails between
Jeremy and his father in which an impatient Jeremy wondered what was taking so long and his father set up a meeting with the FBI in Houston so Jeremy could present “new evidence.”

Mitch had no idea how long he stared at the screen as every possible explanation, every excuse and every hope that Jeremy had been as much a victim as Mitch died.

The Jeremy he thought he’d known better than any man on earth had never existed. Once Mitch accepted that, he could stop staring at the screen and function again.

He stuck his head out the bedroom door. Kristen was still singing, so he started transferring the entire hidden drive. He’d get what he could.