Naughty St. Nick (6 page)

“Could it have something to do with that kiss the other day?”

“I didn’t notice you walking around the square, hanging mistletoe over anyone else’s head.”

“It was only meant for you.”

She inhaled deeply.

He rushed on. “We’re getting too old to play coy, don’t you think?”

Heat flickered in her eyes, but shock crossed her pretty face.

“Maybe we should admit we’re more into each other than we’ve let on,” he suggested.

She didn’t scoff at him—or whirl around and march off in a huff. For which he was grateful.

She asked, “Would there be a point to that?”

“One way to find out, right? I told you I want to be the only one for you. Now that I know you haven’t been with anyone else, I’m kind of thinking you might feel the same.”

“I’m not really your type, I’m—”

“Vix.” He cupped the side of her face with his hand. “Are your toes curling right now?”

She gasped, clearly taken aback. Then let out a puff of air. “Yes. Always, when you’re around.”

His head bent and he whispered, “So I’m the one you’re looking for—the one you want.”

“Nick—”

“Say it, Vix,” he quietly insisted. “If it’s true, then come right out and say it.”

She hedged.

“Damn it, Vix,” he all but growled. “Tell me—”

“Yes, okay?” she suddenly said. “I want you. It’s always been you.”

He would have shouted his
hell, yes
,
FINALLY!
from the rooftops, but didn’t want to lose the intensity of the moment. So he dipped his head that extra inch and pressed his lips to hers.

Vix seemed startled for all of two seconds. Then her lips parted and his tongue slipped inside, twisting and tangling. Nick’s hand alongside her face shoved through her thick, silken curls. His other hand gripped her waist, pulling her tightly to him so that her breasts nestled below the hard ledge of his pecs.

He kissed her deeply, unleashing all the pent-up passion that had never been satisfied—because it had all been meant for Vixen.

She clasped his bicep with one hand and splayed the other palm over his back. The inclination of her head shifted with his as they tested different angles, tasted each other, lost themselves in a sizzling kiss.

Nick had no idea how long this went on and on. But when he eventually dragged his mouth from hers, they were both breathless. And his entire body blazed with an unrelenting need for her.

Vixen stared up at him, an alluring look on her beautiful face and excitement in her eyes.

He grinned. “That’s one hell of a start.”

* * *

Vixen couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much that her cheeks actually hurt. Yet, she couldn’t contain the grin, no matter what. That kiss Nick had given her was more potent than moonshine, intoxicating her and making her so warm and fuzzy inside that she’d had to change into a tank top and shorts when she’d returned home. Despite the slight chill in the air, she’d been burning up most of the night.

She’d left Nick with a smile on his face, too. And the promise of something electric and unexpected surrounding them both.

He hadn’t pushed her further, and she was grateful, needing a little time to process the change in the air, the shock of what had transpired between them. And the heat from that kiss—good Lord!

She was still giddy the next day as she wandered along Blitzen Street, noting that the storefront windows were all alight and filled with holiday displays. That was new.

Whoever had taken over as Santa was perched in the big, elaborate chair, listening to more wishes from the kids. And if Vixen weren’t mistaken, those children didn’t appear to be locals. In fact, the entire square was abuzz with activity and there were many faces she didn’t recognize.

The tourists had returned.

Her heart swelled. Tears prickled her eyes. Even the weather had turned frigid—she’d had to put on her jacket before leaving the house this morning. And the unbelievably delicious scent wafting from Sugar Plums was magic unto itself.

Vixen stood in the center of the square and absorbed the sights and sounds—including the perfectly timed
It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas
from the wandering group of carolers, all decked out in festive garb.

Indeed, it truly was looking a lot like Christmas. And Nick and his co-conspirators, whoever they were, deserved the full credit.

“This is so wonderful, isn’t it?”

Vixen turned at Jenny’s voice and smiled. Around a lump of emotion, she said, “I’d actually forgotten how sensational all of this was. Like I put it out of my mind as soon as my grandfather died and everyone stopped celebrating.”

“I know,” Jenny said, clearly feeling some strained emotions as well. “It’s been pretty painful for all of us. Traditions die hard, you know? We cling to them, especially when they’ve been such a huge part of our lives. Every day. With Mr. White and the endless holiday spirit, it was all we knew. So when it went away... It
really
went away.”

Vixen glanced around the square, then said, “What’s interesting, though, is that there are still some similarities—the tree, for example. Although, the lights have never blazed so bright. It’s stunning. And the new setup—putting Santa and his village in the square instead of keeping it all contained to the department store... I mean, he’s what this town is all about and for it to be showcased right here... That’s incredible. It’s impossible not to be sucked into Christmas all over again.”

“Yes,” Jenny said with a knowing smile that made Vixen wonder what she knew about the Secret Santas in town. “It’s sort of a new generation of North Pole, don’t you think?”

“That’s exactly what I think. And it’s gorgeous.”

“And still so perfect.” Jenny admired the festivities a moment longer, then said, “Oh! I almost forgot.” She handed over a small gift bag. “This is for you.”

Vixen eyed her curiously. “Our tradition is to exchange gifts with friends on Christmas Eve, family on Christmas Day.”

“Well, this isn’t from me, per se. And I think we’re seeing that traditions are meant to be broken. Or, at least, brought along with the changing times.”

Vixen couldn’t dispute that. She opened the bag and pulled out the box inside. Jenny took the bag to hold for her so Vixen could lift the lid. She peeled back delicate, silvery tissue paper and gasped.

“Those look divine,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

“There’s a card.”

It was tucked into the lid. Vixen extracted it.

For your sweet tooth. All you have to do is believe, Vix.

Nick

Vixen’s heart fluttered.

Jenny said, “He asked me to make them specifically for you. Give one a try.”

“What’s on top of them?”

“Just try it. Be surprised.”

Vixen selected a dark chocolate piece from the box and bit into it. The truffle melted in her mouth, but the unexpected taste of salt was explosive.

“Oh, my God! That’s the most decadent thing I’ve ever tasted!”

“It’s grey salt on top of the chocolate.”

“Sensational!” She polished off the piece and resisted the urge to inhale the rest. “Wow, unreal.”

Jenny beamed and confessed, “I put some extra effort into it. You know, the request coming from Nick and all.” She wagged her brows, the way she’d done over a week ago when she’d told Vixen that Nick had sworn to give up other women if she’d give him a chance.

“Well, I’ve pretty much died and gone to heaven,” Vixen moaned.

“Is it the chocolate—or the guy?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Both.”

“Mm. That’s yummy.” She squeezed Vixen’s arm, then said, “I have to get back to the bakery. We’re packed with all this renewed interest in our town. But I’ll reserve a table for you if you’re coming in tonight.”

Vixen wasn’t quite sure what her plans were for the evening. “I’ll call you and let you know.”

“I get it.” Jenny winked. “You might have a date.”

“Stop gloating like you knew all along this would happen.”

“I sort of did.” She gave Vixen a hug, then rushed off.

Vixen stared after her. She thought of the new lights, with more sparkle than ever before. The new Santa and the new village, all glitzy and Christmas-y. Jenny’s new addition to her baking skills—salted truffles.

Everything seemed to be evolving in North Pole. Sure, the memories of the past would never be forgotten. But maybe Jenny was right. It was the next generation of a year-round Christmas town. And everyone embraced it, including Vixen, granddaughter of one of the most time-honored North Pole traditions of all.

With misty eyes, she spared a glance toward the overcast sky—when had that happened?—and silently thanked both her grandfather and her mother for not only introducing her to utopia, but for instilling in her the true meaning of Christmas.

The belief in holiday magic.

Chapter Seven

Nick popped over to Vixen’s house later that night. Her smile was a bright one as she pulled the door open. Making him grin in return.

“Those truffles were insane,” was the first thing she said.

“Tell me you saved one for me.”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “You and your desserts.”

With a coy look, she said, “Of course I saved you one.”

Crooking a brow, he challenged, “One? Just one?”

“Well, yeah. I mean... Wait’ll you taste it.” Her eyes seemed practically to roll into the back of her head. “I’ve had some pretty amazing chocolate in my time, but Jenny’s creation—holy moly!”

“Glad you enjoyed.”

“More than you know.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Impulsively, he could tell. Still, he saw it for what it was. A grand gesture on
her
part.

“So, I have another surprise for you,” he said. Then stepped aside.

She stared at her short stairwell. “You brought me a Christmas tree?”

He spared a glance at the large Douglas fur partially resting on her porch. The top portion trailed down the steps. The tree sprawled across a large tarp to protect it.

Returning his attention to Vixen, Nick said, “Couldn’t help but notice that pathetic little Charlie Brown tree sitting on the end table by the front window. Seriously, Vix, I expected more from you. Keeping up the Christmas spirit should come more naturally to you. Especially when you’re named after a reindeer.”

She smirked at him. “No more so than everyone else. Must I remind you that you’re named after Santa Claus?”

“Shame on us for collectively letting the Christmas spirit slip through our fingers.” They were both quiet and contemplative for a moment, then Nick asked, “So...can I bring in the tree?”

“Absolutely.”

He lugged it in as Vixen disappeared up the stairs, only to return several minutes later with a stand. She set it up and filled the base with water while he moved aside the table with the sad-sack tree. Then she and Nick hoisted up the fur and carefully placed the thick trunk in the stand. A few adjustments here and there, and it stood perfectly straight, its full branches filling the window.

She admired the tree with a pleased look on her face, making Nick damn glad he’d stopped by Snowy Marshall’s lot. He’d been lucky to find the right selection, since the inventory had reportedly dwindled significantly as of this week due to all the renewed holiday activity.

“Well,” Vixen said as she clasped her hands together. “I suppose this calls for a toast. I think I have a bottle of champagne hiding behind some leftovers in the fridge. Care to join me?”

“You bet.”

She turned to go, but Nick stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

Glancing at him over her shoulder, she raised a brow.

He asked, “What about the ornaments?”

Her gaze shifted from him to the naked fur in her living room and she frowned. “Oh, yeah. I guess I should trim the tree.”

He picked up on her sudden consternation and it perplexed him. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just...” She shook her head, a forlorn expression creeping into her eyes. “I haven’t brought the ornaments and lights down from the attic since Granddad died.”

“Ah.” Nick nodded. “A family tradition.”

“Yes. Though... I’ve recently discovered that it’s okay to cling to some of them and build new ones. I’ll work on the tree later tonight.”

Nick lifted his hand from her arm and brushed a few strands of raven hair from her cheek, his fingertips sweeping over her soft skin.

She sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t step away from him.

“Let me tell you about a promise I made to myself, Vix. I swore that if you ever gave me a chance—even the tiniest, most remote one—I wouldn’t let you down. I’d do whatever I could to prove you’ve meant more to me in my entire lifetime than any other woman. With the exception of my mother, of course.”

“Of course.” The words fell from her lips on a whisper of a breath.

“There were plenty of signals, Vix. Plenty of signs. You chose not to read them.”

“That’s because my granddad said—”

“Yeah, I know what your grandfather said about me. He warned you to stay away from me.”

“Not exactly,” she told him. “He adored you, Nick. He thought you were a great kid. My mom adored you, too. The roses you gave her... They’d make her entire week. Every time.”

Nick’s brow furrowed. “You knew about that?”

Tears rimmed her eyes, but she gave what he thought was meant to be a nonchalant shrug. It wasn’t. “She and Mrs. Ivy were tight, so of course she knew where the roses came from, even if the girls in class didn’t. Though I’m sure they suspected...”

“I guess I was a bit of a flirt back then.”

“A
bit
?” She laughed. “You actually left swooning girls in your wake. You still do.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not interested in making anyone swoon but you, Vix.”

She stared at him for several long moments. At one point, she opened her mouth to say something, but then promptly closed it. He was dying to know what thoughts raced through her mind. The suspense nearly killed him.

Finally, she said in a very tentative tone, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”