Nick (The Kringle Boys Book 1) (3 page)

Nick looked around, as though suddenly realizing the condition of his office.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “I’ve never had to deal with…paperwork…before. I didn’t realize how quickly it would pile up. Hold on, let me clear some space...”

For a moment he almost looked
sheepish
as he moved quickly to shuffle piles of paper around, uncovering a chair and a corner of the desk. Phoebe felt herself beginning to thaw, just slightly, as he bustled around. She knew Santa wanted her to keep an eye on him, knew he probably couldn’t be trusted to run things at the factory the right way, but this was the first time she’d let herself consider that he might truly be out of his depth.

“Have Spokes find you a good secretary. Any of the elves will have this place shipshape in no time.”

Phoebe picked her way over to her newly uncovered seat and noticed, irritated, how Nick scrambled to get away from her, putting the desk between them.

I don’t want to be anywhere near you, either,
she sniffed to herself,
Time to get to work.

Phoebe pulled a file out of her briefcase and handed him a neatly printed list.

“What’s this?”

“A list of objectives for you to complete over the next two weeks, and suggested changes to procedure.”

Nick’s eyebrows raised as he scanned the sheet.

“Are you out of your mind? I have my hands full. There’s no way I have time for all of this...networking.”

“Part of your job here is to interact with the community, Nick. Santa is anxious that they accept us, and that means talking to customers, working in the candy shop, going to all the local society Christmas parties. You’re not just the factory manager, you’re Santa’s representative.”

“So are you. You go.”

“I’m planning on it, but this isn’t a request.”

Nick drummed impatient fingers on the desk.

“And how is the community going to react when they discover who I really am?”

“You’re Santa’s nephew.”

But she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“My father routinely tries to ruin Christmas.”

“He threw you out. You’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“I don’t even like the holidays.”

“Fake it.”

“If I had my magic, I could level this factory with a flick of my wrist and a chance indoor blizzard.”

“I don’t believe you would do that.”

She said it with more confidence than she felt.

Nick considered her, his eyes cold and dark. If people didn’t know the truth, they’d only see a handsome, brooding man with a chilly edge. Even if they
did
know the truth, they probably wouldn’t run screaming.

Probably.

“I’m on the Naughty List,” said Nick, conversationally, and Phoebe froze, everything in her protesting the awful, undeniable fact.

Then he grinned, a smile full of such mischief and lust that for one brief, horrifying second, Phoebe completely forgot all of her elf goodness.

I want to be naughty, too.

WATCHING PHOEBE WINTERS SQUIRM was the highlight of Nick’s day. She looked like she was ready to bolt, and that suited him just fine. He knew he made the elves uncomfortable – it had taken him a full week to get any of them to look him in the eye when he issued orders and not run for cover every time he walked into a room. With a little pressure, maybe he could get Phoebe to back off and leave him alone, and forget about forcing him to play nice with the locals. All he wanted to do was get through the season and get out, and this long list of holiday revelry was going to make these weeks so much more miserable than they had to be.

“Are you sure you want to ally yourself with someone on the Naughty List, Phoebe?” he asked softly, surprised to see her cheeks heating a delightful pink.

Fury
, he assured himself.

“You don’t scare me. But Santa gave you this job. It takes quite a lot to piss him off. Do you really want to risk it?”

Fuck.

For a moment, Nick had complete sympathy for his chilly bastard of a father. Santa could completely ruin his life if he wanted to, and banish him to the Sahara with the twitch of his nose.

“Fine,” he snapped, “I’ll play nice. I’ll take shifts in the candy store, I’ll go to your stupid parties. But the minute New Year’s rolls around, I’m out of here.”

“Fine by me,” retorted Phoebe.

“Make no mistake, Ms. Kringle, I may be Santa’s nephew, but I’m still Jack Frost’s son. I’m interested in doing a good job because that’s what I was hired to do, but in no way am I now, or will I ever be,
nice.
”

Phoebe snorted indelicately.

“You think this is news? I’m surprised you’re not out there icing down the sidewalk and pouring glue into the parking meter coin slots.”

“Before you go looking down your nose at me, keep in mind that you’re only here because you figured factory babysitter would look good on your resume.”

Phoebe gasped, outraged, but Nick plowed ahead.

“And remember this while you’re sneaking around, reporting all my flaws back to Santa. If I fail and the factory falls apart on my watch, you fail, too.”

Phoebe could have given Jack Frost and all of his sons a run for their money with the glacial glare she aimed in his direction.

“Believe me, I’m more than well aware of that fact, Mr. Kringle.”

And she swept from the room.

“Shit,” Nick muttered to himself.

There was no reason to fight with Phoebe – she was here to help him, even if he was sure that he absolutely, positively didn’t want any help from
anyone
. Conflict was just ingrained in Nick’s nature, and old habits died hard. But arguing with Phoebe unsettled him. He rubbed his chest, feeling cold.

Maybe he didn’t need to be chilly and cruel
all
the time.

With that curious thought, Nick climbed over the teetering piles of paper and headed out to find Spokes and get a damned elf secretary on the job before he was crushed in an avalanche of unopened mail.

IT TOOK PHOEBE ABOUT five minutes to realize that fighting with Nick wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She’d never met anyone who pushed her buttons that quickly. Like all elves, she assumed a “nice until proven naughty” attitude towards people. Nick hadn’t done anything naughty
yet
, and it wasn’t like her to condemn someone for naughtiness they hadn’t committed, even if the potential was there.

And Nick had
so
much potential to be naughty.

Pulling herself together, Phoebe resolved to spend the day making herself useful. She stayed off the factory floor as much as possible and Spokes gave her a detailed account of the rash of accidents that had plagued the factory in the last few weeks. The incidents were troubling. No one had gotten hurt, but each one had put them a little further behind, and they were happening with increasing frequency. It wouldn’t be too great a leap to suggest sabotage, but every worker here had been handpicked by Mr. Berry, whose judgment of character was beyond reproach.

By seven o’clock, Phoebe was getting twitchy. A day around all that sugar had strained her nerves to the breaking point, and she wondered how she was going to survive the entire season. Her clit throbbed like a toothache, and all she wanted to do was go home, strip off her soaked panties, and put a new set of batteries in her vibrator. As the workers left for the day, Phoebe was about to follow suit, but she realized that she had to make peace with Nick first. She’d avoided him all day, and he certainly hadn’t sought her out, but they had to work together.

If she couldn’t get past her knee jerk reaction to what he was, their business relationship was doomed. It wasn’t his fault he was Jack Frost’s son, or that he was now disowned and non-magical. If anything, the fact that he’d broken ties with his father showed strength of character and a willingness to change. Nick couldn’t help his upbringing any more than she could help the fact that a handful of chocolate drops was enough to make her shiver with arousal. Or the fact that she was attracted to him despite his chilly attitude and snide remarks.

What is wrong with me? Assholeness is not an attractive quality.

If he ever managed to drop the asshole attitude, however…

Phoebe shivered and banished that dangerous thought from her mind.

Telling herself to play nice and call a truce, Phoebe set out in search of her reluctant partner.

He wasn’t in his office.

He wasn’t in the locker rooms, or the lab, or even the factory floor, which Phoebe ascertained with a quick peek and a hurried departure.

Phoebe finally found him in the candy shop, of all places, and she
froze
in the doorway, nearly dropping her clipboard in aroused horror.

The shop was closed for the night, the staff had gone home, but Nick stood behind the marble counter alone, mixing a large bowl of some sort of gloriously caramel-colored, sticky dough. By hand.

Oh, fuck.

REALLY, THIS ISN’T SO bad
, thought Nick, kneading the caramel dough with a firm, rhythmic movement.

It had taken him a while to work up the courage to approach the candy shop, and while he hadn’t found the nerve to deal with customers, he found it was surprisingly…
fun.
..getting his hands messy in the kitchen. Mirabelle, a sweet little elf with bright eyes and purple hair, had eagerly hopped up to greet him when he peeked in about an hour before closing. Upon learning that he wanted to help, she beamed with delight and promptly started teaching him how to mix up some of the mouthwatering confections that had flown off the shelves all day.

Nick grudgingly admitted that the candy shop was a great idea. Customers entered, lured by the smell of sugar and spice, wide-eyed and jittery at the sight of the elves. They quickly relaxed as the chipper little creatures heaped smiles, attention, and free samples on them, and left with boxes and bags of cheerfully wrapped candy and cookies.

When closing time came, Nick was surprised – the hour had flown. Wanting to get the caramel cookies set before he closed up for the night, he’d sent the rest home with a gruff, “Thanks,” feeling unaccountably warm and pleased with himself when Mirabelle hopped up to pinch his cheek.

The soft
squeak
from the doorway to the factory had him looking up.

Phoebe stood there, staring at him as though he’d grown another head.

“About this morning—” he began, determined to at least get them back to civility.

Phoebe held up a hand.

“It’s okay. Let’s just put it behind us. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with this?”

She fluttered a hand to encompass the candy shop with its rows of sweets in enticing, old-fashioned jars along every shelf.

“I’m coming around,” admitted Nick with a grin.

Phoebe drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes drifted down to his hands. And stayed there.

Intuition tickled the back of Nick’s neck, and he examined the petite half-elf by the door. She seemed reluctant to come all the way inside the shop. And the way she was looking at his hands…

Nick poured the sticky mess onto the marble slab and started kneading it, adding powdered sugar as the caramel goo began to hold its shape.

“Would you like a taste?”

The words popped out of him. If possible, Phoebe grew even stiffer in the doorway.

“I don’t…sample,” said Phoebe coldly, her tone as frigid as the icy fields of home.

“Never?”

“No.”

“Because you don’t like candy,” he prodded.

“Yes. I mean, no.
No
, I don’t.”

“Suit yourself.”

Shrugging as he dismissed the odd sensation that he was missing something, Nick wrapped the ball of dough in plastic and reached for the sink to wash his caramel-coated hands, absently popping his finger in his mouth to suck the gooey goodness off his thumb. Another soft
squeak
had him looking up.

He froze.

Phoebe’s eyes were wide and bright, flitting between his fingers and his mouth, her skin flushed, and she was doing a rotten job controlling her breathing as an excited little pant escaped her lips. Nick was shocked to see that the prickly half-elf was nearly bubbling over with repressed arousal. She looked ready to explode at the lightest brush of skin against skin.

Nick knew elves were susceptible to sugar – they craved it, had to have it, and used it to soothe, to comfort, and to fuel their magical ability. Phoebe claimed to dislike it, but Nick had never seen a reaction quite like this – he’d seen elves lust over candy, but she was quivering as though he’d taken a long, fat candy cane and slid it into her throbbing pussy. His inner devil grinned even as blood rushed southward.

She doesn’t hate candy.

Forgetting the sink, he moved around the counter.

“What are you doing?”

Phoebe skittered around the edge of the room, avoiding him, stopping in front of the closed front door. The shades were drawn, the door frosted glass. They were completely alone.

“Sure you don’t want a lick?” asked Nick, holding up his hand, moving ever so carefully closer, like a lion stalking its prey.

Phoebe stepped back until the door prevented her from retreating further, her clipboard clutched in a death grip in front of her as though to ward him off. Bells jangled above as she pressed herself flat.

“It’s good,” he murmured, “Warm, buttery, rich. Perfect for drizzling all over warm skin so that I can lap it off, one delicious lick at a time.”

Phoebe moaned. Nick’s cock tightened painfully.

He wasn’t sure when teasing turned to seduction, but despite her buttoned up demeanor, he had to admit that everything about Phoebe flooded his mind with naughty fantasies he was dying to make reality. Their animosity of earlier suddenly seemed like foreplay, and Nick was beginning to think he might actually lose his mind if he didn’t get his mouth on her within the next thirty seconds. He’d never responded to a woman like this, but didn’t have the brain cells to examine it, because she shocked him, grabbing his wrist in a firm grip and bringing his fingers to her mouth. The clipboard clattered to the ground.

Oh God.

Phoebe was still holding back, breathing in the scent of caramel, watching it drip slowly down his hand, practically shaking. Nick swiped her lower lip with one finger, spreading sticky sugar.

Soft.

“Open your mouth, Phoebe.”

His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he felt heat surge through him as she obeyed, her tongue darting out to lick it away, eager and hot. The sound she made was so throaty and delicious, he shuddered in reaction, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her tight against him, his cock hard enough to pound nails, pressed into the softness of her belly. Nick couldn’t even be insulted that she didn’t seem to notice, because that gorgeous mouth was on him now, savoring the caramel on his skin, slowly sucking his fingers inside, one at a time, rooting for every little trace of sugar. Her eyelids fluttered down as pleasure suffused her face. It didn’t look like she was planning to release him anytime soon.

Nick absorbed each lick and hot little suck with greed. He wanted her mouth on him, everywhere. He wanted to feel her exploring his chest, his abs, with the same hunger. He wanted to watch her take his cock down her throat, stretching her lips with each sumptuous stroke.

Nick groaned.

SWEET,
SHE THOUGHT.
SO incredibly sweet.

Phoebe lapped up the caramel, hungry for all of it, feeling the magic of sugar
zing
through her system. And the taste of his skin was delicious – salty and hot and addictive.

There’s a reason I shouldn’t be doing this.

The frosted glass door was cold against her back, but her front sizzled from the press of his body, the hard bulge of his cock cuddling against her belly, her aching nipples pressed into his chest. Nick’s fingers had found bare skin, tunneling under her suit jacket and blouse to stroke her waist. It felt so good, and Phoebe shifted restlessly as he explored, tracing the waistband of her skirt before sliding up to cup her breast with a warm hand, nudging the bra aside to stroke her sensitive nipple with sure, toe-curling friction as it tightened further under his touch.

The
zap
of pleasure that raced to her clit was enough to shock her out of her dreamy state, but she only had a moment to raise startled eyes to note the blue fire in his gaze before Nick’s mouth found hers. If the sensation of tasting his skin had been delicious and sweet and naughty, the feel of his mouth was wicked delight magnified by a billion.

Phoebe dropped his wrist and wrapped her arms around his neck while he took her mouth with a skill that turned her knees to jelly. Her pussy was pulsing and swollen, her panties soaked as his fingers plucked her nipple while his tongue fucked her mouth. Her knee slid up his thigh as she raised herself on tiptoe for a better alignment.

It was awful and wonderful to realize that she was
starving
for him.

Just one more moment…

She gasped as he wrenched his mouth away to explore the soft skin of her throat, flicking his tongue into the hollow with a deft stroke designed to incinerate what was left of her willpower. For a second Phoebe realized that she was a heartbeat away from dragging him to the floor and devouring his hard body an inch at a time as he filled her aching pussy with what felt like a very impressive cock beneath his jeans. She might even pour caramel all over him and lick him clean for good measure.

“We have to stop!” she managed, desperate.

“We do?”

Nick looked up, heat and hunger in his eyes along with confusion, and Phoebe’s knees almost buckled.

“Yes!” she affirmed, “I can’t…sleep with you.”

She pushed on his shoulder and the hand cupping her breast let go. He frowned, untangling himself from her clothing as she staggered back and tried to calm her racing heart.

“Why the hell not?” Nick asked, clearly pissed.

“Because we work together! Because I don’t even
like
you and you certainly don’t like me. Because I’m half-elf and you’re— that is, I’m—”

Nick’s mouth tightened as she cut herself off. She didn’t need to say it. She felt awful, casting him in the same light as his father, but there it was.

“Not ready to go slumming?” asked Nick coldly.

“I’m not interested in a relationship,” retorted Phoebe, weakly.

Nick chuckled, and it was chilly and cruel and every bit Frost.

“I wasn’t offering. But if you’re not interested in burning out whatever this is with a long night of hard cock between your thighs, it’s your loss.”

She couldn’t help the gasp at his crude words.

“That’s not who I am,” Phoebe informed him, pique warring with the lust still surging through her body.

“What, are you afraid that naughty is going to rub off on you?”