Kissing Kris Kringle (2 page)

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.”

She sighed with exasperation and Kris couldn’t help but watch her breasts strain against her sweater. He’d thought about
them
before too.

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.

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 self-deprecating, 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.