Authors: Kari Lee Harmon
“Who are you kidding? You’re going back so you don’t wind up in jail. You know, I could call my brother and have him post bail for you, pronto, so you don’t have to do this at all.”
“Are you kidding. I’ve never been arrested in my life. Going to jail’s not an option.”
“Yeah, you’re right. A cell is not a very merry place to be during the holidays. Certainly no place you want to toe the missile, if you get my meaning, which--no matter what you say--you desperately need.” Amber snickered, her green eyes undoubtedly dancing with delight.
“Told you that you should have stuck around for hunky St. Nicky to jingle your bells. You’d be in a lot less trouble and hell of a lot less uptight right now.”
Samantha’s friends were enjoying themselves immensely over the predicament she was in.
They
were normally the naughty ones, and she was always nice. Lesson learned. Never, ever listen to Amazons or elves and stay far, far away from
the All Powerful Peppermintini.
“It’s mistletoe, and there will be no toeing of anything, ladies. My shoes will remain on at all times,” Samantha said, reminding herself she did not want a man like Nathan Snow in her life, no matter how ruggedly handsome he was or how incred
ible he’d been in her dreams...
or how fantastic he’d looked without his shirt on. She paused, reliving the memory, then sho
ok her head to clear the image.
She wanted a man who would appreciate her for who she was and what she had to give, not for what she could do for him. Since that man didn’t exist, she’d opted for no man at all.
“No toeing the missile or stuffing your stocking?” Ellen sighed. “You sure know how to take the joy right out of Christmas.”
“On the contrary,” Samantha clarified, “I plan to put the joy back into Christmas for one grumpy infamous Mr. Nathan Snow--aka the biggest Scrooge of Redemption Massachusetts.” She set her shoulders. “Who better than me to help him find the spirit of Christmas?”
Amber giggled. “I pity Nathan.”
“No kidding.” Ellen joined her with a laugh. “The poor sap has no idea what he’s in for.”
**
*
Nathan carried Samantha’s luggage, marveling over how much the woman had packed. He headed to the back room of his shop. She would only be here for a short time, yet she’d brought enough to stay a month. The woman needed to be taught a lesson. She could not get away with behavior like that without suffering the consequences. And she amused the hell out of him, which was a plus this time of year. He hated the holidays and all that it remi
nded him of.
Forcing those negative thoughts aside, he put his hand on the doorknob and fought back a grin as he swung the door wide. “Here you are. Home sweet home.”
Samantha stepped past him and jerked to a stop in the middle of the room, the beige cotton trousers she’d changed into hugging her curvaceous backside in all the right places. And she’d twisted those sexy blond curls of hers that he longed to wind around his fingers into that fancy professional knot at the back of her head again. But he’d seen her in action. No matter what she said or how she dressed, he didn’t believe she was nearly as prim and proper as she let on. He’d never been able to resist a challenge, especially one wrapped in such a lovely package.
“This can’t be right. This is not a bedroom?” She swung around to face him, a horrified look on her heart-shaped face, her pale blue eyes wide and wary.
“What? There’s a bed.”
“A cot,” she clarified.
“And a bathroom.”
“An open toilet,” her voice rose an octave, her cheeks turning the same shade of pink as her sweater.
“Hey, be glad you’ll be surrounded by four walls instead of bars of steel.”
“You mean sheetrock and wires. These walls aren’t even finished, there’s no carpet, not even a curtain. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful you didn’t pr
ess charges, but still ...
you can’t be serious.” She swept her arms wide.
“It’s a work in progress, and I’m dead serious. I don’t trust you anywhere but at the store where I can keep a close eye on you.” He took a step forward, letting his gaze run down the length of her and back up again. “Or there’s always my place.”
She stepped back, stumbling a little.
“I’ll take my chances with the
...
rats, thank you very much.” She smirked, the word “other” implied in her hesitation.
He chuckled. If he made things difficult for her, she’d be desperate for his help. And he’d help her straight into his bed, which is exactly where she wanted to be, whether she admitted it or not. He’d satisfy her obviously repressed desire, and maybe, just maybe, Christmas wouldn’t be a
s lonely this year.
“Hang a sheet. You’ll be fine.” He turned on his heel and strode out with his hands in his pockets, whistling a lively tune, then called over his shoulder, “You’ve got work to do, Ms. Darling, and you can start by cleaning up the mess in the front window.”
“Yes, sir,” she snapped, and the door slammed in place.
Yes, indeed, he thought as a slow grin spread across his face. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all. He could use a little merry and bright.
***
This was turning out to be the worst Christmas ever. Samantha had seriously underestimated the ease of her task. She’d spent hours cleaning up the mess she’d made and coming up with a new display. After seeing that excuse for a room, she was more determined than ever to finish her sentence early and get the hell out of there. At least the window was closed off by room divider panels from the rest of the store, and so far, Ms. Pit--aka the infamous dry cl
eaning Roz--had left her alone.
But Nathan kept checking up on Samantha. Never knowing when he would poke his head in was wreaking havoc on her senses. Damn Mark for forcing her into abstinence. Nathan was driving her crazy in more ways than one, but trying to get a man who hated Christmas to like her ideas was nearly i
mpossible.
“I don’t like it,” Nathan said, lending truth to her words yet again.
“Now, there’s a big surprise,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and trying not to grit her teeth. He didn’t look nearly as gorgeous when his stubbornness took over. “What don’t you like this time?”
“I don’t know, it looks
...
sparse.”
“What do you mean, sparse?”
“Maybe it needs more presents under the tree.” He stood with his hands on his hips and feet shoulder-width apart as he tipped his head and studied the tree from various angles, completely serious.
“You’ve got to be kidding. That’s more than I ever got as a kid.”
He turned to her and stroked his heavy five o’clock shadow. “Seriously?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Huh.”
“The spirit of Christmas is not about how many presents you have under the tree.”
“Oh, right. I knew that.” He frowned, and she suspected he didn’t know any such thing. “A light dawned in his eyes, and he held up a finger, nodding. “Okay, okay. I think I’ve got it.” He resumed rubbing his chiseled jaw, staring at the tree once more. “Maybe we don’t need more gifts, maybe we need nicer gifts. Or bigger ones. I wouldn’t want the town to think I was cheap.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m positive the town knows you’re not cheap. You drive a BMW and wear a Rolex, for God’s sake.”
He went on as though not hearing her at all. “And the tree is all wrong. You took off half my ornaments.”
“You have an artificial monstrosity with enough ornaments to decorate the massive beauty in Rockefeller Center. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Your trimmings are all black and white. Very cold and modern, yet you’re ornaments are priceless antiques. Not exactly a good combination. Not to mention Mr.
a
nd Mrs. C and the elves suggest an old fashion Christmas. Personally, I’d go for a more traditional approach.”
“I happen to like modern.”
“Said the antique store owner.”
He shot her a smirk over his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
“Apparently, I don’t.” She tapped her foot to the beat of her rapidly rising pulse.
He lifted a shoulder and rubbed his hands together. “Look I just want this store to succeed. I have my reasons.”
Her foot stilled. She had no idea why he wanted this particular store to succeed so badly, but she did know one thing for sure. “My God they really did a number on you.”
A deep V formed in the center of his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Your parents.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His features turned granite once more.
Samantha gentled her tone, the same way she did whenever she was trying to sell a difficult client on an ad campaign. “Christmas is about the spirit of giving, not about how much you can get. People know you have beautiful things in your store. The reason they don’t shop here is because you never
give
anything. Not even a discount. Not even a smile. I hate to say it, but you’re not very pleasant to be around, you know.”
His gaze pierced hers, and a chill froze her in place as the seconds ticked by. “You’ve got spunk, Ms. Darling. Very few people have the guts to speak to me the way you do.” His eyes lit with a spark of something Samantha couldn’t quite identify, warming her to the core.
She shook off the disturbing sensation and straightened her spine. “Yes, well, I don’t intimidate easily, Mr. Snow.”
“I can see that.” The corner of his mouth twitched then grew serious. “But life isn’t always pleasant. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. I don’t have time to worry about what others think of me. I have a chain of stores to run, millions to invest, and a whole fleet of employees to manage. Forgive me if I offend people. We can’t all be gobs of twinkling tinsel, thank God,” he mutte
red, the mysterious spark gone.
His voice lowered as he repeated for the millionth time, “I am not a Scrooge.”
“Well you sure aren’t jolly ole St. Nick, either.”
That
was for sure. “And I know all about life not being pleasant, but I for one am through wallowing in my own self-pity.
Maybe you should do the same.”
He scowled and opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.
“I’m just saying if you want this particular store to improve, then winning this contest isn’t enough. You need a plan.”
“I take it you have something in mind?”
“I might have an idea or two, but it involves you letting me be in charge, be the top dog, so to speak.”
His lids lowered halfway, and his lips tipped up ever so slightly. He hesitated a beat and then said, “By all means, Boss, the top’s all yours.”
Chapter Three
“You are insufferable,” Samantha said, struggling to erase the image he’d just planted in her mind.
“I try.”
“Do me a favor.” She glared at him. “Don’t.”
“Fine.” He chuckled. “But just so you know this store holds a sentimental value for me.” His face softened. “It’s my baby of sorts. Giving up on it is not an option. So, how do I get the people in this town to see me in a new light, oh fairy godmother?”
“You could lose the sarcasm for one.” She poked him in his chest--his very hard, very defined chest--and her finger tingled in memory of what it looked like unclothed. “Uh, and um,” she fisted her hand and dropped it to her side, “then you work on changing your image. Getting the town to see you differently.”
He poked his finger in her much softer chest, and she gasped. “I’m not putting on forty pounds and growing a beard for anyone, Darling.” He had the gall to wink at her.
“And I’m not giving you a lap dance, so don’t even think about it,” she blurted, then pressed her lips together. He had such a powerful effect on her, she didn’t need alcohol to say and do the most outrageous things around him.
“Excuse me?” He scrutinized her with a sexy, curious gleam in his eye.
“Never mind.” She took a swig of water.
Focus, Samantha, focus.
“You were saying?”
“Next you’ll be having me say ho, ho, ho while I stuff someone’s stocking.”
Water sprayed out of her mouth like a snow globe, scattering drops all over his black cashmere sweater. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I got something stuck in my throat,” she croaked, then reached out and dabbed at his shirt with a napkin, her hand freezing just above his belt, and her gaze locking on
the missile she refused to toe.
“Ms. Darling, are you okay?”
“Huh?” Her gaze whipped up to his. “Oh, sure. I’m fine. Just a bit light
headed.” Damn Ellen and Amber.
He stared at her like he couldn’t quite figure her out. That made two of them, because she sure wasn’t acting like
herself even stone cold sober.
“Maybe we’d better take a break,” he finally said. “I have to change my shirt anyway, and you look flushed. What do you say we call a truce and talk more about that new image idea? How about lunch?”
“You’ve got a deal.” She held out her hand, and he slid his palm against hers. A jolt of desire snaked up her arm and slithered its way straight to her libido, making her acutely aware of just how long it had been since her stocking had been stuffed.
Way,
way
too long, apparently.
**
*
“We’re doing what?” Nathan asked late that afternoon as he stared down at his designer pleated casual pants and
genuine Italian leather shoes.
She, on the other hand, was dressed like a snow bunny in her lavender ski jacket and matching boots. The woman was crazy. Certifiably nuts. Yet the most intriguing woman he’d met since he could remember.
“We’re cutting down a real tree,” Samantha answered.
“Why? I already have a perfectly good tree.”
“That is
not
a tree.”
“Okay, well, there’s a tree lot right down the end of Main Street. We can just buy one.”
She touched her finger to his lips. “Trust me, remember?”
He grunted. Easier said than done. He’d learned the hard way the only person he could truly count on in life was himself. But he had to admit, he was highly entertained. For now, he’d play along. “Fine, but I don’t own a pair of jeans.”
“There’s a thrift store at the end of Main Street.”
Playing along was one thing. He still had an image to project: one of stature, wealth and power. “There’s no way I’m--”
“Trust involves no questions, remember?”
He studied her for a moment, recognizing the stubborn streak simmering just beneath her surface, and knew when to choose his battles. He’d save his demands for more important matters. Like convincing her his bed was where she needed to be. “Fine, but just so you know I don’t trust easy. I want to be involved in all aspects of this new image makeover as well as the designing of my front window. I always do that myself.”
“And that, my friend, is why you always lose.” She laughed at the shocked expression he couldn’t hide quite fast enough.
His mouth quirked at the sound of her laugh. Genuine, not forced or phony. “That’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid to tell me exactly what you’re thinking, unlike most people who only tell me what they think I want to hear.”
“Believe me, I value honesty above all else. I’d rather hear the truth than be blindsided any day.”
He brushed a pale blond curl off her forehead and pulled up her faux fur trimmed hood, his desire to touch her outweighing his common sense. “It appears I’m not the only one who’s been wounded as you say.” He tapped her adorable nose.
She stiffened, pulling away. “And you’re not the only one who doesn’t like to talk about it, either.”
“Touché. So if I am to trust you, then you are to trust me as well. I need you to accompany me to some functions I must attend in the city.”
“I thought you were home for the holidays. As in, ‘on vacation.’”
“Ah, well, yes. The truth is I’m married.”
Her jaw fell open on a horrified expression, and he laughed a hearty laugh this time, feeling the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes deepen. She was such a refreshing change from the women he was used to that he couldn’t help but tease her a bit. She smiled in spite of what he’d just admitted.
“You said honesty, and that’s about as honest as it gets,” he pointed out.
“So where is this wife of yours?” she asked, not quite meeting his eyes.
“Wives,” he corrected, thoroughly enjoying the way her smooth cheeks flushed and her light blue eyes sparkled.
“Y-You’re a polygamist?” Her eyes snapped up to his, her smile vanishing.
“No. My wives are not women. They are all ten of my stores. You see, I can admit it because this is the life I chose. I am happily married to my job, and with that responsibility, taking a vacation never completely happens.”
“Well, okay then.” She let out an explosion of air, looking much lighter all of a sudden
. “So what do you need me for?”
“There are a couple charity functions I have to attend at night, and I need a date.”
“A d-date?” she stammered, back to blushing even brighter than before. “And you want to take me?”
Nathan paused on the words ‘take me,’ thinking she had no idea the extent of what he wanted to do with and to her. This time of year was the loneliest for him, his memories of his childhood often depressing him. Seducing Samantha would be just the distraction he needed, but he’d bide his time. He might want her more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time, but he did not want to be in a relationship. He had to be sure she was clear on that before he proceeded any further, but make no mistake
...
One way or another, he would have her.
For now, he simple said, “Why not? I need a date, and you need to run your ideas by me. Since we’re going to be spending so much time together, the choice of my date seems obvious don’t you think?”
“Oh. A business date.” She looked both relieved and disappointed, and Nathan had to fight back a chuckle. “Well, sure, that makes sense. I guess it would be okay then.”
“Good.” He let his gaze bore into hers. “I usually get what I want.”
“And that, my friend, is another thing we need to work on.” She rolled her eyes. “Your arrogant attitude.”
“Moi? Arrogant? Never.” His hard lips tipped up a smidgen, and she just shook her head.
“You’re simply hopeless.” She laughed again, the tinkling sound filling him with a sensation he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt. Joy.
“And you,
my friend
, are a most interesting woman.” Her mouth parted like she wanted to say something, but he touched his index finger to her lips like she had him. “Later, Ms. Darling. It’s getting late.”
“That’s right, and we
still have a tree to cut down.”
“Not so fast.” Nathan grabbed her arm. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to start phase one of your plan.” His voice turned husky. “You can be the boss during the day while we put your plan into motion, but I get to be the boss at night while you accompany me to my functions. According to my watch, it’s officially night. I get to call the shots, and you have to do everything I tell you to
...
no questions asked.” His words were innocent, but he knew his eyes were filled with pure sin.
“Oh, well, I’m not so sure that’s a good--”
He stilled her words when he cradled her cheeks with his palms. “Trust me,” he murmured softly.
“I trust you.” She licked her lips, and his eyes zeroed in, making his own lips burn to press against hers. As she pulled away, he could have sworn he heard her mumble something about trusting herself was another matter entirely.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said to her hastily retreating back.
Her hand waved in the
air, but she didn’t say a word.
**
*
“Wow.” Nathan stared in awe at the vision of loveliness standing before him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” A becoming shade of pink tinted Samantha’s cheeks. She smoothed her hands down the front of her ruby red chiffon dress, discreetly tugging the snug material down further over her curvy hips. It kept riding up above her knees, revealing more of her spectacular legs. “Told you I like to eat.” She laughed, sounding nervous. “One too many Christmas cookies, I guess.”
“You look amazing.” He meant every word as he held out the arm of his b
lack Armani tuxedo. “Shall we?”
Tonight’s charity dinner in Boston was ten thousand dollars a plate and a black tie affair. Homes for the Children had always been a cause he’d felt strongly about. He might have grown up with everything, but he’d always felt alone, like he didn’t have a family at all. Snow’s Antiques was the biggest contributor every year. Nathan made sure of it. The money they raised tonight would keep the orphanages in the greater Boston area going all year,
and that was important to him.
These kids needed to know that somebody cared about them.
“Hey, you in there?” Samantha touched his hand with her soft delicate fingertips, and a warmth spread up his arm. “You looked like you were far away for a minute.”
He smiled down at her as he led her to the waiting limo. “I’m fine. Just thinking about how much fun we’re going to have tonight.”
“Really, now. I thought these shindigs were pretty boring. Not that I’ve ever been to one before.”
“Oh, I don’t know. When you’re with the right person, it doesn’t matter where you are. You can still have fun. And,” once they were seated, he handed her a glass of Champagne, “they have a dance floor.”
“Uh, no thanks. I am never touching that poison again, thank you very much. And I can’t dance.”
He replaced her champagne with a bottle of Perrier, and his smile came slow and sweet. “Well, I can.”
She scoffed. “Well, that’s hardly fair.”
“So sue me.” He sipped his champagne, decidin
g Cristal was his new favorite.
“Maybe I will.” She downed half her bottle, her eyes darting about the inside of the limo, mimicking her thoughts, he imagined.
“Sue me for what?”
“For...
for
...
breach of contract.” She waved her hands about as she talked, sloshing some of her sparkling water on the leather upholstery. “This dancing stuff wasn’t part of the deal.”
He paused a moment as he considered his argument. “You’re the one who agreed to let me be the boss at night, and you’re the one who came up with the ‘trust me’ with no questions asked rule. You brought this upon yourself, Darling.”
“Fine.” Her lips pursed in an adorable pout, and the urge to kiss the frown off her face pummeled him hard. “But don’t blame me when we look like contestants auditioning for ‘America’s got Diddly’ out there.”
“Relax. I’m a great teacher.”
“If you say so.” She shook her head, a couple of blond strands slipping from the twist on the back of her skull and falling down to frame her face in soft ringlets.
He fisted his hand to keep from stroking one. “I say there are a lot of things I’d like to teach you, and dancing is only the beginning.” His eyes heated, and he watched her skin quiver as though he’d physically touched her. She affected him stronger than any woman ever ha
d, and yet, he barely knew her.
Disturbing? Yes. Enough to stop him? Hell no.
She inhaled a deep breath, and her face flushed a becoming shade of rose. “Listen, I’m not sure--”
“Oh, look, we’re here.” He smoothly opened the door and slid out. She’d come around. He’d see to it. He always got what he wanted, a
nd right now, he wanted her...
Undressed and in his bed with no questions asked.