Naughty St. Nick (4 page)

Moving around the nativity scene, he approached her. Vixen tentatively took a step backward. A cowardly move, but Nick had a commanding presence that overwhelmed her senses.

He said, “We hit the nail on the head the other day. This town could use a good dose of Christmas cheer.”

“Been a while for us all.” Which further prompted her to ask, “Would you like to come in for a glass of wine—to thank you for fixing my lights?”

Whoa! Wait...what are you
doing
?

Unable to stop, she added, “I’d offer you coffee or hot chocolate, but geez. It’s still in the seventies out here.”

“That’d be nice, Vix.”

Turning sharply, before she lost her nerve, she rushed up the steps to the porch and hurried inside the house. Nick closed the door behind him as he entered the small foyer, but the sound of Bruce and his band still filled her cozy living room.

“Are you the one playing Christmas music?” she asked as Nick settled himself on the sofa, resting his forearms on his powerful thighs, clasping his hands together between his parted legs. He wore faded jeans and a red T-shirt that did wonderful things for both his tanned complexion and his muscular chest and arms. Across the left pec in white were the words
Sleigh Me
.

She knew what it was supposed to say, caught the innuendo.
Lay Me
.

An appealing thought.

Vixen resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her endless attraction.

Nick said, “I accidentally tapped into the station from the iTunes I just installed on the slei—” He stopped abruptly, then quickly amended his statement with a vague, “Yeah.”

“It’s nice.” They stared at each other, both a little lost in the moment. Then Vixen shook herself mentally to break the spell. “How about that wine?”

She spun around and headed off to the kitchen to uncork a bottle of merlot. Returning to the living room, she found Nick at the tall fireplace, gazing at the hardback books that stood at an angle along the mantle.

He accepted the glass she handed over and took a deep sip, nodding his head in approval. Then he said, “I remember when you first started writing these.” He perused the titles. “Everyone thought you were a celebrity because you went on book tours and TV shows. Well...I guess that does make you a celebrity.”

“Not really. I was just a kid who got lucky.” She’d had a few offers to make her books into TV movies, but those deals had never panned out. After her last story was published three years ago, she’d taken a step back from it all. Her agent had told her to call if she decided to publish again. They hadn’t spoken since.

“You’re really talented, Vix. Everyone knows it.” As though recalling their previous conversation about her writer’s block, he added with a devilish smile, “Maybe I can help get you in the mood to write.”

Excitement shimmied down her spine. That delicious tickle between her legs returned, making her shift from one foot to the other. She fiddled absently with the top button on her blouse, wanting to slip the small disk through its hole and open the suddenly stifling material at her neck to give her a little breathing room.

Nick in her house did the most stimulating things to her body and made some decidedly naughty visions of naked body parts pressed together and long limbs entwined dance through her head.

She swallowed down a sigh of longing with a big sip of merlot.

Nick moved from the fireplace to the wall between the end of the mantle and the stairwell. He reached a hand toward the thermostat, but glanced at her over his shoulder. “Do you mind?”

“No, of course not.” She had no idea what he was up to, but was definitely intrigued.

He cranked the old-fashion dial on the wall and the air conditioning kicked on. A cool breeze swept through the house, a nice reprieve from the heat he incited deep in her core.

Nick knelt in front of the hearth and started a small fire that gave off just enough warmth to cut the sudden chill, and to create a low crackling sound that reminded her of what the climate really ought to be this time of year. She welcomed the immediate holiday ambience.

He stood and turned back to face her. After gently touching the rim of his wineglass to hers, he took another sip. Vixen’s hand shook slightly as she lifted her own glass to her lips. Inviting Nick Santos into her house and having a drink with him was about the most wanton thing she’d ever done. A truly sad thought, really. It was just wine for God’s sake. But still...

It wasn’t
just
Nick.

They sipped in silence and she searched for something clever to say. Came up distressingly empty handed.

Eventually, Nick drained his glass and set it on the coffee table. He said, “Thanks for the hospitality.” Then he headed toward the door.

Vixen’s heart sank. “You’re leaving?”

Already
?

Okay, it was better that way, true. Yet...she’d enjoyed their brief time together. And she liked looking at him full-on, not just with veiled glances.

But that was probably all bad and wrong, so she backtracked.

“I just meant that it was nice to speak with you for a little while,” she added, hoping to cover her disappointment, which lingered in the air between them.

He flashed a sigh-worthy grin. “I’ve got more lights to fix.”

“Right.” Suddenly, she smiled back at him. St. Nick had returned? “The lights. You’re into spreading holiday cheer these days.”

“Something like that. Hey,” he quickly said. “Let’s keep the fixer-upper stuff just between us, remember?”

Vixen’s brow dipped. “Why the big mystery?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t want anyone making a big deal out of it.”

Always the reluctant hero. The Secret Santa. Some things never changed.

Nodding her head, Vixen said, “Okay, it’s our secret.”

Knowing another little something about Nick no one else knew thrilled her.

After he left, she settled on the couch to enjoy the crackling flames and the warmth that flowed through her veins not because of the fire, but because of her secret crush...and his secret good deeds.

Chapter Five

The buzz around North Pole the next day had Vixen bypassing Sugar Plums and instead strolling down the long walkway on the east side of the town square. When she reached Main Street, the northern most point of the square where Always Christmas department store stood sentinel, she drew up short and gasped. True to the rumors roaring through town, there sat a picture-perfect Santa Claus in the huge chair once reserved for her grandfather.

That joy she’d felt last night over the possibility of carolers, along with Nick’s visit and the Christmas ambience he’d created, returned full force. Vixen’s hands clapped together in delight at the sight before her. The line of kids waiting to sit on the new Santa’s lap was a long one and such a pleasure to see.

She had no idea who’d stepped up to fill her granddad’s shoes and play Santa, but it was quite clear he did a bang-up job. For a moment, she wondered if the jovial volunteer was Nick, but then he joined her on the street corner and she knew he wasn’t the only Secret Santa in town.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, amazed and excited.

“Looks like the ban on Christmas has been lifted.”

A comforting thought. “I haven’t seen the kids in town so euphoric this time of year since my grandfather died.” Emotion welled within her. “This is so wonderful.”

He nodded. “Gotta say, it’s nice to see people finally enjoying the holiday.”

“With your help.”

He modestly stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his Levi’s and said, “Apparently, I’m not the only one willing to bring Christmas back to North Pole.”

She eyed him curiously, a thought burning in the back of her brain. “You know who that is, don’t you? Our new Santa?”

He merely grinned at her, making her insides sizzle and snap from the sexy lifting of the corners of his extremely kissable mouth.

“Fine,” she said in a breathless tone, feeling the effects of his smile all the way to her toes. “Keep your secrets.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she added, “Just don’t forget the most important tradition this town has.”

“Mistletoe?” He yanked a sprig from his pocket. Held it over her head.

Vixen gaped. Her heart nearly stopped.

Nick’s intense gaze lingered on her mouth for several suspended seconds. Then his head dipped. His eyelids lowered. His lips brushed lightly over hers. A whisper of a kiss. Yet, one that instantly set her ablaze.

She sighed against his lips. His curled with hers in a soft smile.

“It would be really hot between us, Vix,” he murmured. Then he slowly drew away, returned the mistletoe to his pocket and grinned seductively, his hazel eyes glowing hypnotically.

“Nick...” Vixen’s mind was suddenly filled with a lust-induced haze so that she couldn’t think straight. She just stared up at him, perplexed. And feeling singed to the core.

He took a few steps back and said, “If we ever got together.”

Then he spun around on his boot heels and walked off, leaving her standing there, still gaping, her lashes fluttering as quickly as the butterflies in her stomach.

Breathe, Vixen. Breathe
.

* * *

Nick hummed bars from
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
in between the flashes of a triumphant smile he couldn’t contain. Sure, he’d taken Vixen by surprise when he’d kissed her, but he’d felt a high-voltage jolt from just the simplest of touches—and from the stunned and heated look on her face, he surmised she’d experienced the same zing of electricity.

Adrenaline pumped through him as he replayed that magical moment in his head, over and over. Had sweet Vix been just as turned on by his kiss?

Nick couldn’t deny he’d been insanely aroused. So easily, because it was Vix. Considering his body went into sensory overload when she was in the same room with him—or on the same street corner—it was no wonder he’d lit up like a Roman candle when their lips had barely even touched.

As he strolled down the street to his house, he considered what she’d said at the bakery. About people in town losing hope, faith. He wondered if Vixen had been speaking of herself as well. Had she lost faith in the true spirit of Christmas? Was that why she struggled so hard on this latest book—why she hadn’t written one in years?

He understood it must have been painful to lose her mom when she was just a teenager. That was right around the time Vixen had turned particularly introverted. She’d spent a lot of lunches in the corner of the cafeteria at school, alone, feverishly scribbling in her notebook, rarely ever taking her gaze off the pages to look up and see what went on around her.

Nick thought of Mr. White and the obvious trauma he’d suffered at the time, when his only child had died of cancer and he’d suddenly been responsible for Vixen. He’d never let his distress or heartache over losing his daughter show, not really. He’d kept up his cheerful disposition and had been as jolly as ever. Mr. White had had a ton of support from the other parents—Nick’s included. But he’d been a strong, prideful man who didn’t once lose his stride.

Nick had admired him greatly. And wasn’t surprised that, after his passing, some of the townsfolk had packed up and moved on. Even Nick’s parents had sadly admitted that life in North Pole would never be the same. They’d grown up with Mr. White as their own personal Santa Claus just as Nick and Vixen and the others had. And though no one really talked about whether they believed in the real deal, they’d all undisputedly believed in the magic Mr. White had brought to their lives.

The smile on his face faded. His gut clenched as Nick considered how everything had changed in town, so dramatically. And how Vixen had been caught in the middle. He also couldn’t help but wonder if, given the amount of time she’d spent in Bangor these past few years, if she didn’t have one foot out the door herself. What kept her in North Pole, anyway? She had friends, sure. But Vixen still kept mostly to herself. And, clearly, she no longer derived inspiration from the community for her books...

As he contemplated all of this, he realized that maybe it was time he actually did pry a little more into her life. Nick was of the
to each his own
variety, and didn’t like shoving his nose in anyone’s business. But this wasn’t just anyone. It was Vixen. And it seemed to Nick that the time had come to press harder, to get her to open up to him.

Maybe, too, it was time to stop pining and instead make a grand gesture. Do something, anything, to help Vixen see he wasn’t just the bad-boy sleigh mechanic everyone made him out to be. Well, he’d been the number one contributing factor to that reputation, but still.

Sometimes a guy had to step up his game and leave in the past the boy who’d just wanted to be naughty—in order to be the man who wanted to, once again, do some good.

* * *

Nick was deeply engrossed in various projects to get his ass out of every doghouse he’d been relegated to. He also currently channeled his need to get Vixen to trust him—and his need for her, in general—into the sleigh. Not to mention, he had two more fixer-uppers scheduled for delivery by tow truck tomorrow. He’d agreed to tune them up before the Big Day, now just right around the corner. He figured he could squeeze them in before Christmas Eve.

The lights around North Pole had almost all been resuscitated, with the exception of those on the pines lining the perimeter of the town square, which he had to strategically work on late at night, when no one was around to see him. As he revived them, though, he kept their glimmering rays under wraps...for now.

Then there was the matter of the star that went atop the mammoth spruce in the center of the square. It was old, and simply replacing burned out bulbs wouldn’t solve the problem. It needed all-new wiring. Hell, it needed to be brought into the new millennium. And he committed to doing just that, since replacing the damn thing wouldn’t sit right with anyone, including him. It held historical, sentimental value for them all.

He considered options for saving the star while he tested some additional enhancements to the sleigh that he thought Santa would get a kick out of, including the defroster on the runners. He was nearly done, just needed some tweaks here and there. Then he could finish his other tasks.