What was it about Jared Gillette that made her surrender?

He had become an uncanny force in her life, stripping her down to nagging thoughts and reckless behavior.

The reluctance with which he pulled away from their kiss was obvious. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said firmly. “I live by a strict code of ethics, especially for employers and employees.”

The intensity in his features, the nerve throbbing along his jaw, told her he wasn’t going to back down.

“It won’t happen again,” he continued. “It’s obvious we connect on…certain levels, but after my disastrous first marriage I promised myself no commitments, no involvements. I don’t get close to anybody, Nicki. Not even you.”

Nicki steeled herself, refusing to let him see how much his words hurt. “It must be a horrible way to live, Jared,” she said softly. “Not ever giving anybody, not even yourself, a second chance.”

“It’s the way I live,” he announced harshly. “And it will be better for both of us, to keep it that way.”

Dear Reader,

What are your New Year’s resolutions? I hope one is to relax and escape life’s everyday stresses with our fantasy-filled books! Each month, Silhouette Romance presents six soul-stirring stories about falling in love. So even if you haven’t gotten around to your other resolutions (hey, spring cleaning is still months away!), curling up with these dreamy stories should be one that’s a pure pleasure to keep.

Could you imagine seducing the boss? Well, that’s what the heroine of Julianna Morris’s Last Chance for Baby, the fourth in the madly popular miniseries HAVING THE BOSS’s BABY did. And that’s what starts the fun in Susan Meier’s The Boss’s Urgent Proposal—part of our AN OLDER MAN thematic series—when the boss…finally…shows up on his secretary’s doorstep.

Looking for a modern-day fairy tale? Then you’ll adore Lilian Darcy’s Finding Her Prince, the third in her CINDERELLA CONSPIRACY series about three sisters finding true love by the stroke of midnight! And delight in DeAnna Talcott’s I-need-a-miracle tale, The Nanny & Her Scrooge.

With over one hundred books in print, Marie Ferrarella is still whipping up fun, steamy romances, this time with three adorable bambinos on board in A Triple Threat to Bachelorhood. Meanwhile, a single mom’s secret baby could lead to Texas-size trouble in Linda Goodnight’s For Her Child…, a fireworks-filled cowboy romance!

So, a thought just occurred: Is it cheating if one of your New Year’s resolutions is pure fun? Hmm…I don’t think so. So kick back, relax and enjoy. You deserve it!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Nanny & Her Scrooge
DeAnna Talcott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by DeAnna Talcott

Silhouette Romance

The Cowboy and the Christmas Tree #1125

The Bachelor and the Bassinet #1189

To Wed Again? #1206

The Triplet’s Wedding Wish #1370

Marrying for a Mom #1543

The Nanny & Her Scrooge #1568

DEANNA TALCOTT

grew up in rural Nebraska, where her love of reading was fostered in a one-room school. It was there she first dreamed of writing the kinds of books that would touch people’s hearts. Her dream became a reality when The Bachelor and the Bassinet, a Silhouette Romance novel, won the National Readers’ Choice award for Best Traditional Romance. That same book also earned a slot as a Romantic Times Magazine nominee for Best Traditional Romance, and was named as one of Romantic Times Magazine’s Top Picks. DeAnna’s third Silhouette Romance novel, To Wed Again?, also won WISRWA’s Readers’ Choice award for Best Traditional Romance.

DeAnna claims that a retired husband, three children, two dogs and a matching pair of alley cats make her life in mid-Michigan particularly interesting. When not writing, or talking about writing, she scrounges in flea markets to indulge #1 son’s quest for vintage toys, relaxes at #2 son’s Eastern Michigan football and baseball games, and insists, to her daughter, that two cats simply do not need to multiply!

Dear Reader,

As the mother of a developmentally disabled child, this book, The Nanny & Her Scrooge, is extraspecial for me. While writing, I realized that Dominique Holliday, my heroine, represents all the wonderful people I have worked with over the years. Dominique has the patience, determination and skill to be both a parent and a friend. Her young charge, Madison, reminds me of the special children I’ve come to know—innocent little souls who merely seek a place to belong with people they can trust.

I have been looking a long time for a way to thank the people who have come into our lives, offering guidance, help and friendship. It has not been an easy journey, but it has been a remarkable one. Therefore, I dedicate this book to all the children who crave unconditional love and to the people who have the heart to give it.

I’d like to personally thank Residential Options for making a difference. Thank you Dominique Miller who shares her insight (as well as “loaning” me her first name for my heroine). All the ROI girls who have become part of our extended family deserve a huge thank-you: Beth, Amanda, Jessica, Cindy, Michelle, Amy, Erin, Kelley, Cyndy, Nicki and Wendi.

From Community Services for the Developmentally Disabled, a special thank-you goes out to Elizabeth E., Pam M., Andrea T. and Lehua B. Without your dedication and perseverance, this book, or any of the other books I’ve written in the past years, would not have been possible.

To Heartwood School…Karen, Becky, Nels, Dorothy, Barbara, Jean and a host of angels too numerous to mention…you are miracle workers, truly.

The legacy—and the memory of—Bob Shire will never be forgotten. Or that of his sidekick, Phil B. To Mrs. Sanford and Mimi S., your hearts are fashioned from gold.

To Beth B., for two decades you’ve listened—I call that a true friend. And to a lovable curmudgeon of a husband and two rascally sons—when the world is upside down, thank you for hanging in there and giving me the time to write.

Readers, because all these incredible people, my daughter, Afton—like Madison in my story—is moving towards her own happy ending.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Dominique Holliday jammed the pink slip into her pocket and strode into the elevator, immediately punching the sixth floor button. This made no sense, none at all. She’d gotten nothing but glowing reports from her supervisor. There had to be a mistake. There had to be.

Ten minutes ago she’d tried to talk to Carol, her supervisor, but the woman had looked sheepish—even uncomfortable—and turned away saying, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do, Nicki. Really. I got in trouble for hiring you in the first place.”

A cold, hard jolt of reality sent a shiver down Nicki’s spine, rattling her composure. She’d stood in the employee dressing room, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong. She’d volunteered to work overtime…she’d even taken two split shifts. There had to be a reason, but because she was a temporary employee, she knew no one had to tell her why they were letting her go.

It occurred to her there was only one person who could strip the power from her supervisor and hand down such an ultimatum: Jared Gillette, president and owner of Gillette’s Department Store. She’d never met Mr. Gillette, but she’d heard the rumors claiming he was the “Little Napoleon” of retail, the tyrant who ruled with an iron hand. Salesclerks quaked in their shoes when they spoke of him, merchandise buyers broke out in a sweat at the mention of his name.

When the doors of the elevator opened to the plush executive offices, Nicki tamped down her trepidation and sternly reminded herself she didn’t have a choice. She had to face him. Her pocketbook demanded a little cash flow, her landlord demanded the rent.

The offices were empty. It was late, almost five o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, and because the store was located in downtown Winter Park, Gillette’s closed at six on the weekends.

Nicki’s trepidation grew. She felt uncomfortable for being there, as if she were trespassing.

The ominous door of Jared Gillette’s executive office stared her right in the face.

So how long could it take to get this straightened out? she asked herself. Three minutes? Five? Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she marched over to the mahogany door, and raised her fist, poised to do battle. With her knuckles, she rapped three times on the satin finish.

“Yes? Come in,” a deep, no-nonsense voice invited.

Nicki practically fell over backward with nerves. She grabbed the handle to steady herself, and the solid wood door rattled in its frame.

Her composure was shredded, but there was only one thing left to do: enter the chamber of horrors and have her say. She’d beg, plead, or bargain if she had to; she had to have that job.

Pushing the door a little too hard, Nicki stumbled into Jared Gillette’s office. She swayed, tugged on the hem of her sweater, and tried to make her feet cooperate. When she looked up, it was into the most perceptive, deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen. For a split second, when Jared Gillette’s inquisitive gaze collided with hers, she couldn’t tear herself away. Something needy and profound spiraled right down into the pit of her soul.

He was younger than she’d imagined—maybe thirty-five—and far too handsome. His hair was as shiny and polished as onyx, and his wide forehead and high cheekbones appeared sculpted of alabaster. His mouth was full, and his nose was straight and wide. Impeccably dressed in a dark, pin-striped suit, Jared Gillette’s scarlet tie was perfectly knotted between the points of a crisp white collar. At his wrists, gold cuff links winked at her.

Nicki imperceptibly closed her eyes and shook herself, as if she could fling his disturbing features from being imprinted on her memory.

“Mr. Gillette…” she began unsteadily, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“Yes,” he confirmed sharply, setting aside a sheaf of papers, “I am. And you would be?”

“Dominique Holliday. I—I work for Gillette’s Department Store…or at least I did until an hour ago.” Nicki fumbled in her pocket, to find the termination letter. She extended the crumpled paper in his direction. “I’ve tried to talk to my supervisor, but she says there’s nothing she can do…so I thought, maybe you could—”

He scowled at her, waiting.

A feeling of helplessness surged through Nicki. “Look,” she said defiantly, “I was hired two weeks ago by Carol Whitman as a Santa Claus because she knew I could work with kids, and I’ve bent over backward to do my job. I’m the best Santa Claus on the floor, and I don’t understand this. Not at all.”

“Oh,” was all he said. The pause was positively pregnant. “You’re the one.”

“You fired me?” she asked, her voice rising with disbelief. “You don’t even know me.”

“Miss—” he brazenly skimmed her length “—whatever your name is—”

“Nicki. Nicki Holliday,” she repeated.

“Yes. Well, we have very strict criteria for our Santa Clauses and you’ve obviously failed to meet—”

“What do you mean,” she nearly wailed. “I’ve done everything right. I’m happy, I’m jolly. I have the best ‘ho, ho, ho’ in the entire Santa Claus fleet.” For a split second she was certain she saw the corner of his mouth start to twitch. “I do. You can ask anybody. Here. Let me demonstrate—”

Jared raised a hand, effectively stopping her. “No. Please don’t,” he said curtly. “It’s late, and this has not been a holly-jolly, ho-ho-ho day.”

Nicki stared at him. “No kidding? Well, getting fired sure dampens my Christmas spirit, too.”

“Miss, um, Holliday—” He suddenly snorted, as if the significance of her surname struck him. “Gillette’s is the largest department store in southern Indiana. Our clients expect certain things—”

“Like?”

“Like a Mr. Santa Claus, not a Mrs.”

He’d fired her because she was a woman? Nicki started shaking, knowing there was nothing she could do about that. “I’ve done everything possible to present a plausible image of Santa to your customers and their children,” she implored. “None of them finds me lacking. None of the children even suspect.”

He chuckled, and his dark gaze nailed her. “Miss Holliday, look at yourself. Your eyes may twinkle and, with a little makeup, you might have a nose like a cherry. But I really doubt—really—that your belly’s going to jiggle like a bowlful of jelly.”

Heat prickled across the back of her neck. “Padding,” she retorted, “lots of it.”

Nicki thought she saw a flicker of amusement hover behind his eyes. Then his attitude changed—abruptly.

“No,” he said firmly, picking up the letter he’d been reading at her untimely entrance. “Santa Clauses are jolly old grandpas with wrinkled skin and bushy eyebrows. They are not young women who have to gird themselves with padding and lower their voices two octaves.”

“If you’d just give me a chance—”

“This matter is not open to discussion. Period. Being a Santa Claus for Gillette’s is out of the question, so forget it. I’m sure you can see yourself out—especially since you did such a fine job of seeing yourself in.”

Nicki’s cheeks flamed and her hands shook. “You can’t fire me because I’m a woman,” she finally managed to blurt.

His head lifted, lionlike. His dark eyes glittered and his features were taut, as if he were ready to go in for the kill. “Like hell I can’t.”

Nicki caught her breath.

“Now get out of my office.”

She thought she was going to die right then and there. Just fade away into oblivion under the merciless gaze of Jared Gillette. Then it occurred to her: what did she have to lose? “I—I…really didn’t mean to impose on you or your time,” she said. Lacing her fingers together, she held them taut against her middle. She couldn’t give up, not now. “Keeping this job is really important to me, Mr. Gillette, and I’m sure if you checked my track record…you’d see….” She let the rest go unsaid.

He sat back. For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was glaring at her or considering her suggestion. Then his gaze drifted down to her trembling hands.

Dammit! Why’d he have to notice? Couldn’t he let her writhe in agony without giving her one of those looks? Frustration set in, making her eyelids burn and her vision grow watery. Nicki feared that if she blinked, a tear would dribble from the corner of her eye.

“Okay. Look,” he said in exasperation, thwacking the papers beside him. “If you want to be an elf, you can be an elf. You’re about the right size anyway.”

“I…” She hesitated, very much aware he was making a concession. “No. It has to be the Santa Claus job.”

He pulled back, as if appalled she’d have the audacity to insist.

“Impossible. This time around, Santa Claus is definitely gender based. If you want to come back at Easter and be a bunny….”

“That’s four months away,” Nicki protested, taking a step toward him. “And right now I’m doing my absolute best to be realistic and genuine. Parents love me, children flock to me. There hasn’t been one complaint—not one—and if you’d only stop by to watch me, and see how I relate to the kids—”

“Miss Holliday. I don’t have time for that. It’s an elf or nothing.”

Deflation oozed through Nicki, numbing her mind and every logical argument. As her eyes shuttered closed, imagining the debt and the dilemma she was in, she glimpsed Jared Gillette. The man was heartless, with eyes like flint and misplaced conviction where compassion should be. Forget the good looks, he was Scrooge incarnate. “It won’t do,” she said flatly, “I can’t be an elf.”

“Fine. We don’t need you. Pick up your check in the office. If you change your mind, then—”

“No,” Nicki interrupted, “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Miss Holliday. I don’t care how complicated it is. The choice is yours, do as you wish. Now, if there’s nothing else, get out of my office and close the door behind you. I have work to do.”

Nicki stared at him, then she turned and fled.

All in all, it had been an interesting day, Jared mused, closing Nicki Holliday’s personnel file. His morning hadn’t gotten off to a particularly good start. A new employee had unwittingly brought out a cart of the most sought-after doll in Christmas history and caused a near riot in the toy department. Later, one shopper had had an allergic reaction to fragrances in the cosmetics department and the paramedics had rushed in the front doors with a stretcher. Aside from the three “lost” children and one wandering Alzheimer’s patient, they’d also caught three shoplifters.

And then there had been Nicki Holliday…the woman who had pretty effectively, according to this file, passed herself off as Santa Claus.

He had to admit that her eyes had twinkled. In fact, she had the bluest, most fascinating eyes he’d ever seen. He could imagine a youngster leaning into her, confiding their deepest, innermost desires.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, her gaze had offered up nothing but blind trust. He’d looked into her eyes for but a moment and nearly forgotten who he was and what his intentions were. It had taken all he had to remind himself—and her—he had a job to do.

Nicki Holliday was a pretty woman. Her cheeks were plump, with identical dimples that took on a life of their own, playing peek-a-boo with him during their entire conversation. Her hair—brilliant, shiny shades of nutmeg, cinnamon, and ginger—actually reminded him of the Christmas potpourri in Gillette’s Home for the Holidays section. Funny. She reminded him of the strangest things. Of comforting things.

He wondered, vaguely, if the gray Santa wig and beard could convincingly cover her short, tousled dark hair, or age her peaches-and-cream complexion. Probably not. She had an ethereal quality, one that would just shine through the costume and makeup anyway.

So? What did it matter? There was no way he was having a female—any female—play the part of Santa Claus.

Some things simply were. Santa Claus was a man, not a woman. He had a great big belly, not a size six waist. He wore a red costume and sported a white beard, and he didn’t have to lower his voice to fool anybody. Those were the things his customers had come to expect. It was a given, and he intended to give them what they wanted.

He, Jared Gillette, a mere businessman in middle America, was not about to trifle with tradition. Santa Claus was a legendary hero, idolized by young and old alike. Jared refused to take any kind of creative license with something of those proportions.

Still…he had experienced a glimmer of regret when he witnessed Nicki’s disappointment. If it was just the job….

He shook his head, staunchly reminding himself he had made the right decision, even if her file had verified that she’d been a virtual hit with both parents and kids. Too bad. Some things were simply not meant to be.

Glancing at the clock, he realized everyone had gone home, and he would be closing up the store again. Just him and security. Just as usual.

Pulling on his overcoat, he walked over to the window. The street traffic was almost nonexistent. It had started snowing again and, if the frost on the window was any indication, the temperature had dropped drastically. Grabbing his briefcase, he headed for the elevator, estimating there’d be just enough time to run home to change.

On the first floor in the subdued lighting of the empty store, Joe, the old codger of a security guard, nodded and held open the front door. “You workin’ late again, boss?”

“It’s Christmas,” Jared explained unnecessarily, never breaking his stride.

“I know, I know. Busiest time of the year.” Joe propped the door open with his shoulder, and hitched up the pants on his blue uniform.

Pausing on the sidewalk, Jared yanked his collar up against the bitter cold. He hadn’t gone twenty paces in the direction of the parking ramp when he saw her—Nicki Holliday—standing at the bus stop, her back against the wind. In a light summer-weight jacket, she shivered, both hands jammed into her pockets.

For a moment it occurred to him that he should nod and just keep walking. Then she looked up and saw him. Their gazes caught and held. Jared’s brisk pace imperceptibly slowed. Something about the way she stood there, all alone, with snow dusting her hair, twisted his heart. “Miss Holliday? You’re still here?”

She nodded, hunching her shoulders. “I guess I stayed too long in your office. I missed my bus.”

He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. “The seven o’clock bus isn’t scheduled for at least another forty minutes. If it comes at all. Weekends are kind of hit or miss.”

“Okay, well—” Nicki’s teeth chattered “—thanks for the warning. I’ll figure out something.”

She didn’t say one word about their run-in, and that in itself was unsettling. Jared took one step past her, thought better of it, and turned on his heel. “Listen, why don’t I give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no. Forget that. I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re practically blue.”

The wind gusted, plastering the thin satin jacket against Nicki’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay.” She tried to smile. “Hey, I’m Santa Claus. I’ve called the North Pole and they’ve assured me I’ll have a sleigh gliding by momentarily. I’ll grab a little milk and cookies at the diner down the street and wait. If they’re late, it’s because Donder’s probably acting up again. He does that.”

He didn’t reply, only stared at her, vaguely wondering if she even had a home to go to. Maybe she was a nutcase.

“Ho, ho, ho,” she feebly joked, “then off I’ll go. Into my sleigh, and over the snow.”

With an inexplicable surge of impatience, Jared dismissed her rhyme and looked over her shoulder, down the street. Every storefront was dark, and the diner she mentioned was a good two blocks away. “Look. It’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re half frozen. If you start telling me you actually live at the North Pole, I’m going to think you’re delirious to boot.”

She laughed, a tinkly little sound that reverberated through the darkness. “Okay. I can assure you I’m not delirious, and I don’t live at the North Pole. What you just witnessed is my kid-appeal. I wanted to wedge it in while I had your full attention.”

She was making references to the ill-fated job, and Jared pursed his lips, choosing to ignore them. “Miss Holliday, I insist on driving you home.”

“No. That’s okay.”

“Do you realize,” he asked, “that I’m trying to do you a favor? Perhaps because I feel somewhat responsible for you missing your ride.”

She stopped shivering and gazed at him, with liquid, clear blue eyes, as if she were shocked he admitted any culpability at all. “Why? Because you altered the Santa ‘clause’ of my job?”

He didn’t reply. “Come on,” he ordered, “my car’s right inside the parking garage.”

She stayed rooted to the spot.

He turned back, lifting his eyebrows with the unspoken question.

“I don’t want to put you out,” she said.

It struck him how there was not a hint of malice in her voice. He’d expected it, guessed he even deserved it. She stood there, looking a little forlorn, her hair all tousled, her cheeks chapped from the bitter wind, and simply met his gaze. Yet there wasn’t a bit of recrimination in her features.

This woman, ephemeral as the snow, was unsettling. She preyed on his protective instincts, making him want to toss a warm coat around her shoulders and press a hot chocolate into her hand. Even in this bitter cold, he’d rather idle with her on a street corner than leave her here.

“You aren’t putting me out,” he said too softly, aware the wind pulled at his words and carried them away. He hesitated, raised his voice, and assumed the stance of a dictator. “You’re either going to come with me, or I’m going to stay here with you, until I’m sure you’re on that bus.”

“If it doesn’t come at all, you’re in for a long wait.”

“Come on,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his car keys. “Let’s go.”

Without any pretense or further objection, she lowered her head into the wind and followed him.

It was a mere fifty feet to his Lincoln, the doors were unlocked and the engine running before they entered the parking ramp. Thank God for remote control. He could get a little heat into her, get another color other than blue onto her lips.

“Thank you,” she said humbly as he held the door for her.

“It isn’t a courtesy,” he snapped. “Your fingers are probably too frozen to open the door.”

She slipped into the passenger seat, then proved his point by fumbling with the seat belt. Snagging it from her, he righted the buckle, and offered it back, intending to make it manageable. Their fingertips brushed; a ping of electricity ricocheted up his arm.

Startled, they both pulled back.

Jared straightened and, still looking at her, hung an elbow on the top of the car door. “Miss Holliday, can you tell me something? Why can’t you just be an elf and make this easier on me? I know what you’re trying to do. Really. And it’s not going to work. I promise you, it’s not going to work. I deal with people like you every day of the week—and guess what?—I’m the grinch who eats them up and spits them out.”

Chapter Two

Jared’s statement incensed Nicki, but she waited until he’d tossed his briefcase into the back seat and got into the car before answering. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she denied. “And just call me Nicki. It’s not like we have to be formal or anything. Because I don’t work for you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last man on earth.”

He arched an eyebrow in her direction, his mouth a hard firm line as he carefully put the key into the ignition. “Look. Do you need a job or not?” he barked.

“Of course, I need a job. Everybody needs a job. To pay the bills, to make the mortgage and the car payments and to eat.”

He snagged a deep, angry breath, nearly scaring Nicki. She put her hand on the door handle, debating whether she should bolt.

“If that’s the case, then why won’t you swallow your pride and accept the one I’ve offered you?”

She slanted him a look, gauging his reaction. “Because I don’t like those hideous green tights and that goofy hat with the bells,” came her flip reply. “I’d feel like an idiot wearing that get-up.”

He sat back and considered, then his mouth twitched and the creases eased from his forehead. He actually laughed. Out loud.

The resonant sound filled the car, unexpectedly warming Nicki and putting some of her fears to rest. Okay, anybody who laughed like that couldn’t be all bad, she conceded.

He dragged a hand over his face, as if the joke were unbearable. “And you don’t feel like an idiot wearing a red velvet Santa suit, slapping a beard on your face, and shouting ho, ho, ho?” he finally asked.

He had her there, and the irony of the situation made her squirm. “Okay, I’ll admit that at the time, I figured it was worth it.”

“What?”

“The job. The money,” she explained wearily, slumping down in the plush seat. “My car died a month ago. It’s going to take a lot of money for repairs.”

“So that’s why you were stranded tonight.”

“I’ve been able to take the bus, but tonight I spent so much time in your office I missed the one at five o’clock. Since I didn’t really have anyone to call…” Nicki let the statement drift, she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t afford a cab, or didn’t have anyone to pick her up.

“So about this elf thing…” he began.

“Forget it. I already talked to the supervisor about that. The elves are typically teenagers and they only do four-hour shifts. Right now, they have too many, anyway.”

“I see.”

Nicki rubbed her arms and shrugged. “No, you don’t.”

His head swiveled and he glanced at her sharply, as if daring her to contradict him.

She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to not shiver in his presence. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was afraid of him. She wouldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t. “I needed a job where I could make some good money in a short amount of time. A good Santa makes a respectable salary, but the elves are gofers who mostly fill the candy-cane jar and make minimum wage, and salesclerks don’t make much more, so that’s out.” She stuck her hands under her arms, trying in vain to warm them. “I don’t know. The Santa pay is really good. Maybe there’s a union label sewn in the Santa suit or something.”

He paused, his features relaxing. “Cute—about the union label. But the fact is the Santa job takes a certain type of person, that’s why it pays so well.”

Nicki studied him briefly, acutely conscious that a portion of his tough-businessman facade had slipped. It made her feel as though a real man existed beneath that intimidating demeanor.

As if it had a will of its own, her hand fluttered across the empty space between them to settle apologetically on his sleeve. “I understand why you felt the way you did about having a grandpa Santa Claus,” she explained softly. “But as I mentioned earlier, I needed to get my car fixed, and I’m expecting to move. It takes money to do that. It’s that simple, really. I’m not trying to buck the system or to cause you problems or even to argue with you.”

He silently stared at her, then dropped his gaze to her fingers that still curled lightly on his forearm. Without shaking her off, he slowly started the ignition. “Why didn’t you tell me that this afternoon?”

Nicki self-consciously slid her hand away, but the feel of cashmere taunted her fingers, and the restrained power throbbing through his muscular forearm sent a surge of exhilaration to her brain. She folded her hands in her lap. “You never gave me the opportunity.”

His mouth firmed and he put the car in gear. They were inching onto the adjacent one-way street when he said, “You didn’t tell me where we were going.”

“Tammany Hills. I’m just a few doors inside the complex.” Another chill struck Nicki and she fought to repulse it. She stiffened and folded her arms across her middle, thinking she didn’t want to explain why, after six months, she still had a Florida wardrobe, a broken-down car, and a financial mess. Her mother had been so sick when she’d finally given up and called her home, all Nicki had had time to do was to care for her mom and ignore the repercussions of her abrupt move. She’d lost a ton of money and incurred a lot of expenses.

“Tammany’s a nice place,” he commented, easing onto the east-west expressway.

She shrugged and glanced out the side window at the residential area next to the highway. There were moments, such as this, when she glimpsed a decorated tree inside someone else’s living room, and felt like an orphan at Christmas. She’d always heard the first year was the worst. “Mmm. Expensive. But the lease is up in a couple of months. It was actually my mom’s place.”

“Nicki…”

She pulled her gaze away, tucking her chin to look up at Mr. Gillette. In the half light of the dash, his features were less imposing. Her eyes lowered to his mouth, and for one crazy moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. To experience an unguarded side of him. When he’d accidentally touched her—

“About today,” he went on, unknowingly interrupting her wayward thoughts, “I assumed that you were interested only in a seasonal job. Or a part-time job. If you want a real job, I could probably find you something.”

Her shoulders immediately lifted off the seat. The last thing she wanted was charity. Especially from someone who had dismissed her barely two hours before. “Oh, no. I’m not looking for a handout. You don’t have to be nice to me just because this whole situation is…well, awkward.”

“‘Nice’?” The word harshly rolled off his tongue. “Nicki, understand this, I’m not known for nice. Not even in the most awkward of business situations.”

“Well, I’ll think about it…but…” She turned back to glance out the side window again. She felt a little sad inside—and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with losing her job, or her mom, or all the rest of it. Maybe it was letting go of the illusion. Maybe it was because she was trapped inside a car with a man who obviously didn’t understand the meaning of Christmas. “You know,” she said softly, wistfully, “I really liked being a Santa Claus. I liked being with the kids—that was the best. And the fantasy—especially the one you create at Gillette’s—was all so hopeful, so innocent. Sitting there in Toyland, waving and wishing everyone a merry Christmas made me feel good inside.”

“It’s just that. A fantasy,” he said abruptly, before leaning over and turning up the heat.

Defeat spiraled through her; he didn’t even want to know how the job had affected her.

He checked his side mirror, then changed lanes, expertly maneuvering around another slower car. “I read your file this afternoon,” he said. “You apparently had a knack for making people believe.”

“Maybe I wanted to. A little Christmas gift to myself this year.”

His gaze flitted over her, but he said nothing. For a mile, they rode in silence.

Nicki was extraordinarily conscious of him. The scent clinging to his cashmere coat. The leather gloves he’d laid between them on the seat. The way he sat so straight, so erect, as he drove.

“Listen,” he said, “I live over there, off of Willow. Do you object to me stopping at home first and changing my clothes?” Nicki knew he was referring to the posh section of Winter Park. “I have to make an obligatory appearance at the Yuletide Gala tonight, at the Ritz Carlton, and I’m already late. I could drop you off on the way.”

Even though she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary, Nicki was curious about where he lived. Besides, there was no sense in going home to an empty apartment any sooner than she had to. “That’s fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“As you said, Mr. Gillette, you’re the one doing me the favor.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I imagine your insolence didn’t put you in good favor with the elves. That’s probably the real reason you didn’t want to join their ranks.”

“Mr. Gillette—”

“Excuse me,” he cut in, as he smoothly pulled off the expressway and into the right-hand lane. “There is an unwritten rule…”

“Yes?”

“Anyone I invite into my home has to call me Jared.”

Nicki’s breath caught behind her breastbone. “You haven’t invited me into your home.”

He braked at the stop sign, and turned his head to look at traffic before he looked at her. “No. But I’m going to.”

The slow smile that inched onto Jared’s face sapped the remainder of Nicki’s waning strength.

Jared’s palatial home occupied at least a quarter of the block. Nicki glimpsed the front of the sprawling brick mansion when he came in off a side street and passed through the wrought-iron gates. It struck her as odd that the grounds had been exquisitely decorated for Christmas; for some reason, she didn’t think he’d bother.

Garland, with red bows, trimmed the iron fencing. A huge wreath hung over the four-car garage, and flickering candles illuminated every window in the house.

“My,” she murmured, “this is Christmas-card perfect.”

“And none of my doing,” he pointed out darkly. “It’s just another illusion I have to live with, and I promise you it’s quite unlike what you experienced as a Santa Claus in Toyland.”

Nicki didn’t have time to consider the telling statement because he led her inside through the back door and immediately steered her into the family room. She gaped up at the cathedral ceiling, and the second-floor balcony. Dwarfed by the proportions, she offhandedly guessed this one room was larger than her mother’s entire town house.

“My folks built this house, and the floor plan’s a little dated, a little cut up. But the kitchen’s through the butler’s pantry, in there,” he said. “Help yourself.”

Nicki followed the direction he indicated. She waved off his suggestion, figuring she’d get lost if she tried to negotiate one more room.

“Suit yourself,” he said, peeling off his overcoat to throw it over the back of a chair. He hit the light switch, illuminating the fireplace. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll only be a minute.”

She nodded, “Thank you.”

He took a couple of steps, then paused, fiddling with his cuff links to remove them.

Nicki glanced over at him, transfixed. There was something about a man and his cuff links…the way his fingers worked at removing them, the way he turned back the cuffs, covering the thick bones of his wrists and exposing the dark hairs across the backs of his hands. She looked up, startled to realize he’d caught her watching. An odd, almost bemused expression shadowed his gaze. He slipped the cuff links into his pants’ pocket.

“If you’re still cold, I’ve got an afghan.” He pulled a chenille throw off the leather couch.

Nicki rubbed her arms and tried to protest that she’d be fine, but for an instant she was afraid this unexpected chill of awareness didn’t have a thing to do with the cold. She was acutely conscious she was in his home, alone, with him. The man-woman thing wrought unexpected havoc with her senses.

He shook open the throw for her. “Here. I can see you don’t know how to dress for the weather.” Instead of offering it to her, he moved behind her to slide the afghan over her shoulders.

Heat seeped through the afghan, in all the places his hands had touched. Her heart yammered.

“Actually,” she said, accepting the ends from him, “these are my Florida clothes.”

“Florida?”

“Oh, long story,” she said dismissively, pulling the afghan tighter around her. “And not a particularly interesting one, not when you’re already late.”

He backed away, never taking his eyes off her. “I’ll just be a few minutes. As I said, make yourself comfortable.”

Nicki nodded and turned back into the room. She could hear his distinctive tread behind her on the carpet. When she knew he was out of the room, she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and tried to not shiver. Garden lights illuminated a winding path off the deck. At the end of the path was a gazebo where a huge Christmas tree glittered beneath a veil of carefully spaced colored lights.

It was obvious that everything had been professionally decorated. She chuckled, in spite of herself, wondering how it must be to be Jared Gillette and have everyone provide you with a Christmas.

Turning from the window, she nearly bumped into the grand piano.

“Wow…” she whispered, trailing a hand over the gold ribbon and greenery on the top. Interspersed in the arrangement were framed photos of a wide-eyed cherub with a pouty mouth, a flirtatious brow, and a riot of long, blond hair. Nicki reached over to carefully extract a photo. This child was a darling…and she’d seen her fair share of kids the past few weeks.

She didn’t think Jared was married. Maybe a niece? Cousin? Family friend, or godchild?

Carefully placing the photo back, she strolled to the other side of the room and tarried at the fireplace mantel. Black-and-white snapshots of a younger Jared and his friends scattered the length. All were framed, many were inscribed.

She sniffed. Obviously there was a different side of Jared Gillette than she was familiar with. These snapshots made the man actually seem human.

She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. A tiny pair of baby shoes, obviously worn, the white leather creased, the toes scuffed and the laces a bit dirty. She couldn’t help it, she picked up one shoe and found an inscription in black felt-tip marker on the sole. J.G.’s 1st pair of shoes.

Jared Gillette was actually this little once? He hadn’t always been a larger-than-life tyrant?

Smiling to herself, Nicki straightened the loops on one of the bows and carefully set the shoe aside. She wandered further down the mantel and discovered a grass-stained baseball encased in a plastic cover. 1st Home Run, Little League, Jared G., Age 11. Next to it, a wooden car along with a tiny plastic trophy, also housed in a plastic case, were identified with a gold plate. 1st Place, Pinewood Derby, Winter Park Cub Scout Pack #47. Further along, there was a brown-speckled rock, an autographed Indiana University baseball schedule, and a silver baby spoon.

Nicki stood back, surveying the collection of odds and ends. Jared Gillette, she thought, this is your life. You may be a hard-nosed businessman, but you definitely have another, much more curious, dimension.

Next to the mantel were two exquisitely framed water-colors. She stood for a moment, studying them.

“Like them?” Jared asked, coming up behind her. “This was my mom’s retreat and she had only her favorite family things in here. I keep telling myself I should dump the personal stuff and stick to only a few good pieces of art.”

Nicki whirled, ashamed to be caught looking. “They’re…” The words died in her throat. The image he presented took her breath away. He was wearing a midnight-black tuxedo. He’d replaced the scarlet business tie with a crisp, formal black bow tie. His pleated dress shirt sported black studs for buttons and there were heavy gold links at his shirt cuffs. He fiddled with one link, adjusting it beneath his jacket sleeve.

Then he caught her glance and lifted a brow, offering her a mind-bending smile. “Yes?”

“The watercolors are beautiful,” she said, fighting to keep her composure. “Keep them.”

His laugh was short, brittle. “Funny. I thought you were going to say something else.”

She hesitated. “I was. Seeing you dressed up like that, reminded me of only one thing. A grinch in a penguin suit.”

His brows lifted in surprise, then he threw back his head and laughed, not the least bit irked at her audacity.

Nicki caved in and actually felt herself smiling. Then she chuckled, her laughter mingling with his in the cavernous room. She slipped the afghan from her shoulders and started to fold it, even as she shook her head, marveling at what had just transpired. “Okay. That’s good. For both of us,” she admitted, replacing the afghan on the back of the leather couch. “A little laugh at the end of a bad day. We may never be business associates, but at least we can laugh about our differences. And by the way, I’m sorry for that crack I made about not working for you if you were the last man on earth. It’s bothered me that I said that. I overreacted, and I know it.”

Jared’s laughter faded and he grew silent. His gaze settled on the top of her windblown hair, then ricocheted between her dimples. The woman had an uncanny knack for amusing him. She was bright, articulate, and remarkably attractive. On top of that, she was sincere.

“Nicki Holliday…you are the most—” The phone rang, interrupting him. He blinked. “Give me a minute…”

He picked up the phone and never had time to offer up the customary “Hello?” Sandra, his ex-wife, launched into her spiel. Even from four steps away, he guessed Nicki could hear her demanding voice. He turned his back. “Sandra…of course, I’ll take her….” While his ex-wife rambled on, Jared was vaguely conscious that Nicki had discreetly moved to the other side of the room. “Then we better do something about joint custody,” he said.

Could he actually turn this around to his advantage? He’d been waiting a long time—and patience had never been his virtue. His lawyer had predicted this day would come…. But Jared could already see through the ruse: his ex-wife was throwing up a smokescreen to get him to up the ante.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he made a snap decision. He didn’t care what it cost, he wanted his child back.

Snagging a deep breath, he wedged the phone back against his ear, to endure Sandra’s screeching. “Madison doesn’t like Howie, and they pick on each other like a couple of little kids—”

“Fine. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours tomorrow.”

“But you’re still single, Jared, and you spend all your time at that stupid store. Madison needs a real home, a feminine influence. I know you, you’ll just dump her and forget her. She needs a woman around.”

Jared’s eye fell on Nicki, and suddenly the most outrageous idea struck him. Hell, he could bend the truth a little; his ex-wife had been doing it for the past ten years. “Actually, Sandra, I’m currently involved in a very serious relationship. She’s here right now. But…look…don’t say anything to Madison, will you? I’ll tell her when the time is right.”

He was met with dead silence on the other end of the line. Finally, “You?” Sandra accused. “And another woman?”

“Not with just anyone,” he said, thinking of Nicki in a Santa suit. “This is someone who cares. Someone who loves kids. She’s a nice woman. You’d like her.”

“Well, I…”

“Sandra, look…we’ll settle this.”

“I don’t care when it’s settled,” Sandra hissed. “Because I’m sending Madison out to you. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’ll arrange for her airline ticket,” Jared said smoothly, aware Sandra didn’t spend one cent of the child support he sent her on Maddy. She spent it all on herself.

When Jared finally dropped the phone back into the cradle, disbelief washed through him. After all these years he was getting his child back. Even if it was only part-time—for now.

Across the room, Nicki, silhouetted against a wall of windows, half turned in his direction. She frowned, concern written on her features. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Never better,” he assured. He paused for a moment and straightened his jacket before moving toward Nicki. He had to make a decision and he had to make it quickly. “Would it be easier,” he asked bluntly, “for you to walk away from the Santa job, if I offered you a Santa-like job?”

She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. You’d work here. In my home. With a pay raise substantially more than anything an elf could ever possibly make. I’d certainly match the Santa pay, and probably throw in a little extra. Actually, a lot extra.”

Surprise turned to suspicion. “Doing what?”

“Taking care of the most precocious little girl in the whole world.”

“Who?” she asked, frowning.

“My daughter. Madison.”

Nicki stalled, visibly weighing the implications. “Jared…” she said carefully, “you don’t even know me.”

“I know enough to know you’d be perfect for the job,” he stated. “And I need somebody right away. There’re twenty-nine days until Christmas, and this is not the ideal time for me to find a nanny.” He strode over to the baby grand and plucked the most whimsical portrait out of the display. He extended it to her. “Nicki, meet my daughter Madison. My ex, after two years, has decided she’s had enough. She’s giving me joint custody—and it’s the best Christmas present I could have asked for.” Jared unconsciously reached for her upper arm, persuasively squeezing it. “Nicki, think about this. You need a job, I need the help. Come on. Let’s make a deal.”

Chapter Three

Nicki agreed to talk about it on the way home. But in the car, she waffled. She liked Jared—almost more than she should. Yet she knew how he was when it came to business, how would he be when it came to family?

“You’re perfect for the job, Nicki. I read your personnel file. You’re a whiz with the kids. There were a dozen parents who called the store complimenting you.”

“Seeing a child for five minutes is a lot different than being a full-time baby-sitter.”

“You’ve got the imagination to handle it.”

“But there would be a lot involved—”

“Only Madison. Irene has been my housekeeper for years. She cooks, she cleans, she even does the laundry. She runs my place with an iron hand.”

“Oh, good,” Nicki said dryly. “Then I’d get to put up with two of you.”

Jared’s sensuous mouth twitched, but he stared straight ahead at the road. “Irene is efficient, she’s not an ogre.”

Nicki worried the strap of her purse, debating. “I don’t know…your hours for the next few weeks will be long.”

“That’s why I need someone reliable. I don’t have a lot of time to invest, and I have to make this work.”

“It’s going to be an adjustment for Madison. Especially if you aren’t going to be home very much. Maybe you should hire someone more experienced, more…” She lifted both shoulders, at a loss for words.

“Nicki, I’ve seen nothing but praise where you’re concerned. Your background check has already been done for the Santa Claus job, so I know nothing criminal or unsavory is lurking in your past. Reliable help is hard to find, and I need someone right away—someone I can trust.”

“But why does it have to be me?” she nearly wailed.

He stopped at a traffic light, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. “Aside from all the other reasons, you convinced me you believe in Christmas. This year I have to make it special. I want someone who can make my house smell like gingerbread and who can pick out and wrap the perfect presents for a five-year-old. Come on…” He wheedled. “I know you’ve got the inside track on that one.”

Nicki’s head fell back against the headrest. “Sunny, the power print doll, and Curious Kendall, the electronic board game,” she intoned.

“See?” he said, depressing the accelerator, “I haven’t spent enough time with Madison in the last few years to know those things. I need someone—maybe a Saint ‘Nick’—to make us a family again.”

Nicki rolled her head over, to study Jared’s silhouette and ponder this new predicament. “You aren’t playing fair,” she said. “You’re using my arguments against me.”

If he only knew what he was doing to her. She had been dreading Christmas, maybe that was why she had been giving her all at work. Without her mom, she was alone—and what Nicki wanted more than anything was a family.

But Jared Gillette wasn’t offering her that, she sternly reminded herself. He was offering her the opportunity to be hired help to his family.

“The thing is, I’d still have transportation problems,” she said.

Jared’s response was lightning-quick. “Not if you move in.”

Nicki’s jaw dropped.

“I have seven bedrooms and six baths. I think we could find you something comfortable. Maybe the guest room,” he said thoughtfully, “it has a sitting room and an efficiency kitchen.”

“Oh, why are you doing this to me,” she moaned.

“What?”

Grimacing, Nicki tried to dredge up one more argument. There weren’t any; there were only positives to this arrangement. Her mom always said things happened for a reason. Maybe this was a time to remember and to embrace mom’s sage old advice.

“My mom’s lease is up at the end of January, and I’d been trying to find something—” she hesitated, ashamed to admit her dire predicament “—less expensive. But if you think that we could manage to get along, in the same house, and not…”

“I do,” Jared said firmly.

For some strange reason his response rattled Nicki. He made it sound as if they were taking vows, not agreeing to a business deal. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “I’ve got my reservations, but since this is just a temporary arrangement, you’ve got a baby-sitter.”

A smug smile settled onto Jared’s features. He slowed at the entrance to Tammany Hills and flipped on the turn signal. “You’re on the clock,” he said. “Starting now.”

“Now?” Nicki couldn’t keep the ripple of surprise from her voice.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Oh, that one, to the right,” she directed, as he turned into the complex. “The gray front with the red shutters and trim.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t do it that quickly. I need to get my life in order.”

He pulled up into the assigned parking space. “Get your life in order tomorrow,” he scowled. “Tonight, you put on your dancing shoes and wear something dressy. I want you with me at this charity event.”

Nicki’s jaw slid off center. “But…but…but—” Realizing that she sounded like a motor running out of steam, her mouth whomped shut.

He shut off the car and turned to her, resting an elbow over the back of the seat. He skimmed her front with a challenging look, as if daring her to balk.

“Here’s the deal,” he said flatly. “I told my ex-wife that she wouldn’t have to worry about Maddy, because I have a new woman in my life, one who will be able to help me out and do all the little-girl things.” He shrugged. “For some reason she seemed extraordinarily concerned about that.” He nailed her with a telling glance. “Guess what? That woman is you.”

A feeling of anticipation and dread pooled in Nicki’s middle. Her mouth went watery, and for an instant she wondered if she’d truly lost her mind to even consider working for this man. Aside from the entire scenario being preposterous, Jared made her jittery, as if she were being pulled in two directions.

“If I know my ex,” Jared went on, “she’ll call someone tomorrow to find out who I escorted to the gala. You’re going to play the part of the woman in my new, serious relationship, and you’re going to help me get full custody.”

“I can’t,” she protested. “That seems so…deceitful. Dishonest.”

“Not if you know my ex-wife,” he said brusquely.

Nicki shook her head, debating, and very much aware she could still back out. The last thing she wanted was to get involved in some kind of messed-up triangle. The power struggle of two people fighting over their child had to be the worst.

“Nicki, listen to me. If you do this, everyone gets what they want.”

She stared at him, unable to determine whether he was telling the truth or not.

“I promise you. It’s the best for everyone. Most of all Maddy,” he said. “My wife hasn’t paid fifteen minutes of attention to her since she got custody—and she only got that because she lived with my in-laws. They passed away last year, within months of each other, and Maddy hasn’t been cared for properly since. My ex only keeps her around because of the child support, because it gives her a little more leverage to my bank account.”

It occurred to Nicki he was probably being honest about that. Residents jokingly claimed the Gillettes owned half of Winter Park.

“I’m doing this for Maddy’s best interests,” Jared went on. “My ex suddenly decided she wants to get married—in some cheesy little Las Vegas chapel—and she doesn’t want Maddy hanging around.”

Nicki blanched, knowing too well how a child could so easily be dismissed.

“I want her,” he continued. “She’s my daughter, and I can provide for her.”

War waged inside Nicki’s head. If she had been a vindictive person she’d say no and leave him to his own devices. Yet she’d seen enough on that ten-foot strip of mantel to know he was being sincere. She’d seen Maddy’s photos, carefully arranged like a shrine. The Gillette family did appear to be committed to each other, and she did appear to be a lovely child….

“Even you’ll get what you want,” he said softly. “You’ll get the job, the money, everything and anything you could want. I’ll see to it.”

There really wasn’t a choice, and Nicki knew it. She needed the job, she needed the security. Yet, it wasn’t just that…she needed a home for Christmas, and he was offering it to her. She’d be a fool to not accept.

“I only need a fair salary,” she said shakily. “That’s all.”

“Done.”

Nicki’s eyes slid closed, and she wondered if she was making a pact with the devil or Scrooge. “Okay. I have a black sheath in my closet,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nothing special, but it’s…” She shrugged somewhat helplessly as she tried to pull off one more lame joke. “Well, it’s nicer than the Santa suit. I think it’ll do.”

Her mother loved glitzy costume jewelry and Nicki hurriedly chose the best pieces—baguette-cut earrings and a matching necklace. Jared didn’t seem to notice they were fake, but when she walked out, his eyes widened at the revealing slit in her slim skirt.

“You’re right,” he said evenly, “this is definitely better than red velvet and fake fur.”

Realizing that for the first time he saw her as a woman, not as an employee, not as a baby-sitter, a wave of self-consciousness washed over Nicki. She picked at a piece of nonexistent lint. “The fashion experts claim you can never go wrong with basic black.”

“Right. It’s simple. Subtle. Sexy…”

She offered him a sharp look, but his face was unreadable. “I don’t have a coat,” she said, “And my mother’s things are three sizes too small, so I thought…” She lifted up a fringed black wool shawl. “Will this be okay? I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“It’s fine.”

Taking a deep breath, she expertly draped the shawl around her shoulders, letting it cascade down her arm.

His gaze went dark, heavy-lidded. He abruptly turned away, as if he were already bored with her game of dress-up. “It’s a nice condo. I suppose you hate to give it up.”

While she put her wallet, keys, a few tissues, and a lipstick into her black clutch, she glanced around the sparsely decorated room. She’d always thought the upscale town house had been too modern. “No. It was my mom’s choice. She liked the location.”

He nodded. “I noticed this photo, here on the table. Your mom?”

Nicki hesitated uncomfortably, she didn’t want to go into it now. She didn’t want to explain heart failure to a virile man who most likely only took gasping, self-inflicted breaths when he ran five miles. “Yes,” she said, “but…I’m in the process of settling my mom’s estate.” Estate? What estate? There’d been nothing left after the medical bills and funeral expenses carved huge chunks out of her life insurance and pension.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I just assumed…” To his credit, Jared didn’t press for more information, but deftly changed the subject. “You ready to make your debut?”

She nodded, and followed him out the door. He stopped on the steps and offered up his arm. “I don’t want you to slip,” he said, indicating her strappy shoes.

Nicki hesitated, then reluctantly linked her arm through his. Jared, she immediately learned, was rock-solid. This close, he smelled like designer aftershave and preppie wool blazers. It bothered her, to have that kind of intimate knowledge about him.

The ride to the Ritz Carlton was inordinately quiet. Jared, she guessed, had his mind on his ex-wife. He was probably thinking of everything he needed to do before his daughter arrived. He was probably thinking of lawyers, and old memories, and how his life would change.

“Remember,” Jared advised as he pulled into valet parking at the Ritz Carlton, “play it cool. If anyone asks, say we’ve known each other ‘awhile’ and leave it at that. We’re just making an appearance, really, and that’s all we need to do. Just so the rumors circulate and we convince Sandra this is legitimate.”

The slit in her dress gaped when Nicki reached for her clutch. Jared’s gaze briefly strayed, and she immediately pinched the folds shut, pinning them with her hand. As if he had scorched her with his look, Nicki’s thigh tingled with heat.

One valet opened Nicki’s door, and Jared accepted a valet check from another. He came around the corner to escort Nicki inside as a doorman held open the door. The ballroom lighting was subdued, yet Nicki couldn’t help but feel as if the air had been charged with electricity once they entered the room. They followed the maître d’ to their assigned seating at one of the front tables, with Jared pausing to glad-hand every Winter Park businessman and socialite along the way.

Nicki, acutely conscious of the curious looks, did her best to nod and smile.

At the table, Jared made cursory introductions.

“And do you work, Nicki?” Janice, the young wife of the president of Winter Park’s largest bank, asked.

The question wanted to make Nicki laugh out loud. The fact was, she’d had this woman’s children sitting on her lap just last week. Mindy, four, and Michael, five.

“Not right now,” Jared smoothly intervened. “She’s going to spend Christmas with me. We decided to dress up the holidays and enjoy them this year.”

“You?” her husband boomed. “I know you. You won’t have time to enjoy them, you’ll be scrapping for every retail dollar those customers spend.”

“And why are you complaining?” Jared good-naturedly shot back. “I put it all in your bank.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Nicki found she genuinely enjoyed the company. More interesting, she discovered that they respected Jared.

When the server placed a filet mignon in front of her, Nicki stared at it hungrily. It had been a long twelve hours since she’d breakfasted on a dry bagel and cream cheese—and so much had happened in between. She’d started out the day by pulling on a red Santa suit and now she was dining with the department store president. Incredible. Life had a way of sneaking up on you when you least expected it.

She shook her head, ravenously surveying the gourmet delight on her plate.

Jared leaned into her, his appearance solicitous. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, I…” She looked up at him, and their gazes caught and held. Her heart started thrumming. “I was just wondering how I got here.”

A smile played over his lips, and his eyes were dark, mysterious, as he leaned even closer. She knew, vaguely, that he was creating an illusion for those at the table, but for a moment she didn’t really care. It was so delicious to be a part of something, to have someone appear to care. It had been a long time since someone had taken care of her, or even been concerned about her. She had been lonely for so long.

She basked in the feelings he created, even when he hung his arm across the back of her chair and squeezed her shoulder. Even when she knew it was false.

Two of the women made note of the gesture, she realized, getting a sudden, uncomfortable wallop of reality.

Jared, it seemed, made a show of reluctantly tearing his gaze away and asking the man next to him a question.

Nicki was still eating when the emcee for the gala introduced those responsible and outlined the charities that would benefit from the evening’s festivities. She nearly dropped her fork when Jared Gillette was summoned to the podium.

No one seemed to notice, and Nicki politely joined them, clapping while Jared made his way to the platform. She carefully arranged her face, as if she’d known all along this was going to happen.

A beam of light hovered on Jared’s shoulders as he stepped through the crowd. His elegant tuxedo hung perfectly, outlining his tall, lithe frame. As he walked up the steps, his solid good looks were profiled, making him appear one notch short of angelic when he turned to the crowd and offered up a dazzling smile.

A shiver went through Nicki.

“On behalf of Gillette’s Department Store,” he said, “I am pleased to present the Yuletide Gala with a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. This money has been designated to benefit the city respite program for parents of developmentally disabled children as well as caregivers of the ill and recovering. On a personal note, I want to thank every volunteer who so generously gives their time to this remarkable program. Thank you. Your efforts are sincerely appreciated.”

A ripple went through the crowd. It had been the largest donation that evening, and thunderous applause echoed through the ballroom.

A hot, searing pain rolled through Nicki’s chest, even as she experienced a flicker of pride for Jared’s gesture. Those around her clapped wildly, and stood. She followed their example, closely watching Jared’s reaction.

He appeared unaffected, nodding as he walked back through the crowd, a firm smile on his lips. Nicki was in awe of how easily he handled the adulation.

He resumed his place by her, and waved to the crowd. Then he did the most unexpected thing—he reached over for her hand and captured it, twining his fingers possessively through hers. Nicki went weak, and her heart pounded. Still claiming her hand, he guided her back into her seat, and nudged his own into place.

“That was impressive,” she whispered as everyone resumed their seats.

“I wasn’t trying to be impressive,” he said drolly, “I was trying to do a little good.”

“You did. No coal in your stocking this year.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Can you guarantee it?”

“Trust me,” she said, her voice heavy with innuendo, “I have my connections.”

Jared smiled, then accepted a round of congratulations and thanks at the table. Almost immediately afterward the orchestra began to play and people filtered to the dance floor or to dessert stations at the back of the room.

“Dance?” Jared invited, tossing his napkin onto the table.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” Nicki trailed off, not quite sure what his intentions were. Several couples from their table were already dancing, but she knew he didn’t want to stay.

His eyes seemed to mock her. “Maybe I want to,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s good for the illusion. Maybe it’s part of what works between us,” he emphasized.

Nicki stared at him, then reluctantly stood. Okay. If this was part of her job, making a few swings around the dance floor, she’d cooperate.

He stood aside for her to precede him, then reached for her hand as they wove their way through the tables. He led her onto the dance floor as though she were a queen. Nicki lifted her head, knowing all eyes were on her. Inside, her nerve endings quickened and blood pounded in her ears.

They were barely six feet onto the dance floor when he pulled her into his arms. They made a few experimental steps around the floor. She followed his lead perfectly, matching her steps to his, feeling her body intuit his every move.

“Everyone’s looking, aren’t they?” he asked against her ear.

“Yes,” she said, looking over his shoulder and trying to avoid eye contact with all the curious guests.

He pulled her imperceptibly closer, but leaned back from the waist, engaging her in private conversation. His hips intimately ground against hers. “You’re absolutely sure everyone’s looking?”

Her eyes flickered away. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He abruptly spun her in a quick circle, then made a slow, seductive dip to the music. His arm supported her. She looked up into his excruciatingly handsome face, while an overhead disco ball threw a dozen scintillating sparks over his tuxedo. “Now I’m going to kiss you,” he said huskily. “Pretend you like it.”

Chapter Four

Nicki had little time to react to his warning. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, intending to protest. She refused to allow anything so ridiculous! But Jared tugged her tight against him. His face hovered only inches above hers and, with determination etched on his finely chiseled features, he slowly, methodically, lowered his head.

There was no way out.

Nicki closed her eyes, and braced herself to endure the indignity.

As if he could feel her tense, Jared imperceptibly kneaded her back and the flesh at her ribs. “I guarantee this isn’t going to hurt,” he whispered, his breath soft against her cheek and brow. “Do your best to enjoy it.”

Nicki felt her eyelashes flutter, and she wiggled, slightly, in his embrace. Then, as her initial apprehension faded, his lips swooped down, claiming her, and pulling her into a hot, passionate kiss. The world spun out of control and Nicki found herself spiralling into a vortex of need as everything behind her closed eyelids turned blue-black. She felt as fuzzy as velvet, as warm as wool, and she clung to him as he parted her lips and deepened the kiss.

Her lungs ached for want of air; blood pounded and rushed her veins, yammering in her ears, making her feel weak, dizzy.

The kiss was so good that she nearly forgot why she was there and what his intentions were. His palate offered an intoxicating mixture of chocolate, wine and cherries. The combination of chocolate and wine was as seductive as an aphrodisiac; the tangy hint of cherries on his tongue left her craving more.

The kiss became fervent, demanding. Seconds ticked away before he expertly pulled back. Even then, his mouth still teased hers, his nose ending the intimacy with a tempting Eskimo kiss.

Nicki struggled to open her eyes, and a sigh involuntarily rippled through her. Her reflexes tightened as he released her, and she was vaguely conscious that her fingertips were biting the shoulders of his tuxedo.

A low sound of approval rumbled through Jared’s chest. Then he chuckled, effortlessly lifting her, his strong arms still twining at her back. “You,” he whispered, “are an amazing actress.”

Actress? What was he talking about? Nicki thought woozily. Hearing an edge to his voice, she desperately tried to focus. His face floated over hers, and her attention centered on the cleft in his chin, the jutting angle of his jaw. Above, his brow was shadowed, his mud-dark gaze perceptive.

The realization hit her like a dash of cold water. He thought she was trying to seduce him!

The scenario, unbidden, rolled through her head: Winter Park’s most-sought-after bachelor routinely fought off the advances of every gold digger within a five-hundred-mile radius. He thought she was one of those!

“I—I was only trying to make things look…genuine,” she said, leaning back into his supporting hand and trying to put some distance between her chest and his. “At your request.”

His gaze bored into hers, but his mouth twitched indulgently. “Yes. Well, it was a convincing performance. I can’t fault you for that. Maybe I’ll have to give you a bonus.”

A feeling of helplessness, even defeat, washed over her. How was she going to work for this man if he second-guessed everything she said, everything she did? And it was insulting, for him to think everything she did was based on money. “Jared, this isn’t going to work. I know what you’re thinking and—”

He seemed to anticipate her objections before she uttered them. “Shh,” he interrupted. “It’ll be fine. This is just a one-time thing, and we both know it. So what? I was the one who ordered up the command performance,” he admitted, lifting a shoulder. “Don’t be so defensive about kissing me back.”

He had picked up the beat of the music and they were dancing again, smoothly and without a hint of hesitation. Nicki had followed his lead, and hadn’t even realized it. “I wasn’t kissing you back,” she hissed, talking into his shoulder so no one could see or make out what they were saying to each other.

“Really? So you didn’t enjoy it?”

A cold, hard feeling settled in the pit of Nicki’s stomach. She never had been good at bold, outright lies. Stretching the truth a little, like playing the part of Santa Claus or filling in as Jared’s current love interest, was entirely different. “Keep in mind,” she said finally, “that I’m only doing my job.”

“And let me just say, my little Saint Nicholas, that you do it very well.”

Amusement flickered behind Jared’s eyes, and for an instant Nicki wondered if he was baiting her. She’d never admit that his kiss had left her shaken. If anything, he’d simply caught her off guard…because she certainly wasn’t attracted to him. She liked good, solid men. Men who worked hard, played hard, and were committed to a strict set of values. Jared Gillette had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth—he had no idea what the real world was about. He had no idea what it felt like to hurt.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.