Santa, Honey

  “I’ll catch,” said Marissa.

  “Kinky,” from Alex.

  Holly snorted. The man put a sex twist on scooping ice cream.

  Celine moved to the far end of the counter, grabbed a scoop, dug into the chocolate tub. Marissa stood at the opposite end, holding a decorative flowerpot half filled with Oreo crumbs.

  With a flick of her wrist, Celine flung one scoop of chocolate in a high, perfectly launched arc.

  Marissa caught the ice cream in the pot.

  Alex applauded. “You girls are good.”

  “You have no idea how good.” Marissa winked at him. “Holly can catch flying scoops in a cup balanced on her forehead or chin. A real God-given talent.”

  Alex Boxer caught Holly’s blush. The hot spots on her cheeks were sexy as hell. The lady had entertainment value, he mused. She was someone to play with while he was marooned in Holiday, if she’d hang out with him. Her outright aversion stuck in his craw.

  It didn’t matter much either way. In four short days he’d blow this popcorn stand. The bells of freedom would ring, and he’d soon be lying by the pool with topless twins slathering oil all over his body. He could feel their hands on him now, touching, rubbing…

  The image made his dick twitch.

  Holly noticed his stir and cast him the evil eye.

  He immediately went limp.

  Alex hoped it wasn’t a permanent affliction.

  “Here you go.” She passed him his sundae. “Enjoy.”

  He nodded toward a secluded polka-dotted booth where he hoped to capture her attention. “Grab an extra spoon and Eat Dirt with me,” he requested.

  “We’re busy, and I’m working,” she begged off.

  “Busy” his ass. There were three women behind the counter and only one other customer seated, munching a vanilla waffle cone. It was obvious she didn’t want to join him.

  He shrugged, took over the booth himself. He could do alone. He just wasn’t good at it. He liked people, loved notoriety, and lived to be the center of attention. Holly had snubbed him. Her loss.

  He’d taken two bites when a group of teenage boys walked in. Jerry Petree from the mall led the pack. “Told you Boxer would be here.” The kid had the nose of a bloodhound.

  “Have a seat.” Alex motioned them over.

  Christmas came early for the teens. They tripped over themselves to reach him.

  The booth was meant for four, yet all six squeezed in. Surprisingly, they left him enough space to eat his sundae.

  He cut a look at Holly, caught her deepening frown.

  He understood her concern. Seven people now occupied a booth and only he was eating ice cream. There were no profits in sitters talking baseball.

  He slid his hand into his side pocket, drew out a money clip. He passed Jerry a hundred-dollar bill. “Go order.” He nudged the boy toward the counter.

  Within minutes, cups of every imaginable flavor were spread across the table. The kid handed him twelve cents in change.

  He glanced again at Holly, caught the slow curve of her smile. Business was good, and the lady was happy.

  That pleased Alex as well.

  An hour passed, and his entourage multiplied.

  Two hours later, Alex felt mobbed.

  He was compressed in a booth with fans pushing closer and closer, making him claustrophobic. This was a laidback beach community, yet the crowd still wanted a piece of him. He’d signed autographs, posed for pictures, kissed a baby, and talked baseball until his voice was hoarse.

  He needed five minutes to breathe.

  He glanced over his shoulder, found fans packed ten deep behind him. He had no easy means of escape…

  Until Holly McIntrye elbowed through the crowd, her voice raised, polite but forceful. “Excuse me,” she repeated over and over again as she struggled to his table.

  Once she got within arm’s reach, she flashed two yellow tickets and said, “You purchased over ten dollars’ worth of ice cream—it’s time to ride the carousel.”

  Alex had never been so glad to ride a merry-go-round in his life. Amid disappointed groans, he bumped Jerry and his friends from the booth, then followed Holly out, relieved to be free.

  At the door, she turned, facing all those gathered. “Alex Boxer is in town for a few more days. Everyone will get a chance to see him again.”

  “Same time, same place tomorrow?” Jerry Petree asked.

  “Only if Alex has a taste for more ice cream,” was as far as Holly would commit.

  Back on the sidewalk, he rubbed his stomach. “I tried every flavor. My gut’s about to burst.”

  “You’re a crowd pleaser and great for business.”

  He wanted her to see him as more than free advertising. “I’ve never dropped a hundred on ice cream.”

  “Profits rose tonight.”

  “I’m a bankable commodity.”

  “Mind if we walk?” she asked. “Otherwise I’ll locate a golf cart.”

  Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a walk, nor could he recall spending an eve ning with a woman when they weren’t headed for bed. Relaxed and casual had gotten lost in his tailspin life.

  “Walking works.” He decided to give it a try.

  A Midsummer’s Ice Cream fronted on the Holiday Boardwalk on the south end of town. The twenty-block, wooden-planked promenade ran north, the perfect setting for visitors to catch their first view of the seashore.

  Holly pointed out sites along the way. “The Morrow House is the oldest beach cottage still standing in Holiday. The Victorian is now a bed and breakfast. It has twenty-two rooms, a basement, an attic, and twelveinch brick walls.”

  The Atlantic Beach Library was located next door. The Bohemian Café; stood two lots down. A small verandah charmed passersby with rose paint and deep purple shutters. Lime green wrought-iron tables and chairs offered dining al fresco.

  “The Bohemian’s known for its Corn Flake french toast. Stop in one morning,” she suggested. “Order a big glass of fresh tangelo juice.”

  All future breakfasts depended on the judge’s mercy. Alex hoped Holly would present the official with a good progress report, and he would soon be driving cautiously out of town. If not tomorrow, hopefully the next day.

  He blew out a breath, kept right on walking. The souvenir shop windows reflected their progress. The scent of vendor hotdogs and nachos hung on the air.

  Few people strolled the planks, leaving the sounds of the ocean to fill the night. In the distance, strains of seasonal music and enormous neon signs drew residents and tourists to the arcade and amusement park. That was the heart of the action.

  “The boardwalk lays claim to its fair share of proposals and honeymoon moonlight strolls,” Holly commented. “There’s something about the night air, the firefly stars—”

  “The smell of dead fish.” Alex coughed.

  “Be glad it’s not Randolph.”

  He smiled. “The reindeer’s a charmer.”

  Athletic games from the basket toss and balloon darts, to the baseball throw caught Alex’s eye the moment he entered the arcade. He wanted to play. He was good at winning stuffed animals for women. He’d show off for Holly. Just a little.

  He laid down a buck, and the worker passed him a basketball. “Take three shots,” the man behind the counter said. “Sink one for a kewpie doll, two for a rubber duck, three for a teddy bear.”

  Alex went for the bear, only to miss all three baskets. Son of a bitch. Heat climbed his neck, and his face went hot. “Again.” He smacked down another dollar.

  An Andrew Jackson later, he had yet to win a prize.

  The worker turned to Holly, asking, “Would the lady like a turn?”

  “The lady would,” she agreed.

  Agitated, Alex slid the man two dollars. He figured two tries were plenty for Holly. Then they’d move on.

  He watched as she centered herself, then tossed the ball using some backspin. Her aim hit true, bounced off the tilt of the upper lip and
dropped through the hoop.

  Double damn. Two turns and she’d scored both the duck and the teddy. She passed Alex the duck, which quacked when he squeezed it.

  “Later, Wally.” She waved to the worker.

  The man nodded, grinned at her.

  “You know the guy?”

  “I grew up in Holiday,” she reminded him. “The arcade was a second home.”

  His competitive nature kicked in. “Balloon darts next.”

  She followed him to the booth, where she kicked his ass a second time. Holly walked away with a cuddly Mickey Mouse.

  Lady was racking up prizes.

  “Ring toss.” He felt his luck shift.

  He dropped fifty dollars before Holly hauled him over to the baseball throw, his saving grace. Ten groups of bottles offered the challenge, each group positioned with three bottles at the base and two stacked on top.

  He was a professional athlete. This would be an easy win.

  He received four baseballs for five dollars.

  “Knock over three of the four bottle groups and take home Lola the stuffed leopard,” the worker said.

  Alex took aim and Holly moved behind him. “Lola’s been at the arcade for five years,” she whispered. “She’s impossible to win.”

  Alex set his back teeth.

  He was taking Lola home tonight.

  A Ben Franklin later and Holly stepped between him and the counter. “You’ve spent more at the arcade than you did on ice cream. Let’s ride the carousel, call it a night.”

  A crowd had gathered. Fifty people now watched him make a fool of himself. He was a ballplayer with an accurate arm. He should be able to knock over those damn bottles.

  He wasn’t a good loser.

  Holly pressed into his side, her voice low. “The bottles have lead bases. Throw low, split the bottom two.”

  He turned on her. “You tell me this after I’ve blown a hundred bucks?”

  “You’re good for our economy, Alex Boxer.”

  He shoved up his sleeves, untucked his shirt, and got down to business. His next three balls bowled down the bottles.

  Those gathered cheered him on, then applauded wildly with his win. Alex victory-pumped his arm—Lola was his.

  In the end, he decided to give Holly the leopard. “All yours.” He presented her with the stuffed animal.

  She looked surprised. “Maybe you should hold on to Lola, give her to your girlfriend.”

  “I’ve no one special in my life.” Blond twins awaited him in Miami. Somehow it didn’t seem fair to give one a life-size leopard and the other a bathtub ducky.

  Lola belonged to Holly.

  He’d worked up a sweat, and it was time for a cold one.

  He swept his gaze down the arcade. “Any chance of a beer?”

  “Root beer.” Her reply was a downer.

  They walked to Frosty’s. “Hank Conrad, the moose from the mall, owns the beverage stand. I’ll buy,” Holly told him. She left him holding Lola, Teddy, Mickey, and the rubber ducky. “You’d make a great poster boy for Animal Planet,” she threw over her shoulder.

  Alex shifted, waiting impatiently for his soda.

  “You won Lola!”

  Alex watched as a mother and her three daughters approached. The little girls were bouncing excitedly, their eyes on his prizes.

  The kids were stair steps, Alex noticed as they raced toward him. He figured them at four, five, and six. The mother could barely keep up.

  “Girls’ night out,” the woman said as they stopped in front of him.

  “Daddy’s taking a college class so he can get a better job,” the oldest of the girls blurted out. “He was studying, and since we couldn’t keep quiet, Mom brought us to the arcade.”

  “We’re burning off energy,” the mother said.

  Mom looked burned out herself.

  Alex stood stiffly as the girls patted Lola, Teddy, Mickey, and eyeballed the rubber duck. Their clothes were clean, although slightly faded. All three needed a new pair of tennis shoes. The youn gest had knotted laces.

  Where the hell was Holly? Alex looked toward Frosty’s, where he caught her chatting up Hank. The man threw back his head and laughed heartily over something she said. Holly didn’t strike Alex as being funny, so the moose had to be flirting with her.

  “Do you have daughters?” the middle girl asked as she stared wide eyed at the stuffed animals.

  “No wife, no kids,” Alex was quick to say.

  “All those animals are for you?” the littlest asked.

  He suddenly realized how silly he must look, standing on the boardwalk, clutching four prizes, believing himself a hero for winning Lola for Holly.

  Alex hunkered down and looked the smallest in the eye. She was as exhausted as she was restless. It wouldn’t take long for her to fall asleep. A part of him wanted her to have sweet dreams.

  “Which one do you like the best?” He gestured toward his winnings.

  “Duck.” She chose, then clutched it so tightly it quacked. She giggled.

  “Jenny loves bubble baths,” her mother explained. “She’d sit in the tub all day if I’d let her.”

  “How about you?” he asked the middle girl.

  The second in line looked at her older sister before making her decision. “Mickey for me, Lola for Sis.”

  The eldest was so excited, she hugged herself, spun in a circle, then did a happy dance.

  The mother’s smile came slowly, sincerely, and on a sigh. “I don’t know what to say,” she managed.

  Alex looked at the girls. “I want you to go to your bedrooms when you get home and play with your prizes. Give your dad some space.”

  They all promised to be good.

  “Thank you, Mister…” The mother hesitated, not knowing his name.

  “Alex Boxer.” He handed Mom the teddy bear.

  Her eyes narrowed as she recognized his name. “I’m glad you were caught speeding.” Her words were honest. “My girls won’t forget your kindness. May Santa be as good to you as you were to them. Merry Christmas.”

  “Back at you.” Alex refused to go too deep into the holiday spirit.

  The girls each gave him a hug, then, clutching their prizes close, walked with their mother toward the arcade exit. The sound of the quacking duck echoed from the parking lot.

  Alex turned and nearly bumped into Holly. Her expression was soft, disbelieving, as she passed him a root beer. “I left you with four animals and return to only you.”

  “I’m the best of them all.”

  “I imagine you could be cuddly.”

  “Try me.”

  “Drink your soda.”

  They stood amid the blinking lights and arcade noises, sipping root beer and watching people pass by. The crowd had thinned, and there were no riders on the carousel when Holly produced their tickets.

  Alex looked at the ride curiously. He’d never ridden a merry-go-round. His parents had always been too busy to take him to a fair or carnival. His old man banked big money in real estate, and his mother involved herself in every charity imaginable. Alex grew up with nannies, butlers, and little parental supervision.

  He now took in the carousel’s pressed metal ceiling strung with blinking Christmas lights, the mirrored middle cylinder, the multicolored horses with their jeweled bridles and shiny black saddles. Sets of leather-bound booths were dispersed throughout for those who preferred to sit instead of ride.

  “This horse looks fast,” Alex said as he swung atop a black steed with a purple jeweled bridle.

  “Mine’s quicker out the gate,” Holly challenged, now astride a tan horse with a ruby-encrusted harness.

  “Jingle Bell Rock” set the merry-go-round in motion. The horses rose up and down, and Holly’s mount always seemed a nose ahead of Alex’s.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  He nodded, surprised at how much he was enjoying the simple circular motion of the carousel. It was soothing. The Christmas lights winked at him. He noticed the
brass ring on the second go round.

  “If I catch it?” he asked Holly.

  “You make a wish.”

  Alex stretched, snagged the ring with his next pass. He suddenly felt lucky.

  The carousel slowed, and they both dismounted.

  Alex caught Holly between the horses. He touched the ring to her cheek, then suggestively brushed his thumb over her mouth.

  “My wish is to kiss you,” he said.

  “Wish for something that could come true.”

  He wanted her and claimed his kiss.

  She went wide eyed and pucker faced.

  He did everything in his power to loosen her up. He nipped at her mouth, coaxed with his tongue, took his sweet time with her. The kiss went nowhere.

  She had the passion of a metal pole.

  Awkwardness set him back.

  He felt like an absolute idiot.

  Holly McIntyre just wasn’t into him.

  Chapter Three

  Same Santa, different day.

  A request from the mall manager to keep business booming drew an additional morning shift for Old Saint Nick. Alex had protested he’d wanted to sleep, and it had taken Holly’s promise of coffee and a box of chocolate-covered doughnuts to rally him.

  He’d shown up in the Jingle Bell Shop with wet hair and razor stubble. His white beard stuck to his face, forcing Holly to stand very, very close to adjust the mustache.

  The scent of pine soap lingered on his skin, subtle, masculine, and Christmas-y. He smelled nice, vital, more lumberjack than ballplayer.

  She glanced at him now, as he sat on the big red corduroy chair. He shifted right, left, couldn’t sit still. Although he welcomed each child with a ho-ho-ho, he didn’t have the warm, fuzzy manner that put children at ease. Many still looked leery, others outright fearful.

  Alex frightened her most.

  The man had kissed her on the carousel. His kiss had teased and tempted. A flame had lit in her belly, warming her from the inside out. She’d barely kept her balance. Had she given in, she would have been a goner. He could have kissed her naked in a very short time.

  It had been the look in his eye that struck fear in her heart. He knew he could arouse her and was now out to prove it. The man was as competitive in seduction as he was in sports and arcade games. He saw her as a prize, much like Lola.