Santa, Honey

  He kept the kiss soft, light, easy, one between friends, until she sighed and a sense of belonging warmed his heart.

  Alex liked kissing her. There was nothing wild or demanding in their exchange, no straining to tear off their clothes. There was a sweet innocence about Holly. She cared and shared, and allowed him into her life.

  It felt right to take his time, to learn what she liked and to give what she needed. The experience was new, exciting, seductive. Holly McIntyre was a natural high.

  There was honesty in her kiss. She saw beyond his status as the Most Valuable Player of the World Series. She didn’t want to bask in his fame or count the zeroes in his bank account. She was into him, into Alex Boxer, the man. Her kiss told him so.

  He wished they’d met under different circumstances. He’d served his community hours with a royal chip on his shoulder, giving her nothing but grief. He had a few regrets…

  A sudden knock on the car window made them both jump. Alex hit his head on the ceiling of the Bug, and Holly scrambled to find her granny glasses.

  He could barely contain his smile when he met the wide-eyed stare of a little girl, no older than six, whose freckled nose now pressed the driver-side glass.

  “Mommy, some man’s kissing Mrs. Claus!” The girl’s shout echoed through the entire neighborhood.

  Alex gave Holly time to straighten her wig before he rolled down the window and white-lied, “Mrs. Claus and I shared a sugar cookie. I was wiping crumbs from the corner of her mouth.”

  “With your tongue?” The kid had a set of lungs on her. She needed to learn how to whisper.

  He looked toward the house. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Making dinner.”

  “Maybe you should offer to help,” suggested Holly.

  The girl produced a five-dollar bill. “Mommy sent me to the store for milk.”

  “Can we give you a ride?” Holly offered.

  The girl shook her head. “I like to walk. I count cracks in the sidewalk, and halfway down the block, Peach Corbett’s drawn hopscotch in orange chalk.”

  Holly gave the girl a wave. “Take care, sweetie.”

  The girl sent Alex a meaningful look. “Only Santa should be kissing Mrs. Claus.” And she took off.

  “Guess she told me.” Alex chuckled.

  They continued with their deliveries. As they drove through the neighborhood, he took note of the holiday yard decorations. There were no Frosty the Snowmen, no ice sculptures.

  Instead, people strung Christmas lights on their palm trees, hung Santa caps on their pink flamingo lawn ornaments. One house showcased elf statues in swim suits beside a kiddie pool, while another had straw reindeer with red bows tied to their antlers lining the driveway. Florida had its own sense of Christmas.

  Alex watched as each family greeted Holly as if she were an angel. Everyone hugged and clung to her and thanked her profusely.

  A sense of purpose warmed him from the inside out. Today was all about sharing, connecting, and making a difference. He got into the groove, hummed “Joy to the World.”

  Following their last delivery, Holly leaned back against the seat and sighed. Her shoulders sagged and tiredness showed in her eyes. Silence settled like an old friend between them. Alex had never felt so comfortable with a woman, so compatible.

  Stifling a yawn, she slid off her white wig and granny glasses. “Thanks for your help.”

  “I make a great chauffeur.”

  “You’re a good man, Alex Boxer.”

  Her words surprised him. Women had called him arrogant, cocky, sexy, and desirable, but never decent. He liked the fact that Holly thought well of him. He wasn’t, however, certain he deserved her praise.

  “I’m prone to be bad,” he warned. “I can be selfish as hell, and I don’t believe in monogamy.”

  “Then you’ve yet to sleep with the right woman.”

  Maybe, maybe not. He’d bed-hopped since he was sixteen. Relationships came and went. He liked one-nighters. Two weekends in a row gave him the willies. Dating someone for an entire month felt as suffocating as an engagement.

  “Ready to sing some Christmas carols?” she asked.

  “I’m not known for carrying a tune outside the shower,” he admitted as he followed her directions to the community center.

  The entire town had turned out to sing “Jingle Bells,” Alex noted, as he scanned the meeting hall. A pianist pounded out the jolly rendition. Everyone from grandparents to babies shook bells in time to the music.

  The song was loud and a little off-key, but no one seemed to care. It was all about smiles and spirit and being together.

  Holly was immediately drawn into the crowd, while Alex edged back. He found a space against the far wall. He had no desire to be the center of attention, he only wanted to observe.

  Someone handed him a paper cup with holiday fruit punch along with a frosted oatmeal-raisin cookie. He figured this was dinner.

  During “O Christmas Tree,” he spotted Holly surrounded by her friends and family. One of those relatives was her uncle. During a break in the music, Holly whispered in Judge Hathaway’s ear. Alex instinctively knew she spoke on his behalf. She was asking her uncle to shorten his community hours by two days.

  Hathaway rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. He turned to pin Alex with his darkest judicial stare.

  A tall man passed in front of Holly and the judge, blocking Alex’s view of Hathaway’s reply. Alex had no idea whether her uncle nodded or shook his head. He’d have to wait for Holly to join him to get Hathaway’s answer.

  She came to him during “Silent Night.” The room had grown still, the mood solemn, holy. The voices blended, and people reached out, held hands. Holly laced her fingers with his, her palm soft and warm. A sweet gesture, Alex thought, as he gently squeezed her hand.

  Once the song ended, the crowd slowly dispersed, and Alex followed Holly back to her Volkswagen. He tossed her the keys, let her drive. Once inside the vehicle, she turned to him. A hint of sadness darkened her eyes before she straightened her shoulders and put on a stiff upper lip.

  “The judge has pardoned you,” she told him, “on the condition you play Santa for one more day. Afterward, you can pick up your sports car. You can be in Miami by early eve ning.”

  Freedom. Alex’s heart beat with a sense of relief. He would soon be gone. No more sweaty, sticky red velvet Santa suit, no more peppermint, no more sleeping in a tiny loft meant for elves.

  No more Holly.

  His chest heaved and his stomach suddenly hurt; he felt a little nauseous. He should be shouting, pumping his arms, yet an unidentifiable loss settled in his chest, compelling him to breathe deeply.

  He’d been in Holiday too long, he decided. He’d allowed the Christmas spirit to sink bone deep. He locked his jaw, forced his life back on track. Small town was not his style; he liked the restless pulse of bright lights and big cities. South Beach was calling his name.

  “Thanks for pleading my case,” he finally said.

  It was the end of the road. Neither spoke until they reached the Jingle Bell Shop. It was Holly who broke the silence. “See you in the morning,” she said as he got out of the VW. “Tomorrow will go fast, Alex. You’ll be on your way in no time.”

  Alex’s run as Santa ended with two kids peeing on his left leg, one right after the other. Holly had warned him it could happen, and it finally had, just as he was wrapping up the day. He couldn’t wait to shed his Santa suit.

  He stripped before her in the storeroom, down to his gray boxer briefs. He was hot, sweaty, and in desperate need of a shower. He wanted to talk to Holly before he left. She’d put up with him during Christmas week, even when he’d been an ass, which was all too often.

  “You sticking around?” he asked.

  She stood in her nutcracker outfit, minus the big wooden head. “I’ll give you a ride to impound so you can pick up your car.”

  “Give me ten minutes.” He took off for the loft.

  Ho
lly McIntyre felt her chest tighten. Her body suddenly ached, and she didn’t have the energy to change into her street clothes. She’d drive Alex to the lot, then clean up afterward. Her cousin Hank had agreed to switch from Moose to Santa following Alex’s departure.

  She needed to stop off at the dry cleaners and have the costume cleaned; a trip to the grocery store was also necessary. She made a mental list of all she needed to accomplish. If she didn’t stay busy, she’d crumble.

  He came downstairs, handsome in a blue polo and jeans, an athletic bag in hand. She tried to smile but failed. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

  He looked down at her, his expression serious. “Thanks for tolerating me—you have the patience of a saint.”

  “It wasn’t all bad,” she said lightly. “Remember to slow for school zones.”

  His blue eyes darkened. “Had I not been stopped and sentenced, I’d never have known your town existed. I’d never have met you, Holly.”

  Community service hours had thrown them together. In a few short days, she’d come to understand his recklessness and vulnerabilities. She’d grown fond of the Richmond Rogue. He’d leave her with many holiday memories. He’d made an imprint on her soul.

  “Maybe you could stop for ice cream on your return trip.” She could only hope. “I’ll have created new flavors—”

  He shook his head. “I won’t be back.”

  Her throat constricted, but somehow she managed to nod. Alex Boxer was going to drive out of her life for good. Their time had come to an end.

  Silence traveled with them to impound, oppressive and suffocating. Holly could barely breathe by the time the cop on duty tossed Alex his car keys. The Saleen S7 looked like the kind of vehicle he would drive. It was sleek, hot, and seemed to exude the same restlessness she sensed in Alex.

  The policeman slid the gate open, and Alex was free to go. He tossed his athletic bag onto the passenger seat, then looked at her questioningly. “Hug?” His voice was deep, low, hopeful.

  She couldn’t resist the lure of having his arms around her one final time. She stepped to his body, and he held her tight. His warm breath fanned her forehead, and the rise and fall of his chest seemed erratic for an athlete.

  She wanted to climb into his shirt pocket, hear his heart beat, stay with him a little longer. For a few seconds, she allowed herself to believe he wouldn’t let her go.

  In the end, he was the first to break their embrace.

  He kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Holly.”

  “To you as well, Alex.”

  He swung up the gull-wing door, slid behind the wheel, then closed himself inside. He revved the engine, and she stepped back, out of his way.

  His gaze remained on her as he drove the car out into the sunshine. She managed a small wave. How pathetic she must look, standing in her nutcracker outfit, watching the taillights on his sports car disappear down the road.

  Look back, turn around, she silently prayed.

  He kept right on driving.

  She’d seen the last of Alex Boxer.

  Her heart splintered into a thousand pieces.

  Holly survived the next two days on autopilot. Hank made a great Santa Claus. He was born to ho-ho-ho. The mood was festive and cheerful as shoppers scrambled for last-minute gifts.

  She was grateful for the nutcracker’s big wooden head. Publicly, she didn’t have to smile. No one had to know that Alex’s departure had flattened her.

  “Are you attending the Schaffers’ party?” her cousin asked after the last child in line had told Hank his Christmas list. The mall lights dimmed, and the shops would soon be closing.

  She lowered the lever on her wooden head. “I don’t think so. It’s been a long week.”

  “Alex Boxer could tire the Energizer Bunny.”

  “I fell in love with him.” She and her cousin had grown up close. She’d always trusted him with her secrets.

  “I was certain he cared for you, too.” Hank was sympathetic. “Alex got jealous the night we built the mistletoe arch when he saw me as a rival.”

  “I wasn’t special, just the challenge of the moment.”

  “Alex is a professional ballplayer,” Hank said. “He’s surrounded by women, but not every woman’s you, Holly. Holiday rubs off on a person.”

  “Alex told me that he wouldn’t be back.”

  “Never say never.” Hank took off to change clothes.

  Holly struggled with her wooden head and set it on the floor. She then crossed to the high-back Santa chair, decorated in corduroy and wrapped with garlands and tiny white lights. She sat down slowly. Even after Hank had spent the day in it as Santa, she still sensed Alex’s presence. He remained larger than life.

  It was Christmas Eve, and the maintenance crew was quick to dismantle Santa’s Workshop. The men wanted to get home to their families.

  The mock snow was swept away and the floor mopped. The air-conditioning and Muzak were cut off. Only the red emergency lights lent life to the mall.

  “I’d like to sit a few minutes,” Holly said to the head custodian. “I have a key, so I can lock up when I leave through the Jingle Bell Shop.”

  “Need an ear?” the man asked.

  “Thanks, but no.” Words couldn’t describe a broken heart. The ache was dull, numbing, exhausting. It hurt to breathe, to swallow, to lift a finger.

  Her only ambition was to sit in the chair, close her eyes, and forget. Time passed, and she didn’t care.

  “What have you done to me, woman?”

  She jerked so abruptly, she nearly fell off the chair. She blinked, believing Alex Boxer no more than a dream. Peering into the shadows, she found him very real. He stood just inside the door, looking disheveled and wild-eyed.

  “I couldn’t get you out of my head.” His voice was deep, dark, agitated. “Everywhere I looked, I kept seeing you in my rear view mirror, standing on the sidewalk in that nutcracker outfit, looking so damn sad.”

  Irritation poured off him. “I arrived in South Beach to busty blondes and body shots. I hit clubs, went skinny dipping, and tried to drink you out of my mind.” He raked his hand through his hair, glared at her. “You wouldn’t leave.”

  “Why did you come back?” She was afraid to ask.

  “I forgot my damn toothbrush.”

  She’d been to the loft, had seen it on the bathroom counter beside the damp towel left from his shower. “They don’t sell toothbrushes in Miami?”

  “Not the kind I like.”

  His toothbrush was a Colgate, hard-bristled with a flexible head. It could have been purchased in any drug store or grocery for less than three dollars.

  She eased off the chair, locked her knees so they wouldn’t buckle. “A man can’t live without his favorite toothbrush.”

  “Nor can he live without the woman he loves.”

  He loved her. “Are you sure?”

  “I need you the same way I need baseball,” he confessed. “You’re both my life.”

  Still, she hesitated. “We’ve just met, Alex.”

  “Time can’t dictate how the heart feels.” Quite poetic for a ballplayer. “Give us a chance, Holly. We’ll make it work.”

  “I believe in you, in us.”

  He crossed to her then, took her hand and led her down the hallway to the storeroom. Once inside, they climbed the staircase together. The loft was small, the single window a tiny triangle.

  Twilight faded to black.

  A crescent moon claimed the night.

  Alex smiled at her, and she grew warm inside. He had the experience. She let him lead.

  Their shadows merged against the wall as he caught her to him, and two became one. They took pleasure in their closeness.

  Her fingers gently stroked his face.

  His thumb grazed her lower lip.

  He watched her with a wanting that stole the breath from her lungs. He held her transfixed.

  One side of his mouth lifted. “I’ve envisioned you in a satin teddy, yet
that damn nutcracker costume does it for me tonight.”

  He massaged her from shoulder to spine, banishing her tension. Her body turned liquid.

  “I want to do everything for you, do everything to you,” he whispered near her ear.

  She pulled herself tighter against him.

  His stubble abraded her cheek, and the slow scrape of his teeth along her jaw raised goose bumps. He kissed her chin, her throat, then finally her lips.

  It was a kiss to remember, one where tender turned fierce with a slant of his lips. Alex drew her outside of herself and into him. There was neither awkwardness nor indecision. He made her thoughts turn sinful. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything else in her life.

  She clutched his shoulders, scored her nails through his knit shirt. His muscles bunched, and his breathing deepened. His mouth burned against hers, the play of his tongue primal, masterful.

  She felt his desire all the way to her soul.

  Anticipation filled her. Their affection was as open and magnetic as their attraction. The air snapped, sparked, sizzled with life.

  Long before he undressed her, he toyed with the gold buttons on her jacket. The simulated twist and tug sensitized and tightened her nipples. Her breasts ached for his attention.

  He took his sweet time, drawing out each moment until the air grew thin and their breathing became labored. Folding back the lapels, he stared fully at her breasts.

  “Beautiful,” he admired.

  The heat in his eyes made her pulse skip. Warmth worked up her spine the same instant shivers shot down.

  Her skin tingled with awareness so intense her body pulsed from it. She craved this man.

  He parted the front clasp on her white lacy bra and the straps slipped off her shoulders. He palmed her breasts until her heart pounded in her ears. She could no longer think, let alone breathe.

  His fingers skimmed down her ribs, past the silken dip of her navel, and curved over her hip. Locating the side zipper on her baggy black pants, he slid the metal tab down. Her pants pooled at her feet. Her white bikini panties quickly followed.

  His hand moved within the shadows of her thighs, and he parted her legs. He found her wet and ready for him.