All I Want For Christmas
Denise A. Agnew
Denise A. Agnew
Contents
All she’s ever wanted for Christmas…
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About the Author
All she’s ever wanted for Christmas…
Abby Manners wants the traditional Christmas she’s never had. Nick Claussen wants Christmas without all the trimmings. Despite their differences their wildfire attraction threatens to burn out of control when Nick arrives to play Santa to Abby's Elf.
Copyright © 2016 by Denise A. Agnew
Cover design and editing by Stacy Chitwood at NimbleForce Creations.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN: 978-1-942583-31-8
Created with Vellum
Dedication
To my husband Terry, who has always encouraged me on this writing journey.
* * *
To my critique partner Selena Robins, who has always been a fantastic friend.
* * *
To Stacy Chitwood, whose strength is an inspiration.
1
“Ow!”
Nick Claussen winced in pain and stared at the five-year-old boy in overalls who persistently tugged on Nick’s long white beard.
“Hey, you ain’t really Santa Claus,” the boy said as the beard slipped from Nick’s chin.
Nick quickly pushed the itchy beard back in place and schooled his lips into an indulgent grin.
God, he loved this job.
“Now what does Danny want for Christmas?” Nick asked the squirming boy.
Ignoring Nick’s attempt to get him on track, Danny yanked on Nick’s white mustache. This time the fake hair stuck securely to Nick’s upper lip.
“Ouch! Uh, son, please don’t pull Santa’s hair, okay?”
“Here. I’ll take him,” said a soft female voice. “Sorry, I’m late.”
Nick started, surprised by the pleasant sensations that zinged through him at the sound of the melodious, smooth-as-silk tone. He looked over his shoulder as the woman came around the side of the Santa “throne” and snatched up the boy.
About time Santa’s little helper appeared. The mall manager had assured Nick his elf assistant would be on time to help him with the long gaggle of children that had formed the minute the mall opened. When no elf appeared, and not wanting to disappoint the kids and their parents, he’d started his Santa routine.
But after a couple hours of having children whisper secret Christmas wishes in his ear, Nick discovered this Santa suit operated like an oven and made him feel like a stuffed turkey.
Nick watched as the elf, dressed in a green velvet outfit with a short skirt, green tights, and pointy red shoes, carried the squirming kid back to his mother. As the elf turned to come back, he could see little of her features under the mask that covered her eyes and part of her nose.
The elf’s short skirt revealed her long legs to advantage. Determined, quick, and no-nonsense, her stride flowed effortlessly. With the aplomb of a businessman cataloging the competition, he seized a picture in his mind of her curved proportions.
Once she reached him, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Let’s hope the rest of these stinkers are a bit more tame.”
He couldn’t see all her face, and her hair was bundled under that small green hat, but her warmth and humor intrigued him. Her soft perfume teased his nostrils, and he took a deep breath. Drawn to the velvet voice, Nick gazed up into her eyes.
Caramel brown. Sweet, warm, and smiling. Her nose was small. His gaze snagged on her generous lower lip. A mouth that appeared luscious. Tasty.
Nick felt a jolt that reminded him of the time he’d been ten and had accidentally touched a frayed cord on an electrical appliance.
Before he could reply, she ushered another child onto his lap. The small blonde girl couldn’t be more than five. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the elf watching him.
“Well, hello,” Nick said, smiling. “What’s your name?”
The small girl twisted a long length of hair around her index finger and looked at him with wide eyes. “Tisha Grant.”
“Tisha, have you been a good girl this year?”
She nodded, continuing to toy with her hair. “Uh-huh.”
“Good. What would you like this year for Christmas?”
“A Debbie Doodle doll.”
“That’s an interesting name. What does she do? Anything special?”
“She doodles in her diapers.”
Nick’s eyes widened and he laughed. “I see. And what else would you like?”
“I’d like mommy and daddy to live together again.”
Nick winced and glanced up at the woman who stood at the front of the line waiting for her daughter. The woman looked slightly stricken, almost embarrassed. Oh, God. He hadn’t expected anything like this. He cleared his throat.
Buried under hard work and reckless sports, his memories surfaced. Pain pinched his psyche and threatened to overwhelm him.
“Well, honey...” He swallowed hard, searching frantically for the right answer. This sure as hell wasn’t anything like working a meeting, or wheeling a deal. “Honey, I’m sure your mommy and daddy love you very much, and that no matter what happens, they will always love you.”
“But they’re not together,” Tisha said, her lower lip sticking out. Tears trembled on her lashes.
An arrow of sadness dented his heart. If one thing could get to him it would be a crying kid. Compelled to look at the elf, he saw a deep frown on her lips, and a question in her eyes. As if she were asking him if he needed help. He could hand the girl to the elf and then let the mother take care of Tisha. A portion of his heart yawned wide. He looked back at Tisha and gave her a gentle hug.
“Honey, they love you no matter where they are, together or apart. You mustn’t ever forget that. And Santa loves you, too.”
Then he did something unplanned, something he couldn’t have rehearsed this morning when he looked in the mirror perfecting his deep, booming Santa laugh. He kissed the little girl softly on the forehead. To his surprise, she giggled, and twined her small arms around his neck. Then she released him quickly.
He felt his heart do a jump, like it might stop. Tisha grinned, then laughed again. “Your beard tickles.”
Nick couldn’t help it. He laughed, the Santa guffaw forgotten, his honest amusement flowing out unhindered. Gratefully, he accepted how the laughter eased the tightness grabbing his throat. With effort he took a deep breath.
“Santa’s beard has to tickle,” he said.
Tisha reached up and touched the fake hair and for a moment he cringed, wondering if she, too, would yank on it. But she caressed it as if she were petting a puppy.
“Why
, Santa?”
“It’s a special, secret Santa thing.” He gave her a last hug.
Someone cleared his or her throat. When Nick looked up, Tisha’s mother stood over him, face hard, contorted into a chill that made him feel like he’d done something nasty.
“Come along, Tisha,” the mother said, taking her out of Nick’s arms quickly.
What was the lady’s problem?
As the woman walked away, the elf approached. The smile on the elf’s face became more spectacular, more intriguing. In that instant he looked into her hot cocoa eyes and experienced another shock of voltage.
She leaned down and spoke softly. “I think mamma bear got a little worried.”
“Why?”
“Because you hugged and kissed her daughter.”
It dawned on him what she meant, and indignation knifed through him. “You mean she thinks I’m a pervert or something?”
The elf shrugged. “She might think that.”
She smiled again, bestowing him with an understanding, reassuring look. Suddenly it didn’t matter what the mother thought. The elf moved on to retrieve the next child, and he shook himself, wondering what had gotten into him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted like this to any woman. Even Candace, who had knocked him over with her stunning sexuality, and had been his steady date for functions and holiday parties for several months, didn’t have that special...something. What was it? Elf magic?
Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Yeah, Claussen, elf magic. You’re letting this Santa stuff turn you into a sentimental fool.
Sentimentality. Humbug. He didn’t want or need that right now. Not ever. He hadn’t retreated to Russel, Colorado so he could cling to the past. Instead he’d come here to relax and regroup. Excavating old memories would bring pain, and he’d had plenty of that in the last two years.
He shifted in his chair and barely suppressed a groan. With any luck, the kids in front of him had much easier requests. Fortunately, his wish was granted. Dozens of kids later, shift change came, and Nick eased his tired butt out of the abominably hard wood chair that served as a Santa throne.
By the time a new Santa presided over Santa’s palace, Nick was ready to thank the elf for her hard work. He looked around, and then he saw a slightly plumper, shorter elf standing next to the throne with the new Santa. Damn, how had she disappeared so quickly?
Glancing around, Nick caught sight of a small green hat bobbing down one section of the mall, surrounded by multitudes of shoppers. He started in that direction, intent on catching up to her. She moved at a good clip, and the black boots Nick wore clomped loosely on his feet, impeding his stride. Determined, he kept sight of the hat until he stepped in front of a freight train.
As he impacted with the bear-size body, he staggered back and almost fell flat on his can. But the bear reached out and grabbed his arms, preventing him from falling.
“Claussen, I always knew you were an accident waiting to happen,” the bear said, his voice as intimidating as his Nordic stature. Only the irreverent grin under his droopy mustache gave away his amusement.
“And you, Pete, are a pain in the ass.” Nick smiled as he peered around his gargantuan friend. The elf had disappeared. Nick sighed. “I just lost the elf of my dreams.”
Pete’s bushy blond brows spiked up and disappeared into the fringe of his thick hair. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hitting on my elves already? Have you no shame? Can’t leave you alone with a woman a second—”
“Stow it, Pete.” Nick jerked off his thick gloves. “Tell me who she is. I want to thank her for her help this morning.”
Pete Mulligan nodded, a firm smile planted on his handsome face. “Pixie.”
“What?”
“Pixie.”
“I thought she was an elf.”
Pete put his hands on his hips. “Same difference. She’s an elf, but she uses the name Pixie when she’s acting the part of elf.”
Pixie. Nick liked the sound of that, and it fit the magical effect she’d had on his senses.
Before he could say anything else, Pete glanced at his watch and said, “Better hurry up, Claussen. I didn’t hire you to stand around all day. Get out there and do some Christmas shopping. I want this season to be the mall’s best in years.”
Nick shrugged, a sudden pall erasing the elation he’d experienced seconds ago. “Shopping isn’t one of my strong points. I usually end up getting people the wrong thing.”
“That’s because you wait until the last minute and don’t plan.”
“I’ve got three weeks before Christmas. Plenty of time.”
“Humph. Well, whatever you do, don’t forget my present this year. You owe me.” He slapped Nick on the back.
“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.”
Pete consulted his watch again. “Hey, my lunch is over. Stop by the office this evening and you can have dinner with Marge and me at that new French restaurant on the outside terrace.”
Only after Pete lumbered away did Nick recall he hadn’t obtained the elf’s real name. Impatience zinged through him, and he almost chased after Pete to demand the true identity of the elf and how he could find her. Instead he forced himself to slow down.
Take it easy. Pull back. Get a grip, Claussen.
Wasn’t that why he’d taken this job in the first place?
He needed the change of routine. A distraction from the void that had hit home as he’d gathered for Thanksgiving with his family this year.
As he’d sat at the Thanksgiving table with his mother, father, three brothers, two sisters, sisters-in-law, brothers-in-law, and nieces and nephews, he’d experienced an unprecedented emptiness. Where he’d always found extreme enjoyment with his huge family during holidays, now the rigmarole felt trite. Nick thought he might know why, but he didn’t think admitting the truth would make things easier.
With his usual dive-in-and-swim attitude, he’d analyzed his situation. But unlike the mastery he experienced in his position as an executive in the family business, he couldn’t shake the sense that he’d never learn to enjoy holidays again.
Two years should have been enough time to recover from the pain of losing Deena. He should have soaked up his huge family’s love and support. And he had, the first Christmas without Deena. In the second year without Deena, the pain had bounced back full force.
Not a pretty thought or a comfortable feeling.
So he’d moved temporarily to Russel, hoping a scenery change might repair what a loving family hadn’t accomplished.
Cooling the competitive jets he used full blast at Claussen Resorts hadn’t been easy. Nick had left his business partner, his brother Mason, in charge when he’d made the decision to leave Denver and hightail it to the mountain town.
Now, as he headed toward the staff locker rooms, Nick looked around at the thick swarm of shoppers that rushed about the mall. Even in the midst of all the craziness that went with the Christmas season, he liked it here.
Early enough in the shopping season people had smiles on their faces. He wanted to feel the same way, but what he’d told Pete was true. Hopeless at selecting presents, he delayed buying for as long as possible.
Just before he reached the staff area, he noted the bookstore that he’d planned to explore since arriving in town. Recalling that his niece Edie loved to read, he decided exactly where he’d shop once he’d had lunch and gotten out of his cumbersome duds.
Abby Manners couldn’t stop thinking about Santa Claus. Something about the round, red-and-white-suited fellow inspired her. As Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas played on the radio, she hummed along, getting into a rhythm as she shelved books in the mystery section. The store remained quiet and snug. Elf Books might be small, but it stocked a wide variety of books and made up in hospitality what it lacked in quantity. Abby and her partner made sure the store looked comfortable and cozy.
The old world ambiance, in stark contrast to the cool metal and glass interiors o
f most mall stores, attracted visitors. Overstuffed chairs, dark wood shelves, and complementary coffee beckoned to weary shoppers in the crazy season.
Stepping onto the ladder in front of her, she wondered again about the man in the Santa suit.
What made this Santa different than the one she’d worked with during Christmas last year? Maybe it was the way he’d responded to the children, the way they’d smiled after talking to him. Well, okay, that little kid who’d pulled Santa’s beard had ticked her off, but Santa had handled him with relative ease. As if he were used to children and liked them.
But, no, that couldn’t be it.
This was something more. A visceral feeling.
When she’d looked into his deep cobalt eyes, and watched his lips curve into a lopsided grin, surprise had blasted through her. A warm congeniality had heightened her emotions in a way she hadn’t experienced before.
Abby dropped a book on the floor and had to descend the ladder to retrieve the tome. As she climbed back up the ladder a lingering doubt about the Santa’s goodness remained in her mind. Unlike Becca Medino, her friend and co-owner of the bookstore, Abby couldn’t shake an inherent mistrust. She’d felt this way since childhood, and her attitude had kept her from making more than one bad decision, personally and professionally. She had no intention of lowering her drawbridge anytime soon.
A memory of childhood Christmases tugged at her. Kindness and cheerfulness sometimes cloaked a real person’s soul. Avarice and spite could hide under a charitable guise. She knew that too well.
Descending the ladder again, she retrieved the box at her feet and moved to the children’s section. Arranging another ladder to reach the top shelves, she shelved children’s Christmas stories. Suddenly she spied a cover that made her pause.
Father Christmas. Not jolly Santa, but a drawing of old-style Saint Nick. She shuddered.
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