Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

by Kenya Wright

  After the hour and a half flight from Helsinki to Lapland, we departed, headed to baggage claim, and waited for our luggage to come out.

  Park smiled. “I’m excited to meet your friend Holly.”

  “She’s awesome.”

  “She’s picking us up?”

  “No. It’ll be her brother.”

  “Oh.” Park grinned. “Is he single?”

  “No.” I forced a smile. “I mean. . .well. . .he could be single, but you know—”

  “You like him?”

  “Oh no.” I shook my head. “I mean. . .sure I like him, but that’s because he’s a good friend. I’ve known him forever. And you know. . .he’s a great guy.”

  Park grinned.

  “What?”

  “I hope it’s okay to say this.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You’re usually pretty cold when it comes to men. This time you’re very warm.”

  “Cold?”

  “You identify your lovers by colors.”

  “It’s a great way to keep track of them.”

  She laughed. “Hey, I don’t hate it. I wish I were less of a romantic and more cold-blooded.”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to be cold-blooded. It’s a cruel way to be.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Then why be that way?”

  “I ask my fifth therapist that almost every meeting.”

  Park nodded. “Then it’s complicated.”

  “Deeply complicated.”

  “Have you been friends with Holly and Saint for a long time?”

  “Forever.” I thought back to those days.

  When we were kids, Saint was a bad boy. One Christmas, my grandmother made Saint help her with dinner. They prepared the food all day. She would never let him rest. I believed that she’d spotted his path onto bad boy doom and decided to set him on a new one. Either way, that Christmas dinner triggered a passion for cooking in him.

  In our teen years, Saint perfected his cooking skills. He became so good that his parents would let him prepare dinner for everyone on the weekends. Once he hit seventeen, they let him do Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners. When he graduated high school, he went to culinary school in Paris. He finished at the top of his class and then worked in a three-star Michelin restaurant.

  After that, he opened his own spot in Paris. Whenever I would go to Paris for fashion week, I went to his restaurant for lunch and dinner. He would never let me pay for my food.

  I spotted Saint entering the terminal and lost my words. My stomach flipped at the sight of him.

  Do you always have to be so gorgeous, Saint?

  Park looked my way. “Oh my. Are all the men in Finland this sexy? If so, I quit. I’m moving here.”

  “That’s Saint.”

  She turned back to him. “Oh my.”

  From first look, Saint was a beast of a man. Had he been an actor, a director would have cast him as a rugged barbarian raiding and pillaging villages. He had a chiseled jawline, penetrating gaze, and cheekbones that could cut ice. He stood well over six feet. I only reached the middle of his broad chest. Corded muscle thickened his arms. One would have thought he was a bodybuilder.

  “Wait a minute.” Park gasped and whispered. “He looks familiar. Hold the door! Is that Chef Saint—the hottest chef on television?”

  My voice went hoarse. “Yep.”

  “Oh my.”

  As a top chef, Saint wrote a book about his experiences in Paris. He made the New York Bestselling list. Everything changed after that. Several high-end food groups tried to invest in him. They wanted to pay him to open up restaurants in top tourist cities like New York, London, and Las Vegas. He turned them all down.

  Instead, he chose a job offer with the American Food Network channel. There, he hosted two shows. One was called Saint’s Sweet Sins. On that show, he traveled all over the world sampling different desserts. The second show was Lunch with Saint where he created dishes as his Golden Retriever, Angel watched.

  Park leaned my way and kept her voice low. “Would it be rude if I asked for his autograph and a selfie?”

  Heat spread when his eyes meet mine. “Wait until tomorrow. I’ll bring it up.”

  “Wow. I love working for you.”

  He approached us with a dazzling smile. Those beautiful blue eyes peered down into mine. He stood close enough that his cologne surrounded me. He was one of those men who always smelled like he’d just stepped out of the shower and sprayed something designer.

  I keep forgetting that he does this to me.

  Sighing, I placed my hands in my coat to have something to do. I didn’t know why but neither of us spoke. I was too taken aback by him—as usual. He always stopped my breathing and thinking. My throat went dry. So close, I drank him in again. A shiver of desire shot up my spine.

  And then finally, he broke the silence. His deep voice was an instrument that triggered a desire to dance along my skin. “Hello, Ivy.”

  My hormones surged. His voice was deep and rough. Smooth and so seductive.

  My words came out unsteady. “Hello, Saint.”

  “I would have thought that your long flight would have you looking exhausted, but as usual, not a hair out of place.”

  I kept my composure. “I have to maintain my image.”

  “Something you do impeccably.”

  “You too. Loving the Louie Vuitton jacket. This winter’s collection. Very hip.”

  “I made sure my outfits were together on this trip. You’re a top designer. I must impress when I can.”

  Park cleared her throat. “And I am her assistant.”

  “Oh yeah.” I giggled, yet never took my gaze off him. “This is my personal assistant. I hired her last spring.”

  Saint held his hand out for Park. “Nice meeting you. Let’s hope you stay on the rest of the year. She has a problem with keeping her assistants.”

  I frowned.

  Park gave him a shy smile. “She’s a great boss.”

  Saint snorted. “Sure she is. She has you working on Christmas instead of spending time with your family.” He pressed his lips together.

  “Well, my family doesn’t celebrate, but. . .it would have been nice to hang out with my friends.” Park gave him a weak smile. “But working for Ivy is a once in a lifetime opportunity. As she says, we can sleep when we die.”

  Saint frowned at me. “Really, Ivy?”

  “It’s a popular saying. I didn’t create it.” I squared my shoulders. “And when I decided to bring her along, I never really thought about the holiday part.”

  “It’s the holidays, Ivy.”

  “The fashion industry doesn’t take breaks.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a mean one, Mrs. Grinch.”

  I took my hands out of my pocket. “Wow. That’s unnecessary. It’s just one Christmas.”

  “What will you say next? Bah humbug?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bah humbug.”

  Park inched away as if not wanting to be a part of our exchange.

  Saint studied me. “While I believe you’re a super talented designer and immensely successful businesswoman, you’re sewing clothes not performing heart surgery.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not excused. Surely you won’t need your assistant for the whole trip. You shouldn’t need her for the rest of December? You are staying in Finland for a few days after the wedding?”

  “Yes, but that’s to get work done in my villa.”

  “You won’t be working.” He shook his head. “We’re going to the Santa Village.”

  “The hell I am.”

  Saint leaned forward, letting me know he meant business. “She can stay for a few days to enjoy Finland. Not work. Then, you’ll let her have off until after New Year’s. . .with full pay.” Always bold and unapologetic, his eyes bored into me like they would unravel all the thoughts in my mind, picking them apart until he found what he wanted. “Do we have an understanding, Mrs
. Grinch?”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “I am. Do you agree to my proposal?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Proposal? It sounded more like an order.”

  “Fine.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Then it’s an order.”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

  “It’s Christmas, Ivy.”

  I sighed. “Of course Park can fly back in a few days if she wants to. . .and take a paid vacation.”

  “She’ll want to. This is a time for family and friends, not Ivy Smith.”

  I blinked. “Fair point.”

  “Do you need me to cover the money?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. Park can go back in two or three days for her paid vacation.”

  Excitement buzzed from Park, although she kept her mouth closed.

  “Then there we have it.” Saint curved his lips into a smile. “That’s nice, Ivy. Very Christmassy of you.”

  “Well, you know how I am. Just call me Mrs. Clause.”

  As if finding a way to break the tension in the air, Park pointed to my two bags. “That’s yours, right?”

  “Yep. That’s me.” I headed for it, ready to get away from Saint’s disapproving look.

  Saint jumped in front of me. “The two pink leather suitcases?”

  “Of course.”

  He chuckled. “Of course.”

  He walked over to the bags and grabbed them.

  Park looked at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to be a big deal or—”

  “No way.” I held up my hand. “You deserve it. I should have come to that conclusion myself. Saint has a way of. . .making me see situations differently.”

  “Well, I still want to help you with the bachelorette party.”

  “Perfect.”

  Easily holding both of my bags, Saint called back to us. “Which one is yours, Park? I’ll get them.”

  “Oh my.” She batted her eyes.

  I shook my head. “Hers is the lime green one over there with the puppy stickers all over it.”

  He grabbed that one before it slipped away. “Very cute, Park.”

  She beamed. “I’d like to think so.”

  Somehow, he had all the bags and led us forward. “Okay, gorgeous ladies. Let’s head away on the Saint Express.”

  “The Saint Express?” Park whistled. “I love that.”

  “But most important, do you all have your tickets for the Saint Express?” he asked.

  Park raised her hands. “I definitely have a ticket to ride.”

  Wow.

  He glanced behind us and caught me checking out his ass. A dark laugh left him.

  I shook my head and looked in a different direction.

  Keep on laughing. I’m going to kick your butt later. Who are you to tell me how to run my business?

  I could have argued with him earlier, but he was right about one thing. My assistants kept on quitting due to my overworking them. I glanced at Park, whose mood had definitely lifted since I agreed to let her leave.

  Why didn’t she just tell me she wanted off? Was she scared too?

  Continuing forward, I chewed the side of my cheek.

  Maybe she was trying to tell me and I didn’t listen. I’ll have to work on that.

  I tried not to think of all the work that would not get done while Park was gone. While I planned to help Holly out with her wedding, I’d really hoped to get several designs completed. But with the way Saint was beginning this trip, I could tell that Holly and he would not let me handle any business.

  Santa Village?!

  Bile rose in my throat.

  Here we go again. The Madison Twins will force me to celebrate this godawful holiday again.

  When I walked outside, cold wind whipped around me. I stiffened my spine and drank in the white landscape of snowcapped mountains and clear pale blue skies.

  Wow.

  The freezing wind bit at my skin. While New York had a record-breaking winter, my city had nothing on Lapland.

  At least it looks even better than the pictures.

  Lapland lay in the northernmost part of Finland. It was the home of reindeer, Santa Claus, and the Northern Lights. Many considered it a magical arctic region. In the wintertime, Lapland was as close as reality gets to a winter wonderland.

  When Holly picked this location for her destination wedding, I helped her do the research. While her parents were easy going and fun, Nikolas’ mother and father were hard to please. The few times I’d been around them, they complained the whole time. With this event, Holly was determined to please everyone. It would be impossible. Still, I helped her come up with tons of activities to keep everyone happy and busy.

  We made sure there was something to do for everyone. The adventurist guests could go on snowmobiling safari tours. Those that chose that, would cruise through Lapland’s frozen landscape to explore forest trails and icy lakes. At the end, they would get complimentary hot cocoa and gingerbread.

  For the families with kids, they could go down to Santa Claus Village. The next day, they could venture out to one of the many reindeer and husky farms.

  For the women in the wedding party—including the mothers—most of the time would be spent in the spas. I helped Holly purchase spa packages for all of them. Personally, I couldn’t wait to sit in the hot springs and catch up with my bestie.

  Holly also signed up both fathers and some of her uncles for an arctic fishing trip. I didn’t think it would be a good idea. Although it included ice-fishing, there would be a moment when the men would don float suits and plunge into the freezing lake. With Nikolas’s father, there would be endless complaining. Plus, that evening would be the rehearsal dinner. So I hoped for the best.

  This is going to be a long week. Let’s hope everything turns out well.

  We followed Saint. It was so freezing that I was happy to get to the car. Saint opened the passenger side for me and remained there, watching me as I climbed in.

  I whispered, “Thank you.”

  “I’m happy to see you.”

  “Me too.”

  “Good. We have a lot to talk about.” He closed the door.

  “What?” I stared at the shut door.

  Dang it, Holly. I know you’re busy, but you could have sent someone else! This situation has your Cupiding written all over it.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be right next to Saint as he drove. It would be hard to not glance his way several times or find comfort in that alluring scent of his.

  Saint opened the back door for Park, she curtsied and got in. He laughed and shut the door.

  “He is a sight to take in.” Park kept her voice low. “I can’t believe you used to play with Chef Saint?”

  “He lived next door to me. Holly and his parents would watch me when my parents had date nights.” I held a sad smile. “And then when my father and mother separated for a year, she got a part-time job as a freelance seamstress. Their parents would watch me when Mom worked at night. Sometimes she would have an evening theater job or ballet performance to be on call for just in case costumes were ripped or something needed to be fixed.”

  “The boy next door.” Park sighed. “So dreamy.”

  “I don’t know about all that.” I checked the rear-view mirror.

  Saint lifted the trunk.

  “So. . .” Park cleared her throat. “Again, if you need me, then of course I don’t have to go—”

  “No way. I’m not getting in trouble with Saint.” I grinned. “And. . .maybe he has a point. Perhaps, you would want to hang with friends instead of work. Did you have plans?”

  “Yeah.”

  I turned around in my seat and gave her a warm smile. “I know I’m not easy to talk to but. . .actually I don’t know what advice I should give you. I am crazy after all. Just. . .do your best to make sure that I don’t take it too far with you.”

  Park widened her eyes.

  “I like you. I would hate to lose you.
”

  Park blinked. “Don’t worry, Ivy. As I always say, working for you is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ve met so many people and learned so much.”

  “Yeah, but life should also be lived. Just because I bury myself in work doesn’t mean you have to.”

  “I’ll take your advice.” She grinned. “Merry Christmas, Ivy.”

  Nodding, I stifled my groan and turned back around. “You too.”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot. You’re not a fan of Christmas.”

  “It’s alright. I’m just not a fan of December as a whole.”

  “All aboard for the Saint Express!” Saint opened the driver’s side, climbed in, and shut the door. “Who’s ready for the big adventure?”

  I sucked my teeth. “Would you just get us to the villas?”

  Chuckling, he started the car. “In a bright merry mood as usual, I see.”

  “I’ll be even merrier when I get out of the cold.”

  He switched on the heat and drove us away.

  Park’s phone rang. She spoke next, “Would you mind if I answer this? It’s my mom. She always worries when I fly.”

  I shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  Park answered and held a hushed conversation.

  Saint leaned my way as he drove. “Did you get all of my emails and texts?”

  I swallowed. “I was pretty busy with the charity event.”

  “And what about the roses?”

  I lied, “I didn’t see them.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “How’s your TV show doing?”

  His hand shifted on the steering wheel and he snuck a look at me before returning his focus to the road ahead. “You know how it’s doing. Holly tells me you watch it religiously.”

  Holly can’t keep a secret to save her life.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve caught it a few times.”

  “She said you sleep in the Saint’s Sweet Sins shirt.”

  “It’s comfortable.”

  “I would love to see it on you. Did you pack it?”

  I grinned. “I may have, but you won’t be in my room to see it.”

  “I will. Why do you insist on pretending like I won’t have you in bed when we meet?”

  “Saint, my assistant is in the back.”

  “She’s on the phone.” He gazed my way. “You look delicious.”

  “I’m not one of your sweet sins.”