A Lot Like Christmas

by Dawn Atkins

  She laughed.

  “You have the best laugh. It’s like liquid music.” He ran his fingers along the side of her body, tracing the slope, pausing at a patch of beauty marks.

  “My moles.” She made a face.

  “Beauty marks. They’re pretty. So are you, all rosy and glowing like that.”

  “You mean blotchy and sweaty?”

  “You look freshly laid,” he said. “And that’s beautiful.”

  “You’re being kind.” She pushed back her hair. He loved how her curls haloed her head.

  “Why do women pick on their appearance so much?”

  “It’s in our DNA, I guess.”

  He loved the things women seemed to dislike about themselves—the way sweat made curls frizz, the bump on the bridge of a nose, the swell of extra flesh on the hips, freckles sprinkled like stars, one breast slightly smaller than the other.

  The differences charmed him.

  Women charmed him. He loved that their bodies were so soft, their skin so silky. He loved how their minds worked, how much better they navigated emotional turmoil, wading in with buckets to bravely bail away, sure it was the right thing to do.

  “That was amazing,” Sylvie said.

  “It was.”

  “Eight years later, I finally know what sex with you is like. Worth the wait.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Well worth it.”

  Sylvie looked happy at the moment.

  What about tomorrow? When doubts and questions filled the space where heat and drive had been? Lust was worse than booze for encouraging shortsighted thinking. He knew better….

  “Relax, Chase.” She lifted her head and studied him, her green eyes crackling, not missing a twitch. “We had great sex. We enjoyed each other. It’s fine. It’s all good.”

  He hoped she was right. He never wanted to hurt her. The idea made his gut bottom out. For now, he had her naked in his arms and it was great. Her body softened into him, her breath warm on his chest. “You sleepy?” he asked.

  “You should do the security circuit again,” she murmured, cozying into him, one leg between his.

  “In a minute,” he said.

  This was nice. Very nice. He wanted more of this. Which was odd, since he’d always been content with the present, its pleasure and its passing. For the first time, he was thinking ahead, planning the next encounter.

  She was fading now, her breathing slower. He would close his eyes for a moment, until she was so far under his leaving wouldn’t awaken her…. Just a minute more….

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SYLVIE WOKE WITH A START to find Dasher licking her face. She sat up, remembering abruptly that she was lying naked in a tent in the mall’s greenery with an equally naked Chase.

  Yikes. How had that happened? Her watch said it was 3:00 a.m. She’d slept about two hours. Chase’s uniform shirt still hung from the banana tree branch next to her top, so he clearly hadn’t made the rounds. So much for the security protocols.

  Dasher whined. Chase seemed dead to the world, so she decided to take the dog for a walk and check on the mall herself. She pulled on her underwear and pants, crawled out of the tent to take her bra and shirt from the banana tree.

  Hooking Dasher’s leash to his collar, she looked back at Chase lying in the tent, his hair tousled, his manly face softened by slumber. It had been so lovely to be tangled up with him.

  Maybe when she returned, they would go again. It was just sex. She’d meant that when she said it, thank goodness. They’d enjoyed each other physically, broken the tension, and it had been wonderful.

  Would more ruin it? Was sex with Chase like frosting? Too much and she’d feel like she’d had two bites of Nadia’s tooth-zinging cake?

  She hadn’t felt this close to Steve or any of her other boyfriends. That had been deliberate, she knew. They might expect more than she had to give, which, now that she thought about it, was pretty much how Chase had described his own relationships with women.

  She’d always thought of herself as too busy to get serious, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe she was afraid to get close to anyone.

  If she ever expected to make a life with a man, she’d have to let the guy in, risk getting hurt. The idea scared her. She had a great life, friends and coworkers. Sure, she got lonely now and then, but didn’t everyone?

  Dasher squirmed so she set him down and started after him. She’d be exhausted when she returned for work, but she didn’t regret one minute of lost sleep.

  She looked ahead and yelped in horror.

  Someone had spray-painted red words across three of the store gates: This is a Dead Mall…. Get out or this gets worse…. Starlight Desert out of our hood… Starlight Desert is scum.

  The hairs on the back of Sylvie’s neck stood straight up. This was so much worse than before. This vandalism was on the inside. Someone had broken in and defaced the place while she and Chase slept. She lunged back into the tent. “Wake up, Chase.”

  “Huh, what?” He jerked to a sit. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s the mall that’s in trouble.” She gestured for him to come out with her.

  “Wow,” he said, when he saw the mess. They walked over to examine the damage more closely. She knew the graffiti couldn’t be more than a few hours old but she ran her fingers over the letters. “It’s dry,” she said.

  “We didn’t hear a sound.”

  “Did they know we were here? What if you and I were…you know…when they did this?”

  “Then they were pretty damn bold.”

  Sylvie called the police and she and Chase checked all the entrances, finding the door with the lock that had been messed with wide-open. “Randolph said we should have replaced this.”

  “Randolph again. I don’t know about that guy.”

  “No way would he do this.” She shook her head, aching with outrage over the crime.

  The police got no fingerprints, but made a troubling discovery. The lock had not been broken. There were no more scrapes than the last time.

  “This means they had a key,” Chase speculated.

  “They could have picked the lock,” the officer said.

  “If they had a key, we’re talking an employee or tenant,” Chase said.

  “Unless the key was stolen, borrowed or copied,” Sylvie corrected. “This handwriting is different from the other three attacks. It’s more threatening and the paint is red this time.”

  The officer promised to have Alan Lawson, the detective assigned to the case, call them when he was on duty later in the morning. After he left, Sylvie headed for the maintenance room.

  “Where are you going?” Chase asked.

  “We should have gray enamel left from when we repainted the railings. I want this covered up before any tenants arrive.”

  They worked together, painting side by side, using brushes not rollers to cover every crack.

  “This attack is aimed at our tenants,” Sylvie mused. “Dead Mall is an industry term, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It means a mall with high vacancies, low traffic or one that’s dated or deteriorating. Usually without an anchor store. Like if we lost Tracer’s, we might go dead.”

  “So this could be a tenant who wants an excuse to weasel out of a lease? Talley Toombs seemed pretty eager to complain.”

  “But she wouldn’t want to lose her job.” She covered up another ugly sentence. “Someone wants to scare our tenants, make them think the mall’s going downhill or is no longer safe.”

  “What if it was Leo? He was off-shift for the last attack and he called in sick tonight.”

  “But he’s in charge of the night crew. This happened on his watch, so blame would obviously fall on him. I know he feels terrible about it.”

  “One of the other guards?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see it. I keep racking my brain. It’s not any of the Free Arts kids, no matter what Randolph thinks. Even if they did do the first graffit
i, which I doubt, this continued assault is like a vendetta.”

  “One new factor is Mary Beth,” Chase said. “She returned just as this began. You said she wants her job back. Could she think this will make you look bad?”

  “She’s not a vindictive person and she loves Starlight Desert. If she wanted to make me look bad, all she’d have to do is criticize me to you or Fletcher.”

  “True.”

  “As far as that goes, you arrived when this started, too. Give me your hand.” She studied his fingernails. “No red paint, so I guess you’re innocent.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in me. This damages the mall’s reputation in the industry, as well. It hurts our value.”

  “What about a possible buyer? Maybe they want to make a low offer.” She put down her brush. “Is there a possible buyer?” Her heart jumped into her throat at the idea.

  “I met with the broker yesterday morning. He says some businesses are definitely interested.”

  “Really?” Her heart sank. “What businesses exactly?”

  “An indoor go-cart track, some doctors offices, a charter school, one or two others.” He shrugged.

  Sylvie stared at him, worry filling her.

  “We have a million questions and no one’s made an offer.”

  “But there’s interest.”

  “I still need to analyze our revenue picture, remember?”

  “You’ll allow for Black Friday income, right? And we have that meeting with PriceLess. That could change everything.”

  “Don’t panic, Sylvie. Nothing’s going to happen overnight.”

  She blew out a breath. “True.” Her shoulders ached from painting and her heart was heavy with dread.

  “We’ve got this covered for now,” Chase said. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll fill Randolph in when he comes on shift.”

  “You were supposed to be on duty. Are you going to tell him you fell asleep?”

  “I certainly won’t tell him what I was really doing.” He smiled, taking her by the arms, pulling her closer, trying to lighten the moment.

  But Sylvie couldn’t smile back. “If we hadn’t…um…done that, we might have caught them.”

  “We had a great night. I’m only sorry I fell asleep afterward.” He kissed her softly. “Please don’t regret it.”

  “I don’t,” she said with a small smile.

  “I’m going to tell Randolph to rent more security cameras for inside and out. Extra eyes for now and they might act as a deterrent.”

  “That’s a good idea. It’ll make him happy, for sure.”

  “I want you to forget all this for a few hours.” He searched her face, concern in his eyes. “I’ll handle the mall for the morning, meet with Detective Lawson, hold down the fort. You just sleep, Sylvie.”

  “This is a crucial time, Chase.”

  “And that’s why you need good sleep. Take Dasher home, close the curtains and sleep. We’ll handle everything just fine without you for a bit.”

  She was too tired to argue, so Chase carried the dog gear out to her car and she headed home with Dasher in his kennel.

  At her house, she shut the door to her workroom to keep him out of small-item mischief, poured him food and water and watched his whole body wiggle as he ate and drank, looking up at her happily, as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

  “I don’t believe it, either,” she said, dropping to the floor to pet him. She ached with exhaustion, her eyes were gritty and her mind was fuzzy as a cotton ball.

  Maybe Chase was right. Sleep would help her and the mall would be safe in his hands for a few hours.

  Until he sold it, of course. The idea sent a zing of worry through her. Then she thought of the spray-painted threat of more harm to come. Wouldn’t the store owners wonder why she hadn’t come in?

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Calm down. Get some rest. You’ll do a better job.

  Dasher pounced on her hand and began to nibble at her fingers the same way worry chewed at her brain. She sighed. Between Dasher and her racing thoughts, she doubted she’d sleep a wink.

  CHASE LOOKED UP AT ELEVEN to find Sylvie entering his office with the puppy at her feet.

  “What are you doing here already?” he said, going to her, wanting to take her in his arms. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

  “Not with this little beast bounding all over the bed,” she said. “He whined so I let him out of his kennel. Big mistake.”

  “You’re worried,” he said, reading the truth in her face.

  She nodded and dropped into the guest chair, lifting the dog into her lap. “Catch me up.”

  “I’m glad to see you.” He had to say it. She’d stayed in his head for all these hours. The smell of her skin, the way she’d said his name, her soft cries. “I missed you.” What an idiot he was.

  “Oh.” Color splashed her cheeks and Chase could tell she felt the same.

  “I have one question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “White lace or pink?”

  “Chase!”

  “Tell me or I’ll have to find out for myself.”

  “White, okay? And don’t do that. This is not the place—”

  “If we lock the door it is,” he murmured, enjoying the flicker of alarm in her eyes, the way her blush had spread to her neck. She was so fun to tease. Though he wasn’t quite teasing. “We’ve got the desk or my chair if the arms come off….”

  He rolled his chair to the side of his desk, as if to come after her.

  “Cut it out!” She looked completely shocked.

  He chuckled. “Just kidding. I can wait until tonight. Barely. Your place after work. Six-thirty?”

  “I usually stay late,” she said faintly, looking dazed.

  “We have to get an early start so you get plenty of sleep afterward. Trust me, I can be a really, really good sleep aid.”

  She sighed. “Okay….”

  He wanted to kiss her right then, just to see if she tasted as good as he remembered, but he forced himself back to business.

  “So, catching you up, Randolph got a good deal on renting a closed-circuit system. I’m holding a meeting for all the security staff this afternoon, ostensibly to talk about that, but maybe something will come up that gives us some leads.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, but her gaze flitted away.

  “You okay?” he asked. “With us?”

  “I guess. What happened was so…”

  “Amazing,” he finished for her.

  “I was thinking crazy, insane, out of control.”

  “Why do you think I can’t wait for tonight?”

  SYLVIE AND DASHER had barely gotten into the house when Chase arrived. The minute he stepped inside, he started taking off her clothes. “I’ve been thinking about doing this since this morning.”

  All day long, she’d gotten little thrills when the night before passed through her mind. Now she held on to Chase to keep from slumping to the floor in a jelly-girl heap.

  Chase kissed her, long and slow, firing her blood, making her heart pound in her chest. She pressed herself to him, rocking her hips against his.

  “Keep that up and we’ll go right here. How do you feel about rug burns?” he said.

  “The bed’s not far,” she said, though it felt miles away. Inside, her sterner self wagged a finger. Have some control. It’s just sex, not life itself. She didn’t care. She wanted to be naked with Chase right now.

  Chase yanked her against him. She felt the scrape of his belt, the soft fabric of his shirt, heard his hungry breathing and her own as she walked him backward into her bedroom, kissing him all the way, both of them so frantic they bumped noses and teeth as they fought to get at each other everywhere at once.

  She didn’t bother with the covers, just pushed him onto the bed and went after his shirt and jeans while he finished undressing her.

  Vaguely, she wondered what mischief Dasher could get into and how long before he’d need to go out, but she wasn’
t capable of doing anything but be with Chase at the moment.

  Warm and naked at last, they looked at each other in shared wonder for a long moment. Then Sylvie lifted her hips and Chase entered her, making her gasp for air…and more of him.

  Much more.

  Her senses on overload, Sylvie took in sights, sounds and scents. Warm skin, soft gasps, tightened muscles, pushes and pulls, their smells, sweet and pungent and lovely. She felt so alive with Chase, wanting all he had to give, and giving him all she had, too.

  Afterward, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, legs entwined. Dasher yelped from the floor, so Chase lowered a hand to heft him onto the bed. He licked both their faces and snuggled between them.

  “If you want to head out, Chase, no problem,” Sylvie said. “If you sleep better in your own bed, I mean.”

  “You need me gone?” He braced himself on his elbow, studying her, his eyes twinkling.

  “I’m fine, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to stick around. I know a lot of men prefer to leave.”

  “I want to stay. If you’ll have me.”

  “That would be nice. Sure.” Which was kind of a fib. She loved stretching out alone in her big bed, not having to worry about kicking or crowding a partner. “Though we should be clear about what we’re doing here. This is just, how did you put it, a physical connection, friendship and fun?”

  “Something like that, I guess.” There was hesitation in his voice, as if he wanted to object, but she pushed onward.

  “Above all, we can’t let it interfere with work. Like all that talk in the office was highly inappropriate.”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “And we can’t let it get complicated.”

  “Check.”

  “And when either of us loses interest, we’re done. That way no one gets hurt.”

  “Exactly.” He paused before he added, “And if we fall in love with each other?”

  “We can’t,” she said, fearing she might already be headed down that path. She bit her lip. “But if we do, then we just ignore it.”