Babes in Toyland II

by Aspen Mountain Press Authors

  Janice and Candi talked for a little while longer, when the sound of a clearing throat, caused both women to turn toward a gentleman standing in the doorway, a good-looking one at that, Candi purred silently.

  Before entering the room, he took the clipboard out and quickly glanced down at what was written on it before speaking. “How are you this morning, Ms.... Kane?"

  Between his deep, caressing voice and striking good looks, it was as if someone had lit a firecracker inside the pit of her stomach, then deftly tossed it down to her innermost femininity. Her muscles clenched and released like they were doing their own happy dance and she was just along for the ride. Holy hell. What will my body do when he touches me, go into sexual conniption fits? And why is the right side of my ass cheek burning like someone branded me with a hot poker?

  It was all she could do to hold back a hiss and keep her facial features mute as the burning sensation deepened then slowly subsided.

  Janice jumped up from the chair she was sitting on but before she left the room, she gave Candi a gentle pat on the hand. “I will be back in a little while to bring you something to eat."

  No sooner had she mentioned food, than Candi's stomach let out the most unlady-like growl. “Well, I guess that answers your question."

  God, how embarrassing. Candi mentally rolled her eyes. Here's a great looking guy, my doctor no less, and my stomach decides to let out an internal fart. What a great first impression.

  "That's okay dear,” Janice said. “We're used to all types of bodily functions around here. I'll be back shortly with something to put in that hungry tummy of yours."

  That left Candi to face the distraction of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome all by herself. Can't a girl get a break? I must look like shit.

  Her breath had to stink to high heaven; her hair must look a fright, and her growling stomach was considered a bodily function. She wanted to bury her head under the covers and hope it was a bad dream.

  Chapter Four

  Candi could tell that Doc Handsome had something on his mind—his uncomfortable body language clearly telegraphed his unease. The way he shifted from one foot to the other and his eyes never quite focused on anything in the room for very long gave him away.

  Observing him, she couldn't help but notice the way his raven black hair had a sexy curl at the nape of his neck and slicked back off his face as if he just taken a shower. His light gray eyes were deep set with long black swiping eyelashes that curled almost all the way to his pitch-black eyebrows. Why is it that the men always seem to get the great eyelashes and I have to curl mine for days to get the same effect? Now that is so not fair.

  The bone structure that God created for this man could stop a radar tracking system dead; he was sinfully handsome in a way that made it hard not to stare; a straight nose with slightly flared nostrils; flesh-toned lips full on the bottom and thinner on top. He even had a dimple in his chin that completed the rugged and sexually arousing image she had of him. She really couldn't tell how tall he was, but hell, everyone was taller than her own five-foot stature. She'd guess he had to be at least six feet, if not taller and looked to be in great shape, but it was hard to tell with that knee-length white jacket he was wearing. The lab coat proclaimed him to be “Doctor Christopher Kringle."

  While she'd been busy devouring him like a succulent Christmas goose, yummy and edible, he had drawn nearer without her noticing until the faint tinges of his aftershave lotion sifted through her senses. It reminded her of the wild outdoors, woody and spicy. For a large man, he walked with a quiet sure step.

  * * * *

  Christopher waited until Janice left the room and had Candi alone before confronting her about her telepathic conversation earlier that morning. He had to find out exactly what she was before he would feel somewhat at ease with dealing with her. God please don't let her be a witch!

  He couldn't help but note the leisurely tour her eyes took as they traveled their way from his head to his feet. His body had hardened into a rock. It excited him that she seemed enthralled with him. Was he reading her right? He could have sworn her pupils dilated from sexual arousal, but maybe it was from the lingering affects from her concussion.

  No, it was interest; unadulterated female interest she showed, and it turned him on.

  Really ... turned him on. He couldn't remember any woman that caused his body to quicken with desire and excitement like this tiny woman did. It was as if his body was completely in tune with hers on some cellular level.

  Getting a mental grip, he decided it was time to get to answers to all his questions. “I'm Doctor Christopher Kringle, the attending physician that worked on you last night. I need to ask you some personal questions before Janice comes back with your breakfast. Okay?"

  He replaced the clipboard in the bin, and then closed the door, promptly sitting down in the chair near the bed. He tried to make sure his expression was kind before he spoke. “Please remember, whatever is said between us is private and confidential, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure. Okay."

  "Early this morning, without trying, I caught the conversation between you and I'm assuming your father?"

  "I didn't call my father this morning,” she answered.

  So, she was going to play dumb. He frowned. “No ... that isn't what I meant. I am referring to the mind-to-mind conversation you two had."

  Christopher watched the color drain from her face, and her hands, that had been quietly clasped in her lap, started to tremble. He leaned forward to the edge of the chair, moving closer to the side of her bed and reached out and gently covered her shaking hands.

  The second their skin made contact, they both let out an “ouch" snatching their hands away from the other.

  He had to voice what was going on in his head. “Why is it from the moment you came here, every time I'm near you something odd happens, like just now?"

  "How the hell would I know? Do I look like a person in a position to understand anything right now? I've just been through a terrible accident. What kind of damn doctor are you anyway?"

  His face drew into tight lines. Christopher counted to ten before speaking. Normally he was easy going, but she got under his skin and he didn't like it. Letting out a deep breath of frustration, he started again. “Let's try this again, shall we? Maybe it will help you trust me if I confide my secret."

  Candi said nothing, but nodded her head in agreement.

  "My name is Christopher Kringle, as in the son of Chris Kringle, also known as Santa Claus."

  Candi eyes rounded in shock. “You have got to be pulling my leg, right?"

  "Nope, serious as a heart attack."

  "I don't believe you."

  Without missing a beat, Christopher reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Hi Dad ... No everything is fine. I have someone that doesn't believe I am your son. Yes. Ahhh ... yeah. I'll put her on."

  He handed Candi his cell phone and watched as she spoke into it

  "Hello? My name? Candi Kane. Yes, that is my father. Ah yes. No. I remember. That's right! Yes, I got that when I was ten years—” Her stone-like features slipped and her eyes glistened with gathering tears. Her voice was more child-like now and filled with emotion, “—old that Christmas."

  She paused for a brief moment, then took a deep breath. “Yes, I believe you are Santa. I am sorry to have doubted you."

  An awestruck look settled over her face. “I really hadn't thought much about what I wanted for Christmas this year, Santa. Yes, I will think about it. Thank you and goodbye.” Pulling the cell phone away from her ear, she handed it to Christopher. “Santa ... I mean ... your dad wants to talk to you again."

  He took the cell phone from her unsteady hand, trying not to let their fingers touch, putting the phone to his ear. “I'm here, Dad. Yes. No! I can't talk right now. Yes, I love you. Tell mom I love her, too. Talk to you later, bye."

  Snapping the phone closed, he put it back into his jacket pocket. He was ready for Candi
to start spilling the beans.

  She licked her lips nervously. Christopher could tell this was going to be hard for her. At first her voice came out in a harsh whisper. “I—"

  She stopped, cleared her throat a couple of times and started over. “I'm a misfit. I'm half-human and half-fey. My father is fey and my mother was human."

  Christopher interjected. “What do you mean your mother was?"

  "My mom died giving birth to me."

  "Oh, I am so sorry."

  "It was a long time ago and my father has done a wonderful job of raising me."

  He nodded his head. “What brought you to the town of Wadeville?"

  The entire time they were talking, Christopher held eye contact with her. Finally, she looked down, feeling foolish by what she was going to say. “To tell you the truth, I was running away from my wonderful and caring dad. I felt smothered and needed to think without him telling me everything would be all right, because it really isn't right now, especially not now with my motorcycle accident."

  "Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?” His gently relayed words melted away at Candi's heart. Even as scared as she had been in revealing her true nature to him, she felt like a burden had been lifted off her soul, letting her breathe without the constriction of deeply held secrets. She'd never confided to anyone what she really was. Only her father knew.

  Even her boyfriends had been left clueless and in the dark; it had been better that way. Knowing, they more than likely, would have dumped her ass or had her committed faster than you could have said ‘good bye'.

  She told him everything under the sun, including her relationships with all the men in her life. How they never lasted very long or had any real meaning or depth to them. She couldn't believe she talked so openly with this man about things so personal to her. She wasn't a blabbermouth, but she was today with him.

  What was it about him that had her baring her heart and soul up on a platter? Heavens, talking to this man was like eating candy to her, one bite and she couldn't stop until the entire box had disappeared.

  Chapter Five

  Janice delivered a delicious smelling breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast with jam and butter and a tall glass of ice-cold milk. Candi scarfed it down like she hadn't eaten in weeks, instead of yesterday afternoon. Janice also brought the black leather fanny pack that had her cell phone in it.

  "Thank you for bring me my fanny pack, Janice,” Candi said as she spooned in a mouthful of eggs. “I didn't realized my was so hungry. For hospital food this is wonderful."

  "Well thank you. I made them myself.” Candi heard the pride in Janice's voice and smiled to herself. “I used to cook a lot, but that seems so long ago.” A flicker of sadness crossed Janice's face and then was gone. Candi felt like reaching out to her, but then the older woman smiled and changed the subject.

  "Dr. Kringle should be by to check on you soon. Is there anything else I can get you before I go?"

  Butterflies started in her stomach when she thought of seeing the handsome Doctor again. “No thank you Janice. I am very gratefully for the delicious breakfast and your company."

  "I am glad to see the color back in your face and you smiling.” Janice reached over and patted her on the hand.

  Candi thought Janice had the kindest eyes she'd ever seen, warm and sincere. Like a mother's would be, which made her wish she'd known her own mother.

  "Well,” Janice slapped her knees, “time for me to get ready for the first patients of the day. If you need anything just push the button beside your bed."

  "I'm fine, but thank you."

  Alone now, Candi stared at her food as she remembered her last conversation with the Christopher.

  He had asked her to please use his first name. They were now beyond doctor and patient level, heading toward something more intimate. Would she be able to handle it?

  With a drenching and consuming sexuality, he was unlike anyone she had come into contact with. Her attraction to him was unbelievably fierce—as if he was already ingrained in her psyche. It was unsettling and something she had never felt toward another man. Could her head injury also be affecting her emotional state?

  Before leaving, he reassured her he would never tell another soul about what she told him and asked her to do the same, a deal to which she gladly agreed.

  Candi squirmed around tying to get comfortable. Her body hurt all over, but her ass cheek seemed to get worse by the minute, not better. And, she needed to do something quick or she would resort to using whatever she could get her hands on to scratch her butt.

  Janice came back in after Candi had finished breakfast while she was talking to her father to let him know she was all right. Damn, that conversation didn't go well at all. It took a lot of reassuring that she was not in any danger. She fibbed slightly, saying she just had the motorcycle fall on her—leaving out the part about the motorcycle eating a path down her left side—to get him to stay put and let her rest until she would be able to leave the clinic.

  * * * *

  Candi gathered her courage and asked Janice to take a look, telling her the symptoms she was having.

  "Let's have a look see, dear.” Janice gently helped her carefully turn onto her left side, lifting the covers away from Candi's upper body and parting the back of her hospital gown, exposing her behind. “Well, honey, here's your problem. This tattoo you have looks like it could be infected."

  A squeal erupted from Candi as she tried to contort her upper torso to get a glimpse of what Janice was referring to. “I don't have a tattoo back there. In fact, I don't have any tattoos; they've never appealed to me."

  "Are you sure? Maybe one night you had too good of a time and got the picture of Santa Claus slapped on your behind. It is a spitting image of him, no mistaking that."

  Candi kept trying to get a look at what Janice was staring at, but she could hardly sit up without hurting, and twisting and turning was definitely out of the question. “Could you get me a mirror or something so I might be able to see for myself what you are looking at?"

  "You know, I think I have just the trick. Can you stay on your side for a minute or so more?"

  With a less than cheerful voice Candi told her, “Yes."

  No sooner had Janice returned and Candi was trying to get a good look at her ass, when Christopher strolled into her room, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw what the two ladies were doing. She couldn't imagine what was running through his mind at that minute. And to top it off there it was, as big as you please, a tattoo of Santa Claus up high on her right ass cheek. Okay, this was really starting to weird her out.

  "What in the world are you two doing?"

  Good old Janice didn't hesitate to tell him, bless her heart. “Aside from having a darling derrière, she was complaining about pain on the right side. It looks like she might have an infection from a recent tattoo."

  "Hello. I just told you I do not have any tattoos. Didn't you hear me?” Candi said louder than she had intended.

  Christopher rubbed his jaw line in contemplation. “I don't remembering seeing a tattoo when we treated her yesterday."

  "I can't say I did either, but things were pretty hectic there for a while and we might have missed it in all the goings on, Doctor Kringle."

  Again ... hello ... I am right here. I wish they would stop talking about me as if I wasn't here for crap sake, Candi fumed.

  "Let me take a look, Janice.” He moved quickly and was checking out her butt before she could say, “kiss my ass", which if her ass did not burn so badly, wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

  "Yes, that is—"

  Just like that, he stopped mid sentence. Candi leaned over and turned to look at him. His face was slowly sheeting to pure white and his mouth was partially hanging open.

  Great, he thinks I have a big ass.

  "Y ... yes it is a tattoo all right. Janice could you clean that area up and put a bandage on it, please. I forgot I had something I meant to attend to before the next
patient arrives. If you will excuse me ladies"

  "Not a problem, Doctor Kringle.” A smile finished Janice's sentence.

  Man, he left the room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Was my ass that bad? That big?

  She'd have to take another peak with the mirror again later.

  * * * *

  Making a mad dash to his bathroom upstairs, Christopher had an awful feeling regarding what he would find when he dropped his pants. With shaky fingers, he did not even bother taking off his white jacket. He lifted it up out of the way, so he could get to the zipper and button on his pants. Quickly jerking his pants and boxers down around his ankles, he turned his ass to the mirror hung on his bathroom door. Craning his head over his right shoulder and cocking his hip up, he had a bird's eye view of his right butt cheek. Holy mother of God, there plain as day—a tattoo of Mrs. Santa Claus.

  This was like a bad dream. What the heck was going on here? Candi had a tattoo of Santa Claus on her ass and to make matters even worse, her tattoo had his face on it. Now he had Mrs. Claus on his; no mistaking that one. If anyone was an expert on that subject, he was.

  This was definitely Candi's face portrayed as Mrs. Claus on his ass, too.

  With the snap of his fingers, it hit him. I'll call mom, she will know what is going on here and if she doesn't she will surely get to the bottom of things. She had a mind as sharp as a tack and the magic ran deep in her family; it never extended to him, not that it bothered him any. The only thing magical about him was his Harley and the mental telepathy he had with his parents and that suited him just fine. He was not into all that hocus pocus, anyway.

  Pulling his pants and boxers back up and then fastening them, he walked into his bedroom, took out his cell phone and dialed the North Pole. This was a needed phone call, but not one he looked forward to. “Hello Mom, just the person I need to talk to."

  Mrs. Kringle's voice came through the phone in its usual way, lyrical and comforting. “Well, hello, Son."