The Santa Sleuth

by Heather MacAllister

  "You think I'm so desperate for a man that I'd take advantage of a child?" She wrenched her wrist away. "I'm not desperate. I don't need a man. And I don't need you."

  She tried to push past him so he'd go away and she could escape into the hotel room.

  He didn't give an inch.

  Amanda refused to, either.

  They stared at each other, breathing heavily, chests rising and falling. Then Kirk grabbed Amanda and pulled her to him, kissing her hard.

  And Amanda, to her utter astonishment, kissed him back.

  In a corner of her mind, she wondered why she was kissing him. In the movies, whenever the hero grabbed the heroine and kissed her during an argument, Amanda had always hoped the heroine would kick the guy in the shins. Of course, the heroine rarely did. She always put up a feeble protest with a few light thumps on the shoulders.

  Amanda tried thumping herself--after a betraying hesitation. She balled her fists and pounded Kirk's leather-clad shoulders ineffectively. Ineffectively, because she couldn't get much leverage. Ineffectively, because she was afraid he'd stop.

  Besides, she'd discovered what those movie heroines must have discovered--that the contact of fists against muscled shoulders just emphasized the hero's masculine strength. And every feminine atom in Amanda's being was currently responding to that masculine strength.

  Kirk, like any classic movie hero, had bent her backward, forcing her to cling to him or lose her balance and fall against the doorknob. And Amanda, just like an outdated celluloid heroine, curled her fingers over Kirk's shoulders, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him for all she was worth.

  During an argument, hearts pounded and emotions were high. Starting a kiss when emotions were already heightened led to an almost immediate explosion. That's what those wimpy but sly heroines had figured out.

  Smart girls, Amanda thought as she and Kirk tried to melt into one another.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Amanda had no idea how long she and Kirk kissed in the hallway outside her hotel room, but it was long enough for her to doubt all her goals and ideas about herself. Ever since the breakup of her marriage, she'd decided to abandon domesticity. Not for her the life of diapers, car pools, PTA and yard-of-the-month.

  She was determined to be a full producer--soon. And then she was going after Kay's job. If Kay hadn't moved on or up, then Amanda was fully prepared to leave Hello Houston. She wanted to remain mobile. Rootless.

  Kirk was an incompatible complication, no matter that his every kiss screamed compatibility.

  "You do care," he whispered.

  "Yes," she murmured. She cared. Deeply.

  "I was too angry to understand." His gaze caressed her face, then he held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I guess I haven't been as good a father as I thought."

  Amanda felt awful. "Virginia adores you. She only wants to be with you more. You're all she's got."

  Kirk held Amanda away until he could look into her eyes. "Maybe that can change."

  His expression had a questioning vulnerability that made Amanda want to fling her arms around him and commit herself wholeheartedly. But she held back. It was too soon.

  "It's getting late," she said, and stood on tiptoe to press her lips briefly against his.

  He gave her an infinitesimal nod. "See you in the morning."

  For hours after Amanda and Kirk had said their good-nights, she lay in her bed and, accompanied by Virginia's even breathing, reexamined the choices she'd made for her life.

  ***

  The self-examination continued the next morning while Amanda helped Virginia get ready. What would it be like to do this every morning? It wasn't so bad. Virginia could dress herself and only needed help positioning the huge Christmas bow in her hair.

  When Amanda caught herself mentally rearranging her own morning schedule, she stopped and took a deep breath.

  What had happened to her? she wondered, but already knew the answer. Virginia and Kirk had happened to her, that was what.

  Down in the lobby, Amanda watched Virginia launch herself at her father with a squeal of delight.

  Kirk hugged her, then leaned over and kissed a surprised Amanda on the cheek. "Good morning." His voice was low and intimate, leaving Amanda in no doubt of his feelings.

  It was her own feelings she doubted. "Good morning," she echoed automatically, her gaze darting to Virginia. What did she think of her father's kiss?

  Virginia's big blue eyes shifted from one adult to the other. And then she smiled.

  They moved to the restaurant and sat, the very picture of a happy family. The scent of Kirk's shaving cream lingered faintly, and the feel of his freshly shaven cheek had triggered memories of familial intimacy.

  "What's that say, Daddy?" Virginia pointed to the words under the illustrations on the children’s menu.

  "I thought you were supposed to be learning how to read," Kirk said.

  "But it's hard and I'm hungry!" Virginia protested, her face beginning to crumple into an ominously familiar expression.

  "Why don't you help her sound out the words?" Amanda suggested.

  Kirk shot her a look, then spread open the menu and pointed to a picture of two eggs and bacon made into a happy face.

  Sighing, Virginia began testing her fledgling reading skills.

  Amanda released the breath she'd been holding. She'd been a bit too heavy-handed.

  Virginia decided on French toast with scrambled eggs, gave her order to the waitress and beamed at her father and Amanda. "I wish we could do this every morning."

  "Eat out?" Kirk asked.

  Virginia shook her head. "Eat with Amanda." She grinned and added slyly, "Wouldn't that be great?"

  Amanda glanced from the gapped-tooth grin to Kirk. He regarded her with a challenging smile. "Yes, it would."

  Thoroughly rattled, Amanda added too much sugar to her coffee and then burnt her tongue.

  ***

  After breakfast, a limousine sent by KDAL arrived to ferry them from mall to mall. No sneak Santa visits, these.

  At the first mall, local radio and television personalities awaited Virginia. Blond elves with big Texas hair whisked her to the head of the line and ignored Amanda's feeble protests about grading the waiting time to see Santa, which Virginia had added to her reports ever since the incident at Buffalo Bayou Mall in Houston.

  She discovered her own Hello Houston crew jockeying for position among Dallas-area television camera crews. Squeezing next to Ron, she asked, "Are you here for the entire day?"

  "No," he shifted the camera on his shoulder. "We've got a noon flight back."

  Shaking her head, Amanda retreated. This whole Santa thing was way over budget, and she hoped she wouldn't be held responsible.

  "What a circus," she grumbled to Kirk as a high school choral group serenaded Virginia while she sat on Santa's lap.

  "No, it's just Christmas," he replied with an amused smile.

  "Same thing."

  A light in the glittery white tree branches near them blinked annoyingly. Kirk idly tapped it with his finger, then pushed the bulb farther into its socket. "What do you have against Christmas?"

  "Nothing," Amanda lied, as she'd been lying to herself for years.

  "Mmm." The little light beamed steadily. Kirk gave a satisfied nod. "Since you won't tell me, I'll take a guess." He tilted his head and studied her.

  Amanda met his eyes, until his perceptive gaze made her look away.

  "Someone hurt you at Christmastime."

  Amanda refused to answer, instead brushing white glitter off her black pants. So he'd made a lucky guess.

  "Am I right?" he pursued with a determination that let her know he wasn't going to quit until he knew everything.

  "Yes," Amanda snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "My marriage broke up, okay?" She turned her head and concentrated on the Christmas-card-like tableau in front of her.

  "I'm sorry," Kirk said quietly. "But you can't blame your
marital troubles on Christmas."

  "If it hadn't been Christmas ..." She didn't finish.

  "You wouldn't have known your marriage was in trouble?" he concluded.

  Stiffly, Amanda nodded.

  "But you would've known eventually."

  Why did he keep prying? But she knew why. After last night's kisses, after he'd told her all about the weird house in Memorial, he wanted to know about her marriage. If only the whole mess weren't so humiliating.

  "I hate to see you deny yourself all the joy of the season--"

  "What are you--Santa's public-relations elf?"

  He didn't get angry the way she thought he would. "You like being cynical, don't you?"

  Amanda couldn't meet his gaze. "No." With her foot she brushed fallen glitter toward the base of the tree.

  "So what was it? A fight over the presents?"

  Amanda squeezed her eyes closed as if she could squeeze out the memories, too. Kirk was so close to the truth she felt sick to her stomach, the same sick she'd felt when she'd discovered Trenton's betrayal. And all the Christmas sights and sounds and smells were bringing back the searing hurt, just as they always did.

  "Amanda? Are you all right? No, you're not," Kirk answered his own question. "Come with me." He took her elbow, but Amanda jerked it away.

  "I'm fine."

  "Nope. Your face is white." Kirk steered her away from the Santa scene and to a nearby bench.

  "I'm fine," she insisted, but sat anyway.

  They faced Santa's house, with Kirk keeping a parental eye on his daughter. Virginia, bathed in bright lights and surrounded by cameras, chatted with Santa.

  "I'm sorry," Kirk said, filling the awkward silence. "I'd assumed that your marriage broke up in the distant past."

  "It did." Sighing, Amanda leaned her head against the back of the bench. "But I can't get over the bitterness. It's been nine years, yet every Christmas, I live it all over again."

  "Are you still in love with him?"

  "Trenton?" She shot him a look of incredulity. "Hardly."

  The grim lines around his mouth eased and he settled back on the bench. "Just wondered."

  "Wonder no more."

  "Does that mean you're going to tell me what happened?"

  Amanda hesitated. "I was trying to avoid it. The whole sordid story makes me look stupid and naive." But maybe telling him would help her avoid her annual bout of self-recrimination.

  "It's possible that after nine years of beating yourself up over whatever happened, your memories are distorted."

  Not those memories. She could remember every thought, every feeling and every lie. "I found a receipt for an expensive ladies' watch, which I naturally assumed was Trenton's Christmas present to me. The amount was so much more than I'd spent on him that I felt guilty and full of love." Amanda spoke in a self-deriding singsong voice.

  "How old were you?" Kirk interrupted.

  Amanda shrugged. "Twenty ... twenty-one."

  "You were young."

  "But old enough to know better."

  "Oh, lighten up on yourself."

  Amanda smiled wryly, realizing he was trying to make her feel better. "I was already working two jobs or I would have taken on another just to buy him a better present."

  "And where was Trenton working?"

  "Trenton was still in law school full-time."

  "Ah."

  Amanda winced. There it was--that knowing expression people got when they thought they could fill in the rest of the story. The horrible thing was, they could. It had happened to student marriages before and would happen again. Amanda had just never thought it would happen to her.

  "Go on," he urged.

  "You know the rest." Amanda took a deep breath and started to stand.

  Kyle put a hand over hers. "Tell me."

  She hadn't wanted to, but his gentle command breached her defenses. She'd never told a single person the entire story all at once.

  Kirk laced his fingers through hers. Amanda felt the warmth and the unspoken support.

  "I ... I bought him a watch, too," she began. "I thought it was terribly romantic and kind of Frank Capra-ish. You know, exhausted wife on the way to work, passing the jewelry store, desperately saving enough for the watch in the window--hoping she could buy it before someone else did." She slid a glance toward him. "Just imagine every sentimental Christmas movie you've ever seen and you'll get the idea."

  Kirk brushed away a flake of plastic snow from her sleeve. "At the risk of adding to your cliché collection, don't be so hard on yourself."

  "I've already got that one in my collection."

  He chuckled. "So, what happened? Didn't he like the watch?"

  "Oh, he loved it. Felt it was just the thing for a lawyer. Had the gall to admire it and thank me ... he put on a good show."

  "And your watch?"

  Amanda swallowed. "All Christmas day I waited, thinking any moment he'd surprise me with my present."

  "Stop." He winced. "I can't stand holiday pathos."

  "I warned you." She was telling her awful story and he was making fun. Unfortunately, it did sound like the plot to a B movie and not the terrible tragedy she'd made it out to be all these years.

  "And how does this tale of woe end?"

  This was the part that usually made Amanda want to bury her head under her pillow. "I thought he'd realized that we couldn't afford such an expensive gift and had taken it back, so I called the jewelry store just before New Year's. They told me he'd picked up the watch and that it'd been engraved. 'Until it's our time,' or something equally corny."

  Kirk's lips quivered. After a shocked moment when she thought he was laughing at her, Amanda started to laugh, too. For the first time the pain wasn't as sharp.

  "Isn't that awful?" Her smile faded. "He'd been having an affair and the watch was for her."

  "Now that's pathos," he said with sympathetic amusement. "But why have you been blaming yourself? It's obvious you were the wronged party."

  "Because, even after I talked with the jeweler, I still didn't figure it out." Amanda gripped the edge of the wooden bench so hard her fingernails marred the wood. "I had no idea he was seeing anyone else. I thought he was studying."

  "You were working two jobs. How could you have known?"

  "If I'd been a better wife--"

  "Amanda, don't."

  The quietly worded command calmed her. Shuddering, she drew in a breath and swallowed, releasing her grip on the bench. "I obsessed over that watch," she continued, in control once again. "We weren't having an anniversary and it wasn't my birthday. I couldn't stand not knowing, so guess what I did?"

  "Tore up your apartment looking for it?"

  "After that."

  Kirk laughed, but shook his head.

  "I broke my perfectly good watch to give him an excuse to present me with the new one." Amanda looked down at the watch she wore now, the one she'd bought for herself. Later. "When he didn't, I confessed I knew all about the watch he'd bought and he'd better give it to me now or I'd think he'd bought it for another woman."

  "And he had." Kirk put his arm around her.

  Grateful, Amanda leaned toward him. "I'll never forget his face--frozen. Waiting. Waiting for me to realize that there was another woman. A fellow law intern. He hadn't wanted to hurt me, he said, so he was going to wait until after graduation to tell me--coincidentally allowing me to support him for six more months." Even now, embarrassment at the thought of how gullible she'd been made her cheeks burn.

  "Amanda, he was a jerk and he used you."

  "But why couldn't I tell he was that kind of person? I was left with nothing. Less than nothing--all the debts were in my name since I was the only one employed." She hugged herself. "He'd paid for that watch with cash advances on my credit card, then I had to make the payments so my credit rating wouldn't go bad."

  "And so you hate Christmas."

  "I have a good reason." She looked away and noticed that the choir had finished caroli
ng Virginia and that the little girl was being interviewed. She still sat on Santa's lap. Amanda nudged Kirk and pointed. Nodding, he indicated that they should return to the Santa scene.

  He was silent as they walked, then said thoughtfully, "You need some different Christmas memories."

  Amanda thought she had all the Christmas memories she could stand.

  "At the risk of sounding preachy, you could help a family down on their luck. You could volunteer at a soup kitchen, visit a hospital, decorate a nursing home. Something to make a difference."

  His words caused a guilty twinge, but she ignored it. "A bunch of colored lights and shiny tinsel isn't going to erase the world's problems."

  "So cynical." He stopped walking and Amanda glanced back at him. "I was right before--you do enjoy being cynical."

  "I do not!" she denied. A woman wearing headphones shushed her.

  "Yes, you do, because then you feel superior to the rest of us." Kirk crossed his arms, a challenge in his smile.

  "Look at this." Her arm panned the area. "People expect miracles at Christmas--do they think they can find them at a mall?"

  "Why not?" His eyes twinkled--actually twinkled.

  Kirk's irrational whimsy angered her. Was he as snowed as the rest of the world?

  "I--"

  "Shh!" The headphone lady pointed to her equipment, then to Santa Claus, who had risen.

  Virginia sat cross-legged before him.

  Santa uncurled a parchment paper. "'Twas the night before Christmas ..."

  Amanda rolled her eyes. Kirk saw her expression, laughed silently and put his arm around her shoulders. "Now be nice," he whispered, leaning close to her ear.

  Oh, it was a wonderful reading, with Santa's stentorian baritone rumbling over them, enthralling the crowd. Was Amanda the only one who recognized the affected accent of a stage actor?

  This Santa was a pro. Literally.

  And, accompanied by applause, he gave Virginia an exquisite doll wearing a red velvet dress, white fur hat and muff.

  They're bribing her. That was cheating, wasn't it? But how could she expect a six-year-old to recognize a bribe?