by Lisa Plumley
“Yes, it’s almost time to do the fishbowl, buddy,” Jason told Aiden. He loved watching the six-year-old’s face light up in response. “After that . . .” Jason cast an eager glance at Karlie and Zach, getting more into the plan he’d just hatched with every passing minute. “Who wants to go on an amazing Christmastime sleigh ride?”
Chapter Ten
“I hate sleigh rides,” Karlie said with a sniff.
“Yeah,” Zach agreed loyally. “Sleigh rides suck.”
“Language,” Danielle cautioned. Whenever her kids came home from a stay at their dad’s house, they always tested her rules.
“I’ve never been on a sleigh ride,” Aiden said, “and neither have they.” He hooked his thumb toward his siblings in an exaggeratedly world-weary fashion. “I think we should do it.”
Zach and Karlie offered a united groan of protest.
“Come on, guys,” Jason urged. “It’ll be fun!”
Karlie examined her fingernails. Zach squinted in perplexity at the kitchen, as though fascinated by the concept of walls. Noticing their reluctance, Jason looked puzzled. Danielle felt sorry for the way her brood was shutting him out. Given his eager invitation, he must be more keen than she’d thought to experience that sleigh ride. She had promised him one. It didn’t have to mean anything . . . special . . . was going to happen between them.
She wasn’t going to fall in love with him in one day, was she?
“I think we should catch up on some chores today,” Danielle told Karlie and Zach. “I know a few kids whose rooms need cleaning up. This kitchen floor is looking a little dicey, too.”
Just as she’d expected, her kids looked horrified.
“I’d love to go on a sleigh ride!” Karlie said.
“Me too!” Zach added. “I can make my robot later.”
Oh yeah. Jason had set some unwanted chores for Mark and Crystal, too. “Is your Dad still working on that, Zach?”
Her son nodded. “He’s sweating and squinting at the directions. It looked a lot easier on the commercial.”
“What about your video game, Karlie?”
Her daughter made a face. “Crystal is way too into winning that game. She pushed my player off the fashion-show runway!” She pouted. “Thanks to her, I lost four fashion points and a star.”
“Oh.” Danielle hugged them. “I’m sorry, you two.”
They shrugged, clearly not blaming her.
Danielle glanced at Jason. “Are you serious about this? Because I did plan to do a sleigh ride sometime anyway . . .”
Neither of them had to be at Moosby’s today. That’s why she’d been calling Gigi—to make sure the weekly inventory switcheroo would take place with the regional toy store managers in her absence. With that arranged, Danielle had the whole day free to be with Jason. She didn’t think he was suspicious about their newfound freedom (which would handily allow her to carry out her usual subterfuge and maximize her time with Jason on his last day in Kismet). Just in case, she’d told him last night that she was arranging for them to be free of their sales-floor responsibilities in case he had to make another in-person appearance or dazzle everyone with a last-minute photo shoot.
Her own contributions to those photo sessions and the resulting Moosby’s ad initiatives had been minimal. She’d put on her assigned wardrobe—which involved mousy khaki pants, sensible shoes, and a frumpy flowered blouse for that lucrative “mom next door” look—had her hair straightened, and tried to look as amped up as possible while standing next to Jason like a game-show hostess, displaying toys from Moosby’s big-brand partners.
Years ago, Danielle knew, Moosby’s toy selection had been carefully curated. It had been unique. These days, though, most of their stock was composed of the same mega brands that overflowed the shelves at nationwide discount stores. If, as Chip Larsen claimed, Moosby’s was suffering from lagging sales, Danielle thought the solution was obvious: refocus on their More More Moosby’s! exclusives. HQ disagreed—hence, the ad campaign.
So far, the ads had failed to catch fire, though. HQ were diligently pushing them via their social media channels, but Danielle could tell their performance had been a disappointment. On the other hand, what had they expected? Some kind of Old Spice Guy phenomenon? The birth of the new GEICO gecko? Another “Just Do It” mantra? The new ads were so staged and phony that they weren’t at all engaging—no matter how much research HQ’s experts had done or what their focus groups had predicted.
Not that Danielle had been able to bear looking at all of them—not since seeing her own purposefully dowdy image staring back at her from the tear sheets on the very first ad. Ugh.
“Of course I’m serious.” Jason gave her an enthusiastic look. “This could be my last chance to experience snow.”
Danielle relented. Happily. “Okay, kids. Get your hats and coats and gloves and scarves—and Aiden, you need snow pants.”
As Zach, Karlie, and Aiden ran off to collect their winter wear, Jason blanched. “All that gear just to go outside?”
“That’s right, California. It’s December, remember?”
He shuddered. “This is why I’m having Christmas in Antigua.”
“All by yourself?”
“No, with a team of beach bunnies.” He frowned. “A squad? A crew of beach bunnies? A unit? A cadre? A troop? A gang?”
“I think the official term is herd. Herd of beach bunnies.”
Jason grinned. “Actually, I’m going to Antigua with my family—my mom, my dad, my two sisters, and my brother. Every year, we rent a house someplace scenic. I fly everyone out to spend the holidays together. My mom and my brother cook, my dad goes fishing, my sisters catch up on reading. It’s nice.”
“It sounds nice.” Danielle was impressed—and more attracted to him than ever. Family was important to her. She cherished her children and her parents. Even though Jason had been successful, he hadn’t forgotten where he’d come from. He’d remembered his family and shared his wealth with them. “If the media and the Moosby’s board could hear you now, they’d be wildly impressed.”
Jason didn’t look happy that she’d brought up work. “Tell them any of what I just said and I’ll deny everything.”
“Come on. Maybe you should be a little less private,” Danielle urged. She wanted everyone to see that Jason was more than a guy who’d been caught on camera in a racy situation. “It could be an alternative to apologizing.” Or an adjunct. “If you made some of your finer qualities public—in your next interview, for instance—it would endear you to the board and to shoppers.”
He appeared unconvinced. “I don’t want to endear myself to anyone. My private life is no one’s business but my own.”
But Danielle wasn’t ready to give up. “I know you’re hoping that your stellar work on the sales floor at Moosby’s will save the day,” she said, knowing she’d helped him with that, as promised, “but maybe it’s time you did even more. You know, on a personal level.” Like kiss and make up with the Moosby’s board of directors. So I can finally get promoted.
She wasn’t ready to let go of that dream. But she couldn’t deny that Jason’s comment about her not really wanting to leave Kismet bothered her. She didn’t think he was right. Probably.
However, her life wasn’t the issue here. Jason’s was.
Danielle had already taken every chance she’d had to make sure her own work ethic subtly transferred to Jason. She’d e-mailed daily progress reports to HQ detailing Jason’s efforts on the sales floor. She’d allowed the Kismet Comet to return to her store and photograph Jason setting up festive holiday windows (while she lingered nearby lending a sense of diligence to the proceedings). She’d assured Chip Larsen—during his single terse follow-up phone call with her—that she believed Jason should apologize and would do what she could to make that happen.
“I like being on the sales floor,” Jason assured her, oblivious to her behind-the-scenes efforts on his behalf. “I think I’m going to like going on a sleigh ride
even more.”
Danielle relented. “Work hard, play harder?”
Another grin. “Something like that.”
So Gigi was right. Maybe what (to Danielle) looked like indifference to the board’s concerns was merely (to Jason) a different approach. After all, he was a toy store mogul. He hadn’t exactly gotten where he was by being a gloomy Gus.
Well, she could go along with that, Danielle decided.
“You know, I saw what you did just now.” Jason lifted his shoulder in the direction her children had scampered. “Karlie and Zach were blowing me off, big-time. You stepped in with that room-cleaning threat and made my offer to go sleigh riding look like a day out at Disneyland.”
“I had to. You looked as if you might cry.”
“I did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did n—” Jason broke off. Grinned. “Aha. Got me.”
This time, it was her turn to smile. “I had to,” Danielle told him more seriously. “After all you did for me with Mark and Crystal—the way you stepped in without a second’s hesitation—”
“That’s just the way I do things.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” She made a face. “Even if it’s not really your responsibility. Even if it’s immature of me to try to exact a little revenge for all that canoodling. I mean, I’m the mother. I’m supposed to take the high road.”
“Says who? You’re only human. No matter how deliriously happy your ex is, it’s not cool of him to rub it in your face.”
“He’s not doing it on purpose. He’s just happy.”
“He’s an adult,” Jason said firmly. “He can be happy in a less obnoxious and hurtful way. Or I’ll know the reason.”
It was sweet of Jason to be concerned for her. That was one thing Danielle had hoped to find in her marriage—a person who would have her back at all times. A person she could count on.
A person she could trust. To her surprise, Jason was looking more and more like that kind of person every day.
Maybe her instincts about men weren’t irrevocably flawed. Speaking of which . . .
“Hey, Dani?” Mark yelled from the living room. “What’s going on in there? Where’s that coffee, anyway?”
Guiltily, Danielle glanced in her ex’s direction.
Utterly unrepentantly, Jason pulled her back into his arms. He caught her eye, gave her a sexy smile, then arched his brow.
“Showtime,” he murmured conspiratorially, “in three . . . two . . . one . . .”
His mouth met hers just as tromping footsteps reached the kitchen. Dimly, Danielle heard her ex-husband give a mumbled, apologetic grunt. He stomped away, muttering to himself.
Aha. That’s why Jason had decided to kiss her again.
This was another reprisal kiss, Danielle realized belatedly. It was intended to help even the score between her and Mark. But even though she knew that to be true—even though she knew that Jason was probably just pretending to want to kiss her because he liked the challenge or the competitiveness or the raw machismo involved in their ruse—she couldn’t help . . . loving it.
Jason kissed the way he did everything else: with a full dedication to enjoyment. His arms cradled her close to him. His mouth roamed over hers with purpose and pleasure, now nipping her lower lip, now sliding his tongue inside to meet hers, now moaning as he deepened his kiss and made her hungrier, happier . . .
I could really get used to this, Danielle thought as she twined her arms around Jason’s neck, then gave as good as she got. It had been so long since she’d indulged in a real kiss—in real erotic contact of any kind. She felt like a starving woman who’d just stumbled upon a lavish buffet—like a frostbitten outdoor adventurer who’d just happened upon a roaring fire.
Kissing Jason incited every sensual impulse she’d ever had, plus a few new ones. She wanted to kiss him back, to bite his neck, to push her hips against his. So she did. She wanted to drag her hands along his hot bare skin, savor the acres of rippling muscle that covered his back and his torso, thrust her fingers in his hair and muss up all that dark waviness . . . because doing so kept Jason right where he needed to be: against her. So she did. She did almost everything she wanted to. It was great.
Jason was really good at kissing. Breathless and needy, Danielle forgot about Mark, forgot about her impending sleigh ride outing, forgot about making coffee and everything else. In that moment, all that existed were her, Jason, and all the tingly, rapidly overheating parts of them both that made contact as they writhed together against her kitchen counter. With Jason there, Danielle’s commonplace kitchen was transformed into an erotic play zone. Her ordinary PJs became lingerie of the most tempting kind. Her body became something that brought her more and more and more awareness. More and more and more pleasure.
It wasn’t just toothpicks and napkins that Jason could transform with his dexterous hands and his nimble imagination. It was her, Danielle realized as she went on kissing him. In his arms, she felt born again. She felt like a woman who could conquer anything—even the Christmas wars, her challenges at work, her argumentative children, and her own uncertain future.
Speaking of her children . . . Danielle was worried about them. She hadn’t known they’d believed, all this time, that her split with their dad was only temporary. She had to do something about that. She had to help them adjust. But in the meantime . . .
Jason ended their kiss. “What’s wrong?”
Had he really sensed her mind wandering? “Nothing.”
“It was something.” His expression was serious but not foreboding. Intent. Caring. Just as he’d done a while ago, while asking her how she felt about her battles with Crystal, Jason was listening to her. Really listening. “Tell me.”
“Have I ever told you how sexy a man who listens is?”
He smiled. “Listening is no good if you’re not talking.”
Touché. “I’m just worried about my kids.”
“There’s no ‘just’ about that. They’re important.”
She loved that he realized that. “You know, you keep pretending you’re just a goodtime guy. But underneath it all—”
“I’m a naked goodtime guy.”
His sexy grin promised that was true. Danielle didn’t doubt it. She couldn’t help imagining it, either. She dropped her gaze to Jason’s sculpted chest, lowered her attention to his abs, let it wander all the way down to the waistband of his pajama pants.
Hubba hubba. If only she could unwrap him. Looking at him, Danielle felt like someone who’d been given an incredibly longed-for and amazing gift for Christmas . . . then been told she’d have to wait until never to open it. The anticipation was killing her. She’d never get to fulfill all these yearnings.
On the other hand, Jason was leaving Kismet tomorrow. Given that, maybe it was safe to indulge a little?
“Danielle? Do you have a lint roller? Because my pants are absolutely covered in something. Cat hair, maybe? Who has a cat, any—” Crystal burst into the kitchen next. Her gaze swerved to the clinch that Danielle and Jason were currently entangled in. Her eyes widened. Her mouth tightened. “That is not appropriate, you two. What if I’d been one of the kids coming in here?”
Left speechless by the irony, Danielle gawked at Crystal.
Jason let his hand wander to Danielle’s backside. He gave a cheeky squeeze, making her yelp with surprise. She blushed.
“Oh, never mind.” Her onetime nemesis waved. “I can see neither of you gets it. Your behavior does affect other people, though, you know. Yours does, Dani. So does yours, Jackson.”
At Crystal’s sly, semitriumphant look, Jason grinned. If she thought she was going to turn the tables on him, she was mistaken. It was obvious he could see through her machinations.
All at once, so could Danielle. In a flash, she could see that Crystal wasn’t worth getting upset over. Yes, she had Mark now—but Danielle didn’t want him anymore. Yes, she’d won over the kids with new toys and treats—but Danielle had their love wi
thout bribery and cajolery. No wonder Crystal acted the way she did. She’d had to steal Mark’s love and probably wasn’t sure she could do the same with his children. She was scared.
She was also way too dense to stay angry with. Danielle was over it. Just like that. With Jason’s help and his timely intervention earlier, Danielle had had a chance to step outside her own knee-jerk reactions to Crystal and Mark’s antics. She’d had a chance to recognize that she could do better. Whereas before today she’d have tumbled face-first into a pile of iced-and-sprinkled Christmas sugar cookies for some much needed distraction, now Danielle felt absolutely free.
She didn’t need to compete with Crystal.
She didn’t need to be “the nice one.” Not this time.
“Sorry, Crystal. I don’t have time to hang around and discuss this.” Just as Danielle said it, Aiden, Karlie, and Zach returned, duly kitted out in their kid-size cold-weather gear. “I have a Christmastime sleigh ride to enjoy. See you later!”
Then she ushered out her ex and his bride from her house, put on something much warmer than flannel shorts, a cami, and a robe, and got ready to find out exactly how far Jason would go to “play hard,” determined to meet him from one impulsive moment to the next, for as many hours as remained to them.
The sleigh ride, courtesy of the staff at The Christmas House B & B located on Kismet’s lakefront, was amazing. Jason had never experienced anything like it. Even as their packed-full sleigh coursed over snowy hills and through valleys bordered by snow-flocked pines and white-barked birch trees, he couldn’t believe he was there. In an authentic sleigh. With metal sleigh runners whoosh-whooshing and actual jingle bells jingling and a pair of huge shaggy Clydesdales (named Holly and Ivy, no joke) pulling the whole conveyance at a trot. It was like something out of an old-timey greeting card. The people running the B&B, Reid Sullivan and Karina Barrett, had even gotten the rig out of their barn (an actual barn!), shortly after offering everyone peppermint hot cocoa and apple cider doughnuts “for energy.”
