All He Wants for Christmas

by Lisa Plumley

  Danielle’s gaze turned faraway. “Like it is in the movies. You know, where everybody is tearing off each other’s clothes, and they’re kissing all over the place, and they’re doing it standing up in an alley somewhere, breathing hard and—”

  “Speaking of hard . . .” Jason took her hand. He lowered it to his thigh, wishing he could slide it the few necessary inches to the left that would let Danielle feel for herself how hard he was. He settled for giving her a passionate look. “I am.”

  “See? That’s what I’m talking about!” She waved her free hand for emphasis. “This kind of thing never happens to me! It never has. We’re here drinking grown-up drinks”—she took a swig of hers—we’re out past nine o’clock, you’re flirting with me—”

  “It’s more than flirting.” Amid the noisy bar, Jason nodded toward the exit. “I’m pretty sure I saw an alley back there.”

  Danielle’s gaze widened. She squirmed. “You don’t mean—”

  “That I would take you standing up in an alley? I do.”

  Jason hoped his smoldering gaze adequately conveyed how good an idea that seemed to him just then.

  “We’d freeze to death,” Danielle protested.

  But her eyes sparkled at the idea. Interestedly.

  “It wouldn’t have to take long. Unless you wanted it to.”

  “With you? I always want it to take a long time.”

  “We’d only have to get minimally undressed,” Jason said, feeling himself warming up to the idea. “That means it shouldn’t be too cold. You’re wearing tall boots. I’m wearing a scarf. My coat would be good cover for us both. And your skirt—”

  “Is on top of a pair of tights. They’re like Fort Knox.”

  “Have I mentioned I have a criminal past?” Jason gave her a self-assured look. “I’m capable of breaking in almost anywhere.”

  “Not in here. It’s a spandex no-fly zone.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I don’t like winter so much after all.”

  “See?” Triumphantly, Danielle sipped her minty cocoa. She lifted her eyebrows in an arch look. “I told you it’s not so great here. For every charming piece of Christmas kitsch, there’s an equal and less charming wintertime problem.”

  “Hmm. A compromise then.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as I make you feel good without taking off your clothes.” Demonstrating, Jason lowered his hand to Danielle’s knee. As predicted, he encountered the soft black tights she’d worn with her boots and skirt, but he didn’t let that stop him. Keeping his gaze fixed heatedly on hers, he slowly slid his hand up to her thigh. “All I need are a few more inches, and then—”

  Danielle gasped. She froze in surprise as his fingers slipped under her skirt hem, then toyed with her inner thigh.

  “And then we’re going to get arrested!” Belatedly, she slapped her hand atop his, ending the caress Jason had been enjoying. “I’m here for a date, not a night in jail.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Exhibitionist.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Froufrou drinker.”

  “Hey.” Sternly, Jason regarded her. “It takes a strong man to admit his love of liquid chocolate and whipped cream. At least it doesn’t come with an umbrella and a pineapple slice.”

  Danielle laughed. Camaraderie enveloped them, just the way it always did, whether they were on a snowboarding slope, in a bar, on the ice-skating rink, or at home. Jason . . . loved that.

  “Hey, Jason!” someone called from the other end of the bar.

  He looked up just as Reno Wright strolled over, wearing an amiable look with his arm slung protectively around Rachel, his wife. In Kismet, the two of them were like royalty—Reno with his NFL-star past, and Rachel with her prodigal townie status.

  “And Danielle!” Rachel stepped away from her husband’s embrace long enough to hug Danielle hello. “How are you?”

  They traded chitchat about the holidays, their respective businesses, people they knew in town, and the Wright’s new baby.

  “I probably ought to be trying to drop a few postbaby pounds,” Rachel admitted with a rueful pat to her midsection. “But Reno likes me a little cushier. And I don’t actually mind being curvier. I’m not in L.A. anymore.” She shrugged. “When I was pregnant, I couldn’t get enough of Kristen Miller’s cranberry-mincemeat pie down at the Galaxy Diner. So worth it!”

  “We both put away enough pie to power a small army,” Reno confirmed with a matching pat to his perfectly taut abs. He tossed his wife a love-struck look. “I wanted to be part of everything—pregnancy cravings, delivery, the whole thing.”

  Jason nodded. “That’s the way to do it. All in.”

  He caught Danielle staring at him in apparent awe. Most likely, he knew by now, that was because Mark had been a jerk while she’d been pregnant. If she said anything about her damn ex-husband and his many unrelated-to-Jason faults, he might have to punch something. He wished Danielle would quit painting him with the same brush her ass-clown ex-husband had handed her.

  “That looks like Mark and Crystal over there,” she said.

  Here we go, Jason thought. Being preoccupied with her ex-husband was Danielle’s Kryptonite. He wanted that to end.

  He started by not taking the bait or looking. Then . . .

  “So . . . you two are out having a date night?” Jason asked, deliberately involving Reno and Rachel in his diversion.

  His tactic worked. Reno grinned. “Date night? Sort of.”

  “It’s a retirement party,” Rachel explained, tossing an over-the-shoulder glance toward another table. “Kind of, at least. The factory on the east side of town is closing. I wanted to hire the employees to do some work for my clothing company, but I’m already committed to another supplier. I figured the least I could do was lend the workers some moral support.”

  “I know almost everyone who got laid off,” Reno confirmed with a somber look. “I wanted to help, too, but I turned down a franchise offer last year. I don’t have the cash flow I might have had if I’d taken it. I wish things were different, but The Wright Stuff can only absorb so much of the labor force.”

  “Still, it’s better to stick to your conscience, right?” Rachel looped her arm in her husband’s, giving him a supportive look. “Multicorp isn’t exactly the most ethical company.”

  Danielle nodded. Evidently, she knew all about the franchise offer they were referring to, involving the unethical Multicorp and Reno’s local downtown sporting-goods store.

  Given the disapproving tone of their discussion, though, Jason couldn’t help feeling singled out. After all, he’d been instrumental in opening Moosby’s toy stores across the world.

  “Franchising doesn’t have to be bad,” he pointed out. “It creates jobs and expands markets. Customers like consistency.”

  Reno only shrugged. “That’s what they told me. In the end, I decided it was better to do something small with integrity, than something big with compromises. It would have been lucrative. But thanks to football, I’ve already got all I need.”

  So did Jason. Not thanks to football, but thanks to Moosby’s. He had all he needed. More millions wouldn’t matter.

  He’d made compromises, though. He’d been making them since the day he’d taken Moosby’s public. At the time, the world had applauded his actions. The press had called him “visionary.” Even Mr. Moosby had been thrilled with the company’s growth.

  But that was then. And now . . . Jason shifted uneasily.

  “But that’s me,” Reno said heartily. “I’m a beginner at business. I don’t have your acumen, Jason. You’re legendary.”

  He didn’t feel legendary. Not then.

  “He’s incredible,” Danielle said, stars in her eyes as she looked at Jason. She held his hand. “He’s talented and hard-working and brilliant, and the knack he has with customers—”

  “Is unrivaled except by my knack for buying rounds.” Jason nodded at Reno and Rachel. “Do you think your friends would be offend
ed if I ordered up a couple of rounds for the table?”

  Maybe then, he thought, his conscience would quit squawking. Because it couldn’t have been long ago, Jason knew, that another similar factory—a factory manufacturing More More Moosby’s! exclusive toys—had been similarly shut down elsewhere.

  Then, Jason had been one step removed from that decision. He’d tried to stop that closure. But it had been a single decision in a lifetime of decisions. He hadn’t truly thought about the impact that closure would have on the employees.

  “Offended? In Kismet?” Rachel asked. “At The Big Foot?”

  “Over getting free drinks?” Danielle laughed. The two townie girls exchanged amused glances. “Not likely.”

  So, while Rachel joined Danielle at their table, Jason and Reno went to the bar to order more commiseration drinks.

  “Hey.” At the scratched up, well-loved bar, Reno nudged him. “Sorry to get up on a soapbox back there. I don’t like all the changes in this town. It’s not the way it was when I was a kid growing up here. Or maybe it just sucks being an adult.”

  “It just sucks being an adult.”

  “Well . . .” Reno tossed an adoring look at his wife. “There are compensations for that.” His famous grin—so familiar on ESPN—flashed at Jason. “For you and Danielle, too, it looks like.”

  “Yeah.” Jason couldn’t help grinning back as he peeled off several bills to pay for the rounds and settle his bar tab. “I might not be perfect at work, but I’m kicking ass at home.”

  “Oh.” Reno looked surprised. “I knew you and Danielle were seeing each other. I mean, who doesn’t, right? But I didn’t know you were living together already. You’re pretty serious, huh?” He gave Jason a mock threatening look. “You’d better treat Danielle right, dude. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

  But despite Reno’s warning—and the over-six-foot, former athlete’s muscle he backed it up with—Jason was stuck on . . .

  “What do you mean,” he asked with a chill running up his spine, “who doesn’t know Danielle and I are seeing each other?”

  He hoped Reno meant that Kismet was a small town. That the people there gossiped. Or that Danielle had told Reno the whole story, from the moment they’d met in her office until now.

  Reno stopped tapping his fingers on the bar. He gave Jason a curious look. “Surely you know about it. The Twitter thing?”

  Uh-oh. Jason knew he should have anticipated this.

  He hadn’t. He’d been blissfully being with Danielle.

  “Hashtag sleighride?”Reno specified. “That whole meme with you and Danielle and her kids? The YouTube channel, the Instagram photos, the Vine videos? We do get the Internet out here in the boondocks, you know. When you two walked in here tonight, didn’t you notice the hush that fell over the bar?”

  Jason frowned, remembering it. “I thought that was a reaction to how smoking hot Danielle looks tonight.”

  Reno gave a knowing smile. “Spoken like a man in love.”

  Spoken like a dead man. If Rachel Wright started talking about #sleighride with Danielle, then he was done for. He hadn’t even prepared an excuse, Jason realized belatedly. All this time, he’d been counting on Danielle caring enough about him not to mind that he’d basically allowed her to be sold out on social media for the advancement of his company.

  Put that way, the situation sounded pretty bad.

  “That awestruck silence in the bar was a reaction to knowing that whatever you two did in here tonight, it was going to wind up on TV tomorrow,” Reno explained, giving Jason a puzzled look. “There was probably some primping going on among the bar patrons, too, I’d imagine. You didn’t guess?”

  “Wind up . . . on TV?” This kept getting worse and worse.

  “Some of the infotainment shows are doing daily coverage.”

  Jason swore. How the hell did they keep getting footage?

  “All right. This ends now.” He threw down some money, nodded at the bartender, then headed back to Danielle. “Nice seeing you again, Reno. You too, Rachel. But we’re leaving.”

  “Leaving? Now?” Danielle blinked at him. Then her gaze traveled past his face, down to his chest, lower to his groin . . . and lingered. She smiled. “Yep. We’re leaving now.”

  While gathering her jacket, she said her good-byes to her perplexed-looking friends. At her placid expression, Jason wanted to jump for joy. She didn’t know yet. Rachel hadn’t blurted out anything about #sleighride. He was safe. For now.

  Danielle obviously thought he was gunning for a stand-up quickie in the alley near The Big Foot Bar. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth—especially now that Jason realized that the spy might have followed them there. With a camera.

  But Jason also knew he’d dodged a bullet. If Reno’s off-hand comment about Moosby’s media onslaught had come at another time . . .

  “Danielle?” a man blurted nearby. “Is that you?”

  Halfway through bundling up and preparing to leave the bar, Jason froze. Damn the snow and cold weather. In L.A., he and Danielle would have already made their getaway. But here in Kismet, they were stuck preparing for near arctic conditions.

  “Mark!” Danielle cooed. “And look, it’s Crystal, too!”

  Danielle sounded sort of . . . tipsy, Jason realized. Uh-oh.

  Hastily, he finished helping her on with her jacket. Orange fuzz went up his nostrils and tried to get frisky with his nose hair. In his arms, Danielle teetered on her high-heeled boots.

  “Imagine running into you two here!” Danielle gave her ex and his new wife an expansive, intoxicated grin. “Tonight,” she said, “I’m having fun, too, for a change! Tonight, I’m going out to have an alleyway quickie with Jason. He’s even chivalrous enough,” she boasted loudly, “to make sure the sex won’t take very long! He said the sex hardly has to last any time at all!”

  That was the one detail that had penetrated the fog induced by her liquored-up peppermint hot cocoa? That Jason had promised they could have an extra-quick quickie, if she wanted to?

  “It would take long enough,” he couldn’t resist clarifying in his most macho voice. “Exactly long enough to be satisfying.”

  But that wasn’t the point, Jason knew. And even if he hadn’t known, Mark and Crystal’s identically mystified looks would have brought home that truth to him an instant later.

  If they knew about #sleighride, too, like Reno . . .

  If they mentioned it to Danielle . . .

  “But only if we get started right now, babe.” With a hasty chuckle, Jason put his arm around Danielle. She had, he saw with a glance, finished both her minty hot cocoa and his. That was the likely equivalent of several consecutive shots of liquor. He knew Danielle didn’t drink often. She was a lightweight. “Otherwise, if the temperature keeps dropping, it’ll be too cold out there.”

  “Pfft.” With that blustery exhalation, Danielle pulled out the chair she’d just vacated. She offered it to Crystal. “Don’t be such a baby, Golden State. It’s barely below freezing out.”

  Jason nodded good-bye to Reno and Rachel, who were on their way out of the bar. He looked at Danielle, knowing he had to get her out of there. Quickly. “Let’s go. I’d rather not wait.”

  Victoriously, Danielle poked Mark in the chest. “Did you hear that, Mark? Jason would ‘rather not wait’ to have sex with me! He’s dying for it! It’s going to be like movie sex, too,” she announced to her ex and Crystal, “with lots of kissing and heavy breathing and moaning and acrobatic positions.”

  Openmouthed, Mark and Crystal gawked at Jason.

  “It’s true. I’m strong. She’s flexible.” He shrugged. “Together, the two of us are—” Hang on, idiot. “—still leaving.”

  “Because we’re going to have sexy sex!” Danielle crowed.

  Jason had had no idea she’d felt so unwanted during her marriage. Obviously, she had. Either that or she’d felt really hurt by Mark’s infidelity. Maybe both. Because right now, Danielle clearly wanted
to prove that she was desirable.

  Jason wanted to help her with that. He did.

  Not the least because he loved being with her.

  But he needed to get away. He needed to formulate a plan for dealing with the inevitability of Danielle discovering Moosby’s social media footage. He needed to implement it. Right then, in The Big Foot Bar, Jason realized that the haze he’d been in had to end. It had to end before it was too late.

  “But first, before all the supersexy sex starts,” Danielle said as she grabbed Jason and shoved him onto a wobbly chair between Crystal and Mark, “I think we owe you two a show!”

  Then she hiked up her skirt, flashed the whole bar a self-satisfied, tipsy grin . . . then sat on Jason’s lap and kissed him.

  She’d been right, Danielle realized giddily as her mouth met Jason’s for a second time. This night was fantastic!

  Already she’d escaped from the daily grind with Jason, the sexiest man she’d ever met. She’d gotten dressed up. She’d worn a fancy bra. She’d laughed with her friends, flirted with Jason, and knocked back plenty of yummy peppermint hot cocoa at The Big Foot Bar. The music was playing, the crowd was predictably rowdy, and the moment was right to finally get her payback.

  That’s right. Mark and Crystal were about to get a taste of their own medicine, Danielle vowed as she planted another kiss on Jason. Because she was desirable, even if her own husband hadn’t desired her enough to remain faithful. And she was having fun tonight. She was going to do that with Jason’s help.

  On his lap. With another kiss. Then another. Mmmm . . .

  Finally, Danielle levered away from Jason. Satisfyingly, her ex-husband and his new bride gaped. They looked . . . astounded.

  Happily, Danielle brushed her hair from her eyes. The room was spinning a little, but maybe that was the uneven floor. The Big Foot wasn’t exactly deluxe. Sure, she’d polished off her peppermint hot cocoa and Jason’s too, and she’d quaffed both of those drinks pretty darn quickly, to boot, but that didn’t mean she was drunk or anything. Sure, she didn’t drink often, but . . .

  . . . but wow, Jason felt good beneath her. He felt solid, strong, and wonderful. He’d wrapped his arms around her in a passionate embrace—or maybe, given how unsteady she suddenly felt—in something more akin to a secure fireman’s hold—and he looked so handsome in his coat and scarf and fancy clothes.