Baby It's Cold Outside

by Heidi Rice

  “Merry Christmas, Sam.” Mitch held the present out to him.

  The little boy shook his head. “No, thank you.”

  A child refusing a present from Santa? That hadn’t been in his brief, either. What now? He glanced at the Chief Elf, but she was biting her lip and looking worried. Clearly this hadn’t been something she’d thought to ask about beforehand, either.

  He was just going to have to wing it. As he’d occasionally done in presentations where the account was worth serious money—but this felt much more important.

  “Can I have something else?” Sam asked.

  “I’ll have to see,” Mitch said. “What do you want?”

  He’d half-expected a request for the latest game console, so he was completely floored when Sam said, “I’d like you to bring my sister home for Christmas.”

  Bring my sister home for Christmas.

  A little girl who was in hospice and clearly wasn’t going to be able to go home again, let alone for Christmas.

  This wasn’t his department. No way was he going to be able to give Sam the one thing the child wanted so badly. But he couldn’t take that last bit of hope away. He just didn’t have the heart to trample on the little boy’s dreams. Instead, he said gruffly, “I’ll do my best. I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best.”

  God, how he wished he could make that dream come true.

  And something inside him felt as if it had cracked.

  “In the meantime…” He handed the present to Sam.

  “Thank you.” But the little boy made no move to open his gift. He just went to sit down with all the others, his eyes a little less bright.

  Being Santa really, really sucked, Mitch thought.

  He pulled himself together and took the next present from the sack. “This one’s for Hayley.”

  She came up with a shy smile. “Merry Christmas, Santa. We should’ve left you a cookie and a glass of milk, and a carrot for Rudolph, and I’m sorry we didn’t.”

  Her thoughtfulness surprised him, and built the guilt factor up just a little bit more. He knew he wasn’t that considerate of other people’s feelings. Look at the way he avoided his family.

  “Hey, it’s fine. When you leave me cookies and what have you, it’s when I don’t get a chance to see you because you’re asleep. The rules are different when you see me. You don’t have to give me anything.”

  “Yes, I do.” She gave him a handful of carrot sticks. “I saved them for Rudolph from the party. Will he mind if they’re a different shape?”

  “He won’t mind at all. He’ll love them. I’ll put them in my pocket and he’ll know they’re there. That red nose of his can detect carrots at a hundred yards. Thank you.”

  Then she gave him a Santa cookie. “We all had one. And they’re really special. Just like you.”

  No, Mitch thought, he wasn’t special. He was a fake. And he didn’t dare look over at the Chief Elf, because he knew he’d see that knowledge written all over her face. And that he deserved to see it. “Thank you, Hayley, that’s really kind of you. I’ll enjoy that later when I have to fly off.”

  He’d just given out the last present and was about to make his farewell speech when a little girl came up to him and tugged his hand. He remembered giving her an art pad and pens earlier.

  “Santa, you’ve given everyone a present, but you haven’t gotten one, so I made one for you with the one you gave me.” She handed him a picture of himself with a huge smile on his face.

  It was the first time he’d ever been given a drawing by a child. “Thank you, honey, that’s lovely.”

  He stared at the picture. It shocked him to the core that it actually made him want to fly out west and see his sisters and the kids—to see their faces when they opened their presents, instead of keeping his distance and being too busy to reply to the text messages they sent to his cell phone to thank him.

  Maybe, Mitch thought, he’d gotten Christmas all wrong.

  Maybe Christmas itself was a gift.

  Not that he was going to admit that to the Chief Elf. He was pretty sure she’d have something to say on the subject, and it wouldn’t be in the slightest bit complimentary to him.

  …

  “Ellie, it’s snowing. I mean really snowing,” Janet, one of the helpers, said, her face etched with worry.

  Ellie went over to the window to discover huge, fluffy flakes floating down. It had been years since she’d seen snow like this. It was already starting to settle on the lawn and the trees, and it looked magical. “A real white Christmas,” she said softly. “How perfect.”

  But it would also mean problems for people getting home, unless all the roads had been sanded. There hadn’t been anything on the weather forecast about snow. The forecasters had simply said there might be a little rain, and Ellie had swallowed her disappointment that her first Christmas in America was going to be just like her normal Christmases in England. But now it looked like her dream for a white Christmas would come true after all.

  Janet bit her lip. “I just checked online. Apparently it’s a freak snowstorm.”

  And everyone here at the party except her had a family to get home to, Ellie thought. It wouldn’t matter if it took her ten times as long to get back to her godmother’s house, because she only had herself to think about. But it would make a huge difference to everyone else. “Janet, tell everyone to go home. I’ll clear up.”

  “You can’t possibly do it all on your own.” Janet shook her head. “It’ll take you ages.”

  “It’s fine, really. Go home now, before the snow gets any worse.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…” Janet looked doubtful.

  “I’m sure,” Ellie said with a smile.

  “Thank you. And for all your help today. You’ve really done Betty proud. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Ellie echoed with a smile. Though hers was going to be quiet, rather than merry. Her first Christmas in America. Her first Christmas on her own.

  As parents collected their children one by one from the party, Ellie focused on clearing up. The paper plates all went into a rubbish bag, and she put the remaining nibbles on a tray ready to take through to the nursing staff.

  “What’s next on the list of things to do?” a voice said beside her.

  She looked up to see the stand-in Santa. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “I just changed out of my costume. I didn’t think it would be right for the kids to see the man in red cleaning up. Where’s everyone else?”

  “I sent them home.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it’s started snowing and I didn’t want them to be stuck here when they need to be at home.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She brushed his concern aside with a polite smile.

  “Okay.” He glanced around the room and gestured to the broom propped against the wall. “Do you want me to sweep the floor?”

  Oh. So he’d actually meant it about helping. “Yes, please. Though this isn’t in the job description.”

  “Well, hey, I can’t let Santa’s Chief Elf down, can I?” He actually smiled then—and Ellie discovered that he was breathtaking when he did. He had a mouth that promised sin and made her libido sit up and start begging.

  Which was so inappropriate. They were clearing up from a children’s party. She shouldn’t be thinking about Santa and how attractive he was. For all she knew, he could be married, or at least with someone. Though, she thought, given how wary he’d been with the children at first, she was pretty sure he didn’t have kids of his own.

  No. Nothing was going to happen. She was in America to help her godmother and to get her head together, not to start fantasizing about the first man who’d smiled at her.

  Between them they made short work of clearing up, and he helped her carry the leftover party food to the nursing staff.

  They walked to the entrance of the hospice together, and Ellie stood there, shocked by the dr
ifts of white that confronted them. The last time she’d looked out of the window, huge flakes had been falling, but it had only just been starting to settle. Now, every surface was covered in snow. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d get that much snow in Philadelphia.”

  “It varies. Some winters, you get a sprinkle of snow; others, you get a major snowstorm. Obviously this is a snowstorm year.” Stand-in Santa looked at her. “How are you getting home, Chief Elf?”

  “I’m taking the bus.” Provided she could actually find the bus stop.

  “The bus?” He looked at her as if she had two heads.

  “I have a driving license, but I’m used to a right-hand-drive car, so I haven’t borrowed my godmother’s car,” she explained. “I got a lift here with Sally—she does the deliveries for my godmother.”

  “I’ll check the timetable for you. Which line do you need?” She told him and he checked his cell phone. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems the buses aren’t running. The snow’s brought everything to a stop.”

  She shrugged. “Then it looks as if I’ll have to walk.” It was a pity she didn’t have her Wellingtons with her. She might get a bit cold and wet, and it’d take her a long time to walk back to Betty’s house, but her shoes were flat and had a decent grip, so she probably wouldn’t fall over and hurt herself.

  “Where are you going?”

  She told him the neighborhood.

  He shook his head. “You can’t possibly walk all that way. Look, my car’s just over here. I’ll give you a lift.”

  She could see how thickly the snow was lying in the roads, and there wasn’t a single car actually driving through the streets. He hadn’t been exaggerating about everything coming to a standstill. “Thanks, but I don’t think it’d be a good idea to drive in this.”

  “I’ve driven in worse. You just need to take it sensibly and slowly. Come on, let’s get going before the snow gets any deeper.”

  Ellie thought about it. She didn’t know him from Adam—and he wasn’t the man she’d expected to arrive as Santa. Then again, Santa had been expecting Betty, so she supposed that made them even.

  She wanted to trust him.

  But she was nearly four thousand miles away from home, and the only people she really knew in the city… Well, one of them was stuck in a hospital bed. The others, she’d have to check the employee records back at the bakery to find out where they actually lived.

  As if he guessed her worries, he said softly, “I should’ve introduced myself properly earlier. My name’s Mitch Carter. I work at Holford PR with C.J. Holford—the guy who was supposed to be Santa. You can look me up on the Internet if you want to make sure I’m who I say I am before you get in my car.”

  He sounded plausible enough. And she felt mean for actually checking. But the last time she’d taken someone on trust, it had ended in tears. Hers. So was it so bad to want to play it safe this time?

  He didn’t seem to mind waiting the few seconds while she looked up the firm on her cell phone and checked its website.

  And there was his name, right underneath his picture. Mitch Carter.

  He’d told her the truth.

  She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  He spread his hands. “Don’t be. It’s always sensible to take precautions. Especially in a city you don’t know.”

  “I’m Ellie Brown. Betty’s goddaughter. Well, you knew that bit.”

  They shook hands, and she felt as if she’d been galvanized when his skin touched hers. She hadn’t reacted to someone like that in years, not even to Jeff. It made her want to run, yet it also made her want to stay and find out more about him.

  She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made her feel that flustered. It ought to worry her, yet little flickers of excitement were running down her spine.

  “What’s the address?” he asked.

  She told him. “Look, if it’s out of your way…”

  “It is, a bit,” he admitted. “But I think the real Santa would take a dim view of me leaving his Chief Elf to her own devices. So I’m driving you home. No arguments.”

  She could see that Mitch was used to taking charge. That moment in the hospice when he’d seemed lost and vulnerable clearly wasn’t a common occurrence.

  “Okay. Thank you.” She followed him over to his car. She’d been half-expecting some flashy sports car to go with his designer clothes, but it was a dark gray sedan. A little more serious than she’d expected, though the inside was incredibly comfortable, all plush leather seats and glossy wood paneling.

  “Very posh,” she said with a smile. This was the kind of car she’d never be able to afford.

  He shrugged. “It was a good deal. And it’s good to drive.”

  And that was that line of conversation exhausted, she thought. “Thank you for the lift.”

  “No problem.”

  Chapter Three

  Mitch put Ellie’s address into his GPS and drove off. He couldn’t quite believe he was actually doing this. The atmosphere at the hospice must have affected him more than he thought. He was never deliberately rude to people, but he wouldn’t normally get involved, either. The way he’d grown up had taught him to keep himself separate. So why had he offered to drive a complete stranger home, in some of the worst weather conditions he’d seen in a while?

  He had to admit that Ellie Brown intrigued him. And, given that she was the first woman in a long time who’d made him feel this way, Mitch wanted to work out just what it was about her that drew him.

  He stole a brief glance. Now that she’d taken off her elf hat, he could see that her hair was a mass of red corkscrew curls. He itched to wind one around his finger and see if her hair was as soft as it looked. It was just as well that he was driving with both hands otherwise occupied.

  “So what’s a Brit doing in Philadelphia?” he asked.

  “Helping out. My godmother just had an operation for a hip replacement, so I’m looking after the bakery for her. Well, and obviously stepping in for her at the party today.”

  That surprised him. C.J. had sounded impressed by Betty. So how come she’d had to call in help from a different continent? “And you were the nearest one to help? Four thousand miles away?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “She doesn’t have kids?”

  “Not any more. Robin would’ve been the same age as me, but—well.” She gave an awkward grimace. “He’s why she caters the Christmas party at the hospice every year.”

  He nodded. “So my boss told me. I’m sorry.”

  “I assume your boss is Santa for the same reason?”

  “Yeah. This time of year is rough on him.”

  “Putting flowers on a grave instead of enjoying the holiday season together. It’s the same for Betty. And such a shame that she didn’t have any more children, because she would’ve made such a great mum.”

  There was a wistfulness in Ellie’s tone that made him wonder if she was talking about herself, too. She was, what, nearly thirty? A couple of years younger than him. The age when a lot of women of his acquaintance started to hear their biological clocks ticking.

  Not that it was any of his business.

  Even so, he couldn’t help asking, “So your partner doesn’t mind you being away for Christmas?”

  “No partner.” Her voice was very cool.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Though Mitch knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He found her attractive, from that stunning hair to those soft gray eyes to that cute, sexy British accent. In other circumstances, he might’ve asked her out to dinner—once he’d made it clear that he was offering just for fun and not forever. He didn’t do long-term relationships.

  “Of course you weren’t. It’s natural to be curious. Why would someone travel thousands of miles away from their family at this time of year?” She shrugged. “I love Betty. She’s my godmother and she needed someone to step in and help. Of course I was going to offer.”

  “So you’ve taken
annual leave from your job?” he asked.

  “Not exactly. I’m between jobs right now.”

  So money was probably tight—yet she’d still flown over here from England. And, from the little he knew of Ellie, he was pretty sure that she would’ve insisted on paying her own way. “What did you do in your last job?”

  “I was a pastry chef.”

  He thought about it. “So that means you make the desserts, right?”

  “Yes, and cakes. It’s the best job in the world.”

  The smile her heard in her voice told him that she meant it. So the fact that she was between jobs didn’t make sense. From what he’d seen of her at the party, she was efficient and she wasn’t afraid of hard work, so he couldn’t imagine an employer letting her go. “Why did you quit?”

  “Because the co-owner of my restaurant bought me out.”

  Something clipped in her tone told him that she hadn’t wanted to be bought out. Time to back off. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m being oversensitive. Ignore me. What about you? What do you do?”

  “I work in PR.”

  “Oh, right. Holford PR. You know, when I first saw you I thought you were in media or finance. It’s your suit,” she explained when he raised an eyebrow. “It’s like the ones worn by the kind of people I used to cater for.”

  “You catered functions?” he asked.

  “Sometimes. But, actually, I meant the long business lunches and the red wine.”

  He laughed. “That’s all in the past. Nowadays it’s a sandwich at your desk with a bottle of water, and you’ll be catching up on e-mails as you eat.”

  “So that was your dream when you were a kid? To be a PR man?”

  “Maybe.” Mitch couldn’t remember his dreams as a kid. Other than the need to get away as soon as he could. “Was that your dream—to be a pastry chef?”

  “Yes. I always loved cooking, but especially cakes and desserts. I loved it when Betty came over to stay with us in the summer. She taught me how to make a proper gingerbread house.” Ellie smiled. “I made one for her to take into the hospital with her earlier this week.”

  It didn’t surprise him. He’d already worked out that she was the sort who’d think of others.