I'm Your Santa

by Castell, Dianne

  “You traveling by yourself?” Doc asked.

  “He has a motorcycle,” Bailey quickly told him.

  “His ankle’s sprained, not his tongue.” He looked at Trey. “You won’t be riding it for a while. You got a place to stay for about a week or so?”

  “He can stay with me.” When both men looked at her, she felt the heat climb up her face. How did she manage to find herself in these situations?

  “In the guesthouse,” she clarified, then looked at Trey. “It’s not much. Just one room and a small bathroom. It’s behind my house but you’re welcome to stay until your foot is better.”

  “Thanks,” Trey told her, looking surprised she’d even offer.

  It was the least she could do to make up for the fact she’d caused his accident. Besides, he was a preacher. What could possibly happen?

  Three

  He could remember the phony name. Hell, he even thought of himself as Trey, but as he looked around the one room guesthouse, then at Bailey…well, it was difficult remembering he was Trey the preacher.

  “Is there anything you need?” she asked after lighting the gas heater.

  “Yeah, a drink.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Of water,” he lied, then reached up and rubbed his throat with a grimace. “Throat’s parched. I guess from the pain pill the doctor gave me.”

  No, this wasn’t as easy as when he told someone he was a preacher then roared out of town on his bike. Now he had to actually act the part.

  Okay, how hard could it be? This is what he got paid to do.

  Bailey went to the cabinet and reached up. When she stretched, her shirt rode up in the back a few inches showing pale, smooth skin. She filled the glass half-full and brought it to him. There was just a little bit of natural sway in her hips.

  Maybe not so easy.

  “Here you go,” she said as she handed him the glass.

  He dutifully took a drink. Vodka, it wasn’t. Hell, he’d bet it wasn’t even filtered.

  “I can’t believe I’m letting you stand around leaning on a pair of crutches,” she said. “There are clean sheets in the closet. I’m just sorry the place is so small.”

  He inhaled the clean fragrance of soap and herbal shampoo as she wiggled around him. He wasn’t at all sorry. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  She grabbed sheets and began to make the bed. All that twisting and turning…damn, talk about dying a slow death. He was beginning to think this part just wasn’t worth it. She bent at the waist, her sweet ass sticking up in the air and twisting left then right as she tucked in the corners.

  “That should do it,” she said as she pulled back the sheet, then straightened and glanced his way.

  She bit her bottom lip, looking anxious. He didn’t know what her problem was but he knew his. The only thing on his mind was pulling her into his arms and kissing her luscious lips. How much torture could one man be expected to take?

  “You don’t look at all well.” She shook her head. “You’re pale and sweaty. You’d better lie down. Heaven help us if you pass out.” Her teeth tugged at her lip again. “That wasn’t like…irreverent or anything was it? I didn’t mean anything when I said heaven help us. It was just…”

  He touched her arm, wanting to reassure her, but got lost in the warmth and softness of her skin. What it would be like to kiss her. He didn’t think she’d resist. He could see the need in her eyes.

  Most of his roles on screen had been acting the part of the playboy. He had all the moves down pat. He knew what to say, what to do so a woman was all too willing to crawl between his sheets.

  But that wasn’t the part he was playing now.

  He drew in a deep breath and let go of her arm as he crossed the small space, propped the crutches against the wall and sat on the side of the bed.

  “God knows exactly what you meant…my child.”

  “Oh…uh…good. I’ll let you rest while I take care of a few things at the house.” She left the guesthouse in a hurry.

  He stretched out on the bed. Ending with “my child” had been a good touch. It sounded very godly. He grinned until he turned and bumped his injured foot.

  “Crap! Shit! Damn…” He quickly glanced out the window beside the bed, breathing a sigh of relief. Bailey was just closing the backdoor. Okay, so he needed to work a little more on this character.

  He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and speed dialed Monty. His agent picked up on the second ring.

  “I thought you were going to check in yesterday?”

  “Hello to you, too. Don’t tell me you care.”

  “Of course I care. I get fifteen percent of everything you make.”

  Trey grinned. He knew better. Monty had been with him almost from the beginning, encouraging him, chewing his butt when he screwed up, picking him up when he fell, being more of a father than his own had ever been. Yeah, he knew better.

  “You coming in tonight?”

  “Not exactly. I’ve had an accident…”

  “Son of a bitch! I told you that motorcycle was a bad idea…”

  “It wasn’t that kind of an accident. I missed a step and twisted my ankle. I’m in Two Creeks, Texas.”

  “Do you want me to send a limo? I’m sure there’s a company in the closest big town. They could probably have you at an airport in a few hours.”

  He looked toward Bailey’s house and could see her moving around inside. Something bothered him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He wanted to find out what it was.

  “No, I think I’m going to stay here a few days. It’ll give me a chance to see if I can handle the role of preacher for longer than a few hours.”

  “What’s the name of the hotel?”

  He paused. “I’m staying in a guesthouse.”

  “Female?”

  He frowned. His agent should give him a little credit. “It’s not like that.”

  Monty chuckled. “If you can pull this off without taking her to bed then you’ll be able to play the part, but I’m not going to place any bets.”

  “I’ll do it. I’ve never let a woman get in the way when it comes to my acting and I’m not about to start. This is business.”

  “Call me if you change your mind and want me to send a car.”

  “Yeah.” He closed his phone and laid it on the bedside table. Monty had no confidence in him. On this, he was wrong. There was nothing in life that he wanted more than this role.

  He closed his eyes as the pain pill the doctor had given him, and days of getting less sleep than he was used to, began to take their toll. He was so friggin’ tired, but as sleep began to envelop him in her embrace it was another’s arms going around him that filled his mind.

  Bailey grabbed the ringing phone. “Yes,” she said breathlessly.

  “What’s going on? I heard you brought some man home with you. Is he there now? Why do you sound out of breath?” Wade asked.

  Her brother. She should’ve known. She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Nothing. I did. No. Because I couldn’t find the phone.”

  “Huh?”

  She chuckled. Bailey loved her brother but he really had to remember she was a grown woman. He also believed the cliché that a fourth grade school teacher couldn’t possibly have any sexual drive let alone a fantasy or two.

  Just mentioning her name and sex in the same sentence always gave him the shakes. She sighed. If he only knew, but she didn’t want to cause him to have a heart attack so she kept silent.

  “Did you or didn’t you?”

  “What? Bring a man home? Yes, I did.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “He’s a preacher.”

  Silence.

  “Catholic?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s not okay. Kick him out.”

  “I will not.”

  “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  “Is that a threat?” Her frown deepened. “I’ll have you know Mom and Dad trus
t me, which is a hell of a lot more than you do. I’m over twenty-one in case you haven’t noticed, and if I wanted to sleep with someone, I would.” She drew in a deep breath. “And what makes you so pure as the driven snow? Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t sleep with Fallon before you were married. The twins’ birthdays don’t lie.”

  “That’s different…”

  “Are you badgering your little sister again?” Fallon’s voice could be heard in the background.

  “She has a man staying at her house,” Wade said.

  “The guesthouse,” Bailey clarified.

  “Give me the phone,” Fallon said. “Hey, Bailey, you finally gettin’ a little action?”

  Bailey could hear Wade choking.

  “Go check on the girls,” Fallon told him. “All clear,” she said into the phone after a few seconds. “Can you even imagine what he’ll be like when the girls reach their teens?”

  Bailey laughed. “No.”

  She really liked her sister-in-law. She was an undercover CIA operative until Wade stole her heart. They’d needed each other.

  “Give me the scoop on this guy.”

  Bailey quickly filled in the details, even the part about her winking and causing the accident.

  “Is he cute?” Fallon asked.

  “Cute doesn’t even begin to describe him.” She squeezed her arms around her middle. Boy did it not describe him! “He looks like Jeremy Hunter except for the color of his eyes and his hair is darker. Oh, and he has a scar down the side of his face but it only makes him look dangerous. And he rode up on a bad ass Harley and he was wearing black leather. How damned sexy is that?” Her pulse sped up remembering his arrival at the burger place.

  “What does he think about you?”

  She sighed. “Probably nothing. He’s a preacher. It really should be a sin that a man of God could cause such impure thoughts.”

  “Is he breathing?”

  Her brow creased, wondering exactly what Fallon was getting at. “God, I hope so since he’s in my guesthouse.”

  “He’s a man, he’s breathing, then believe me, he’s had a few thoughts about you.”

  She looked toward the guesthouse. Had he thought about her? Interesting. But the man was still a preacher. He wouldn’t…did preachers really think about…of course they would, but Trey probably didn’t think about hot sweaty down and dirty sex like she’d been thinking about hot sweaty down and dirty sex since she first laid eyes on him. His thoughts were probably pure. Chaste kisses, sex after marriage, lights off and all that. She sighed. What a waste.

  “Wade is yelling,” Fallon said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’d better check to make sure the girls are okay. Talk to you later. Oh, and don’t forget practice tomorrow. Bring your preacher. It is a Christmas play, after all. He can make sure we get it right. Lord knows I’m not much on accuracy and all that. Gotta run.”

  “Bye.” But Fallon had already hung up. Bailey replaced the phone but didn’t move as she stared out the window. Her body tingled just thinking about Trey and what it would feel like to have him pull her close. She was so bad for even thinking like that.

  She just had to keep repeating to herself that the man probably never thought about sex. A man of God would be more interested in bible stuff. Oh, but if he wasn’t a preacher…

  Chicken soup. That’s what she should think about. Her mother’s cure all. Not that she thought it would heal his ankle, but taking him a bowl of soup and a sandwich would be a good excuse to see him again.

  Besides, she needed to get his keys so Kathy’s brother could bring Trey’s Harley over and park it at the house. She didn’t like the thought of leaving it at the burger shop all night.

  Maybe it would give her a chance to discover just how far a preacher would go.

  She closed her eyes and thought about Trey pulling her into his arms, holding her close, his lips pressed against hers. She could feel the heat of his body, his hands caressing her.

  No, no, no. She couldn’t seduce the preacher. It was almost Christmas and she needed to be good. Though, seducing him might just be worth giving up a few presents.

  Four

  Trey opened his eyes and yawned. He must’ve dozed. There was a tapping on the door. Ah, that’s what woke him. He blinked several times as he tried to clear the fog from his brain.

  What was he doing in a strange bed? He moved and bumped his foot, gritting his teeth when pain shot up his leg. His memory immediately returned. Oh, yeah, he was a preacher and he’d sprained his ankle.

  Ahh, but the dream he’d been having was anything but spiritual. He glanced down. And it showed. He dragged the blanket over his nakedness, bunching it up so that nothing of importance showed, then grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head before calling out, “Come in.”

  The door opened and Bailey came inside, balancing a tray that contained a bowl of what looked like broth with floaties, a glass of milk—milk? ugh—and crackers. She carefully set everything down on a small table, then smiled at him.

  Ah, that smile. Fresh, innocent…

  “I thought you might be getting hungry.”

  He snapped back to the present. Dinner? It hadn’t been that long since lunch. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d been asleep four hours. Wow, that was some pain pill. His stomach growled to let him know exactly how long it’d been since the burger.

  “I guess I slept for a while,” he said.

  “That’s okay. You needed to rest.” She went to the closet and brought out a TV tray, setting it up beside the bed, then moved the tray over. “It’s not much. Chicken soup and crackers. I was going to make you a sandwich but I didn’t have any bread.”

  He didn’t even want to think about Bailey and getting bred. He had to keep telling himself she was a fourth grade school teacher. Fourth grade school teachers didn’t think about sex. At least, he was pretty sure they didn’t.

  He glanced at the bowl of yellow liquid. Noodles, those were the floaties. Five-star restaurant it wasn’t, but he didn’t tell her that. “It looks good.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Chicken soup? A nice juicy steak sounded a lot better.

  She waited.

  Okay, he’d take a few bites. He tugged the cover around him and moved slowly until he was sitting on the side of the bed. He reached for the spoon but at the last second remembered the part he was playing and closed his eyes.

  “Thank you Lord for this meal I’m about to eat, and bless the wonderful woman who prepared it.”

  He peeked and saw that Bailey had her eyes closed, head lowered, and her hands clasped respectively in front of her. Playing a preacher was a piece of cake.

  “Amen.”

  “Amen,” she murmured. Her eyes widened. “Oh, I almost forgot. Kathy’s brother will bring your Harley to the house if you don’t mind him driving it. He’s very responsible and has a motorcycle of his own—although it’s not a Harley.”

  His Harley! He loved his bike. No one drove it. He wasn’t about to let some country hick…

  She waited patiently.

  He drew in a deep breath. “How very kind. I’ll say a prayer for her brother.”

  She smiled. “I’ll just need your keys.”

  “They’re in my pants pocket.”

  “Oh, you don’t have your pants on? Of course you don’t.” Her laugh was more like a choking cough. “I don’t know what I could’ve been thinking. I mean, you’d want to be as comfortable as possible.”

  Flustered, she was something else. Innocent, sweet…crap, she was probably still a virgin and he’d embarrassed the hell out of her.

  “I tossed them on the end of the bed. They must’ve fallen to the floor.”

  She nodded and went to retrieve them. Once she had them, she reached inside the pocket and brought out the keys…and a condom.

  Damn!

  Her mouth dropped open. She looked at the condom, then at him, then back at the condom. When she looked at him again, her eyes had narrowed.


  Think! He wasn’t ready to blow this role. He drew in a deep breath.

  “The poor,” he said. The poor? Crap, that was about the lamest thing he could’ve said.

  “The poor?” Her expression changed from suspicion to confusion.

  “I go to many places in my travels. Very under-privileged areas. I try to tell them about safe…sex.”

  Her face fairly glowed. “That’s so wonderful.” She replaced the condom and kept the keys. “I’ll just get these over to Kathy’s brother. Is there anything you need?”

  “Only my Bible. I feel lost without it.” He devoutly lowered his gaze.

  “Of course.”

  She scooted out of the guesthouse. He watched through the small window as she hurried back to her house. That had been close. Had she really bought his story about giving condoms to the poor? He smiled. Pure as the driven snow.

  Ah, hell, she was a virgin. Fourth-grade teacher, small-hick town. It all added up. The thought should’ve had him running as far away as he could but for some strange reason, it didn’t.

  He frowned. Then again, what was she? Twenty-eight or nine? Nah, no way could she be a virgin. Could she? Even if she wasn’t, he’d swear she hadn’t been with that many men.

  He thought about how innocent and sweet she looked—and sexy. Definitely hot. He ran a hand through his hair. The doctor said at least a week or so before he’d be able to shift gears with his foot. Could he really stay celibate that long? That would be a first in many, many years.

  He drew in a deep breath. Yeah, he could, because if he could fool her, then he could play the role of a preacher.

  The evening air did nothing to cool Bailey’s body heat as she hurried across the backyard to her house. She’d almost lost it when Trey said his pants must’ve fallen off the end of the bed. Her heart pounded just thinking about him practically naked beneath the covers. Boy, had it pounded.

  She envisioned him tossing back the covers, inviting her into his bed…

  Bad thoughts! Bad!