by Alison Kent
Except for her secret Santa.
School had hosted an annual Yule ball. It was a festive and much anticipated event, and since Josie had made Christmas her signature holiday, she’d headed up the decorating committee. She’d cooked up a beautiful Victorian Christmas theme, which the board had embraced. For months, she and her team had worked their hearts out plotting and planning the event, had even convinced the city to lend them some Mardi Gras decorations to recreate New Orleans at the turn of the century.
She’d been sixteen and wildly excited about the ball. She’d also been the only one in her circle of acquaintances who hadn’t had a date.
Remembering back to that thoroughly forgettable time, Josie honestly couldn’t blame any of her fellow classmates for not asking her out. She’d been what Nana had called a “late bloomer” and still cringed at pictures from that painful year.
Orthodontia, contact lenses and a capable dermatologist had eventually cleared up the most obvious problems, but the memory of that sad and lonely holiday…
“Why would you be my secret Santa, Max? You sent me a gift every day for the twelve days before Christmas. And they were such thoughtful gifts.”
He stared down at the silver angel. “I saw you in the Quarter on the night of the Yule ball. You were standing on a street corner all dressed up, chatting and smoking cigarettes with a bunch of vagrants.”
Another of her more stellar moments. She’d vowed to go to her ball stag but had copped out when she’d seen the grand hall in the old Jackson building transformed into a glittering world from a bygone era. She’d been the head of the decorating committee, noticeable, and had felt so ugly and pathetic in a room filled with couples dancing the night away.
She’d headed into the Quarter, instead, bought a few packs of cigarettes and made friends with some homeless folks who roamed the streets between Rue de Royale and Rue de Chartres.
“You were there when I came home, Max. You knew I lied to my parents about what a great time I had?”
He nodded.
“But what was Lucas’s problem with you being my secret Santa? That’s the only decent thing that happened to me that Christmas. He should have appreciated how nice you were.”
Max rested the angel against her neck, sat back and met her gaze squarely. “I never told Lucas because I didn’t want him to think I was being stupid. He always thought I was a wimp when it came to you.”
“You were nice. There’s a difference.”
He inclined his head. “Apparently Lucas didn’t think so. When he found out, he went nuts. He was angrier than I’d ever seen him.”
“Angry about what?”
“He told me I’d crossed the line. He made it sound like I was taking advantage of you with some dirty ulterior motive for sending those gifts. I couldn’t believe he’d even think that, when I only wanted to make you feel better.”
Max shrugged, a casual gesture that Josie saw right through. Ten years later, and he still hurt.
“Max—”
“I mean, come on, Josie, you were sixteen and I was nearly out of college. My head definitely wasn’t there, but Lucas wouldn’t believe me. I felt like I’d done something horrible and failed everyone—my grandmother, your parents, everyone who believed in me—and I felt like I needed to prove myself.
“It took me a while, but I’ve finally figured out that I only needed to prove myself to me. It wasn’t about the fight with Lucas or playing your secret Santa. I felt as if I didn’t deserve everything your family had given me through the years, everything my grandmother sacrificed to raise me. But at the time…”
“Oh, Max—” But she suddenly didn’t have any words.
Reaching under the tree, he grabbed the last gift and handed it to her. “It’s all in here. Open it.”
Her heart aching, Josie peeled away the bow and wrapping to find another box of letters. These weren’t yellowed or brittle with age. The envelopes were new, the whole stack wrapped in festive red and green ribbon, with dates written in Max’s bold hand.
She opened the one on the top, dated the night she’d first danced for him. Ma chérie, the letter began…
“It’s in French.”
“French is a romance language.” He smiled. “I told you I was thinking about more than notre nuit pour la fantaisie.”
The words tumbled from his lips as easily as they always had, but she skimmed the page, struggling to understand his fluent French. She recognized just enough to know his letter explained his reaction to her performance after she’d turned out the lights. He wrote of his surprise, his arousal and the way wanting her had made him think about the past.
“I wanted you to understand everything I figured out while I’ve been home, all you’d come to mean to me. I want a chance to explore what we have together, Josie. I don’t want you to say ‘au revoir’ after that incredible night we just spent together.”
That crazy feeling kept on swelling until she could barely breathe.
And Max knew. “So what do you say? Interested in seeing what we can have together?”
Josie loved surprises, and this unexpected Christmas surprise was better than anything she’d ever received. Slipping her arms around him, she held him close. “Yes.”
A simple word because there wasn’t anything else to say.
She’d never considered more than a night with Max because she hadn’t believed one would be possible, and she refused to set herself up to be disappointed. But having the chance to know him again, a chance to explore all this wild arousal and these oh-so right feelings…Lifting her face to his, she kissed him to seal the deal.
His mouth covered hers, a kiss that echoed everything she’d discovered in his arms last night, a kiss that made her want.
But a thought occurred to her, and she broke away.
“You still haven’t told me why Lucas thought you were taking advantage of me. He’s not stupid, so I’m not buying that he thought you were interested in me with any dirty ulterior motive.”
“I wish I’d have been so smart.”
“Really, Max. Think about it. I looked heinous at sixteen. The braces and my horrible skin—”
“You were still you, Josie.”
More simple words, more right words that revealed so much about this man, about how much he cared and always had. He might have left Court du Chaud and lost his way during the years, but he was still Max.
“That was what Lucas called to tell me,” Max explained. “Apparently, he wasn’t worried about me. From what he just told me on the phone, he was worried about your reaction if you found out I’d been sending the gifts.”
Oh, no!
Josie knew what was coming and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She covered her ears for good measure. No good. Max was stronger, and craftier. Grabbing both her hands, he brought them to his lips.
“What I didn’t know when I’d decided to play your secret Santa was that you had a huge crush on me. Lucas thought I knew how you felt. He was afraid that if you found out I was sending the gifts you’d think I was interested and get hurt.”
She opened her eyes and gazed into his smiling eyes. “You weren’t supposed to ever know that.”
“Well, I didn’t have a clue until he just told me on the phone. His apology was my Christmas gift.” He laughed softly, his breath bursting softly against her skin. “Your brother is as sick as ever.”
“Oh, Max. I know it seems silly now. I mean, it’s been so long, and we’ve shared so much these past few weeks. But I’m glad you didn’t know that I moon-pied after you.”
He pulled her into his arms, so she could feel all his hard places, thrill at the promise of the days ahead. “I like that you wanted me then. I like that you want me now.”
“I do, and I can’t wait to read all my love letters. Yours and Nana’s. But I’ll need help translating yours, you know.”
“Looking forward to it.” He ran a finger along her bare shoulder, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re
going to have fun, Josette. I promise.”
She believed him, and when she spotted the white bakery box on the end table, she leaned up to rummage through the cookies until she found the one she wanted.
Unwrap me.
Thank you, Chloe!
Handing him the cookie, she said, “Christmas is getting on here, Max. I think it’s time you opened another gift.”
“Me, too. And it’ll be the best gift of them all.”
Josie sighed. He always said exactly the right thing, and did the right thing. Reaching for her, he unwrapped the blanket with a flourish that rivaled any of her performances.
“Merry Christmas, Max.”
“Merry Christmas, Josie.”
Then his hands came around her, and when he caught her lips in a possessive kiss, Josie knew she’d been right…. Magic was happening around Court du Chaud this Christmas.
Wrapped and Ready
Julie Kenner
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
ANNIE SILVER SMOOTHED the skirt of her super-short elf costume, wondering if perhaps she should have changed before the annual holiday party for the staff of Carrington’s Department Store. Except for two other elves and Santa, everyone else wore typical workday attire.
And although Annie had been perfectly comfortable guiding children to Santa’s lap or working the gift-wrap table, now she felt decidedly out of place.
She was pondering the possibility of sneaking off to raid the women’s casual wear department when Faith flounced over, looking gorgeous as usual in a loose red dress that cinched at the waist. In one easy movement, she handed Annie a fresh glass of wine and leaned in close. “It’s not easy being green,” she whispered, then burst into peals of laughter.
“Thanks.” Annie flashed her friend a wry glance. “You’re making me feel so much better. I’m standing out like a sore thumb, and people are staring.”
“No, Paul’s the sore thumb, since he’s Santa and all in red. You can have a green thumb. Except there aren’t any plants around.”
Annie couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Whatever. They’re staring.”
“So what? You look hot. Green, but hot. And isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I suppose.” As she had every year since high school, she’d signed on as a temporary holiday employee because she absolutely adored everything about the Christmas season. This year, though, she was interested in one particular fringe benefit that came with the job—Brent Carrington. He’d never once noticed Annie. Not through four years of high school, not when she’d worked summers during college in his family’s department store, and certainly never at the annual holiday party. This year, Annie hoped that would change.
Faith downed the last of her wine, then smirked. “Oh, please. Could you be more nonchalant? You’ve been planning this for months. You want him.” She stepped back, her assessing gaze skimming up Annie’s body. “And I’d say tonight you’ve got the goods to get him.”
“I hope you’re right,” Annie said, even as her gaze scanned the guests, hoping for a glimpse of the man in question. Come January, Annie was leaving her hometown of Bishop, Ohio, for the Big Apple. But before she left, she intended to give herself the one thing she’d always wanted but couldn’t have—Brent Carrington.
They may have grown up in the same town, but they had never lived in the same world. That was a simple fact of life. Brent was a Carrington—pronounced with nose in the sky and much pomp and circumstance. Annie’s dad drove a truck and her mom waited tables. Their name might be Silver, but their lifestyle sure wasn’t.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Annie said.
“I can.” Faith squeezed her hand, and Annie gratefully squeezed back, accepting some of her friend’s innate strength. “You played by the rules your whole life and it didn’t get you anywhere. Good little Annie who nobody even noticed. And now you’ve finally grown up and decided to go after what you want. It worked for that job in New York, and it’ll work for Brent Carrington, too.”
Annie pulled in a deep breath, hoping Faith was right. She’d always been the good, quiet student. Straight A’s. Doing exactly what the teacher said. No cutting corners. No taking wild risks. She hadn’t even signed up for a pottery class because she was afraid that the grading was too subjective. And if she got a B—or, heaven forbid, a C—she’d lose her chance at a much-needed scholarship.
But while she might have been an academic success, elsewhere, she was a complete failure. Assertiveness had never been her forte, and she’d spent most of her youth on the sidelines. Mentally, she lifted her chin. Maybe the old Annie did, but not the new Annie. The new Annie had been gutsy enough to fly to New York, knock on doors, and wait in reception areas to get the interviews she wanted—and the ploy had worked.
She only hoped her ploy to get a single, passion-filled night with the one man she’d ever wanted would work as well.
A waiter passed by, and Faith grabbed a stuffed mushroom, then gestured across the room with it before popping it in her mouth. “Tha’s him.”
“What?”
Faith swallowed. “Over there. By Santa’s Village. Brent’s here.”
Annie sucked in a breath, a warm flush enveloping her entire body just from the thought of seeing Brent again. She was almost afraid to turn and actually look at him, for fear she’d melt right into the floor.
“Go on!” Faith gave her a little push on the shoulder.
“I don’t think I can.” At the moment, she was having trouble even forcing words past her lips.
Faith rolled her eyes. “Forget nerves. This is your last chance. Brent’s the only guy I’ve ever known you to be truly hot for. You want this, and you deserve it. A last fling before you fly off into the sunset.” She grinned. “So go get him, girl.”
Faith was right; she did want this. She wanted Brent. “Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
Trying to keep her breathing under control, she turned until she was facing Santa’s Village. She didn’t see him, and battled a wave of fear that he’d turned and left after Faith had spotted him. “Where is—?”
And then there he was. The words caught in her throat, and she closed her mouth. He’d moved to a far wall, secluded from most of the revelers, and was leaning casually against it. As she worked up her courage to approach, she let her gaze skim over him, taking in his lean physique and broad shoulders.
The Carringtons had always been the royalty of Bishop, and Brent’s classic features certainly fit that bill. A perfect jawline, now sporting a five o’clock shadow, and ears she longed to trace with her fingertip. Even his hair was perfect—dark brown and in place, except for one unruly bit that hung on to his forehead, as if telling the world that despite his breeding, Brent Carrington had a wild side, too.
But it was his eyes that had always intrigued her. Deep blue, like the ocean. Eyes that could look into a woman’s heart and tell exactly what she needed. He’d never once turned those eyes on her. Tonight, though, Annie intended to make Brent look at her—and really see her.
Gathering her courage, she approached, hoping against hope that he would at least remember her. She moved closer, imagining that they’d come to the party together, and that he’d signaled for her to return to his side.
Stopping in front of him, she looked up, smiling tentatively. “Hi, Brent.” She’d hoped for a husky, sexy voice, but the words came out in a squeak.
At first, his face registered confusion, and she fought a flash of panic. But then his eyes cleared, and he moved toward her so he was no longer leaning against the wall.
“Annie Silver,” he said, the corner of his perfect mouth pulling up into a smile. “You look fabulous.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she said, mental
ly crossing her fingers. Then, fortified by the several glasses of wine she’d downed over the last two hours, she pressed on. “Because I have a little something in mind for tonight.”
“Oh?” So far, he hadn’t bolted. Score one for her team. “What’s that?”
“An early Christmas present to myself, actually.” She sucked in a deep breath. Now or never, she thought, drawing courage from the hint of interest she saw reflected in his eyes. “What I want in my stocking is you.”
CHAPTER TWO
“EXCUSE ME?” Brent’s body tightened as Annie’s lips curved around the word you. “I’m your present?” That couldn’t be what she meant. Today simply wasn’t his lucky day.
But she was nodding, and damned if his groin wasn’t tightening in response. Which meant that Brent’s day—hell, his entire week—was suddenly looking up.
“You heard me,” she whispered.
He’d heard her, alright. Hell, every fiber in his body had heard her—and reacted accordingly. He just hadn’t believed his ears. But if he’d heard right, Annie Silver actually wanted him in her bed. Considering the sultry expression in her pale gray eyes and the flush on her cheeks, he was sure he’d nailed the situation.
The only question that remained was why? Not that he was stupid enough to put a hold on the situation by asking.
“I…I’m sorry,” she stammered, and he realized he hadn’t answered aloud. “This was stupid. I should go—”
“No.” The word burst from him. Reaching out, he grazed his fingers over her bare arm, delighting in the little moan that escaped her lips. “You can’t say something like that to a man and then leave.”
“Too impolite?” A smile touched her mouth, and he was glad to see she’d relaxed just a bit. Good. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, but if the evening was going to lead where he hoped, he wanted her relaxed.
“We all have to live by the rules of polite society.”
