by Cindy Kirk
Lauren shifted her gaze from Seth to Ivy then back to Seth. Surely Ivy didn’t actually believe in Santa Claus. Lauren’s parents had set her straight at a young age about the jolly bearded man, a figure perpetuated by advertising firms and retailers.
“I want to go to bed now,” Ivy announced. “’Cause if I’m not asleep, Santa won’t stop.”
Seth nodded his approval. “Did Mrs. Swenson help you wash up this evening?”
Ivy nodded. “But I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I can take her,” Lauren volunteered, not sure what helping would involve, but willing to try. After a delicious dinner of prime rib and mac ‘n’ cheese followed by three fast-paced games of Trouble, she was ready to stretch her legs.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.” Seth pushed to his feet, leaned over and lifted Ivy into his arms then whinnied. “Hold on, cowgirl. The horsey is leaving the starting gate.”
Lauren stared in awe as he galloped from the room. She couldn’t imagine her father playing such a game with her. In fact, she couldn’t remember her father ever even hugging her. He had shaken her hand when she’d graduated from college. And again when she’d earned her master’s degree...
She shoved aside the memories and rose to her feet. By the time Seth trotted back to the living room with Ivy, Lauren had finished her eggnog, put away the board game and returned the pillows to the sofa.
Seth smiled at Lauren as he settled Ivy on the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned a moment later with a glass of milk, a plate of graham crackers and a container filled with assorted Christmas cookies. After removing the Tupperware lid, Seth carefully placed the container on Ivy’s lap then held out the plate.
Lauren stared with interest at the array of cookies. She couldn’t believe they were going to eat more after the big dinner and popcorn they’d already consumed. “They look delicious but I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“These aren’t for us.” Ivy’s fingers tightened around the lip of the container, as if fearful Lauren was going to snatch them away and gobble them down. “These are for Santa.”
Ivy selected three of the most brightly colored sugar ones and carefully placed them on the Christmas plate.
“He gets milk, too.” Seth positioned the plate next to the glass on the table.
“We put out extra for the reindeer,” Ivy added.
“Yep.” Seth nodded, his lips quirking upward. “They have a lot of flying to do. They need to keep their energy up.”
Lauren’s smile froze on her face.
“Time for bed, kiddo.” Seth scooped Ivy into his arms. Though the plastic cast had a rocker ball so she could walk without putting pressure on the fractured leg, Seth had told Lauren that the doctor preferred Ivy keep her weight off it for at least the next couple of days. ‘Tell Miss Lauren good-night.”
Seth stepped closer and the exuberant seven-year- old surprised Lauren by flinging an arm around her neck and planting a big kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for coming and eating and playing Trouble with me.”
Lauren gently smoothed a strand of hair back from the child’s brow. With her blond curls tousled around her face, Ivy looked like a little angel. “Merry Christmas, Ivy.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Ivy called to Lauren as her father carried her from the room.
Since her injury, the child had been sleeping in the master bedroom on the main floor, while Seth had moved to the guest room. When he’d shown Lauren the bedrooms, he’d made it clear that if she did agree to move in, the guest room would be hers and he’d sleep in Ivy’s canopy bed.
The thought of the rugged cowboy in the tiny twin bed with its frilly pink-and-white bedspread brought a smile to Lauren’s lips. As if her musings had conjured him up, Lauren heard the click of cowboy boots on hardwood. She turned to find Seth in the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face. “Surely she’s not already asleep?”
“She’s pretending to be.” Seth’s grin had her breath catching in her throat. “She wants Santa to show up and knows he won’t come until she’s asleep.”
The comment pulled her attention from his mouth. Though she told herself it didn’t matter if his daughter believed in mythological figures and he indulged such thinking, the strange tension gripping her said somehow it did matter.
“Isn’t Ivy a little old to believe in Santa?” While it may have been a question, her tone made her feelings on the matter quite clear. Yet Lauren didn’t stop there. She gestured to the plate of treats and the glass of milk. “Practices such as these just fuel the illusion.”
The words hung in the air for a long moment. Lauren thought about calling them back. Though she’d meant what she’d said, she could have been more diplomatic.
To her surprise Seth didn’t seem to take offense. In fact, by the twitch of his lips, you’d have thought she’d said something amusing. He reached over and grabbed two cookies from the plate, handing one to her and keeping the other for himself. “These practices are about embracing the magic of the season.”
An illogical argument if she’d ever heard one, but charmingly delivered. Lauren took a bite of cookie and chewed for a moment “Ivy’s a smart little girl. She can’t really believe in elves and reindeer and Santa Claus.”
“She seems to,” Seth admitted, without a hint of embarrassment. “As long as she does, I’m going to be supportive.”
“Supportive? Of a lie?” Lauren wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. Her training had taught her the importance of every word uttered. These outbursts weren’t like her. But something about the whole Santa lie felt... personal.
Seth’s brows pulled together and for a second he looked as if he might argue the point. Instead he shut his mouth and studied her for a long moment. “You never got to believe in Santa.”
Instead of comforting her as perhaps he’d intended, the observation stirred up a hornet’s nest of memories. Restless, she moved to the front window and, for several seconds, gazed out at the thick blanket of snow.
“My parents called him a bogus, fantasy figure.” Lauren whirled back to face him. “A myth that contributed to the commercialization of Christmas.”
“Did you ever go to a store and sit on his knee?” Seth asked, ignoring the outburst. “Whisper in his ear what you really wanted for Christmas?”
“Since he wasn’t real, what would have been the point? Besides, it wouldn’t have mattered.” Lauren sighed. “My parents didn’t believe in giving gifts for Christmas. Still don’t.”
“Not at all?”
Lauren shook her head. ‘To them Christmas is simply another federal holiday.”
Seth hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and appeared to ponder her words. It took a moment before he spoke. “If you could have sat on Santa’s knee and asked him for a gift when you were Ivy’s age, what would it have been?”
Lauren shifted her gaze, remembering back. “There was only one thing I ever wanted for Christmas. That year I gathered my courage and approached my mother. I told her there was something I really, really wanted. I promised if she’d buy it for me I wouldn’t ask for another gift ever."
“What did she say?”
“She asked what it was. When I told her...she laughed.” Lauren pressed her lips together, the long- ago hurt returning, squeezing her chest. She took a steadying breath. “Still, I went to bed that Christmas Eve hopeful. In the back of my little-girl mind, I thought this could be her chance, a way to show that she loved me. Crazy, huh?”
“Not crazy.” Seth’s soft tone wrapped around her heart. “Did she buy it for you?”
Not trusting her voice, Lauren shook her head.
“What had you asked for?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Lauren shifted her gaze away from those eyes that seemed to see too much. “It was silly.”
Most men would have gratefully changed the subject. Most would never have pursued the topic. She was beginning to realize Seth wasn’t most men. So Lauren wasn’t
really surprised when he took her hand and tugged her to the sofa, dropping down to sit beside her. “Tell me.”
His tone invited confidences. His eyes promised no matter what she said, he wouldn’t laugh.
“An American Girl doll.” Lauren felt her cheeks warm. She lifted her chin. “They were extremely popular when I was in grade school. My friend Wendy had seven of them. You probably don’t know what they are—”
“Felicity Merriman.”
“What?”
“Felicity was Anna’s American Girl doll. She got her when she was about Ivy’s age.” A tiny smile lifted Seth’s lips. “She took Felicity everywhere she went. I remember one time...”
A dimple she never knew he possessed flashed in his left cheek.
“What?” Lauren touched his arm, the flannel of his shirt soft against her fingers. She immediately released her hold and let her hand drop to her side, but her heart still fluttered.
“We were at the rodeo. Anna was about to be crowned Little Miss Yellowstone County. When my parents went down to the arena to take pictures, they left Felicity with me.” The dimple flashed again. “Just what every boy wants—to be at a public event with a doll by his side.”
Lauren resisted the urge to smile at his pained expression. “I’m sure no one even noticed.”
“No one except every friend I had, including Josh and Mitch.” Seth rolled his eyes. “You can imagine the comments. Then Wes Danker came up with the brilliant idea of throwing Felicity over the top rail into a pile of manure. The guys were all for it.”
Lauren gasped. “Did you let him?”
“I couldn’t.” Seth shook his head. “Anna would have been heartbroken. Not to mention mad as hell.”
Something told Lauren it wasn’t Anna’s anger that had made him protect Felicity Merriman as much as it was the knowledge of what the doll meant to his little sister. She wondered what it’d be like to have someone care about her that much. A lump formed in her throat but she swallowed past it. “You’re a good person, Seth Anderssen.”
“Naw, just watchin’ out for my own hide.” Seth stretched and covered a yawn. “Sorry. Ivy’s leg was bothering her and I hardly slept last night.”
“We can call it an evening anytime you want.” Lauren kept her tone light, not wanting him to see her disappointment. This had been the best Christmas Eve she could remember and she was reluctant to see it end. “I brought a book to read—”
“I’m not talking about going to bed right now.” Seth’s eyes widened. “I was just thinking it’s time to start putting the presents under the tree.”
Lauren shifted her gaze to the eight-foot Douglas fir that sat in front of the window. New and old ornaments intermingled on the thick bushy branches. Bubble lights had replaced traditional lighting. A unique tin- punched silver star that Seth had admitted making in middle school topped the tree.
Lauren had been so awed by the massive tree and its decorations that she hadn’t noticed the lack of presents beneath its branches.
“I’ll be happy to help.” She glanced around. “Where are the gifts?”
“Hidden in one of the upstairs closets.” Seth gestured with his head toward the stairs. “You don’t need to do a thing. I’ll change and bring them down.”
“Change?”
“Into the Santa suit.” Though they were the only two in the room, Seth’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I always wear it when putting the presents under the tree.”
Lauren paused. “This year is diff—”
“Not different.” A tiny muscle in Seth’s jaw jumped.
Lauren wasn’t about to argue. Only a few days ago Seth had faced the possibility of losing his daughter. Keeping to tradition was probably his way of reassuring himself that all was still well in his world.
“You might want to turn down the thermostat before you put on the suit.” Her lips quirked upward. “Wouldn’t want Santa to get a heatstroke.”
“It is a little warm in here,” Seth admitted.
An understatement if she’d ever heard one. Lauren chuckled. “Ya think?”
“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” A swath of color cut across Seth’s cheeks. “Guess I went a little overboard.”
“Only by about a gazillion degrees.” Lauren kept her tone light, ignoring the trickle of sweat slithering down her spine.
Seth rose and crossed the room to the thermostat. Almost immediately, the hot air that had been billowing out of the duct near the sofa stopped. “Better?”
“Much.”
He smiled and started for the stairs, then stopped and turned back. “Can I get you anything before I go upstairs? More eggnog? Ice water? Glass of tea?”
“I’m fine.” Lauren realized she was more than fine. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so content. “I’ll put on Christmas music. Set the stage for a visit from St. Nick.”
“You’re being awfully accommodating to the bogus, fantasy figure who contributes to the commercialization of Christmas,” Seth teased.
Something about the way he spoke the words made Lauren grin. “Chalk it up to capturing some of that Anderssen Christmas spirit you’ve been dishing out in great abundance tonight.”
“Good to hear.” Seth smiled and her heart skipped a beat. “Back in five.”
Lauren found herself humming as she searched the iPad for Christmas hits. She finally settled on a playlist featuring original artists performing their classic Christmas hits. Once the music started, Lauren turned down the volume before returning to her seat on the sofa.
Though the furnace had stopped pumping hot air, the temperature in the room was still in the sweltering range. Lauren considered her options. She could continue to suffer in silence or she could make a small wardrobe adjustment.
In a matter of seconds, her bulky sweater was up and over her head, leaving her cool and comfortable in the skimpy black tank she’d worn underneath.
With her body temperature now under control, Lauren leaned her head back against the top of the sofa, closed her eyes and let the strains of “White Christmas” wash over her.
She’d intended to relax and enjoy the music. But when she opened her eyes to the faint jingle of bells and saw all the brightly wrapped gifts at the base of the tree, she realized she must have fallen asleep.
Lauren shifted in her seat and found Seth—er, Santa—drinking the glass of milk Ivy had set out for him. “Appears circling the world in a sleigh is thirsty business.”
“It is indeed.” Seth’s fake white beard moved up and down as he spoke in his deep Santa voice. “Delivering presents is very hard work.”
Lauren studied him for a moment, then rose to her feet and strolled close. There was something about the suit that intrigued her. Perhaps it was the white fur trim on the coat. Or maybe the shiny black belt. Or the red hat with the pom-pom at the tip.
All she knew was she couldn’t take her eyes off him—er, the suit. She resisted the urge to stroke the red velour and see if it really was as soft as it appeared. Because touching the fabric would mean touching Seth...
“Are there any lumps of coal for me under that tree?” Lauren asked abruptly.
“Not a single lump,” he assured her, adding a very convincing “Ho-ho-ho.”
“I have it on good authority that Lauren Van Meveren has been a very good girl this year.”
“I’m not sure your information is entirely accurate.” Lauren inhaled the intoxicating scent of his cologne and took a step closer. She’d never been attracted to overweight, white-haired, bearded men before, but for some reason she found this one incredibly sexy.
It appeared Santa wasn’t immune to her charms. His gaze dropped to her shirt and she felt the tips of her breasts tighten.
As his gaze lingered, raw want coursed through her, igniting a need that shook her with its intensity. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d craved a man’s hands on her this badly.
The desire flickering in his suddenly dark eyes to
ld her Santa was having some naughty thoughts of his own. The realization gave her the courage she needed to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’ve always wanted to kiss a man with a beard.”
Seth stiffened and for a second she worried she’d misread the signals. Then, without warning, his mouth closed over hers. His hands splayed against her back and he pulled her as close as his overstuffed belly would permit.
Waves of desire washed over Lauren and she gave in to the moment, until an excited voice cut through the passionate fog.
“Daddy, Daddy, come quick!” Ivy called from the doorway. “Santa is kissing Miss Lauren!”
Chapter Four
Seth wrenched himself out of Lauren’s arms and raced for the stairs, his stuffed belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught a glimpse of Ivy’s face. Mouth open. Eyes wide.
Four steps up was all it took for Seth to lasso in his rioting emotions. Running wasn’t the answer. There was a child—his child—to consider. He rested a white- gloved hand on the rail, turned and let loose his best “Ho-ho-ho!” before continuing heartily, “Ivy Sue Anderssen, Santa hopes you like your gifts. You’ve been a very good girl this year.”
Warmth rushed through him at the look of pleasure that flushed his daughter’s face.
“I have been good, Santa.” Ivy’s words tumbled out one after the other. “My daddy says I’m the best girl ever.”
Not sure how to respond, Seth gave another, “Ho- ho-ho!”
He realized he should have thought of something better when Ivy’s eyes darted around the room. “Where is Daddy?”
“He went upstairs.” Lauren’s voice was calm and serene.
If the kiss had affected her, it certainly didn’t show. Seth wasn’t sure why the thought brought a surge of disappointment.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Ivy bellowed, her tone reverberating with excitement. “Come see who’s here!”
Lauren’s gaze met his, her green eyes piercing.
Go. Go. Go.
Across the distance, the unspoken words slapped Seth in the face, rousing him to action.
