Chapter 8 #2
“I’m sorry, she got away from me before I could stop her.” A pretty woman with shoulder-length hair the exact shade of Lissa’s hurried over. “She’s just been beside herself since she heard Santa was missing.”
Lissa planted her hands on Mary’s cheeks and forced her to look straight at her. “Is Santa gone? Will he miss Christmas?”
“Oh, baby, yes, Santa’s gone right now. But he’ll be back in time for Christmas.
Don’t you worry. He’ll be back.” Mary was proud of herself.
She hugged the little girl and handed her back to her mother before a single tear could slip down her cheeks.
She made it all the way over to a booth on the opposite end of the diner before the first one fell.
Nick yanked a napkin from the shiny metal napkin holder and handed it to her. “Do all the kids in North Pole believe in Santa?”
She looked at him over the napkin. “Of course. All the children love my father. He’s an icon for the community.” She dabbed at her drying tears, then flapped the napkin. “Children from all over the world visit here and he takes time with every one of them to listen to their wishes.”
“I bet it makes for great sales.” Nick’s flat tone said it all.
Mary’s hand slammed down on the table in front of him. “It’s not all about the sales.” She glared across the table at Nick. “You don’t get Christmas at all, do you?”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming with the coffee.” Betty Reedy hurried across the floor, her plump face flushed.
“I’m sorry, Betty. I was just explaining to Mr. St. Claire that my father being gone means more than a drop in revenue.”
Betty’s eyes widened at Nick. “Is that what you think?”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? Massive amounts of sales to make up for the rest of a dismal year in the retail world?”
“My poor Mr. St. Claire, you must have had a very sad childhood if you’ve never believed in Santa.
” She set two mugs on the table, her tongue tsking the entire time.
“Santa is more than just making a sale. He brings hope, love and happiness for many children and adults. I’ve heard that Mrs. Attebury’s Sunday school class is writing prayer requests to bring him home safely.
The children all over Alaska will be sorely disappointed if he doesn’t get back in time to participate with the National Guard in Operation Santa. ”
“Operation Santa?” Nick shook his head.
“Yes, Operation Santa.” Mary sat forward.
“Fifty years ago, the Alaskan National Guard started a program called Operation Santa to take the joy of Christmas and Santa out to the remote villages. Many of those children would never have seen Santa or received gifts without it. And my father spends time and his own money on each of those children.”
“Charity.” Nick snorted. “Charity only makes the giver feel good about himself.”
“Says who?” Mary and Betty both spoke at once.
“It’s not important. Forget I said anything.” He lifted the menu blocking Mary’s view of his face.
Betty huffed and opened her mouth to say something more, but a customer called out her name. With a wrinkled nose and a flounce in her step, she left to help.
Mary reached out and plucked the menu from Nick’s hands. “Apparently it is important if you think charity is all about the giver. You obviously haven’t seen the faces of all those children when they see Santa for the first time.”
The oaf sat back against the vinyl cushion, his fingers tapping on the table. “Probably scares them half to death.”
“Wow, someone must have put coal in your stocking when you were a kid to make you so down on Christmas.” Mary stared at Nick, realization dawning and a huge lump of remorse choking her throat like a dry sock.
For a long moment, she fought off a rise of tears before she could steady her voice enough to ask, “You didn’t have happy Christmases, did you? ”
Nick scowled. “Look, whether or not I hate Christmas has nothing to do with your father’s disappearance. Can we just stick to the case?”
“Yes, of course.” Obviously, he was very touchy about his childhood and hated sympathy more than Christmas.
“Do you still have that newspaper you picked up at Moose Lodge?” Nick asked.
His words didn’t sink in at first. All Mary could do was stare at Nick, seeing a sad, dark-haired little boy looking through a store window at all the Christmas decorations, knowing he wouldn’t be included.
His frown deepened. “The newspaper?”
“Oh, yeah.” She fumbled in her jacket for the crumpled paper and spread it out on the table between them. If she didn’t get back on task, she’d find more reasons to fall for the interloper who pretended not to care.
On the front page a smiling senator waved from the door of an airplane, the caption reading California Senator Seeks Alaskan Vote.
“Gordon Thomas. He’s a highly decorated war veteran. In the running for the presidential race,” Nick stated.
“What could Gordon Thomas have to do with my father’s disappearance?”
“All I can do is to speculate at this point. Frank Richards was a war veteran as well. But then so were a lot of men their age.”
The roar of snowmobile engines outside the window made Mary and Nick look up at the same time. The frost on the outside of the windows plus the condensation on the inside blocked their view. They rose from their seats to get a better look.
Two snowmobiles raced down the street, one man wearing a navy-blue snowsuit, the other dressed all in white.
Nick reached the door before Mary. When he jerked it open, Chris Moss fell into the diner.
“Thanks, but I could have gotten it myself.” He grinned at Mary and Nick.
Nick brushed past him and ran outside coatless.
Mary followed.
The two snowmobiles disappeared around a corner in a veil of heavy snow.
By the time Nick and Mary got their coats on and followed, the riders would be long gone.
Nick muttered a curse beneath his breath.
Cold sliced through the sweatshirt and turtleneck Mary wore, driving her back inside.
“For a moment I thought the diner was on fire. What gives?” Chris slipped out of his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door.
“Any idea who those two men were on the snowmobiles that just passed by?” Mary asked.
“Looked like Silas Grentch and that man he’s been showing around town, Nelson Barney or Bailey or something. Not the best weather for a tour, if you ask me. But a great day to be off work.”
“Did Jasmine close the store early?” Mary asked.
“Not early...all day.” Chris grimaced. “I didn’t need a day off. I could use the money to make my truck payment.”
“All day?” Her father only closed the store on Monday and during really bad weather. But the weather hadn’t been bad all day. “Is she ill?”
“No, she said she had business in Fairbanks, something about hiring a private investigator because the police couldn’t find snow in a snowdrift. She didn’t want to be bothered opening. I told her I’d be happy to hold down the fort, but she didn’t take me up on it.” Chris shrugged.
Mary stared out at the raging blizzard. “She’ll be stuck in Fairbanks until this storm passes and the roads are clear.”
Chris bit down on his lip. “Think I should open on my own tomorrow? Your dad would have let me.”
“You better let Jasmine call the shots. It’s her store in Dad’s absence. She’s the wife, I’m just the daughter.” Jasmine had made that pretty clear from the time her father brought her home after their surprise elopement.
Chris nodded. “Yeah.”
“Where are you headed now?” Mary asked.
“I needed to talk to Miss Betty.” He looked away. Too quickly.
Chris’s parents had ditched him, headed for the lower forty-eight, leaving him without food or money in the trailer they’d rented. He’d taken to stealing from the local grocery store to survive until Santa had caught him in the act of stuffing a package of hot dogs in his jacket.
Mary could tell when Chris was hiding something. Normally when she asked him questions, he looked at her with an open, curious expression. Now he dodged her gaze and ducked around her and Nick. “Gotta go. See ya later.”
Mary moved to follow him, but a hand on her arm held her back.
Nick leaned close, the scent of his aftershave filling Mary’s senses. “If Jasmine’s stuck in Fairbanks for the night, it’s our chance to try that key.”
A thrill of excitement flashed through her, heating her skin. “I know where my father kept a spare key to get in.”
“I have a few things I want to check on back in my room. Then we can head over to Christmas Towne. You still have the key your father left under your pillow, don’t you?”
Fear lodged in her throat. They’d been through hell in the tumble down the hillside.
Mary shoved her hand in her pocket. When her fingers scraped against contoured edges of metal, she breathed a sigh.
“Yeah. I also want to call Ed about the snowmobile and let him know we want to keep it a little longer.”
“Are you going to tell him it’s been wrecked?” The edges of Nick’s lips twitched, his eyes shining.
The look had her face flushing with heat.
“No, no. I think I can wait that bit of news.” Darn, she was letting his deep brown eyes and wicked grin get to her.
She walked back to the table, gathered her winter coat and gloves and handed Nick’s to him.
“Let’s go.” The sooner they were in their own rooms, the better off she would be. By herself, back in control.
She almost volunteered to walk back to the B and B rather than tempt herself all over by sliding her legs around Nick on the snowmobile.
Granted there were several layers of clothes between them but having him that close only made her weak in the knees and lose track of her main goals: to find her father and never fall for a guy with more secrets than she could shake a stick at.
Nick St. Claire wasn’t just any guy passing through. Every inch of him was lean, defined muscles down to the ripples across his abdomen. What girl wouldn’t be attracted?
The man was good eye candy. She found movie stars attractive and she didn’t get all jelly-legged over them. What was it about Nick?
Maybe it was his innate toughness, his ability to take charge of a situation.
Or the way he protected her from harm. No, she was avoiding the real reason.
The kiss. She’d never before been kissed the way Nick had kissed her today.
He had tapped into every one of her female fantasies and erogenous zones in the two long, sexy slides of his lips against hers.
Nick made short work of slipping into his coat and gloves. “Ready?”
Boy was she.
Mary jerked out of her lust-induced stupor and slung her jacket over her shoulders, shoving her hands into the sleeves while ducking to hide her burning face. “Yeah.” No, she wasn’t ready for another dose of the super sexy secret agent, but what choice did she have?
Outside the full force of the icy wind stung Mary’s cheeks, chilling them in a second. Good. Cool was good. Maybe she could make it back to the B and B without succumbing to Nick’s killer magnetism.
The two blocks passed in a flash, but her hands were already freezing by the time she climbed off the snowmobile. A hot shower would help to thaw her.
Nick entered the B and B first to check for any bad guys lurking in the corners. At her room, he took her key from her and unlocked the door, checking the room before she entered. “Knock when you’re ready to go to Christmas Towne. Dress warm. We’ll be walking.” Then he shut the door in her face.
Mary stood staring at the wood paneling long after the door closed. He’d been in a hurry to get rid of her. A flush of anger warmed her insides. Granted, she’d wanted to leave his company as soon as possible, but she had a good excuse—she was committing the ultimate folly and falling for the guy.
Still, he’d ditched her like last year’s old tennis shoes. That stung. Apparently, the kiss hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her.
Hmmph!
Mary turned and faced the empty room, dragging her jacket from her shoulders and her sweatshirt over her head.
The shower wasn’t calling to her as loudly as it had a moment before.
All she wanted was to see Nick again and give him a piece of her mind.
But she couldn’t. What would she say? “Hey, Nick, that kiss didn’t mean anything to me either!
” And by so saying, she’d be admitting that she’d been thinking about it and that it had meant more to her than she wanted him to know.
With each passing second, the urgency to march across the hall and say something to the man built inside her like a surging volcano, but she had nothing to say. Knock on his door when she was ready. She was ready now. But not for another walk in the snow. More likely, a romp in the sheets.
Knock on the door? When? What time? Mary spun and raced through her door, her body primed for another close encounter of the Nick kind, the kisses of earlier that day fresh on her mind.
She knocked and waited. The sound of someone shuffling about inside made her heartbeat quicken. Maybe she’d catch him half undressed. Fire burned in her belly and spread lower.
Finally, the door opened.
A beautiful dark-haired female smiled at her. “Can I help you?”
Nick lay on the bed behind her, his chest bare, his jeans unbuttoned, a frown marring his handsome, two-timing face.