Desparately Seeking Santa Read online

  “Don’t you like being here with me, Mandy?”

  “That isn’t even a question I’m prepared to answer, Tate Sullivan.”

  “Too scared?”

  Her lips pursed and she turned her back on him and willed her nerves to halt their turbulent rampage in her belly. She prayed for some semblance of calm, not an easy quest when the man she had loved so deeply all those years ago stood right in front of her. The man she dumped at the altar on Christmas Day.

  Chapter Three

  Scared? Of Tate? No she wasn’t scared of him. Just herself. Of her reactions. But she sure as heck wasn’t going to let him know that.

  “No, I’m not scared,” she said, the lie slipping so very easily off her tongue. Just shows how desperate you are, Brooks. “We simply can’t stay here, that’s all.”

  “You’ve changed.”

  Mandy stilled and eyed him. “It’s been five years. A long time. People change.”

  “You used to be sweet, not so hard edged, fun.”

  “Fun?” Almost a squawk, the word slipped past her lips. A sudden weariness enveloped her and she exhaled a drawn out sigh. “That was the problem.” Easy. Biddable. Scared.

  Too much like mama!

  “I didn’t see it as problem. I wanted to care for you. We were to be married, Mandy, except you didn’t deem it important to tell me you’d changed your mind.”

  She had wanted to. Tried to. Her fingers twisted together in front of her, but as Tate’s gaze dropped to her hands she quickly hid them behind her, desperate to halt the tangle of nerves imitating Mt Versuvius in her gut. “Don’t, Tate. Please, don’t rehash things.”

  “Why not, or don’t I deserve an explanation?”

  “Now? You want me to explain now? It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Correction. It’s gone midnight,” he reminded her, tapping a long tapered finger to the glass on his watch.

  Mandy’s eyes bulged. A Bulgari watch. Mentally, she scanned the pricing sheets she had upstairs in her office. Lists of all the stock Wentworth’s held. They were an up market chain whose clientele customarily had money and lots of it. Mandy had made it a point to recognize quality.

  And that was her problem. At times she felt a fraud, as if she didn’t fit in and someone would ‘out’ her, screaming there goes the girl from the wrong side of town and turf her out on the pavement on her derriere.

  She had been scared. Scared of failure, scared of being subjugated like her mother. Oh she had loved Tate. Loved him with all her heart. But it hadn’t been enough, and she had run, instead of standing up for herself.

  Wrong! You did stand up. And have been for the last five years.

  “We were too young for marriage, Tate. It wouldn't have worked. Too different. You were ensconced in the family firm. I couldn’t compete with that.”

  “I never asked you to.”

  “No,” she said.

  But your mother did.

  Sullivan Brothers had been big. Started by his grandfather during the Second World War, shipping mechanical parts in such desperate need, the family had made big money, then as they diversified into retail as the boom years began post-war, big money became even bigger.

  “Tate,” she said, suddenly too tired to rehash all this. She’d made her decision five long years ago. “I’m tired, please don’t bring all this up. Besides, we’ve got to get out of here. I know the security pin numbers, but I haven’t got the keys for the security grilles.”

  Tate chuckled, holding up a single silver key. It glinted beneath the flickering Christmas snowflake lights. Mandy’s eyes widened. “You’ve got the key? How come?”

  “Bob gave it to me.”

  “You? But you’re...”

  “Santa. Sorry, it’s such a disappointment.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t, but then your eyes are very expressive. I could always read your eyes, Mandy.”

  Heat rippled along her spine. “You could?”

  “Sure. Just like your body, I could tell when you were hot for me, when you lay satiated in my arms your body relaxed against mine, our hearts would beat in unison. Your eyes said it all then, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. How she had loved him saying that.

  “Enough!” She had to get out of here. “That’s very poetic, Tate. It seems you’ve changed too.”

  “Yeah, I’m full of surprises. Don’t you want to know where I’ve been all these years?”

  “No.” No she didn’t. She didn’t want to know anything, or dredge it all up. “Look, it’s late.”

  “But it’s Christmas, no work.”

  Mandy didn’t correct him, besides she knew he referred to the present, while she referred to the past. Their past. It was too late to dredge it up again. It was over...and out. “Give me the key, let’s get out of here.”

  But he didn’t give it to her, simply held it in his hand. His hot, broad hand that she remembered. Long tapered fingers that...

  Stop! Stop that right now!

  Shoving past him, she made towards the front of the department store. All her senses were on high alert, but she kept looking straight ahead, though very much aware Tate followed right behind. Then he started to whistle. She stalled, hand on the door. “Do you have to do that?”

  “Why not? It’s Christmas.” And he grinned. Oh, how she wished he wouldn’t do that. It was a smile she remembered well. Tate Sullivan stood out. Walk into a room and the room stopped revolving. It wasn’t as if he did it on purpose. He wore an aura that drew the proverbial bees to honey. Women! They loved Tate.

  But he had been hers. And she had given him up.

  He stood beneath the muted store lighting and her gaze slid over him. Top to bottom. She couldn’t help herself. Tate Sullivan hadn’t changed. His hair still hung in tight black curls that seemingly had a mind of their own, his eyes almost as dark as the bittersweet chocolate she ate late into her lonely Saturday nights.

  Even now Tate’s eyes had the power to look into her soul, discover her thoughts before she had the chance to voice them. She used to not mind it. Now, it tugged at a part of her she preferred to keep hidden. She didn’t want him seeing inside, didn’t want him to discover anything about her life these last years.

  Work had in fact consumed that life as she battled her way up the business ladder. She was nearly to the top, promotion as store manager within her reach.

  “You want to leave?” Tate said, dragging her back to what she really should be thinking about.

  “Of course. Let’s go.” Before he could utter another word, she snatched the key from his grip and stabbed it at the lock and twisted it viciously. The door unlocked with a single click and she swung it open.

  A blast of icy air slammed into her the moment she stepped outside. Then she saw it.

  Snow! Lots of it. A swirling whiteout falling in an incessant wave. Within seconds snowdrops draped across her head and shoulders. She lifted her head to the sky, a curiously pearly white which looked rather ominous.

  “If you stand there long enough I’ll have to start singing.”

  She spun round, aware instantly of the slick pavement beneath her feet.

  “Snowflakes on your nose and eyelashes,” Tate informed her.

  She couldn’t hold back her smile. “Have you been watching the Sound of Music, Tate?”

  “Amazing what a guy does when he’s alone.”

  Mandy’s breath stalled in her quickly freezing lungs. She looked at him. “Alone? You? I don’t think so. You’re the epitome of a babe magnet.”

  “Really?” he questioned, puffing his chest out in pure he-man style.

  Despite herself, she chuckled. “Don’t go getting all inflated ego on me, it won’t work.”

  “It used to.”

  “A long time ago,” she said in a whispery voice.

  “Shame. But listen,” he said as he stamped his feet, hugging his arms across his chest. “This is freezing, so how about we go back inside.”

>   He had to be joking. “Sorry, no can do. I’ve got a date with...” she realized the moment she said it her cheeks stained scarlet with the admission of another tainted truth.

  “I think your boyfriend is going to be disappointed. Look.” Tate pointed to the end of the wide thoroughfare that spanned the CBD of Oakville. “Don’t think either of us are going anywhere fast.”

  Mandy followed his instructions and for the first time really took in the thick fall of their snowy world. Snow littered the full length of the street. Not simply settling on the ground and melting, but had banked up at least three feet deep and blocked any hope of her driving anywhere. Visibility had become virtually zero.

  “We’ll have to stay,” he informed her succinctly.

  “I can’t.” What she meant if she were truthful, was that she wasn’t sure she could trust herself.

  “You also can’t drive in this weather. It’s a whiteout. Nothing will get in until at least mid-morning. Remember, it’s Christmas and the road workers want Christmas morning with their families too.”

  “As if I could forget,” she grumbled.

  “Doesn’t sound like it’s your favorite day.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Yeah well, I try not to,” he responded.

  With his reply, guilt weighed down heavily on her shoulders and for the first time Mandy realized she hadn’t thought about how their meeting might be affecting Tate. Nobody likes to get dumped on their wedding day, and Christmas time definitely made it no better.

  “So what are you suggesting?”

  “I’ve already tried the authorities. The snow plough guys have said they’ll be out about 11.30; at least that’s when the forecasters figure the snowfall will ease up. Come on, Mandy, let’s get inside. It won’t be so bad.”

  “You reckon?”

  “Yeah, like old times sake.”

  She hoped not. Her nerves shot into overdrive and the flutter of butterflies in her stomach lurched into a frantic tango. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold out. Seeing Tate brought it all rolling back. The good, and the bad. But mostly the very, very good.

  She stole a glance up the street again. The power was still on, at least, but any chance of making a quick exit, impossible. Her head tilted back, eyes to the heavens. If she could see them, that is. Nothing but a blanket of cloud. White, tinged with almost pink, combined with the constant heavy fall of snow.

  “There you go, just like I said. On your nose and...” Tate’s fingers brushed across her cheek. “And eyelashes,” he said.

  Mandy jerked backwards. He touched her. Touched. Skin, burning hot, caressing against her icy cheek. She turned scarlet, not from the cold, but from her out of control reaction to one simple touch.

  Simple! My oath. There was nothing simple about it. Nothing at all. It was...

  Over!

  “Come on, unless you want to freeze to death.” And with Tate Sullivan spun away from her and stalked back inside Wentworth’s Department Store, where quality made your dreams come true.

  Hah! Not likely. Grateful she’d grabbed her jacket before heading outside, she pulled it closed and trod across the slush and back into the store. She refused to look at Tate, scared what she might read in those dark eyes of his.

  Or to let him see what was in hers.

  The door closed behind her and the sound of the lock falling into place echoed a thousand-fold in the silent store.

  “So what’s next?”

  “We bunk down,” Tate stated blandly.

  “Bunk...as in sleep?” she questioned.

  “Why not? We already have for part of the night.”

  “Yes but that was different, we were stuck.”

  “Still are,” he said stating the obvious .

  Mandy gritted her teeth. “Do you have to sound so...so darn happy about it.”

  “Sorry, but it isn’t every night I get stranded with a beautiful lady.”

  It wasn’t? She couldn’t hold back her surprise. Why not? Tate Sullivan could have his fill of any beautiful woman he liked. Beautiful! He thinks I’m beautiful.

  Whoa, baby. Don’t go thinking those kinda thoughts. Mandy’s lashes slammed down and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “Damn, damn, damn you, Tate Sullivan.”

  “Many have tried,” he offered with a hearty chuckle. The throaty sound wrapped itself around her, cloying and choking off her oxygen.

  Fight it.

  Fight what?

  Everything. Him.

  “Besides, isn’t the sleigh comfortable? I mean, it’s made for two,” he winked suggestively.

  Heat stole up her neck, scalding her cheeks and firing darned near everything else in her body. The awareness stakes upped their quotient.

  “I’m not going to sleep there again, it’s...not right.”

  “You reckon? Sure was right an hour ago. Cozy.”

  And far too tempting.

  “Forget it.” Sideswiping Tate, she made a beeline through Cosmetics, turned right at Jewelry and then came to an abrupt halt. Tate stood at her side, and she stood slap dang in the middle of Lingerie.

  Dear Lord why here?

  Fingers flicking a scanty bit of fluff a.k.a. a thong, his brows arched. “Do women really where this stuff?”

  She couldn’t help herself. “Don’t you know, Tate?” She wagged a finger at him. “And here I was thinking you were a man of the world.” With a toss of her head, she let her gaze slide down his length and back up, then spun away and walked right past the sexiest lingerie on the planet, allowing her hands to trail through the silks and satins, caressing the lace.

  Big mistake! It reminded her of his touch. Smooth as silk, and definitely a heady aphrodisiac.

  But if she thought she had got the better of him, she was quickly put in her place as his throaty chuckle followed her through the store to the grotto. Head spinning, and her body on fire, she arrived back at Santa’s grotto.

  “I’m man enough for this world,” he answered as he came up beside her, “but I prefer my women to hint at what’s underneath, not declare it to the world for all to see.”

  Oh Lordy. Mandy’s body jettisoned from heat right up to major lustful thoughts she couldn’t slam back down. If that wasn’t a hint at her over the top costume, what was? She glanced down at the red satin number. Definitely more sleaze than chic, which considering Wentworth’s market was the high-end market, sleaze didn’t really fit.

  “Who the hell chose this outfit?” she complained as she tugged at the high-rise hem. Cursing beneath her breath, she stomped past the sleigh and grabbed a couple of blankets she’d spied from a homewares display and dropped them to the floor.

  Using boxes for cushions she huddled beneath the blankets. She flicked Tate a withering glare, but the man wasn’t even remotely interested; already deposited soundly in his bed.

  Sleep, she decided, would definitely not come easily.

  Easy? It had nothing to do with the lack of comfort and everything to do with the man no more than three feet away who lay decidedly comfortable in a sleigh built for two.

  “You know, sweetheart, it’s actually kinda sexy,” Tate announced from his bed. “Your dress that is,” he added.

  She went to speak, but didn’t utter a word. Sexy? A tiny smile curved at the corners of her mouth. Sexy had a nice ring to it.

  Why weren’t floors comfortable?

  Mandy ached in all the wrong places. Actually, she ached everywhere. She turned for the umpteenth time, tugging at the blankets, only to have it bare her stockinged feet and be rewarded by a freezing blast of air.

  “I should never have agreed to this,” she grumbled yanking the blankets back in place. “I could be home. I could be comfortable,” she snapped as the blanket bared another part of her anatomy the moment she lay back to her rock hard bed.

  “You could come and share mine.”

  “Yeah, right. When hell freezes over.”

  “That could be soon the way the weather’s going on outsid
e,” Tate said in that ridiculously knowledgeable way of his.

  Mandy snorted. She would not react. She would not play his game.

  “You cold?”

  “You’re concerned,” she countered sourly.

  “Course I am. I always cared, Mandy.”

  She remembered that. She wished she didn’t, because seeing Tate and remembering, only made her guilt more intense.

  And her longing.

  Suddenly, from the darkened recesses of the ceiling, a crack of static echoed through the store and the lights completely blacked out.

  Mandy jumped from her bedding, whacking her head against the wall in the process. Her eyes filled with tears and she rubbed her head, cursing aloud as her fingers found an instant bump on her scalp.

  “Tut, tut, Ms. Brooks, and here I was thinking you were a lady.”

  “Shut up, Tate. Just shut up.” She peered into the now completely dark store, barely able see an outline of her hand in front of her while the headless mannequins in lingerie took on a ghoulish silhouette.

  “Probably the backup generator,” he said into the darkness. “The power would have gone out with the first load of snow dumped, and now the backup can’t hack the pace.”

  “You mean we stay in the dark?”

  “Guess so,” he responded. “You afraid?”

  Mandy didn’t answer. It was too embarrassing. She’d always hated the dark, remembering too many nights when her mother left her alone with no one to call for, and no one to answer.

  “It’s okay, Mandy. It’s just a different color from the sunshine. And I’m here. You never were one for the dark. I remember that...and a lot more,” he said. His voice had taken on an ethereal tone, so quiet and gentle. For a few long seconds neither of them said a word, the silence heavy with memories, thoughts and emotions. Mandy wished...

  For what?

  That this hadn’t happened? That he hadn’t come back? She refused to even think about why he was here? She didn’t want to know.

  “Mandy?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to be alone.”

  “I’m not. You’re here.”