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“Danielle.”
“I’ll be passing out presents in a few minutes. Think you can tell everyone?”
She plucked the candy out of his hand with a nod. “Yes, I can do that.”
“Excellent.”
She ran into the crowd of children with blond curls and red taffeta flying.
An older woman across the room stopped mid-sentence and placed her hand on her chest. For a moment, I was worried she was going to have a heart attack. But she covered her mouth and turned around. I didn’t have time to worry about her because Santa dragged me into the circle of children.
If I hadn’t seen Linc upstairs with his growls and snark, I’d never have known he hated this. He was patient with the children, making sure to talk to each of them. A chair that could have been in any throne room was set up next to the fifteen foot Christmas tree. I’d made sure the presents were ready for Jason while readying the room earlier.
The huge red and gold sack was just outside the door. I tried
to detangle my hand, but Linc held on with an iron grip. Something told me not to force the issue. Instead I played it up and popped up on my tiptoes so I could whisper into his ear. “Presents are just outside that door.”
He turned his face until our lips were far too close. Then he faced the kids. “Who wants presents?”
A chorus of happy voices saying “me!” filled the room. The murmur of parents seemed a little loud, but I couldn’t concentrate on that. I needed to get this show on the road. The food would be out in less than an hour.
“I need my…elf’s help. One moment, children.” With a flourish, Linc turned and dragged me across the room. He pushed me out the door into the hallway between the kitchen and main room. My heel banged into a particularly big box. I turned to hand him the bag when he crowded me into the wall.
“Mr. Murdock,” I said with a startled breath.
“Santa requires a little incentive.”
“But you’re a natural.”
His eyes hardened. “I used to be.” His body was stiff against mine. Not just the undeniable muscles under his suit, but a tension that had nothing to do with seduction.
I lifted a hand to his face. “The kids love it.”
He leaned closer. I was certain he was going to kiss me, when suddenly, he backed away from me, then snatched the bag off the floor and swung the door open, leaving me in the hall.
7
Scrooge
I stalked back into the banquet room. My fingers were numb from the grip on the bag, not to mention the unrelenting twist of the velvet cord around my wrist. A familiar weight. One I’d looked forward to all year—once upon a time.
When things had been far less complicated.
When a child’s laughter had been an echo to look back on, and perhaps look forward to in the future. And not just because of my Santa gear.
Lock it away.
It was the only way to survive this season.
I’d survive it again. I always did. Even on the blackest nights of the Christmas season, from Christmas Eve into the actual day, I would breathe because I had to. There was no choice. I wouldn’t let her—and that day—beat me.
“Santa!” The screech and clap of a child halted me mid-stride. Not just any child. One belonging to the manager of the flagship store here in New York City.
“Melody,” I said softly.
The child lit up. “Santa knows my name,” she said in a whisper. Her huge blue eyes and inky dark hair mirrored her mother’s looks.
Tracey Templeton bounced the toddler. “Of course Santa knows your name, sweetie. It’s his job. Just like he knows my name.”
