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CHAPTER ONE
ZANDER
Isat in a confectionof red velvet and white Christmas frou-frou fluff, surrounded by children while I stretched a fake-ass smile across my face. Muscles I hadn't used in ages ached already, though I’d only been dressed as the Big Guy for the silly season for the last fifteen minutes.
“How long have we got to do this for?” I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
“All day.” Juniper jingled her cheap, pretend-plated bell cheerfully, encouraging more of the little critters to gather around my red velvet-clad knees while I tossed candy from a dollar store bucket.
Several tried to whisper their Christmas wishes in my ears, and I’d already lost count of how many ponies and hamsters and rollerskates I’d been requested to leave beneath Christmas trees across San Diego.
The unfortunate truth was that none of these kids knew I wasn’t justnotSanta Claus, but I didn't even own a Christmas tree. I hadn’t wanted one in my house for years. No apple cider, pomegranates or tinsel decorated my penthouse apartment. Yup, for once the media had it right—Zander Klauss was a Christmas grump.
A fact my newly appointed personal assistant appeared intent on changing over the last week of the silly season, right before Christmas.
My younger brother's sweetheart insisted thatherlittle sister knew all the things about marketing and media and magnates, having worked for several in the UK. And with all these baby siblings encroaching on my carefully anti-everything created persona, I threw up my hands for once and saidhave at it.
A smirk crept over my face, though I battled it back with determination. I doubted Juniper Blackthorne had any idea what she’d gotten herself into, but I took her on for the amusement factor she presented if for nothing else.
My end of the unspoken bet was simple: she wouldn't last the week.
What? I had to do something over Christmas, and seeing the failure on her face come Christmas Eve... That gave me some sort of twisted sense of accomplishment.
Told you I was an assehole.
Juniper sent a saucy wink my way and wiggled in her skinny little elf costume. The thing looked like it might have been left over from Halloween stock in a stripper store.
“You all thought Santa Klauss was a recluse and never came out in public?” she yelled to the surrounding parents who ignored their children in lieu of sticking their faces in their phones.
More than one adult raised a head at her announcement. A glimmer of interest flickered in my direction, rather than at their offspring clamoring around my pant legs already on a sugar high or two.
“I’ve manage to keep the media out of my fucking life for the past four years,” I growled at her out of the corner of my mouth. “If you've undone that in one single, pathetic minute, I promise that ass of yours will be red, and it won't be because of a freaking elf suit.”
Juniper Blackthorne threw her head back and laughed.
Laughed? She had no idea how hard I could spank that cute little ass. The thought of peeling those stripey tights and fluffy overdress thing off her slim legs and warming her pink ass with the broad palms of my hands sent blood rushing south.
Hell, I was out of practice. I couldn’t remember the last time I lusted over an employee, but then, I couldn’t remember the last time I dealt with one face to face either. Not since Caroline. The blood dropped further south, away from my straining cock, but back in my head the damage was already done.
Cue new headline:Media Magnate Turned Santa Melts Down in San Diego.
I wasn’t keen to add any sort of dramatic mass media moments to my already long list of sins crafted over a third of a lifetime.
Or for some, a whole lifetime altogether.
I shook my head, dislodging a stray snowflake that sucked up my nostril in my next breath.
My cute as a button PA pranced around me like a magical elf-cum-reindeer. Intent on not thinking about Juniper, the way she smelled like cranberries and marshmallows, or her far too sweet little blonde bangs popping out the bottom of her fuzzy elf hat, I faced forward. Slapping an unpracticed smile on my face that might have been ninety-percent a grimace, I bared pristine white teeth and tossed candy.
Yeah, I'm so getting tarred with the wrong brush this year.
Juniper cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled loud enough to raise a riot in the zoo blocks over. “Mister Santa Klauss doesn't mind a little bit of spanky panky,” she bellowed at the top of her lungs.
My God, the girl was clearly in the wrong profession.
“Maybe you can try out for the circus next,” I grated. Internally, I promised myself she wouldn't be able to distinguish one handprint from another when I was done with her.
And...blood flowed south. Again. My suit tented and I hid my candy cane behind a bucket full of the things. At least I’d blend in.
