Page 1 of Curvy Girl for Santa

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Anastasia

My fingers danceover the keyboard, finalizing the donation request letters for our annual Christmas charity drive. The community center buzzes with activity as volunteers hang garlands and set up tables, and my heart is overflowing.

This is what Christmas is all about.

"Anastasia?" Maggie, my co-organizer, pokes her head in. "You won't believe it. We got a massive donation for the toy drive. I'm talking life-changing money."

I blink, jarred from my reverie. "What? From who?"

She shrugs. "All it says is from a 'Secret Santa.' Whoever it is, they just made a lot of kids very happy this Christmas."

"Secret Santa," I murmur, a smile tugging at my lips. What kind of person can give so much and expect nothing in return? Even without a name, I feel drawn to their generous spirit.

"And that's not all. Someone else just volunteered to be Santa for the Christmas party." Maggie winks at me. "And let me justsay, if his bod matches his voice, we are in for a treat. He's waiting for you in the main room."

My pulse quickens as I smooth my sweater over my curves. Why do I suddenly care what this mystery Santa thinks? I push open the door...and nearly burst into flames.

Holy mother of God.

Broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw—even in a Santa suit, the man steals my breath. He extends a large hand and I place mine in his, electricity arcing between us.

His blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes me in. "Anastasia," he says, like a caress, "looks like we'll be spreading Christmas cheer together.”

“Hi,” I squeak. “And you are?” I prompt for his name.

“I'm Ryan," he rumbles, holding my gaze. "Just a regular guy who wants to help out."

Regular, my foot. Everything about him screams power and confidence. I try to gather my scrambled wits.

"Well, Ryan, I'm so glad you're here." I flash him my warmest smile. "The kids will adore you."

"I hope so." His eyes dance with secrets.

He releases my hand and I feel bereft, aching for his touch. I turn abruptly to the decorations, my cheeks flushed.

"Shall we get started then? Lots of work to do to make the place merry and bright."

"My pleasure." The words roll off his tongue like an intimate promise. He takes a step closer, crowding me with his virile heat. "Just tell me what you want, Anastasia."

Everything, I nearly gasp. I wanteverything.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I direct him to the garlands. As we work side-by-side, hanging ornaments, our hands brush again and again, sending tingles through me.

I sneak glances at him, marveling at the sexy play of muscles beneath his red velvet coat. Who is this gorgeous enigma? Whenhe catches me looking, a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

I quickly avert my gaze, pulse galloping, but his eyes stay branded on me.Meltingme. The tension between us simmers, thick and heady, flavored with tantalizing possibility.

The hours slip by as we transform the space into a winter wonderland. With each passing minute, the pull between us grows stronger, a live wire of desire thrumming just beneath the surface.

"You're a hard worker," Ryan murmurs, suddenly behind me as I fluff the branches of the massive Christmas tree. "I admire that in a woman."

His deep voice resonates through me and I shiver, trying to ignore the images his praise conjures in my mind—of working hard in a decidedly different context. "T-thank you," I stammer. "I could say the same about you."

"Oh, you have no idea." His breath is hot against my ear and I nearly combust. "The things I could show you..."

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