Page 38 of War on Christmas

And that’s when I slide right on.

As I settle onto Hot Santa’s lap, wiggling my butt on his hard thighs and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, I’m pleased to see his face, which is even more handsome up close, split into a wide grin. It’s a nice smile, reaching all the way to clear, sky-blue eyes that crinkle in the corners.

This isdefinitelya Santa who makes a girl want to end up on the naughty list.

“Hey, Andy?” I don’t take my eyes off Hot Santa as I speak. “Go back to Abi, ok? I need to talk to Santa for a minute.”

He waits for Andy to toddle back down the dais in his clunky snow boots before giving me his full attention, his eyes twinkling merrily.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Santa,” I start, running my fingers down his silk tie. “You see, I have a little problem that I thought you could help me with. It has to do with a large, Viking-like man who’s probably giving me a serious death glare right about now.”

His smile doesn’t falter as his eyes flick over my shoulder to the line of people trailing down the sidewalk.

“Black coat? Knit hat?” he asks, and I nod, sifting my fingers into the soft hair at his nape.

“That’s the one. You see, heclaimshe wants to be just friends, but there’s obviously more…chemistry between us than that.” Fully aware that Jeremy is watching my every move, I shimmy forward, making sure my chest is on full display. Santa chuckles—I’m sure it looks to Jeremy like I just said somethinghilarious—and his arm curls around my hip. “Now, the way I see it”—I pause to bite my lip, and Hot Santa’s eyes follow obediently—“this little talk we’re having could really help me out. Because as much as the Viking wants to deny the chemistry between us, I don’t think he’ll appreciate watching me with another man. Especially one as handsome as you. It just might be enough to put him over the edge.”

“Hmm, I see.” He nods sagely, reaching up to stroke his beard. “That does sound like a conundrum. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but he sounds like a scrooge. He should be jumping at the chance for a romance with a beautiful young woman like you.”

Ok, to be fair, Jeremy is definitely up for romance.I’mthe one who’s setting limits. But I don’t think Santa needs to know the finer details. So instead, I focus on his scrooge comment.

I run my hand up the soft lapel of his suit, shaking my head sadly. “I’m afraidI’mthe one who hasn’t been in the Christmas spirit, Santa, and this whole ‘We should just be friends’ thing he’s doing isnothelping.” Santa, on cue, runs his hand up my arm in one long stroke. It’s difficult, but I somehow resist the impulse to peek at Jeremy. “I really think he just needs a little nudge—maybe a little friendly competition—to realize that we’re missing out on an opportunity to have some…fun.”

Santa’s eyes flick over my shoulder, and his lips twitch into a merry smile. My only warning that we’re no longer alone is the clatter of heavy footsteps as they pound up the dais. The hot flush of pride I feel at my victory is almost enough to thaw my frostbitten nipples.

“Excuse me,” Jeremy’s terse voice cuts in, and I give Santa a conspiratorial wink. He winks back. “Sorry about this whole—whatever this is. Freya, let’s go.”

Jeremy is standing to my side, every line of his big body taut with irritation, but I’m careful to keep my eyes on Hot Santa.

“I’m not finished here,” I reply curtly to Jeremy, then I run Hot Santa’s tie through my fingers and lift my gaze to his, open and hopeful. (Honestly, it’s a waste I didn’t feel called to acting.) “Whaddya say, Santa? Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jeremy growls next to me, and in a twinkling, his hands are wrapped around my upper arms and he’s lifting me off Hot Santa’s lap. I peek over my shoulder at Santa, giving him a triumphant grin and a thumbs-up, and Santa’s droll mouth lifts on one side as he tips his head into a regal nod. I turn back to Jeremy, waiting for him to put me down, but he’s braced his feet and is holding me suspended six inches off the ground so we’re face to face.

I’ve pushed him too far. I can see that now. His nostrils are flared. His jaw is set. But as I dangle in midair, staring into Jeremy Kelly’s scowling blue-green eyes, I realize that Whoops! I’ve Gone Too Far is my new favorite place.

“You,” he grinds out, “are busy tomorrow night.”

“I am?” I blink at him, all innocence, and the muscle in his jaw starts to tick dangerously.

“You are.”

“Oh, I must have misread my schedule.” I pronounce it “sheh-dule” like a proper British lady, and Jeremy closes his eyes and shakes his head. He’s making a valiant effort not to throttle me. So, I do what I do and push harder. “Pray tell. What am I doing tomorrow night?”

His sigh is tortured, ripped from his depths against his will. “You are going on a date. With me.”

“Mm…” I nod, appearing to consider this. “And will there be chaperones on this date?”

Jeremy’s mouth twitches. “No.”

“Then I accept.”

Jeremy grunts, then I’m sliding down his body until my feet hit the ground, his eyes burning into mine the entire time. He wraps his hand around mine, like he thinks I might bolt, and turns to leave.

“Hold on a second,” Santa interjects, leaning back in his plush, oversized chair. Jeremy and I both turn toward him obediently—he is Santa after all— and that jolly old elf’s eyes are on mine as he continues. “If things fall through tomorrow night…I’ll be at The County Line bar until ten. Stop by.” He gives me a wink of his eye and then reaches down to the bucket at his feet and extends his hand toward me. “Don’t forget your candy cane.”

Twenty-Six

JEREMY

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