Page 6 of His Christmas Wife

She glanced over her shoulder to offer him a huge, fake smile. “That would take much more than a Christmas miracle, Mr. Frost.”

CHAPTERTWO

Her heart still hammering at the prospect of spending so much time with Frost tonight and then over the holidays in a pretend marriage, Kaylee hurried into the small locker room to change out of her heels and into the outrageous elf shoes and hat that matched her costume.

After repacking her belongings, she headed for the coat check.

“Did you remember to bring a gift?” the volunteer asked.

With a nod, Kaylee pulled the wrapped leather handcuffs from a pocket inside her tote. When she’d gone shopping, she’d fantasized about Master Denton securing her with them. But now that she was no longer planning to scene, she sighed. Until now she’d had no idea how much she had been counting on that stress relief.

The woman deposited the present into a big, white sack.

Next, Kaylee turned over her tote with her purse and garment bag inside.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. Thanks.” Kaylee turned and spotted her friend, Abigail, working at a shop in the vendor area.

A man was lacing a woman into a black satin corset accented with rhinestones, leaving Abigail free to chat, at least for the moment.

“Did you hear?” Kaylee asked.

Abigail frowned. “No.”

“Asshole Frost is filling in as Santa. And I’m his helper.”

“Oh no.” Abigail scowled furiously. “That has to be a nightmare. Can you get someone else to do it?”

“I would, except…” Glancing around, Kaylee blew out a breath. “He knows how much I want to go to my sister’s wedding. So he promised me the time off, with pay. And he bought me the plane ticket. First class.” But she couldn’t admit the rest. Her friend would insist she not go along with Frost’s fake-marriage idea. But even Abigail didn’t know the full extent of Kaylee’s financial situation or her desperation.

“He’s still an asshole.”

Abigail was loyal to a fault, and Kaylee appreciated it. “He knows my weak spots.” As she often said, Machiavelli had nothing on Evan Frost.

“Let’s go have a drink after Christmas and talk about him.”

Kaylee appreciated her friend’s suggestion. “I’m in.” No doubt she’d have plenty to talk about by then. She gave her first real smile of the evening. “Anyway, I need to meet up with the jerk so we can get Santa’s bag ready.” With a quick wave, she headed down the hallway.

Around her, the vendor fair was closing, and dungeon monitors issued orders that walkways needed to be cleared.

Prompt and impatient as always, Frost waited for her.

Near him, she was even more keenly aware of their size difference. At work, she wore sensible heels and slim-fitting skirts or tailored slacks—maybe as some sort of armor. Right now, she felt slightly vulnerable.

“Come with me.”

Curious, she followed him into the dungeon and behind a black screen. A row of seats were arranged in a straight line, and Mistress Aviana’s throne was elevated on a dais. Nearby, in an open area near a towering tree, loomed a plush, velvet-covered armchair. No doubt that was intended for Santa.

Within moments, a volunteer brought over the massive sack and placed it where Frost could easily reach inside.

“Do you want to watch what happens next from the dungeon?”

Near his half-naked body? And risk being jostled into him by the sheer number of people in attendance? “I saw a television monitor in the vendor area. I’ll watch from there.” Away from the Saint Andrew’s crosses and spanking benches.

“Of course.” His voice held a slightly mocking tone, as if he was challenging her assertion that she wasn’t afraid of him.

Refusing to be goaded, she walked away. Not surprisingly, he followed her.

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