The Nanny & Her Scrooge Page 2

  He wondered, vaguely, if the gray Santa wig and beard could convincingly cover her short, tousled dark hair, or age her peaches-and-cream complexion. Probably not. She had an ethereal quality, one that would just shine through the costume and makeup anyway.

  So? What did it matter? There was no way he was having a female—any female—play the part of Santa Claus.

  Some things simply were. Santa Claus was a man, not a woman. He had a great big belly, not a size six waist. He wore a red costume and sported a white beard, and he didn’t have to lower his voice to fool anybody. Those were the things his customers had come to expect. It was a given, and he intended to give them what they wanted.

  He, Jared Gillette, a mere businessman in middle America, was not about to trifle with tradition. Santa Claus was a legendary hero, idolized by young and old alike. Jared refused to take any kind of creative license with something of those proportions.

  Still…he had experienced a glimmer of regret when he witnessed Nicki’s disappointment. If it was just the job….

  He shook his head, staunchly reminding himself he had made the right decision, even if her file had verified that she’d been a virtual hit with both parents and kids. Too bad. Some things were simply not meant to be.

  Glancing at the clock, he realized everyone had gone home, and he would be closing up the store again. Just him and security. Just as usual.

  Pulling on his overcoat, he walked over to the window. The street traffic was almost nonexistent. It had started snowing again and, if the frost on the window was any indication, the temperature had dropped drastically. Grabbing his briefcase, he headed for the elevator, estimating there’d be just enough time to run home to change.

  On the first floor in the subdued lighting of the empty store, Joe, the old codger of a security guard, nodded and held open the front door. “You workin’ late again, boss?”

  “It’s Christmas,” Jared explained unnecessarily, never breaking his stride.

  “I know, I know. Busiest time of the year.” Joe propped the door open with his shoulder, and hitched up the pants on his blue uniform.

  Pausing on the sidewalk, Jared yanked his collar up against the bitter cold. He hadn’t gone twenty paces in the direction of the parking ramp when he saw her—Nicki Holliday—standing at the bus stop, her back against the wind. In a light summer-weight jacket, she shivered, both hands jammed into her pockets.

  For a moment it occurred to him that he should nod and just keep walking. Then she looked up and saw him. Their gazes caught and held. Jared’s brisk pace imperceptibly slowed. Something about the way she stood there, all alone, with snow dusting her hair, twisted his heart. “Miss Holliday? You’re still here?”

  She nodded, hunching her shoulders. “I guess I stayed too long in your office. I missed my bus.”

  He pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. “The seven o’clock bus isn’t scheduled for at least another forty minutes. If it comes at all. Weekends are kind of hit or miss.”

  “Okay, well—” Nicki’s teeth chattered “—thanks for the warning. I’ll figure out something.”

  She didn’t say one word about their run-in, and that in itself was unsettling. Jared took one step past her, thought better of it, and turned on his heel. “Listen, why don’t I give you a ride home?”

  “Oh, no. Forget that. I’m fine.”

  “Fine? You’re practically blue.”

  The wind gusted, plastering the thin satin jacket against Nicki’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay.” She tried to smile. “Hey, I’m Santa Claus. I’ve called the North Pole and they’ve assured me I’ll have a sleigh gliding by momentarily. I’ll grab a little milk and cookies at the diner down the street and wait. If they’re late, it’s because Donder’s probably acting up again. He does that.”

  He didn’t reply, only stared at her, vaguely wondering if she even had a home to go to. Maybe she was a nutcase.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” she feebly joked, “then off I’ll go. Into my sleigh, and over the snow.”

  With an inexplicable surge of impatience, Jared dismissed her rhyme and looked over her shoulder, down the street. Every storefront was dark, and the diner she mentioned was a good two blocks away. “Look. It’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re half frozen. If you start telling me you actually live at the North Pole, I’m going to think you’re delirious to boot.”

  She laughed, a tinkly little sound that reverberated through the darkness. “Okay. I can assure you I’m not delirious, and I don’t live at the North Pole. What you just witnessed is my kid-appeal. I wanted to wedge it in while I had your full attention.”

  She was making references to the ill-fated job, and Jared pursed his lips, choosing to ignore them. “Miss Holliday, I insist on driving you home.”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  “Do you realize,” he asked, “that I’m trying to do you a favor? Perhaps because I feel somewhat responsible for you missing your ride.”

  She stopped shivering and gazed at him, with liquid, clear blue eyes, as if she were shocked he admitted any culpability at all. “Why? Because you altered the Santa ‘clause’ of my job?”

  He didn’t reply. “Come on,” he ordered, “my car’s right inside the parking garage.”

  She stayed rooted to the spot.

  He turned back, lifting his eyebrows with the unspoken question.

  “I don’t want to put you out,” she said.

  It struck him how there was not a hint of malice in her voice. He’d expected it, guessed he even deserved it. She stood there, looking a little forlorn, her hair all tousled, her cheeks chapped from the bitter wind, and simply met his gaze. Yet there wasn’t a bit of recrimination in her features.

  This woman, ephemeral as the snow, was unsettling. She preyed on his protective instincts, making him want to toss a warm coat around her shoulders and press a hot chocolate into her hand. Even in this bitter cold, he’d rather idle with her on a street corner than leave her here.

  “You aren’t putting me out,” he said too softly, aware the wind pulled at his words and carried them away. He hesitated, raised his voice, and assumed the stance of a dictator. “You’re either going to come with me, or I’m going to stay here with you, until I’m sure you’re on that bus.”

  “If it doesn’t come at all, you’re in for a long wait.”

  “Come on,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his car keys. “Let’s go.”

  Without any pretense or further objection, she lowered her head into the wind and followed him.

  It was a mere fifty feet to his Lincoln, the doors were unlocked and the engine running before they entered the parking ramp. Thank God for remote control. He could get a little heat into her, get another color other than blue onto her lips.

  “Thank you,” she said humbly as he held the door for her.

  “It isn’t a courtesy,” he snapped. “Your fingers are probably too frozen to open the door.”

  She slipped into the passenger seat, then proved his point by fumbling with the seat belt. Snagging it from her, he righted the buckle, and offered it back, intending to make it manageable. Their fingertips brushed; a ping of electricity ricocheted up his arm.

  Startled, they both pulled back.

  Jared straightened and, still looking at her, hung an elbow on the top of the car door. “Miss Holliday, can you tell me something? Why can’t you just be an elf and make this easier on me? I know what you’re trying to do. Really. And it’s not going to work. I promise you, it’s not going to work. I deal with people like you every day of the week—and guess what?—I’m the grinch who eats them up and spits them out.”

  Chapter Two

  Jared’s statement incensed Nicki, but she waited until he’d tossed his briefcase into the back seat and got into the car before answering. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she denied. “And just call me Nicki. It’s not like we have to be formal or anything. Because I don’t work for you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t work
for you if you were the last man on earth.”

  He arched an eyebrow in her direction, his mouth a hard firm line as he carefully put the key into the ignition. “Look. Do you need a job or not?” he barked.

  “Of course, I need a job. Everybody needs a job. To pay the bills, to make the mortgage and the car payments and to eat.”

  He snagged a deep, angry breath, nearly scaring Nicki. She put her hand on the door handle, debating whether she should bolt.

  “If that’s the case, then why won’t you swallow your pride and accept the one I’ve offered you?”

  She slanted him a look, gauging his reaction. “Because I don’t like those hideous green tights and that goofy hat with the bells,” came her flip reply. “I’d feel like an idiot wearing that get-up.”

  He sat back and considered, then his mouth twitched and the creases eased from his forehead. He actually laughed. Out loud.

  The resonant sound filled the car, unexpectedly warming Nicki and putting some of her fears to rest. Okay, anybody who laughed like that couldn’t be all bad, she conceded.

  He dragged a hand over his face, as if the joke were unbearable. “And you don’t feel like an idiot wearing a red velvet Santa suit, slapping a beard on your face, and shouting ho, ho, ho?” he finally asked.

  He had her there, and the irony of the situation made her squirm. “Okay, I’ll admit that at the time, I figured it was worth it.”

  “What?”

  “The job. The money,” she explained wearily, slumping down in the plush seat. “My car died a month ago. It’s going to take a lot of money for repairs.”

  “So that’s why you were stranded tonight.”

  “I’ve been able to take the bus, but tonight I spent so much time in your office I missed the one at five o’clock. Since I didn’t really have anyone to call…” Nicki let the statement drift, she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t afford a cab, or didn’t have anyone to pick her up.

  “So about this elf thing…” he began.

  “Forget it. I already talked to the supervisor about that. The elves are typically teenagers and they only do four-hour shifts. Right now, they have too many, anyway.”

  “I see.”

  Nicki rubbed her arms and shrugged. “No, you don’t.”

  His head swiveled and he glanced at her sharply, as if daring her to contradict him.

  She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to not shiver in his presence. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was afraid of him. She wouldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t. “I needed a job where I could make some good money in a short amount of time. A good Santa makes a respectable salary, but the elves are gofers who mostly fill the candy-cane jar and make minimum wage, and salesclerks don’t make much more, so that’s out.” She stuck her hands under her arms, trying in vain to warm them. “I don’t know. The Santa pay is really good. Maybe there’s a union label sewn in the Santa suit or something.”

  He paused, his features relaxing. “Cute—about the union label. But the fact is the Santa job takes a certain type of person, that’s why it pays so well.”

  Nicki studied him briefly, acutely conscious that a portion of his tough-businessman facade had slipped. It made her feel as though a real man existed beneath that intimidating demeanor.

  As if it had a will of its own, her hand fluttered across the empty space between them to settle apologetically on his sleeve. “I understand why you felt the way you did about having a grandpa Santa Claus,” she explained softly. “But as I mentioned earlier, I needed to get my car fixed, and I’m expecting to move. It takes money to do that. It’s that simple, really. I’m not trying to buck the system or to cause you problems or even to argue with you.”

  He silently stared at her, then dropped his gaze to her fingers that still curled lightly on his forearm. Without shaking her off, he slowly started the ignition. “Why didn’t you tell me that this afternoon?”

  Nicki self-consciously slid her hand away, but the feel of cashmere taunted her fingers, and the restrained power throbbing through his muscular forearm sent a surge of exhilaration to her brain. She folded her hands in her lap. “You never gave me the opportunity.”

  His mouth firmed and he put the car in gear. They were inching onto the adjacent one-way street when he said, “You didn’t tell me where we were going.”

  “Tammany Hills. I’m just a few doors inside the complex.” Another chill struck Nicki and she fought to repulse it. She stiffened and folded her arms across her middle, thinking she didn’t want to explain why, after six months, she still had a Florida wardrobe, a broken-down car, and a financial mess. Her mother had been so sick when she’d finally given up and called her home, all Nicki had had time to do was to care for her mom and ignore the repercussions of her abrupt move. She’d lost a ton of money and incurred a lot of expenses.

  “Tammany’s a nice place,” he commented, easing onto the east-west expressway.

  She shrugged and glanced out the side window at the residential area next to the highway. There were moments, such as this, when she glimpsed a decorated tree inside someone else’s living room, and felt like an orphan at Christmas. She’d always heard the first year was the worst. “Mmm. Expensive. But the lease is up in a couple of months. It was actually my mom’s place.”

  “Nicki…”

  She pulled her gaze away, tucking her chin to look up at Mr. Gillette. In the half light of the dash, his features were less imposing. Her eyes lowered to his mouth, and for one crazy moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. To experience an unguarded side of him. When he’d accidentally touched her—

  “About today,” he went on, unknowingly interrupting her wayward thoughts, “I assumed that you were interested only in a seasonal job. Or a part-time job. If you want a real job, I could probably find you something.”

  Her shoulders immediately lifted off the seat. The last thing she wanted was charity. Especially from someone who had dismissed her barely two hours before. “Oh, no. I’m not looking for a handout. You don’t have to be nice to me just because this whole situation is…well, awkward.”

  “‘Nice’?” The word harshly rolled off his tongue. “Nicki, understand this, I’m not known for nice. Not even in the most awkward of business situations.”

  “Well, I’ll think about it…but…” She turned back to glance out the side window again. She felt a little sad inside—and she knew it didn’t have anything to do with losing her job, or her mom, or all the rest of it. Maybe it was letting go of the illusion. Maybe it was because she was trapped inside a car with a man who obviously didn’t understand the meaning of Christmas. “You know,” she said softly, wistfully, “I really liked being a Santa Claus. I liked being with the kids—that was the best. And the fantasy—especially the one you create at Gillette’s—was all so hopeful, so innocent. Sitting there in Toyland, waving and wishing everyone a merry Christmas made me feel good inside.”

  “It’s just that. A fantasy,” he said abruptly, before leaning over and turning up the heat.

  Defeat spiraled through her; he didn’t even want to know how the job had affected her.

  He checked his side mirror, then changed lanes, expertly maneuvering around another slower car. “I read your file this afternoon,” he said. “You apparently had a knack for making people believe.”

  “Maybe I wanted to. A little Christmas gift to myself this year.”

  His gaze flitted over her, but he said nothing. For a mile, they rode in silence.

  Nicki was extraordinarily conscious of him. The scent clinging to his cashmere coat. The leather gloves he’d laid between them on the seat. The way he sat so straight, so erect, as he drove.

  “Listen,” he said, “I live over there, off of Willow. Do you object to me stopping at home first and changing my clothes?” Nicki knew he was referring to the posh section of Winter Park. “I have to make an obligatory appearance at the Yuletide Gala tonight, at the Ritz Carlton, and I’m already late. I c
ould drop you off on the way.”

  Even though she didn’t want to spend any more time with him than necessary, Nicki was curious about where he lived. Besides, there was no sense in going home to an empty apartment any sooner than she had to. “That’s fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “As you said, Mr. Gillette, you’re the one doing me the favor.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “I imagine your insolence didn’t put you in good favor with the elves. That’s probably the real reason you didn’t want to join their ranks.”

  “Mr. Gillette—”

  “Excuse me,” he cut in, as he smoothly pulled off the expressway and into the right-hand lane. “There is an unwritten rule…”

  “Yes?”

  “Anyone I invite into my home has to call me Jared.”

  Nicki’s breath caught behind her breastbone. “You haven’t invited me into your home.”

  He braked at the stop sign, and turned his head to look at traffic before he looked at her. “No. But I’m going to.”

  The slow smile that inched onto Jared’s face sapped the remainder of Nicki’s waning strength.

  Jared’s palatial home occupied at least a quarter of the block. Nicki glimpsed the front of the sprawling brick mansion when he came in off a side street and passed through the wrought-iron gates. It struck her as odd that the grounds had been exquisitely decorated for Christmas; for some reason, she didn’t think he’d bother.

  Garland, with red bows, trimmed the iron fencing. A huge wreath hung over the four-car garage, and flickering candles illuminated every window in the house.

  “My,” she murmured, “this is Christmas-card perfect.”

  “And none of my doing,” he pointed out darkly. “It’s just another illusion I have to live with, and I promise you it’s quite unlike what you experienced as a Santa Claus in Toyland.”