and shook her head. Her lips were red and glistening. From my mouth. Right, like he hadn’t pictured that scene before. Except, they hadn’t been in an elevator and they hadn’t—
“Jonas! The kids are upstairs! Santa needs to give them their gifts!”
—been surrounded by strangers and her brother. Because Daniel was closing in on them now, his turtleneck looking a little too tight around his bobbing Adam’s apple.
Daniel skidded to a stop and threw his hand up, barely stopping the elevator doors from closing once more. “What are you doing? I need you! The employees always get to bring their kids in for the presents.” Daniel tossed him the Santa beard. “Christie, this is your favorite part!”
Because Christie designed most of the toys made by the company, she was usually front and center on the toy distribution.
“Uh, Daniel,” she mumbled, “I think I’m going to—”
Daniel jumped in the elevator. “Catch the next one!” he tossed to the folks in the lobby. He punched the button for the third floor. “I had to chase you both down three flights of stairs.” The doors slid closed. “Three flights. Let’s just get back up there and make this a merry damn night, okay?”
Jonas glanced at Christie. Her heart-shaped face seemed pale. Her eyes were on the mark she’d left on his neck.
A smile curved his lips. After a moment, her gaze met his. He lifted his hand and touched the mark.
The music kicked in then, the notes filling the elevator as Elvis began to sing.
Maybe she hadn’t been a good girl after all. It definitely looked like Christie Tate had a naughty side.
One that enjoyed a good ride in an elevator.
2
She’d asked Jonas Kirk to sleep with her. No, she’d asked Jonas Kirk—badass police detective—to give her a really good time.
Christie was 150 percent certain the man could deliver on that good time.
She watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t look all tough and macho right then. Well, okay, he kinda did if you looked past the red suit and beard. He was ho-hoing it up with the kids, handing out the presents that she’d organized days before.
“What was happening in that elevator?” her brother asked, and she jumped. Daniel had a tendency to sneak up on people way too much.
She forced a smile. “We were talking.”
“Right. ’Cause when you talk, you make out.”
Oh, crap.
“I know the breakup with Charles was hard on you.”
“Daniel, I—”
“I should have fired the guy, holidays or no damn holidays.”
She turned her head a bit, sizing up her brother. At just over six feet, he had a lean, wiry build. His face was open, warm, handsome. “You would never fire someone at Christmas.” Even he had limits.
“He hurt you.” His jaw flexed. “We don’t need him. I can fire him right—”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles.” Her gaze tracked back to Jonas. He was taller than her brother by a couple inches, and his shoulders were wider. His skin was darker. His eyes…She straightened her shoulders. “Charles doesn’t bother me. I’ve moved on.”
A low whistle was her answer. “I hope you’re not moving where I think you’re moving.”
She should look away from Jonas. Yes, she should. But he bent to reach into the sack again—nice butt.
“You know Jonas isn’t the committing kind.”
Her gaze snapped to Daniel.
His brows, a lighter shade than hers, rose. “Yeah, sis, I saw the hickey you left on his neck.”
Why couldn’t the floor just open up and swallow her?
“You know him, Chris. You know Jonas never stays with one woman too long.”
She’d gotten that warning before. She met her brother’s gaze. Heard Jonas’s voice rumble. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “I don’t want forever.” She’d tried to find forever before, only to get disappointed.
Daniel blinked. “Chris…”
“I’m a big girl. Trust me, I know exactly what I want.” Not what, who. Jonas. “Stop worrying about me.”
“He’s my best friend! I don’t want my sister and my—”
She patted his shoulder. “Stop worrying. And um, maybe lower your voice.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. The kids were watching them now. “We’ve got an audience.”
His teeth clicked together as he snapped his jaw closed. Turning on his heel, he marched toward the giant Christmas tree.
Christie knew her cheeks were burning again, but she made herself look at their audience. An audience that included an avid Santa hunk. When she met his stare, she swore she could feel his touch. His hands—big, strong, callused—sliding under her shirt. Edging up her stomach. Getting closer, so close to her breasts.
Oh, yes, she knew what she wanted. The question was…would she really be brave enough to take it? To take him?
She slipped away from the crowd when someone called her brother’s name. Her elbow bumped into a wall, and the pain barely registered.
Sex with Jonas. Sure, she’d fantasized about just that thing, a time or twenty.
But the real thing? Her throat dried up. Oh, jeez. It would be…
He glanced up at her, and his green eyes seemed to burn right through her.
Incredible.
Because he was a man who knew how to give a woman a good time she’d never forget.
An hour later, Jonas had emptied his second sack. All the presents were gone. The kids had vanished. The staff left at Tate Toys could only be described as skeletal. As he watched, a few more folks trailed for the elevators.
Another holiday party down.
But his job wasn’t finished. Not yet. Santa still had one wish to grant. Hmm. Where was his lady? His gaze swept the room. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been trapped against that back wall.
The spot was empty now. The tree lights twinkled, throwing a mix of colors on the wall. No Christie.
He tossed his hat and the beard down next to the bag. Had she left? Turned tail and run?
If she had, he knew where she lived. Not like he couldn’t find her.
Just in case she hadn’t fled the building,
