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  “Leslie Kelly’s books are the perfect blend of sass and class. Her cheeky style makes her one of the strongest voices in romance today.”

  —New York Times bestselling author

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  “Leslie Kelly is a future star of romance.”

  —New York Times bestselling author

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  “Leslie Kelly is a master of amusing contemporary romance.”

  —Word Weaving

  “Ms. Kelly has a delightful and engaging voice that had me laughing out loud and relentless in reading every delicious word.”

  —The Romance Reader’s Connection

  “Leslie Kelly continues to show why she is becoming one of Harlequin’s most popular authors.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Ms. Kelly never fails to deliver a captivating story.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Leslie Kelly writes hot, steamy stories with lots of humor and tons of romance thrown in.”

  —Romance and Friends

  Dear Reader,

  Well, I’m back at Harlequin Blaze. It’s been a long time since my last superspicy novel for this hot line, and I have to say, I’d forgotten what fun it could be! Talk about steaming up the holiday season…I think any woman would like to unwrap Mark Santori on Christmas morning.

  After the release of my novellas “There Goes the Groom” (in the That’s Amoré! collection) and “Sheer Delights” (in the Behind the Red Doors collection) I heard from a lot of readers who wanted more of those Santori men of Chicago. They certainly interested me…five hot, hunky Italian brothers…hmm, what’s not to find interesting?

  Brother Mark is one of the twins, and is a hard-nosed detective for the city of Chicago. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to start his story until I was trying on clothes in a department-store dressing room, and heard a very embarrassed-sounding guy helping his wife zip up in the next room. That immediately sparked a picture of a very sexy, hot, gorgeous man doing the same thing. Imagine the possibilities of being in the next room, listening to the couple next door and wondering all sorts of…interesting things.

  That’s the start of Don’t Open Till Christmas, which was really a joy. I love the holidays and had a great time playing on the possibilities of a wacky town called Christmas. And, as you’ll see, it was also fun going down memory lane in regards to toys, holiday movies, songs and traditions.

  Hope you enjoy Mark and Noelle’s story. And a very Merry Christmas to you and yours!

  Best wishes,

  Leslie Kelly

  LESLIE KELLY

  Don’t Open Till Christmas

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  To the people who’ve made every Christmas of my life utterly magical: Betty and Ray, Lynn, Donna, Karen, Cheri, Lee, Toni, Chris, Paul, Holly, Jim and Lena. And especially Bruce, Caitlin, Lauren and Megan.

  And to Santa Claus: Thanks so much for the Barbie Country Camper…the best Christmas present you ever gave me.

  ISBN 978-1-5525-4381-8

  DON’T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS

  Copyright © 2005 by Leslie Kelly.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  COMING NEXT MONTH

  Prologue

  TRYING ON a skimpy, beaded cocktail dress on Black Friday—the day after Thanksgiving—was bad enough. Hearing a couple having sex in the next dressing room? Well…that wasn’t exactly what Noelle Bradenton would call priceless.

  While slipping out of the sexy dress—which, to her consternation, highlighted some mashed potato-induced bulges on her thighs—she heard the conversation from next door. There were definitely two voices, one male and one female, coming from the other fitting room in the dress department of this upscale store. And there was no doubt what they were talking about.

  “Would you please, just do it?” the woman asked in a loud whisper, sounding almost desperate. “Quit worrying—nobody saw you come in here with me.”

  “This is crazy,” was the male response. The voice was deep, husky, holding both frustration and amusement. “Stop wiggling.”

  Unbelievable. Noelle could hardly fathom her rotten luck. Wasn’t it bad enough that today was the official start of the season she detested more than anything except country music and underwire push-up bras? Did she really have to be reminded how utterly barren her sex life was by hearing a couple going at in a secret frenzy of dressing room passion?

  “It’s your fault, idiot,” she whispered, not knowing what demon had made her venture into a downtown Chicago department store on the worst shopping day of the year. She never shopped on Black Friday, preferring to avoid the whole Christmas insanity altogether by doing her requisite gift buying online.

  She cursed the day she’d won the Social Services department lottery for a ticket to the mayor’s high-toned Christmas party, which was so out of her league. She’d probably spend the whole evening wondering how much money was being spent on champagne and mini quiches when it could have been used to help the women and kids in the shelter where she worked.

  But she had to go, and there was no way she’d find a dress suitable for the party by shopping on the Internet. It was proving hard enough to do it in person. So here she was, stuck staring at a size eight dress taunting her about her size ten hips, frozen in a four-by-four space, about to hear a couple crying out in ecstasy as they did the deed on the other side of a paper-thin wall.

  Oh, God, she hoped they didn’t do it up against the wall adjoining her dressing room. It didn’t look terribly sturdy, and might just come crashing down, leaving her to greet the bold lovers while wearing only a skimpy black bra and lacy panties.

  She began to reach for her clothes, just in case, but froze again when she heard that sexy, oh-so-deep voice once more. “The sales counter is twenty feet away.” The man sounded more amused than worried. “One of the employees could be heading over right now to find out why a man is in here with you.”

  “There are eight hundred and ninety-four women in line desperate to save an extra ten percent before the doorbuster sale ends,” the woman repl
ied impatiently. “Those clerks aren’t going to look up from their cash registers until December 26.”

  Noelle grinned. The unknown woman sounded a lot like her, already disgruntled and cranky during the time of year when every other usually sane person turned into a carol-spouting, eggnog-drinking lunatic. She’d probably like to meet her under other circumstances—like, oh, say, when the woman wasn’t naked and getting done in the next room. And if she didn’t hate her for having such a daring sex life when Noelle’s only recent orgasmic experience had been when she’d eaten a sliver of rich pecan pie after last night’s turkey pig-out.

  Pecan pie and mashed potatoes. No wonder the damn dress was laughing at her.

  “Okay, there, yes. A little more…great, I think you’ve got it in,” the woman was saying, sounding breathless.

  She thought he had it in? Hmm. If the woman next door wasn’t sure, maybe Mr. Sexy Voice wasn’t such a stud after all.

  Suddenly not feeling so bad—since, in her opinion, no sex was better than bad sex and I-think-you’ve-got-it-in was way worse than I-haven’t-been-laid-in-a-year—Noelle giggled. If she ever worked up the nerve to have hot nooky in a public place, it would definitely be with someone whose equipment was big enough to leave no doubt in her mind that she was getting it.

  “Okay, I did it. I’m done. Can you finish on your own and let me get out of here?”

  Noelle rolled her eyes. What a gentleman. He’d gotten off…quickly…and was leaving his wife or girlfriend to take care of herself.

  Yikes. Hearing a woman pleasuring herself in the next cubicle had an even higher yuck factor than hearing a couple of strangers going at it. Shocked out of her titillated lethargy, Noelle grabbed her jeans, determined to make a quick exit before the solitary moaning started. She heard quite enough of that in her own bedroom these days, thank you very much.

  Bent over with one foot in the pants, Noelle hardly noticed the click of the door in the next booth. The words outside barely registered…just a man’s voice saying, “Excuse me,” before it rose in volume, almost shouting, “Watch out!”

  Then came a loud bang, and in flew the door to the dressing room. Her dressing room.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she cried, immediately straightening as someone stumbled into the tiny space toward her. A someone whose forward momentum landed him right against Noelle, and propelled them back to the wall.

  Noelle’s heart flipped over about a dozen times as the stranger quickly braced both his hands on the mirror behind her head. That was the only thing that prevented them both from tumbling down onto the built-in bench seat.

  It took a few seconds for her to grasp what had happened. During those seconds, with her pulse racing as she heaved in deep, surprised breaths, she took a look at the someone who was pressed against her from shoulder to knee.

  “Oh, my God,” she managed to whisper.

  Because it was a male someone. A gorgeous male someone. An absolutely heart-poundingly sexy, to-die-for, somebody-quick-get-me-a-condom male someone.

  His dark green eyes were widened in shock, and she could do nothing but stare into them for a long moment. With those eyes, she would have expected light hair, but his was jet black, cut short but still thick and lush. The kind of hair that made a woman want to tangle her fingers in it and tug him close to whatever body part he happened to be near.

  She could think of a few. And a few more.

  The stranger’s lean face was slightly stubbled…another guy who hadn’t shaved because of the holiday. The swarthy look only emphasized the squareness of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, and his incredible mouth. His sensually curved lips parted as he sucked in a deep breath of his own.

  Noelle almost closed her eyes, in pure self-preservation, but curiosity demanded that she check out the rest of him. Pulling away a tiny bit, until the back of her head hit the mirror, she glanced down, noting the width of his shoulders clad in a black leather bomber jacket. The expanse of his chest beneath that jacket was impossibly broad and the tight shirt he wore emphasized a flat stomach and lean waist.

  They were still pressed together from the hips down, but she didn’t need to see anymore. She was feeling enough to know the man was perfect all the way to the floor. One of his feet was wedged between hers, and his firm leg, clad in soft jeans, scraped ever-so-deliciously against her thin panties.

  Panties. She was clothed in nothing but the sinfully sexy black bra and panties she’d worn today for trying on little black dresses! Heat rushed through her body and she knew he must be able to see her blush.

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  Noelle couldn’t make her voice work.

  “I was barreled into by a woman on a shopping mission.”

  And Noelle was barreled into by a man she wanted to lick like a six-foot-tall ice cream cone. She instead settled for licking her lips.

  The man watched, his eyelids lowering a bit and his eyes growing darker. As if he’d just noticed her attire—or definite lack thereof—he looked down at her body.

  Suddenly, Noelle didn’t hate underwire, push-up bras so much. Because the stranger’s jaw went tight and his breathing deepened as he noticed the curves of her average-sized breasts pushed to dizzying heights by the painful lingerie. Judging by the way he swallowed hard, and his whole body tensed in response, she’d say the bra was a very good thing indeed.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, that sultry, deep voice rolling over her like a hot, heady breeze.

  That voice. Oh, goodness, that voice. She recognized it immediately as the truth finally sunk into her lust-hazy brain. There was no denying it—the man pressed against her like a longtime lover was the stranger from the fitting room next door. The one who’d just been with another woman. Ewww.

  She intended to put her hands on his chest and shove, repulsed at the very idea. Only one thing stopped her.

  The stranger’s physical reaction.

  Oh, he was definitely reacting to their closeness, as she was. The air was thick and ripe, electric almost. Their faces were mere inches apart and they shared each breath. They also, without a doubt, shared a wild, uncontrollable excitement. For her part, Noelle knew it because of the sudden aching tightness of her panties and the rush of warm moisture between her legs.

  As for him…well, his body’s age-old response was rapid and completely unmistakable. Feeling him grow hard and huge against her hip, her legs went weak.

  She wanted. She hungered. She needed. She craved.

  He dropped a hand to her bare waist to steady her, the touch more sinful than helpful. “Did I hurt you?”

  Shaking her head, she whimpered, unable to control the response to his obvious sexual arousal. Not to mention her own.

  Suddenly, Noelle began to suspect she’d misread the situation she’d overheard in the next room, and not just because she wanted to be wrong. Thinking about it, she realized there had been no endearments or moans. In fact, she’d heard no unusual sounds at all. And the most important thing: the woman’s suggestive words could not have meant what Noelle had assumed they’d meant. It was impossible. Because there was no mistaking the power and, er, size of the stranger pressed against her.

  No way would any woman question his possession. Not with what Noelle now knew he had to offer. A lot. A whole, whole lot.

  She whimpered again.

  “This is like something out of a movie,” he murmured, still making no effort to back off her.

  She cleared her throat. “I guess it is.”

  “If it were a movie, you know what would happen, don’t you?” His voice was low and thick with identifiable hunger.

  She wasn’t sure of what he meant. But she had a feeling….

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ll regret it as long as I live if I don’t go for it,” he said, sounding apologetic.

  Before she could even ask what he meant, he was dipping his head closer. Not giving her a chance to react, he caught her mouth in a kiss as hot and sen
sual as it was unexpected.

  Noelle didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t hesitate. She simply took the pleasure of the moment and ran with it.

  Immediately turning her head, she parted her lips for him. Responding with a soft groan, he followed her lead and licked into her mouth. Noelle lifted her arms to his shoulders and tangled her fingers in his hair—as she’d wanted to the second she set eyes on him.

  Their tongues met lightly, then drew apart, only to meet again in an instinctive rhythm that matched the crazy, sensual, erotic encounter they were sharing. She reveled in him, tasted him, let him taste her in return. The desire to sink down to the bench and pull him down on top of her was overwhelming.

  But a noise outside intruded and reality began to sink back in. As if he’d realized the same thing—that he was in the arms of a nearly naked stranger—he ended the kiss and stepped back.

  The sudden loss of his warmth and strength almost had her following him to demand more of the mind-numbing pleasure of his mouth. Before she could do it, though, a woman’s voice intruded. “Excuse me, sir, this is a public place!”

  The stranger whirled around. Even while doing so, he maneuvered his body to protectively block Noelle from view. The response was so automatic, so instinctive, she suddenly learned a lot about this sexy man.

  Not enough, though. Not nearly enough.

  She needed to know more. His name. His address. His marital status. The size of his…bed. Mostly, she needed to know if she was correct in thinking he had not just been in the arms of another woman right next door.

  Fate, however, helped by a scandalized store clerk, decided she wasn’t going to learn any of those things. Because as the unseen woman continued to whisper loud admonitions, the black-haired man in the leather jacket stepped out of the dressing room. The last glimpse Noelle had of him was the amazingly sexy view of his backside, clad in soft, faded jeans. And one flash of a smile—along with a quick wink—as he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.