Don't Open Till Christmas Read online

  8

  ON SATURDAY THE BITTER COLD snap that had gripped Chicago for the first ten days of December finally eased and the temperature rose back into the double digits. They were low ones, but at least Noelle could look out her poorly insulated front window without her face turning blue and her lips sticking to the glass.

  She lived on the third floor of an old warehouse that had been renovated into several apartments. Though her place wasn’t in the greatest part of town, it did have a ton of space and beautiful wood floors that she’d fallen in love with at first sight. Best of all, it was hers. All hers.

  With the money she’d saved by living and working at the inn since graduating from college, she’d been able to buy herself a few nice pieces of furniture for the move to Chicago. A big, overstuffed couch covered in fabric as soft as broken-in denim dominated the living area of the apartment. A cute café table and two chairs were perfectly adequate for her tiny kitchen.

  She had a few plants, a few paintings on the walls, a decent stereo system and absolutely nothing that could be described as garland, greenery or candy-cane striped. The colors red and green had been stricken from her decorating inventory. Because after living in a place with cherry-colored carpeting and forest-green walls for her entire childhood, she never wanted to see those colors first thing in the morning again as long as she lived.

  Thank God Sue had done some redecorating after taking over the inn.

  Yes, she loved her apartment, just as she loved her new life in Chicago, which, to be honest, was something she hadn’t expected when she’d moved here eleven months ago. At that time, leaving Christmas had seemed more about running away. Now, she was happy to acknowledge, she knew it had been the best thing she’d ever done.

  “So pfft to you, Jeremy,” she thought, still laughing over the way Sue had told her she’d put Noelle’s ex-fiancé in his place. Funny how little it bothered her to hear his name when just a few weeks ago she’d thought for sure she was still mourning the breakup. Someday, she was going to have to sit down and evaluate just why that was.

  Noelle’s rapidly numbing toes quickly pulled her mind off the confusing past to the here and now. They also reminded her of the one drawback to wood floors: they didn’t provide much warmth in winter. Though she was accustomed to wearing fuzzy socks at all times, which served another purpose—built-in dusting—right now she had only the flimsiest, silkiest stockings covering her feet and legs.

  Silkiest. Slinkiest. Sexiest. Yeah. She was dressed pretty much like a hooker waiting for a client.

  “You should really change,” she ordered her reflection, which stared back at her from the full-length mirror in her bedroom. “You have a perfectly respectable black bra and control top black pantyhose in your drawer.”

  The sultry seductress in the black lacy lingerie merely smiled, knowing she was not going to change. Not when for the first time in a very long time, she felt really good about how she looked. Right now, Noelle felt worthy of being looked at—confident in her ability to incite a sinfully sexy guy into a wild frenzy of lust.

  The very thought of Mark—of his desire for her—made her thighs shake. The chill in the air might have brought goosebumps to her skin, but the steamy hot thoughts in her mind were making her whole body warm and liquid with want. Knowing she could probably see her breath if she stepped into her bathroom, she also had to admit that deep down she felt hot. Steamy. Absolutely on fire with hunger for the man she’d sent away yet again just two days ago.

  Unable to resist, she cast her gaze to her bedside table, thinking about what was safely buried in the drawer. Beneath the coupons and beauty tips she’d clipped from magazines, and the mafia-worthy letters demanding that she renew her subscription to book-of-the-month club or else, was her very naughty secret, The Lust and the Fury.

  She still couldn’t believe Sue had sent her a porn movie, and she especially couldn’t believe who she’d sent it with. Thank God she hadn’t opened the package until Mark had left the other day.

  Noelle hadn’t watched the movie, though she’d been intrigued by the title, and the, um, well-endowed people on the cover. The blurb on the back that said the movie had been written and directed by a woman. Targeting lovers, the film supposedly had a story to go with all the boinking.

  Nevertheless, she hadn’t watched it, and she’d given Sue a serious talking to on the phone about needing to mind her own business. Still, she had to admit to a certain curiosity. The damn thing was practically singing a siren’s song from across the room, daring her to go even further with her wicked rebellion from nice social worker to wild temptress.

  If only she had someone to watch it with.

  Sighing deeply at the thought, she pictured him with her, watching erotic images in the dark. His jaw would clench, his whole body would be rigid with want and hunger. He’d be big and hard, not letting her put up any barriers, refusing to leave her with any inhibitions at all.

  Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Noelle could almost picture him standing behind her, staring as well. Breathing deeply, she studied herself through his eyes, knowing he’d first see her as the stranger he’d met in a department store dressing room a couple of weeks ago. Only the black lingerie she wore right now was even more sultry, more wicked, than what she’d been wearing that day.

  The black lace bra not only scooped up and pushed out, it was also made of a sheer lace that did almost nothing to hide the dusky shadows of her nipples. Her new black panties were the skimpy thong type, which seemed appropriate with the thigh-high black stockings.

  “Yeah, a call girl,” she whispered. “If only you had the guts to call.”

  There was no doubt about who she wanted to call, who she’d been dying to call back into her life since Thursday afternoon when he’d surprised her at work. Mark had made it clear that day that he wanted to pick up where they’d left off in Christmas. After making his stark declaration about her being enough to tempt him into sin, he’d asked her to come home with him.

  She hadn’t done it.

  Oh, sure, she’d been tempted. And if she hadn’t been on duty at the shelter for the night, she might have been weak enough to give in to the heat that had blazed from Mark Santori’s stare.

  He wanted her—desperately—even after he’d already had her last weekend. Probably more so.

  She shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, didn’t she want him just as much? Still, something in her marveled at the realization that the intimacies they’d shared at the inn hadn’t turned him off in the least.

  He wanted more. Much more. And so did she.

  “But he’s not a stranger,” she reminded herself. He was not just a sexy, nameless guy she could fool around with again before putting him out of her mind forever. Because the more he came around, the more he showed up with money for needy kids, or a wink and a laugh and yet another request that she at least let him buy her a cup of coffee, the more she fell for the man.

  Yeah. Fell for. As in, falling for. As in caring about. As in just give me a rusty knife and start cutting into my chest right now.

  “Nuh-uh,” she told herself, spinning away from the mirror and marching over to her bed. “No caring about allowed. Sex is all you can handle right now, missy.” Sex with anyone except Mark Santori. Which meant she really needed to stop thinking about how nicely his big strong hands could cup the cold cheeks of her backside and warm them up.

  Slipping on the little black cocktail dress she’d found the day after Thanksgiving—after her encounter with Mark—she focused only on the evening ahead of her. The mayor’s holiday party was a fancy affair, being held at a downtown hotel, and the most important people in local government would be there. As would many wealthy invited guests.

  One lowly social worker normally wouldn’t be noticed by anyone, but tonight Noelle planned to be noticed. She would take any chance she could to ask for donations, whether the inattentive mayor liked it or not.

  And maybe by keeping her mind on her j
ob, and the crisis at the shelter, she’d be able to forget about Mark Santori and the look of deep regret he’d given her before walking out of her office—and her life—two days ago.

  THE BLACK TIE, COUNTRY-CLUB set was not at all Mark Santori’s thing. If given a choice between spending an evening rubbing shoulders with snotty people who considered him worthy only of writing tickets or arresting indigents, and downing some beers with the guys at a bar close to the precinct, he’d choose a cop’s night out any time.

  Except for tonight.

  Tonight he had a vested interest in this party. One that had made it worthwhile to put on the penguin suit he’d bought last spring when yet another one of his brothers had leapt headfirst into matrimony.

  “We’re so glad you decided to come after all,” said Rachel, his petite new sister-in-law. She, Mark and Mark’s brother Lucas were walking together into an opulent downtown hotel Saturday night. “I was so afraid there wouldn’t be any other friendly faces. With Lucas having to play nice with the muckety-mucks, I wouldn’t have had anybody to talk to all night.”

  Rachel, a sweetheart of a southerner, looked a little nervous, as if not yet used to being in the limelight as the wife of a prominent member of the District Attorney’s office. Slipping an arm around her waist, her husband gave her a smile of reassurance. The adoring look on his face had been there for months, ever since Luke had gotten out of his engagement to a piranha in Prada to hook up with his former fiancée’s dressmaker.

  “You’ll be fine. You’re the most beautiful woman here.” Then, raising a wry brow and looking at Mark, he said, “And believe me, he may look innocent, but I know my brother. He’s up to something. There’s a reason he came here tonight.”

  As an attorney, Luke had that confess-or-pay-the-penalty thing going on big-time, and his stare challenged Mark to come clean. But Mark was a cop. He didn’t knuckle under to lawyer tricks or intimidation. Not even when they came from his own big brother who was, without a doubt, one of the best things to happen to Chicago law enforcement since Eliott Ness and his untouchables.

  “Can’t a guy say yes to an invitation without somebody having to alert the media?” he said, maintaining a look of complete innocence.

  Rachel tossed her blond curls and took his arm, shooting her husband of seven months a glare. “Of course he can. Ignore your brother. He’s just grumpy because there’s going to be another man at the party tonight who looks almost as good as he does in a tux.” Patting Mark’s arm, she added, “And it was really nice of you to come on your parents’ behalf.”

  His parents, as popular local business people and major donors to the current mayor, received the holiday invitation every year. But Mama and Pop had never shown any interest in attending, offering up the tickets to anyone else in the family who wanted them. Lucas got his own invite these days, and usually nobody else was interested.

  Until now, this year. When Mark had taken them up on the offer.

  There was no doubt in his mind about his real motive for attending tonight’s function. It was all about Noelle. Because two days ago a little birdie named Casey, who worked with Noelle at the women’s shelter, had told him she was going to be attending tonight’s party.

  A part of him—the reasonable part who’d learned in his years as a Chicago detective to analyze every situation and draw the most obvious conclusion—had told him to just forget it. Forget her. They’d had their fling, she was satisfied, and it was time to cut the strings. Just the way she wanted to.

  But the part of him who could still close his eyes and feel the smoothness of her cheek against his own, and smell the faint scent of orange blossoms in her hair, simply couldn’t let it end. Not yet. Not when he was still battered with emotions if he so much as whispered her name.

  “It’s so pretty,” Rachel murmured, looking around with wide blue eyes at the decorations gracing every inch of the lobby.

  From the front desk swathed with thick ropes of gold-tipped garland to the twenty-foot tree covered with glittering red and gold ornaments, the hotel screamed professional decorator. It was as if someone had lifted a magazine photograph out of Southern Living and brought it to life right here in one of Chicago’s nicest hotels.

  Somehow, though, Mark found himself looking around for a nativity set, wondering if he’d spot a stray Rudolph carrying the Virgin Mary to Bethlehem. He found himself almost missing the quirky charm of the Candy Cane Inn, so completely at odds with the elegance of this place. If given a choice between the two of them, he frankly thought he’d rather be back in Christmas. At least there everyone was honest about trying to cash in on the goodwill of the holiday season, unlike tonight’s event, when the mayor pretended to be hosting a party when, in truth, he would be stumping for campaign money.

  But a certain sexy brunette wasn’t at the Candy Cane Inn back in her hometown—she was here. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was right there.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured to Luke and Rachel, skirting around the edge of the elegantly dressed crowd in the ballroom. He wanted to stay out of her way for a little while, so he merely kept an eye on her thick head of dark hair, caught up in a sophisticated mass of curls and loops, as he stayed on the sidelines.

  Passing a waiter carrying long flutes full of sparkling champagne, he instead asked a bartender for a club soda. Beside him, a sophisticated blonde in a floor-length bloodred gown gave him a smile and a once-over. Ignoring her, he moved to a shadowy corner, sipping at his drink as he surveyed the room.

  All around him, women in glittering, jewel-toned gowns and men in dark tuxes just like his own laughed and chatted, talking about holiday plans and gift exchanges. Not to mention, of course, those last minute tax shelters they needed to find before December 31.

  Not one of them, he felt quite sure, knew a thing about the kids Noelle worked with, who weren’t going to have much of a holiday season at all. Nor did they probably know much about the holiday events he experienced each year…the desperate thieves stealing radios and video games right out of display cases in the stores. The brutal accident scenes caused by selfish bastards who downed their eggnog and rum toddies, then went out and wrapped their cars around light poles. Or, even worse, innocent people.

  But he’d be willing to bet they knew a thing or two about that crushing feeling of being alone on Christmas Eve. More than one of the suicides he’d worked during the holidays had been leapers from some of the richest condo buildings in the city.

  “Pretty pessimistic,” he muttered, trying to focus on the festive atmosphere, not his own jaded attitudes about the holiday season.

  The crowd shifted a bit, enough so he finally got a better look at the woman whose dark curls he’d been following with his eyes. And oh, what a look. Because now, seeing her from head to toe for the first time this evening, he had to admit Noelle looked utterly amazing.

  She wore a black dress that should have been perfectly normal and acceptable, but for the fact that it was skin tight and revealed her mouthwatering curves. Even from here, he could see the creamy smoothness of her throat and her chest, revealed by the low scooped neckline of the dress. The short, puffy sleeves left most of her slender arms bare, and every time she moved, he was reminded of Noelle’s innate gracefulness. He’d bet she was a good dancer. Because God, she was good at lovemaking. A natural, with perfect rhythm and even better instincts.

  A good bit of Noelle’s long legs, covered with silky black stockings, were revealed by the short dress. Mark took a moment to appreciate them, remembering the way they’d felt wrapped around his hips when he’d made love to her.

  He could have stood there studying her from afar for another hour, but when he quickly realized he wasn’t the only one admiring her, he straightened and tossed back the rest of his drink. Because another man—a gray-haired guy in a tux too tight for his frame—was standing a few feet away from Noelle, doing whatever he could to look down her dress.

  Mark strode across the ballroom, ducking and weaving to
avoid bumping into any of the people in his path. But when he reached Noelle and the man, who was speaking intently with her, he hesitated. Noelle’s expression was intense—too intense for casual party conversation. When he overheard her mention the words “donation” and “needy kids” he knew exactly why the Christmas-hating social worker had decided to come to this party tonight.

  “Well, I’m quite sure we can come to some arrangement,” the gray-haired man said, his tone suggestive. “Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll be in touch so we can work something out.”

  That was about all Mark was going to stand by and listen to. Stepping around the man, he murmured, “Good evening.”

  Noelle gasped, and she made a small O with her mouth.

  “Miss,” he continued, pressing his advantage while she was caught unaware, “I know we are complete and utter strangers. You don’t know my name and I don’t know yours and after tonight, we’ll probably never see each other again. But I simply have to ask—will you dance with me?”

  Noelle began to smile, then to laugh softly, even as her eyes widened with excitement and understanding. She knew exactly what he was saying, understood the wicked way he was reminding her of the passionate weekend they’d shared. She also knew he was asking her to repeat it.

  The older man she’d been talking to cleared his throat, but Noelle completely ignored him. Extending her hand, she said, “Well, thank you, sir, I’d love to dance.”

  Taking her hand in his, Mark led her to the small dance floor where several couples were swaying to the Christmas music being played by the small band on the stage. Normally, he wouldn’t consider “Winter Wonderland” to be a great song for slow dancing, but the way the ancient musicians with their matching bow ties played, it was just about perfect. Then again, any excuse to hold Noelle in his arms was very much appreciated.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured against her hair as she melted into his arms.