Let It Snow... Read online

  “Where do you come from?” she asked, though she cursed herself for doing so. She had no interest in the man, and this conversation was beyond confusing.

  “The land of Barcelona,” he declared with a decisive nod.

  “Uh...Spain? You sure don’t sound Spanish.”

  He waved a hand. “I am well traveled...but, um, but also poor. A student making my way around the world.”

  Huh. That was surprising. The guy oozed confidence and self-reliance, looking more like a ship’s captain or a...a sheik—that was it, some oil-rich gazillionaire. Yes, his clothes were casual, and didn’t appear terribly expensive, but he wore them like somebody who had money.

  He had the leanest waist and hips, most attractive male butt and strong legs...at least, as far as she could tell. And considering she’d been pressed up against him five minutes ago, she could tell a lot. So, really, anything would look phenomenal on the man.

  Or off the man.

  She swallowed hard, trying to focus. “So tell me, student, what are you learning from your boss, the bookie? How to swindle people? How to...crack nuts?”

  “You keep talking about this nut cracking. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  There was no disguising the confusion in his voice. For the first time, a hint of uncertainty entered Claire’s mind.

  She’d turned around and found a big, strong, dark and mysterious stranger in the shop kitchen, asking for Freddy. Her mind had immediately connected him with the deadly man her brother had warned her about a few days ago.

  But what if he wasn’t who she thought he was? What if she’d mistaken him for a mobster, when he was just... Just what? Looking for directions to the Statue of Liberty by slipping in the back door of a closed candy shop on a Sunday evening?

  Something didn’t add up. But she had to know for sure.

  “Who, exactly, are you?”

  “I’m Philip.” He extended his hand. “Philip...Smith.”

  She eyed it as if it were poisonous. Not because she didn’t want to touch him, to feel his hand in hers and assess its strength, and imagine how it might feel rubbing against parts of her body. But rather, because she did.

  Finally, though, realizing he wasn’t going to drop his arm until she shook, she reached out and grasped his fingers with hers, squeezing lightly, pumping once and yanking away.

  No matter how quickly she moved, it wasn’t fast enough. She was still left with curiosity about other squeezing and pumping. Lots of squeezing and pumping.

  Pull your head out of his pants. It had obviously been too long since she’d gotten laid if she was thinking about sex with a guy who might or might not be here to neuter her brother.

  The stranger was watching her closely, his eyebrows raised expectantly, and she finally remembered he’d offered her his name.

  “I’m Claire Hoffman,” she mumbled.

  “Claire. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Was he for real? Would a mob enforcer really talk like that?

  “And if you run the delightful shop, in which I purchased some festive holiday candies yesterday, it appears I am your upstairs neighbor.”

  “Wha-a-a...?”

  Good thing she was leaning against the counter, not only because her legs suddenly felt weak, but because there would be something to catch her plummeting jaw as it collapsed downward. She stared at the man, putting the pieces together, remembering how Freddy had cajoled her to rent the upstairs apartments to get him his gambling money. They hadn’t talked about it since; she’d been busy decorating the shop and restocking specific seasonal goodies. Could he—would he—have done it behind her back? Would even weak, spoiled Freddy do something so rotten?

  You didn’t. Oh, God, tell me you didn’t.

  But she knew he had. Freddy had already had this plan in mind, or perhaps even in motion, when he’d come to her about the money the other day. Then when he’d asked her to meet him at his place to talk some more yesterday, he’d stood her up. She’d had to get her part-timer to cover the store on a busy Saturday afternoon, and Freddy hadn’t even been there.

  Because he was here, renting those apartments?

  Oh, that sneaky bastard.

  “Now tell me,” Philip ordered, “who did you think I was when I first came in? And why did the thought of that person being here frighten you?”

  “I wasn’t frightened.”

  “I think you were,” he said, those dark eyes piercing, demanding she reveal the truth.

  “I thought it might be somebody looking for my brother.”

  “Someone who wanted to hurt your brother?” The man’s tone said he wouldn’t accept anything less than pure honesty. “Someone who’d threatened him?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her visitor’s jaw clenched; she could see the flexing of his muscles.

  “Would this person hurt you to get at your brother?”

  She shifted her gaze, not knowing what Freddy’s cohorts were capable of.

  Philip’s whole body seemed to grow bigger, harder—more threatening—as he leaned closer. “I walked right in. Why are you working here alone at night? Your brother should be here protecting you!”

  Laughter burst from her mouth at the very idea. “Freddy couldn’t protect his graham crackers from the other kids in day care.”

  “He doesn’t sound like much of a man.”

  “He’s only twenty-one,” she said, not even sure why she was making excuses for her sibling. “And I’ve sort of had to finish raising him since our mother died.”

  Or, well, all his life. But who was counting?

  “At twenty-one you’re a man,” Philip insisted, “in any land. It’s wrong that he put you in such a position.” Her visitor cast a quick, malevolent glance toward the door. “Don’t worry, if this dangerous person comes looking for him now, I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re no longer alone.”

  Right. No longer alone. Because he freaking lived upstairs! How she’d let herself be distracted from that, she had no idea.

  Then she realized it was probably because it had been such a long time since anyone had acted protectively toward her. Maybe it was a little overbearing, and maybe he did sound like a caveman, but something about the idea of this hot, sexy man wanting to protect her seemed incredibly exciting.

  But he wouldn’t be around to make good. He couldn’t possibly. Because there was no way she could let him stay. He was going to have to leave her life just as quickly as he’d come into it.

  Why that thought sent a sharp stab of regret rushing through her, she couldn’t say. It made no sense; she barely knew him. But there was no other choice.

  Swallowing and taking a deep breath, she spoke, “You know what? I think we have some talking to do. So how about you sit down and we figure out exactly what’s going on here.”

  Except she knew what was going on.

  She’d been scammed by her own brother. And now she had to figure out how to get rid of her unwanted upstairs neighbor.

  * * *

  THOUGH IT TOOK SOME cursing, mumbling, hair twisting and chocolate eating—everything other than the chocolate part coming from her, the beautiful woman he still tasted on his lips—Philip had finally figured out what had happened. Claire Hoffman owned the building in which he sat. She had not authorized her wastrel brother to rent out any of the upstairs units, and was both furious and fearful. Furious at the position her sibling had put her in, and fearful of how Philip would react to her attempts to back out of the deal.

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Her brother might not have had the legal right to offer Philip and his entourage the dwellings, but he had accepted money for them and scrawled a signature on a contract, one his sister carefully examined when Philip withdrew it from his pocket. And while he might not be accustomed to all the ways of this world, he knew a few things, including a bit about the law.

  She could make him leave. But he could then go to the authorities and charge
her brother with fraud or theft.

  The way she stumbled over her words and wouldn’t meet Philip’s eye said she knew it. But she wasn’t ready to give up.

  “So you see,” she said, twisting her hands in front of her on the broad counter, “I couldn’t possibly let you and your two friends stay in those apartments. They’re really not in any condition to be lived in.”

  “They are acceptable to me.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t let you stay.”

  Maybe not. Maybe, in fact, Philip didn’t really need to stay. He could certainly afford to find another place to live. It might not be quite as perfect for his plan to pose as a poor man, while also being able to stay in the heart of the most exciting city in this world, but it could be done.

  He wasn’t going to do it, however.

  Because of her.

  First, because there was no way on Elatyria he was leaving this woman alone to deal with the dangerous criminal she’d thought him to be. He suspected her brother owed someone money and would use the cash Philip had given him to pay off the debt. But what if he hadn’t? What if he’d pocketed it and left the city, leaving his sister to deal with his mess—and his creditors?

  Oh, no. Philip wasn’t leaving her unprotected, not by any means, whether she liked it or not. If he, Shelby and Teeny had to take shifts guarding the door to her shop—or the one that led to her apartment—that’s what they’d do.

  Aside from wishing to protect her, he simply wanted to know more about this woman, Claire Hoffman, who was calling to him, drawing him like no one ever had. Perhaps it was because she was talking in circles, telling tales of terror—as if a few bugs or sagging floors mattered—to make him leave. Perhaps because of the way she’d tasted and felt in his arms. Perhaps because she was trying so desperately to pretend she hadn’t been every bit as affected by that warm, hungry kiss as he had.

  Whatever the reason, he had found her, he’d kissed her, and he still wanted her. So he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’m afraid I can’t simply move back out,” he told her when she stopped for breath. “Unless, of course, you can return all of the money I gave your brother.” He was certain she couldn’t.

  She nibbled her lip. “Uh, how much was that, exactly?”

  “Fifteen thousand American dollars.”

  She coughed so hard she fell off her stool. Fortunately, Philip had quick reflexes and dived off his own to grab her before she could hit the floor. He landed on his knees, catching her in his arms and yanking her protectively against his body.

  Raspy breaths escaped her mouth and she looked at him, blinking rapidly. He could feel the wild thudding of her heart against his chest, and wondered whether she was alarmed by her near miss...or by his nearness.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You are most welcome.”

  They stayed that way for a moment, staring at each other, and Philip tried very hard to count the number of blue flecks in her green eyes—or green flecks in her blue ones—before finally remembering he should probably let her up.

  Moving slowly, carefully, to make sure she didn’t slip—either to the floor, or closer against any of his body parts that were reacting mightily to having her in his arms again—he gently set her down, then rose to his feet and pulled her up, as well.

  “I take it that’s more than you can pay back?” he murmured.

  “Definitely more.” She swallowed visibly. “He actually charged you fifteen thousand dollars for those apartments?”

  “Yes, five thousand per month for each unit, plus another five as a security deposit.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, sure. Because there’s so much valuable stuff that could be damaged or broken.”

  Sarcasm was common in his world, too, but he quite liked how she did it.

  “Fifteen thousand dollars,” she repeated to herself.

  “That was almost all the money I had. The, uh, the people in my village back home took up a collection to send me here,” he said quickly, realizing this was quite a lot of money.

  She scrunched her brow. “Isn’t Barcelona a big city?”

  A misfire. Damnation, he should have studied his backstory more. Aware that the best way to avoid answering an uncomfortable question was to shrug it off, he shrugged. “It is therefore more than I can afford to lose,” he told her, which wasn’t exactly true, but wasn’t totally a lie.

  The amount was nothing overall, but in terms of his presence here in New York, it was important. He had brought only a certain amount of cash from the vault at home—his father always keeping a supply of various currencies on hand for traveling expenses—and had to make it last. Philip couldn’t start all over with another housing situation without coming perilously close to the limit of his funds. That would leave him having to sell something—possibly one of Shelby’s bejeweled rings, which Philip would of course replace. But it would hardly be worth the man’s whining.

  “I can’t afford that,” she said, sounding on the verge of tears.

  He hated that her brother had done this to her, and thought for a moment of telling her he’d reconsidered and would leave. The money truly meant nothing to him.

  But she might. And he simply couldn’t walk away without knowing for sure.

  “You don’t have to,” he told her, reaching out and taking her hand in his. A strong hand, but still soft, pretty.

  She tensed for a moment, staring at their fingers twined together on the counter, then relaxed.

  “So it is settled,” he said, sure she’d begun to accept the inevitability of it. “We will stay.”

  “You can’t seriously want to.”

  “Of course we want to.”

  “The place is a dump!”

  “A...”

  “It’s a wreck. A mess. A ruin.”

  “I am aware it’s not in the best condition. It needs a bit of work, but I’m sure my...friends and I can make do.”

  “You almost sound as if you like the idea of having to stay here.”

  “I do.”

  “Why? I mean, there are better locations, and definitely better buildings.”

  He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t possibly admit that he was staying because of her. Because she was in danger. Because she’d fought him and confronted him and disliked him—and yet still kissed him as if she needed his breath to survive. Because she was, right now, rubbing the soft pad of her thumb against his, sending frissons of sensation through him as he imagined all the other ways, other places, he wanted her touch.

  So he settled for replying, “It’s where I need to be, and you can’t pay me back, so I’m making the best of it.”

  She blinked rapidly, nibbled her lip and pulled her hand away to clench it with her other one. Finally, as if not quite believing she was saying it, she agreed.

  “All right, then. If you’re completely sure, I guess you’ve got yourself a place to live for the month. But just until the New Year.”

  Actually, he didn’t have quite that much time. He’d lost days in travel, and would on the way home, too. So he had only a little over three weeks before he’d have to start heading back to Elatyria. Less than one month of freedom before his responsibilities would take over his life.

  Not much time to find the woman of his dreams, one he could love for the rest of his days.

  Or, in case he’d already found her, not much time to make her fall in love with him in return.

  3

  ALTHOUGH PHILIP WAS certain Claire was the only woman he wanted to get to know, his two compatriots insisted he follow his original plan to meet as many as possible before pursuing anyone. He’d had to keep an open mind and at least allow the possibility that he’d meet someone else who interested him more.

  So, despite wanting to do nothing but find reasons to bump into the lady, which he did a few times—or better yet, find reasons to kiss her again—he had to leave the apartment and get out and about in New York. He visited museums, rode the subw
ay, consumed horrible coffee in dingy cafés and excellent Scotch in swanky restaurants. He was flirted with, propositioned, and even argued over by two women at a club—yet his heart didn’t so much as skip a beat for any other female he set eyes on. Only her.

  Whenever he wasn’t out fulfilling his obligations to his kingdom and his family, he was at the apartment, fulfilling his vow to protect Claire. She didn’t know the Elatyrians were on guard. It seemed American women were touchy about being protected by a man.

  Philip kept watch from the stairs, or the back alley, or from across the street. Shelby had complained incessantly, especially about the cold, but Teeny was happy to help, since being a bodyguard was his job and his favorite thing to do. He would love for something to happen so he could crush someone, and Philip had had to physically drag him away from a taxi driver who’d paused in front of Claire’s shop for too long.

  After a few days, Philip began to relax his guard, feeling fairly confident they hadn’t overlooked any scurrilous characters lurking around, and he released his friends from their duty. But he didn’t release himself. He kept watching, not only because it was still possible she could be in danger, but because he’d rather stay here, getting to know her moment by stolen moment, than exchange a word with anyone else.

  Guarding her had given him the chance to see her in so many guises. Claire was always smiling and friendly toward her customers, patient with her annoyingly perky clerk. She looked happy when hanging colorful holiday decorations in the window, and he’d heard her humming Christmas tunes when closing up at night. She always bent down to eye level when a child entered the shop and usually slipped the little ones a free chocolate if their parents approved.

  Every morning, after the early rush and before the lunch-hour one, she would sit at the same small table in the front window. She’d slowly sip a cup of coffee, staring out at the world with a dreamy expression on her face, as if for those few minutes she was allowing herself to let go of her responsibilities and thinking only lovely thoughts.

  He liked those moments especially. Claire looked young and fragile and almost carefree, when usually she was so strong and hardworking. But always beautiful.