Naughty or Nice (7 page)

“I see,” she said, kicking herself for putting the tension back in his voice. “I like modest,” she added, following him through a decent sized living room with two bedrooms and a bathroom to the right, a dining room straight ah
ead, and a kitchen to the left.

“Thanks,” he said, already pulling out pots and pans as though more than ready to change the topic.

“Love the antiques,” she added.

“Thanks.” He shot her a warm genuine smile that deepened the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and made the butterflies dance in her belly. “Ready?”

“Oh, yeah.” She bit her bottom lip, then frowned. “Um, wait. For what?” He had a knack for turning her brain into mush.

He wagged his brows. “To get cooking. What did you think I was talking about?”

“Nothing,” she answered a little too quickly.

“Bet I can make better cookies than you,” he challenged.

“I said I couldn’t cook. I never said I couldn’t bake.” Her grin came slow and sweet. “You’re on.”

“You saying you hustled me, Darling?” He advanced on her, backing her up against the counter. “Because last time I checked, that was naughty. I thought y
ou were being nice these days.”

“I can be very nice, just tell me what you’d like for me to do?” she responded innocently and then licked her lips, feeling more daring than she had in, well, ever.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and he was rendered speechless for a moment. Then he responded in a husky voice, “You’re the boss. You tell me what to do. I’m good, remember?”

“Prove it,” she dared him.

“Careful what you ask McScroogy for, Darling. You don’t have to be nice for me to deliver.”

“Deliver what?”

“You really want to go there?”

She opened her mouth to reply but then chickened out and said, “Yup, I want to go to the stove. We have cookies to bake, you slacker.”

He blinked, but then a loud laugh burst out of his chest and he looked as though he’d surprised himself. “You never cease to amaze me, Darling.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” She winked.

For the next hour, he proceeded to out ba
ke her in every way imaginable.

“You were right when you said
you ain’t seen nothin’ yet
.” He laughed. “Cuz from where I’m standing, I’m not seeing much progress on your part other than making a colossal mess.” He wiped flour off the end of her nose.

“Hey.” She swatted his hand away and then made a swipe at his face, but he caught her wrist. “I do believe you’re the one who hustled me.”

He turned her hand, palm up, and kissed the inside of her wrist. “It’s not called hustling when I was up front about my culinary abilities.”

“Well, it sure as heck is call
ed something.” She snorted.

He just stared at her, not saying a word, but his body language screamed,
It’s called foreplay, Darling
. She swallowed hard, knowing it was what she wanted, but not knowing how to make the first move. His lips tipped up in a full delicious lazy grin that said,
Allow me
. He hooked the front of her apron with his finger and started pulling her toward him. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a soft sigh, awaiting the touch of his mouth to hers.

The smoke alarm started to screech, and they both jumped, ruining the moment as the kitchen filled with smoke. Nathan bolted to the stove, grabbing oven mitts along the way, and pulling out a sheet of charred cookies. Meanwhile, Samantha opened the window, snatched a towel, and started fanning the smoke detector. When the horrendous noise finally ceased, they looked at each other and laughed.

“Someone forgot to set the timer.” She smirked at him accusingly.

“Someone was a bit distracted.” He smirked back. “I believe we were in the middle of--”

“Finishing our cookies for the church bake sale. You’re exactly right.”
She tried not to giggle at hi
s you’re-killing-me expression.

“Lucky me.”

“You
are
lucky that I’ve decided to help you.” She laughed, bit her bottom lip, and tried to swat him.

He caught her hand. “And
you
are lucky I’ve decided to be lenient and not punish you for being so naughty.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Keep biting that lip and I just might have to change my mind.”

“Oh?” she said after releasing her bottom lip.

“Oh, yeah,” he responded in a soft deep rumble.

“Oh, my. And what exactly did you have in mind?” she asked, suddenly dying to find out.

“Why don’t I show you?” He stepped forward until he was a hair away from touching her, but he kept his hands by his sides and she tried not to squirm. “First, I would--” His cell phone rang, and he cursed under his breath as he glanced at the caller ID. “First, I would answer the phone. It’s Roz. I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

“Go ahead.” Samantha cleared her dry throat. “I have to get these cookies over to the bake sale early anyway, and I could use some fresh air right now. I’ll meet you there tonight. You can, um, show me whatever it was you intended to do later if you want. I mean, you don’t have to or anything, I just thought--”

“Make no mistake, Ms. Darling
...
I want.” He gave her one last heated gaze and then w
alked away to answer his phone.

Samantha packed up the cookies that weren’t burnt and headed out the door before her face burned off. Hot didn’t begin to describe how she felt, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She could do this. She wanted to do this. She needed to do this. She was pretty certain she would burst into flames aft
er he was through punishing her
...
yet she’d never looked forward to anything more.

***

Nathan smoothed the front of his burnt orange cashmere sweater over his jeans, chuckling at himself. In the past, he had never been a fan of jeans or color. Ever since Samantha had come into his life, he found himself wearing both on a daily basis. He could fool himself into thinking he only wore them to soften his image, but he knew the real reason he wore them.

Samantha.

He actually cared about what she thought of him. That was a first. He’d done a lot of firsts with her, he admitted, and he wanted to do a whole lot more with her
...
and to her. His palms started to sweat with just the thought of how she’d made him feel earlier today as they’d
cooked together in his kitchen.

She had no idea that he never brought women to his home. He preferred to stay in a hotel or at their place but never his. He might own several apartments and town houses, but each of them was his own personal space. His sanctuary. A place to be himself and not let the world in. Women were meant to be cherished and pampered and adored
...
but never loved. He’d learned the hard way that when you let someone in and loved them, they let you down every time.

It concerned him a little that he’d let his guard down enough to bring her back to his place, but then he reasoned this case was different. She was working off her sentence for the trouble she’d caused him and staying in the back of his store. And Redemption’s only hotel was run by the biggest busy body in town. Basically, his townhouse was the only suitable place for what he had planned: wooing Samantha Darling straight into his bed. After how she’d acted earlier, he was fairly certain they were on the same page. Not to mention after what she’d done to his store front window, she couldn’t
be all that naïve and innocent.

She probably played the game as well as he did.

He glanced around his place one more time before he headed out to the bake sale. Everything was ready for his night of seduction. The wine was chilling on the table. The candles were ready to be lit. The music and lighting were set to the perfect level. He just needed the object of his desire, and for once he might stand of chance of forgettin
g what the holidays did to him.

He grabbed his keys and was just about to head out the door when his house phone rang. Frowning, he glanced at his watch. Everyone in town was already at the bake sale. Who could it be? A moment of dread filled him as he wondered if it could be his parents. He grudgingly made his way into his kitchen and looked at the caller ID
. A number he didn’t recognize.

Picking up the receiver, he said, “Nathan Snow residence, may I help you?”

“Wow, so formal,” one woman said, sounding like she had him on speaker phone.

“Yeah, but Tall, Dark and Stuffy sounds just as yummy as we thought he would,” another woman said, confirming the annoying speaker feature.

“Apparently you know who I am. Do me the courtesy of cluing me in as to who you both are.”

“Whoops, sorry,” they both said, followed by a few giggles.

“I’m Amber.”

“And I’m Ellen.”

“Ah, Ms. Darling’s friends.”

“So she’s told you all about us, I take it,” the woman who called herself Amber said.

“You could say that,” he replied warily, not sure what they were up to. After what they’d done to her, he wouldn’t put anything past them.

“Then you must know how much we care about her,” the other woman who called herself Ellen said.

“Getting her drunk and trying to hook her up with me is a funny way of showing that.”

“Hey, pal, if you knew what she’s been through, you’d know she needed an intervention,” Amber said. “Sam is such a goody goody, she just needed to let loose and live a little. We would never do anything to hurt her. We just underestimated her alcohol tolerance.”

“Brilliant observation,” he said dryly. “She was far from goody goody that night. What she did to Santa, Mrs. Claus and my elves was clearly coal worthy.”

“What I think is you’re a--”

“What I think is that you are probably a really nice guy who didn’t deserve the trouble she caused in her attempt to get back at her ex-fiancé Mark,” Ellen quickly cut Amber off, and Nathan tried not to grind his teeth . “I get that she deserves to be punished,” she went on, “but you have to understand she doesn’t deserve to have her favorite holiday ruined. You should let her go home in time for Christmas Eve. If you make her miss putting the star on the top of her family tree, she will be devastated. She’s already had one man try succeed in ruining it. Please don’t add to that,” she pleaded.

He hesitated, thinking about what they’d said, but then his selfish side emerged. He wasn’t ready to let Samantha go, he admitted. Wrong or right, he wanted her, and he wouldn’t set her free until he had her. “She should have thought of that before she broke the law,” he finally said. “She’s lucky I’m not having her arrested. As long as I win the contest, then she will be free to go on Christmas Eve night. If she drives fast enough, she just might make it home in time to open presents.”

“Wow, you really are a mean one, Mr. Grinch,”
Amber said with a bitter tone.

“No, he’s an ass,” Ellen said, her good cop tone completely gone. “I think he’s full of reindeer crap. I think it’s all an act, and he does care, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. He’s so rich, it doesn’t matter if he wins a stupid window display contest or not.”

“Why is this so important to you, anyway?” Amber asked.

“I have my reasons.” Nathan clenched his jaw, not letting the fact that they were right get to him. They didn’t know a thing about him.

“If those reasons include keeping Sam around long enough to seduce her, then you’d better re-evaluate, buddy. Karma’s a bitch, and breaking her heart would not be good for your soul.”

“I thought I didn’t have a soul.”

“Even the real Grinch had a heart, he just needed someone to knock some sense into him before he realized the consequences of his actions,” Ellen said meaningfully. “Samantha might act like she would be into casual sex. An affair with no strings attached. But believe me, she isn’t anything like the floozies you might normally take up with. Sam is so warm-hearted and caring; she can’t help but fall easily and fall hard.”

“Somehow I don’t think you want any strings,” Amber chimed in. “Trust me when I say seducing Samantha comes with a whole ball of yarn. You ready for that, Mr. Snow?”

“Are we done here, ladies?”

“Honey, we’re just
getting started.”

Well, hell...
.

Chapter Six

“Wow, that color green suits you,” Samantha said to Nathan when he joined her in the lobby of Sacred Heart church, her gaze traveling over the tapered cashmere that hugged his impressive frame deliciously. She couldn’t stop thinking about how hot it had gotten in his kitchen earlier, and how eager she was to ignite his flame even further. The girls w
ere right. She was way overdue.

“Thank you.” He kept his eyes locked on hers, never once venturing into the land of inappropriate, darnit. “I must say you look lovely in green velvet.”

“Thank you.” I
think
. Something was off, but she wasn’t sure what, exactly. All she knew was this afternoon he’d been more than ready to heat things up. What the hell had happened between then and now? “Nathan, I--”

“Ms. Darling, you simply must give me the recipe for these gingerbread cookies. They are simply divine,” Betty said, stepping in between them.

“Oh, well, that’s all Mr. Snow’s doing. You’ll have to ask him.”

She blinked, her owl eyes going wide. “You don’t say.” She turned to focus on Nathan, who stood looking vastly uncomfortable. “You are one surprising man, Mr. Snow.”

He recovered quickly and turned on a charm Samantha didn’t know he possessed as he tipped his head to the side and bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you, ma’am, and please call me Nathan.”

“Only if you call me Betty.” She winked.

“It would be my pleasure, Betty. And might I say I’ve grown rather fond of the jeans you carry in your thrift store.” He patted his thigh.

“Oh, go on with you, now.” Her hands fluttered about as her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink.

“Whatever the heck these doohickies are, they’re delicious,” Sal said, as he joined them.

“They’re called Fattigmann, and you’re probably tasting the figs I used,” Nathan said.

Sal’s eyes bulged. “
You
made these?” he sputtered. “But I thought Miss Darling made those.”

“Um, no,” she chimed in, trying not to blush. “I, um, made the sugar cookies on the end of the table. See?” She pointed to the mess she’d attempted to decorate, which ended up looking like a kindergarten project.

“Do I ever,” Sal said in wonder, his forehead wrinkled in a frown of disbelief. “How did you find the time, Mr. Snow?”

“Thanks to you and the saw I purchased from your hardware store, I found the perfect tree in a jiffy and cut it down in record time.” Nathan shot her a conspiratorial look. He knew darn well that she had found the perfect tree, and there was nothing quick about it. But she had to give him credit. He was catching on quickly as to exactly how to win these people over.

“Oh, well, thank you young man.” Sal stood a little straighter and stuck out his chest. “You won’t find better equipment than mine.”

“Or better hot chocolate than at Cindy’s Café or better tree-trimming supplies than at Bob’s Craft Store. I have to say you local business owners have been a huge help to me in salvaging my Christmas window display. I only hope the rest of the town likes what we’ve come up with.” Nathan donned a convincing worried expression.

The business owners all chimed in at once that he had nothing to worry about, as they dragged him along to introduce to all of their customers. Nancy shot Samantha a dirty look, obviously not happy about her interference in helping Nathan reform his image. Sam ignored Nancy and sat back to watch Nathan in awe. The man really was a shark. Once you showed him the way, he went for it full force, taking no prisoners. She had no doubt most of the town would love him by the end of the bake sale, and the rest would follow suit once they learned of the little surprise she had planned for tomorrow, which she intended to let him take full credit for. This was what she wanted. This was the plan. Get everyone in town to love him, get everyone in town to vote for him, and then get the heck out of Redemption in time for Christmas.

Then why the hell did she feel like she’d just gotten burned?

Because she knew in her heart that this wasn’t even close to what she really wanted: a night of tender loving care in the arms of a man she had come to adore. Except, adoration on his part for her had been decidedly absent from the look in his eyes. Tonight, he was all business.

The rest of the evening went by way too slowly, with Nathan working the crowd and Samantha working the cookie table. Her feet were killing her in her three inch heels, and she was more than ready to shed her green velvet dress. She saw very little of him and was dying to continue what they’d started at his place earlier.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around with a smile that looked as though he’d glued it on. A look of relief swept over his features and he relaxed his lips. “Thank God it’s you. My cheeks ache, but I have to admit you were right. I think people are finally starting to come around and see me as something other than a tycoon.”

“Imagine if they’d seen you as a tiger like I did this afternoon,” she teased, letting her voice grow husky. “Ready to show me what you had in mind for my punishment?” She glanced at her watch. “After all, yo
u are officially the boss now.”

He hesitated, and then sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. “It’s been a long day. I won’t be needing your services tonight, Ms. Darling. As your boss, I am giving you the night off. Consider it your Christmas gift.”

She felt her lips part as she stared at him in surprise and then confusion. She bit her bottom lip, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. His gaze glanced at her lips, and his jaw tightened. Lifting his eyes back to hers, an unreadable mask settled over his fea
tures and the tycoon was back.

“Seriously?” was all she could get out.

“I have a headache.” He frowned. “I’ll see you at the store in the morning.” He turned to walk away.

“Try an icepack,” she hollered after him. “I’ve heard it helps.” She heard him grumble something about not even an ice bucket would help the state he was in. Samantha shrugged, letting out a sigh. Obviously being naughty wasn’t doing anything more for her than being nice had, and she was beginning to think something was wrong with her.

***

Thursday morning dawned ominous, the skies looking dangerous, pretty much matching Samantha’s mood. There was nothing wrong with her. The more she thought about the night before, the angrier she became. She hadn’t imagined the flirting and
foreplay
--as Nathan had called it--that had gone on while baking cookies in his kitchen. So what in the world had happened?

So much for her holiday fling to get Mark out of her system once and for all.

Nathan’s hot and cold behavior was driving her crazy. He had hinted at wanting her in his bed since she’d first met him, and now when she’d finally decided to give in, he’d apparently changed his mind. The man’s arrogance infuriated her. She didn’t care how big or powerful he was. He did not get to call all the shots. From this moment on she didn’t care if he got down on his knees and begged. She would not sleep with him ever.

Two more days.

If she could just make it until Saturday, her sentence would be served and she could go home with her family for Christmas. McScroog
y
deserved to spend the holiday alone with nothing but a lump of coal.

The bells over the store’s door chimed as he walked in to join her, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes and lines surrounding his mouth more pronounced. He was dressed all in black like the day she’d first met him, his hair no longer loose and free but slicked back and tamed, the air about him screaming authority and control. Yet he looked different. He’d changed somehow. He was still striking and powerful, his presence commanding attention and respect, yet he looked tired. Physically tired and mentally as well, as though being
him
was exhausting. She started to soften but then stiffened her spine and found her resolve. She could be professional, too.

“Morning, Mr. Snow.”

He stared at her for a moment and then said, “Come on, Samantha. Call me Nathan.”

“Just picking up where we left off, boss.” He started to say something, but she held up her hand. “No need to apologize. You were absolutely right. We should keep things between us purely professional.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but I did.” She smiled stiffly.

“Whatever. I’m too tired to argue with you,
boss
. It’s morning, remember?”

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” she asked, hoping he’d tossed relentlessly.

“Not a wink.”

“Hmmm, well unfortunately, I can’t give you the day off. We don’t have much time left to fully change your image, and something tells me we need every minute. You winning the contest is as much for my benefit as yours. You win, and I get to go home where I belong.”

A flash of sadness and pain crossed his face, but it was so brief Sam wasn’t sure if she imagined it or not. “In that much of a hurry to leave, are you?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she responded defiantly.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered, then that damn wall of his slid back into place as he finished loud and clear with, “Okay, then, we’d better get to work.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She grabbed some non-vintage Santa and Mrs. Claus outfits and headed toward the door. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder.

“What are we doing with those?” he asked.

“You’ll see. Just follow me. No questions asked.”

“Great,” he grumbled. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

They spent all morning going from local business to local business, buying presents for kids of all ages. They took a quick lunch break, and then they bought wrapping supplies and wrapped presents all afternoon. He’d surprised her with his creativity and knowledge about what kids might like. He’d said he was an only child, and Christmases had been nothing but materialistic, yet he put a lot of actual thought into what a child might really like. His wrapping job wasn’t anywhere near as good as his cooking, but that didn’t matter one bit. It was the thought that counted, and Samantha had a feeling Nathan was finally getting it.

That evening they pulled into the parking lot of Redemption Elementary School. Nathan’s mood had picked up all day with each task they performed for the kids, but now he was fairly beaming. “What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Playing Santa, Mr. Snow. Think you can handle it?” She arched a brow and tried not to smirk. He was making it really hard to stay mad at him when he lit up like a Christmas tree over the idea of helping kids. He was such an enigma. It would take a lot longer than the time
she had left to figure him out.

“In my sleep, Darling.” A slight grin tipped the corners of his lips as he climbed out of the car with a spring in his step and grabbed the bag of presents from the trunk. “You coming Mrs. Claus?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She hurried after him, grabbing their costumes along the way. She’d called ahead so the school knew they were coming. They were instructed to sneak in the back door and surprise the kids who were just finishing up school and getting ready for their after school holiday party.

An hour later, Samantha watched Nathan sit patiently with child after child on his knee as he listened to their long lists of things they were wishing for this Christmas. She could tell he was struggling not to let his eyes well up with tears. Redemption wasn’t a ritzy town. Everyone cared about each other here. Their wishes ranged from simple toys to helping others who were down on their luck to the occasional puppy. Nothing grandiose.

It was heartbreaking and endearing and life-changing to watch his reaction.

He managed to say all the right things and touch Samantha in ways she knew she would never get over. Dammit. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to endure her punishment as painlessly as possible and then get out. Leave and never look back. Not fall for the guy. What the hell? This wasn’t about paying Mark back at all. This was about falling in love and being helpless to do anything about it. She made up her mind. She might be in for the biggest heartache of her life, but she’d be damned if she’d leave without as many memories as she could gather
...
starting tonight.

They finished handing out presents and then made their way back to the store. He headed straight for the storefront window and set down the empty bag that had held the toys. Then he unbuttoned his Santa jacket and pulled out the fake belly. When he turned around, she was right behind him. He jerked to a stop as he bumped up against her.

“I should probably go home. It’s getting late. I won’t be needing--”

“Hmmm, but I will.” She bit her bottom lip and placed her hands on his chest which was barely covered with a white undershirt.

“Samantha, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. Just admiring your clothes, Mr. Claus. And who’s Samantha? Just call me Mrs. C.” She slid her hands under his T-shirt and raked her nails up his bare skin.

He sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

She ran her fingertips down his six-pack, tracing the fine line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. “Why?” she asked breathlessly. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had all week.”