A Baby In His Stocking (Harlequin Treasury 1990's) Page 9

  “And after that, I’ll be leaving town.”

  No, he wouldn’t, Shea vowed, leaning her head back again and refusing to be discouraged. No, he would not.

  Jared glanced over at Shea. He was tired, aching from smelling the sweetness of her perfume, having her close and recalling the memories of the time when they were happy together. He had no doubt at all that spending the next hour or two searching for a transient who swore he was Santa was a preposterous idea. On the other hand, if he didn’t help her find a substitute Santa and she was desperate enough to keep the store going, she might come up with some stupid plan concerning him, like...

  No, it was too horrible to contemplate.

  Chapter Seven

  “I feel like a fool,” Jared complained as Shea tugged at the back of his way-too-large Santa suit. Even with the pillow they’d stuffed in the front, she couldn’t seem to make the gathers under the belt hang right.

  “You need more backside,” she said, smoothing the material as well as she could.

  “Funny, that was never a problem for you before,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows, his mouth twisted with humor.

  “I’m glad you’re finding this so funny, Santa.” She surely didn’t. Despite the fact that she wasn’t really touching that much of the real Jared, just the velveteen cloth and his belt, she felt nervous fussing over him. But it was necessary. “Quit fidgeting, Jared, or we’ll never get out there.”

  He stretched his shoulders under the red suit. “It’s not that easy being an icon. I feel like a turkey, wrapped up in red velvet and headed for the slaughter.”

  “You’re two-thirds right,” she told him and pushed his arms down.

  “I’m not a turkey?”

  “You aren’t headed for the slaughter.”

  He grinned at her, and she grinned back.

  The two of them were in a storeroom at Denton’s. Outside the door, Shea could hear the children talking in excitement. Santa was back.

  But not the shelter’s Santa. Last night, while searching, she and Jared had discovered that the man who Molly swore was Santa had disappeared as swiftly and mysteriously as he had arrived. He was gone, along with the page in the register at the shelter that held his signature, so they hadn’t even been able to find out his name.

  Which had left them with no Santa. After Shea had launched what was to be a long, pleading and cajoling argument in which she was going to resort to reminding Jared about Mack’s precarious health, Jared had shocked her by suddenly agreeing to play Santa. Just like that. She was finding it hard to believe how so much good could be mixed up with so much bad on this, the strangest of all her Christmases.

  Feeling a curl from Santa’s fake mustache tickling his nose, Jared resisted the urge to raise his arm to move it, because every time he did, Shea sighed and started her fussing with his suit all over again. As if her hands all over him wasn’t troubling enough, he was feeling imprisoned by the massiveness of a heavy velvet suit that meant so much to the children outside—and so little to him.

  “I’m starting to sweat.”

  “It’s nerves,” Shea said.

  “It’s my worst nightmare.”

  “What is? Giving presents away?” she asked, moving in front of him to make minor adjustments to his beard and mustache.

  “No, having to be jolly all day. I don’t think I have it in me.”

  She chuckled.

  Even as he’d said it, Jared knew it wasn’t the truth. His true worst nightmare was to have her touching him all over and being unable to touch her back, because his hands were tied down exactly as they were right then—only in this case, by the weight of representing a Christmas legend. And with Shea in her white wig, granny glasses and a Mrs. Claus outfit, looking close to the real thing, he was unnerved. He’d never felt this close to Christmas before.

  “No kidding, Shea. I’m not going to be any good at this. I have no idea how to relate to kids.”

  “I know.” As she stepped back and studied him, her evergreen eyes sad, he realized he had just reminded her about more than merely the situation at hand.

  “Hell, I didn’t mean to upset—”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, which only demonstrated to Jared how far apart they now were. Had it been a year ago, he’d never have settled for so little.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jared,” Shea reassured him. “I’ll be right there with you. Just act jolly and follow my lead. It’s not as difficult as you might think, getting used to kids. Look how much Molly likes you.”

  “I gave her church a tree.”

  “You cared about her. That’s all it took.”

  “For her, not for me.”

  By the time she got through to Jared, Shea thought with a sigh, the baby was going to be driving. So he couldn’t note the discouragement she was certain had to be on her face, she turned and walked over to the door. She had to keep trying and hang on to her hopes for a Christmas miracle. It was all she could do.

  “Remember, Shea,” he said as she turned the knob, “I’m only doing this so I can watch out for the Gtinch.”

  And then he would be gone. Shea could hear the unspoken warning in his words, but she wasn’t about to acknowledge it aloud. He was trying to make her give up on him. Well, she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t give up her dreams of a wonderful life for her baby after she had pushed aside her dreams of a perfect marriage.

  Opening the door, she found a small crowd of eager children who were waiting to see Santa as “Jingle Bells” played merrily over the loudspeaker. Moving to stand where she could block the children from running up the ramp to swarm Santa, she swept her arm up to indicate Jared—Santa—who was coming out of hiding.

  “Attention, children!” she warbled gaily in her best Mrs. Claus voice. “Santa has arrived!”

  The children began clapping and cheering. She knew she had to settle them down and get them in order to start visiting Santa, but first, she sneaked a look at Jared to make sure he hadn’t walked straight off the Santa Station and out the door. He hadn’t. As though he’d actually gained the extra pounds the suit represented, he was lumbering up to the seat of honor where he sat down on Santa’s oversize chair with an “oomph.”

  Catching his eye, she mouthed to him, “Ho, ho, ho—Merry Christmas.”

  He stared at her blankly.

  Resisting an overwhelming urge to throw her hands up in the air in exasperation, she faced the children.

  “Merry Christmas!” she said, remembering to use the appropriate voice. “I know you’ve been waiting. Santa’s eager to see you—” There was a loud “harrumph” behind her as Jared cleared his throat, which she chose to ignore. “And he has a present for each of you, so let’s get started.” She let the first little girl in line, the daughter of a friend of hers from school, pass her. As Lauren walked up the ramp to Santa, Shea smiled at the rest of the crowd. “Now who wants to sing along with the music on the speakers?”

  Watching Shea work her magic with the kids, Jared knew he could never be that good with them. And then he looked down. Little Lauren was gazing at him as if he were a king. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. He didn’t know what to say to her at first, but then Shea’s tutorial kicked in.

  “Uh, what can Santa do for you, little girl?” he said, repeating exactly what Shea had told him to say—only it didn’t sound quite the same, somehow.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. Then her lower lip went into a huge pout and her eyes misted with tears. “But I don’t want to miss my turn!”

  Bathroom. Hurriedly, he rose, took her hand and led her down the “leaving Santa” path to her mother, who hurried over from the sidelines where she’d been waiting. “Little girl’s room,” he told her, then trudged back up the path.

  The next child, already waiting, was a towheaded boy who looked about eight and who stared at him suspiciously. Eight. He could almost remember eigh
t, which gave him an idea of what to say.

  “You don’t want to sit on my lap, right?”

  The boy continued to stare.

  “Well, what can Santa bring you?” he asked, rewording Shea’s message a little and wishing the kid would stop staring at him like he had hives or something. But then again, his neck was starting to itch, so maybe he did.

  “Where’s my present?”

  His present? Jared looked down at the floor beside him. His Santa sack was in the workroom. He’d forgotten about it. Shea was going to have a fit and work him over. The one thing she probably wouldn’t do, though, was fire him.

  Shoot.

  “I’ll get it.” Rising, he went into the workroom, where he found the sack and checked out its contents in case the Grinch had gotten there first. He found a bunch of Christmas coloring books and tiny crayons. Great. All set.

  Rejoining the child, who had not given up his spot, Jared maneuvered his fake bulk into the chair and pulled out the giveaways. The boy’s frown went deeper, and he shook his head. “I want candy.”

  Just jolly. “Candy will rot your teeth, kid.”

  Now the boy was scowling, and Jared was growing distinctly more uncomfortable. Shea was going to kill him.

  “I’ll bring you candy at Christmas,” he promised. Then he remembered Shea’s cardinal rule—don’t promise them anything. Well, heck, surely the kid was going to get candy anyway.

  The boy took the crayons and coloring book without a thank you, shook his head in disgust and walked away.

  “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too,” Jared said aloud, just as the music stopped.

  Shea whipped around and looked down at the pint size bundle of trouble as he said in a voice loud enough for the store to hear, “That Santa’s pitiful!”

  Jared shut his eyes. Kids simply didn’t relate to him. He was a washout as a Santa—just as he’d be a washout as a dad. So why was he sitting there, pretending to be something he was not?

  The scent of soft ginger and a gentle movement next to him told him why. Shea. He would do anything for Shea that he possibly could—but his best would never be good enough.

  “Jared.”

  He opened his eyes. Shea was inches from him, leaning down, her soft cheek close enough to kiss. It took everything he had not to.

  “Jared, please try a little harder,” she whispered. “We consider even the children to be our customers.” She smiled at him. “And you know the customer is always right.”

  “That kid was too young to buy anything,” he protested.

  “You really don’t know anything about today’s kids, do you? He’s eight. I’ll bet he’s loaded.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But he didn’t even say thank-you.” He shifted uncomfortably. Shea’s nearness was making him want to bolt. “I think that kid might be the Grinch. I should ditch the suit and keep an eye on him while he shops. Make sure he doesn’t shoot out the lights on your display trees with a BB gun.”

  Shea laughed. “I can see I’d better stay close and help you get through this torture.” She straightened up, but her ginger scent lingered in the air around him. He shouldn’t have noticed, but he did.

  “You mean you’ll suffer with me?” He wasn’t sure he was referring just to the role of Santa, either.

  “Honestly, Jared, it’s not that bad. Watch.”

  Turning before he could argue, she beckoned the next child up with a flick of her finger, like a fairy godmother working her magic. And suddenly, Jared was glad she was near and he wasn’t alone. Having her by his side felt so very right.

  By the time the four hours were up, Shea decided Jared might just have the hang of it. It only took a few of his ho, ho, hos and the air of excitement she tried her damedest to create with smiles and lots of encouragement, and the kids were laughing and having fun with the new Santa.

  When Molly showed up, Jared went all the way and even insisted he truly was Santa until the little girl was giggling with delight. Then Molly took out her list of Christmas wishes to show him.

  “If you’re really Santa,” she said, “you’ll be able to read this.”

  Jared looked down at the list. In one corner was a Christmas tree with presents underneath in every color from neon purple to orange, and across the top was a childlike scrawl that sort of resembled writing, but not quite.

  “Hmm,” he said, “let’s see. ‘Dear Santa.’”

  She nodded. “But that’s how everybody starts their letters.”

  He stared down at the rest and was forced to improvise. “Bike?” he guessed.

  She shook her head and took the list from him. “Nope. You’re Mr. Burroughs all right. But that’s okay, because I like you.”

  Jared felt a warm glow grow inside him, a sensation totally alien to him.

  Turning, Molly tugged on Shea’s sleeve. “I have something to tell you both,” she said.

  Shea leaned down close to her so she could hear Molly’s soft voice over the store music.

  “The real Santa had to leave Quiet Brook,” Molly said, looking from Shea to Jared. “But he said he would come back one more time.”

  “For Christmas, right?” Shea asked, casting Jared a long, “what do you make of this” look. Jared just shrugged.

  Molly did the same. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m positive he meant for Christmas.” Shea waited as Jared reached into his bag and gave Molly her goodies. “Make sure you come back tomorrow, Molly. Santa’s going to give out stockings to each of the kids.”

  Molly gave her a big grin. “Okay. I’ll keep it secret that the real Santa’s gone and Mr. Burroughs’s just here for a little while.”

  As Shea watched Molly lean forward and give Jared a quick kiss on his cheek on top of the white whiskers, the child’s words tugged at her heart. Jared would be here only for a little while. All the fun they’d had that day, all the laughter, would soon be gone. It was a disheartening thought.

  Seconds later, Molly scampered from the Santa Station and disappeared into the store. As Jared stared after her, Shea watched him. His deep blue eyes were smiling. It was a miracle—although not quite the one she wanted.

  “That’s a cute kid,” he said. “I’ll bet her father adored her before he died.”

  That he would even think about such a thing thrilled Shea. “I’ll bet he does now, too, from up in heaven.”

  “Kid like that should have a father watching out for her—down here.”

  Jared was worried about Molly. Shea had thrown him into the pool—was he beginning to swim, if only enough to keep his head above water? Was he actually loosening up?

  Shea had to keep trying, find more things to make him experience the happiness he’d obviously felt for a brief time with Molly. But she couldn’t push. He’d see through that.

  Leaving Jared’s side now that the last child was gone—until the evening crowd of shoppers anyway—she flipped over the Open sign to Closed and latched the gate at the foot of the path. A few seconds later, Jared’s almost empty Santa sack in her hand, she joined him on the short walk to the storeroom.

  “You made it,” she said cheerfully. “And you’re still in one piece.”

  Jared thought back to one child who had swung her little leg, hitting her heel into his shin over and over, and to another little child whose elbow had caught him right in the nose as he climbed down from Santa’s lap. “I’m dented, though.”

  “Like you mentioned before, Jared,” she said cheerfully, “a few flaws build character.”

  He groaned. “I should have known you wouldn’t offer to kiss the dents and make them better.”

  “No way.” She shut the storeroom door behind them. “I kind of like the way you’re shaping up.” Turning, she was startled to find him in her way.

  Inches from her, Jared knew he should move, but he couldn’t. She was so close, and he desperately wanted to kiss her.

  “You like the way I’m shaping up?” he asked, his voice husky. He had to call a halt befor
e he forgot himself and tried to seduce Mama Christmas, promising her something he couldn’t give her. Managing a weak grin, he patted his pillowed belly. “You like the well-fed look?”

  Feeling the tension melt away, she grinned back. “I’d better. My turn’s coming in the next six months.”

  Because she was going to have a baby, all she’d ever wanted, Shea was wearing her heart in her eyes. It made Jared realize whether round with child or slim as she was at the moment, she would always be beautiful.

  He had to stop thinking like this. Moving toward the table where he’d left his clothes, he unbuckled his wide black belt and started unbuttoning the jacket of the Santa suit. While he did that, Shea began scanning the shelves and peering into and behind a stack of empty boxes in one corner.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked, setting the pillow aside and allowing himself a deep sigh of relief. “Signs of sabotage?”

  “I’m just checking. You never know. I expect the Grinch to make some attempt to drive you away from Denton’s very soon.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’s had his fun or finally realized you won’t give up.”

  “Maybe,” Shea echoed, not believing it for one minute.

  Returning to her search, she tried to forget that he’d almost kissed her a couple of minutes before and that she’d wanted him to. That she had wanted him back as her husband.

  She couldn’t think like that. Could she? Was she willing to go back into a marriage with a man who had no understanding of the things that made her so happy, even if he accepted their baby?

  She didn’t know if she could chance the heartbreak all over again if it didn’t work out. And she wouldn’t do that to her baby, either. She wanted a perfect life for them here in Quiet Brook, with all the trimmings. Jared was so far removed from that point.

  She glanced at him, his dark wavy hair, his quiet, thoughtful eyes. He was a brave, wonderful man. He had treated her as an equal, and he had loved her the best way he knew how, but it just hadn’t been enough. He held too much back and he’d let her go without a fight. He didn’t expect to change, or even want to, so how could she even consider a future with him again?