Christmas in Hawthorn Bay

But did he? What did they have to say, after more than a decade? Wouldn’t it just open up a wound that had healed nicely over the years, hardly giving him so much as a twinge anymore?

The questions were purely rhetorical. Jack was already moving toward the stage.

NORA HADN’T EVER BEEN IN a men’s restroom before. And if she never went into another one, that would be fine with her.

But this time she’d had no choice. The minute she’d realized Farley was drunk, she’d had to do something. The kids had been crushed, of course, and a couple of parents were annoyed, but she’d explained in her best elf voice that Santa had an emergency call from the North Pole, and he’d be right back.

She’d managed to get him in here before he started vomiting. But unfortunately, she hadn’t pulled his beard off in time. When he was finished groaning into the bowl, she unhooked the elastic carefully, and deposited the beard in the trash can.

As an afterthought, she covered it over with paper towels. No point shocking innocent kids.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Farley said in a little boy voice as she wiped his face with a cool paper towel. “I think you saved my life. My lunch must have disagreed with me.”

Nora felt too grumpy to participate in the charade. “More likely the bottle of wine you drank with lunch, don’t you think?” She scrubbed at his white fur collar, which wasn’t quite white anymore. “Look at you. What are we going to do about that line of kids waiting to see Santa?”

“Tell them Santa’s been distracted.” He reached up and caught Nora’s hand. “Tell them Santa’s fallen in love with his beautiful little elf.”

“Gross.” She batted his fingers away unemotionally. “I’m not kidding, Farley. There are at least fifty kids out there. You’d better call one of your friends and get them to take over.”

“Whatever you say.” He smiled. He might have thought the smile was sexy, but he was wrong. Farley had been sexy in high school, and even in college, but from the time he’d started drinking heavily a couple of years ago, all that had disappeared like smoke in the wind.

“I’ll call Mac,” he said. “But only if you give me a kiss.”

Nora turned away and tossed the paper towel into the trash. “Your mouth smells like a toilet, Farley. Nobody’s going to be kissing you tonight. I’ll go stall the kids. You stay here and make that call.”

She would have thought he was too wobbly even to stand up. But she had just exited the men’s room when she felt him wrap his gloved hand around her waist.

“I’m serious, Nora,” he whispered in her ear. She nearly vomited, too, as she recognized the odor of half-digested seafood. “I think I love you.”

“Farley Hastert,” she said through gritted teeth. She kept her voice low, in case any children were nearby. “Let go of me.”

“But Nora—” He brought his other hand up to her waist and began trying to spin her around to face him. “Nora, you’re so beautiful.”

“Goddamn it, Farley.” She put the heel of her hand on his chin and shoved his face up, so that at least he wasn’t exhaling rotten food into her nose. “Get a grip.”

He was so tall, and though he was as thin as a stick he was pretty strong, from all those years playing basketball. Her arm was failing. His face was getting closer and closer.

Oh, hell. She brought her left knee up hard.

Farley made a sound somewhere between a curse and a kitten’s mew, and then he slid to the ground, clutching his red velvet-covered crotch.

She looked down at him, just to be sure he hadn’t cracked his head on the sidewalk. Nope, he was fine. She felt kind of sorry for him, but not sorry enough to stay and face the wrath when he recovered. She brushed the front of her elf dress, in case he’d left anything disgusting there, then turned to go back to the band shell.

She’d have to think of something to tell the kids. Santa’s a drunken letch probably wasn’t the right approach.

But she never made it to the stage.

She got only about ten feet, and then, there on the path, clearly watching the whole thing with a broad grin on his face, stood a man she hadn’t seen for a dozen years. A man she’d hoped never to see again.

Jack Killian.

Her heart raced painfully—from normal to breathless in less than a second. She had a sudden, mindless urge to knee him in the groin, too, and make her escape.

She couldn’t do this right now. She couldn’t do this ever.

But he wouldn’t be as easy to subdue as Farley. Farley was basically a spoiled man-boy who thought the world was his box of candy. Jack Killian had been a street fighter from the day he was born. He didn’t expect life to be simple or sweet.

And he didn’t know how to lose.

She had loved that about him once. Before she’d realized the twisted things it had done to his soul.

“Hello, Nora,” he said with a maddening composure. “Been explaining to Santa that all you want for Christmas is to be left the hell alone?”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Something like that,” she said. She adjusted her elf hat, which had slipped sideways, and tried to look semi-dignified. “It’s nice to see you, Jack. I didn’t know you were in town.”

How stupid she’d been not to consider this possibility. She knew that he and Sean were still close. Through the years Sean had traveled to Kansas City frequently to visit Jack, but the only time Jack had come back here was for his mother’s funeral, which had been held while Nora had been in Europe.

She had naively assumed she was safe.

Why hadn’t it occurred to her that the council’s bid to confiscate Sweet Tides would be the one battle he’d be willing to fight in person?

“Is it, Nora?”

“Is it what?”

“Nice to see me.”

She willed herself not to flush. But, as she looked at him standing there with his curly black hair and his piercing blue eyes, a dizzy confusion swept over her. For just a moment, she was transported back a dozen years, to a cold Christmas dawn rising over the water in wisps of blue and gold. Jack’s lips had tasted like the chocolate he’d stolen from her stocking, and his arms had been hotter than the bonfire they’d built on the beach.

In another instant the memory dissolved. All that was left was the awkward present.

“Of course it’s nice,” she said. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily her composure could unravel right now. She had to keep it distant, keep it professional. “I know we’re going to be on opposite sides of the eminent domain issue, but still…I’m glad to see you looking so well. Apparently the Army agreed with you.”

“Not really, but getting out of it did. And I enjoy practicing law. It’s a relief to be on the right side of it for a change.”

She laughed politely. “I can imagine.”

God, who were these two people? Years ago, they’d sat in this very park, in a twilight much like this one. They’d shared a cold park bench, and she’d laid her head in his lap. He had hummed a love song—he had a beautiful baritone—and had lifted her long curls to his lips, the gesture so sexy it had burned her scalp.

“I should go,” she said. “The children—”

“Yes.” He stepped out of the way. “I’ll look after Santa for you.”

“Thanks.” She paused, a sudden anxiety passing through her. Jack’s temper. If he’d seen Farley pawing her, grabbing her against her will…

“He’s been punished enough,” she said carefully, hoping Jack would get her meaning. “He drinks a little too much, but he’s not a bad guy.”

Jack understood her alright.