Wicked Christmas Nights: It Happened One Christmas

A smile tried to tug at his lips. He remembered that elf costume. Remembered it so well.

Suddenly he was remembering everything so well.

Some things too well.

“I’m working,” she said, her head going up, that pretty mouth tightening. “Did you happen to notice the picture-with-Santa session that’s been going on for the past couple of hours?”

He’d barely noticed anything that was going on, being too busy working to socialize. The employee Christmas party had been a long-standing tradition with Elite Construction, the company his grandfather had founded, and he now ran. That didn’t mean the boss ever had much time to participate in it. He’d made the rounds, thanked his employees, greeted their kids and wives, then retreated back into his office for the last two hours, only coming out to say goodbye now that things were winding down.

“I noticed,” he finally replied.

“Well, that was me behind the camera.”

“I know that, I heard you did a great job and was coming over to meet you,” he said, still knocked off-kilter by her mere presence.

“Sorry, Santa’s gone. No more pictures. Though, if you want to sit on the chair, I guess I could snap a shot of you holding a candy cane and a teddy bear.”

Still sassy. God, he’d always liked that about her.

“I meant, I was coming to thank you for agreeing to do the party on such short notice.”

“You didn’t know I was the elf until just now?” she asked, sounding slightly suspicious. As if wondering if he’d set up this little reunion.

Huh. If he’d known she was nearby, he might have considered doing just that—even though Lucy probably wouldn’t have been thrilled about it, judging by the look on her face.

“I swear, I had no idea.” He was suddenly very interested in talking to his assistant, wondering how she’d found Lucy. He also wondered if the motherly, slightly nosy woman had been doing a little matchmaking. He wouldn’t put it past her. She was nothing if not a closet romantic.

“My real question was,” he continued, “what are you doing here in Chicago? You swore you’d never live here. Hell, I figured you’d be in Europe.”

That had been her dream, living overseas, being a world-traveling photographer. So what had happened? She had seemed utterly determined that she would never stay near home and take…Santa pictures of little kids.

He glanced at the velvet-covered chair, the fluffy fake snow, the tripod, and her, back in that elf suit.

How on earth had her life gotten so derailed?

“I was for a while, did my semester abroad and went back right after graduation,” she said.

Just as she’d planned. Which was one reason he’d stayed out of touch, knowing an entire ocean was going to separate them, so why bother trying to make something work when geography said it couldn’t?

“And?”

“And I wasn’t happy, so I ended up back in New York a few years ago.”

Years. She’d been on the same continent for years. A short plane ride away. The thought made him slightly sick to his stomach, especially considering the number of times he’d thought about her during that same time span. The curiosity about whether she’d kept the same cell phone number and whether it would work in Paris.

Maybe not. But it probably would have in New York. Damn.

“How did Chicago enter the equation?”

“You remember, I grew up in this area?”

He remembered, but she’d seemed adamant about never coming back here, associating it with her tragic loss. “I remember.”

“Well, I moved back here ten months ago to be closer my brother.”

Even as another wave of shocked pleasure washed over him—she’d moved here, to the very same city—the brother’s name immediately popped into his mind. “Sam?”

“Right. He went through a pretty bad divorce and I thought he could use some family nearby.”

“That’s a shame…about the divorce, I mean.”

“Yes, it is. I really thought they’d make it.”

“Does anybody anymore?” he mumbled before he could think better of it.

Her whole body stiffened, and he mentally kicked himself for going there. Because he and Lucy sure hadn’t.

Then again, had they expected to? Hell, what had happened between them had been so sudden, so unexpected. Neither of them had been in the right place for any kind of relationship—mentally, emotionally, financially, or in any other way.

Except physically. Oh, yeah. There they’d been absolutely perfect together.

It had been so good during the incredibly brief time it lasted. Honestly, looking back, he could say it was the best Christmas Eve he’d ever had in his life.

Followed by the worst Christmas Day.

“How do you like being back in Chicago?” he asked, sensing she was trying to gracefully exit stage left.

“It’s cold,” she said with a shrug, not giving an inch, not softening up a bit. Hell, he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

“You look like you’ve done well for yourself,” she said, an almost grudging tone to her voice. She looked him over, head-to-toe, as if wondering where the jeans, T-shirt and tool belt had gone.

Some days—many days—he longed for them. Wearing a suit—even if he usually lost the tie and rolled-up his sleeves at some point every day—just didn’t excite him the way working with his hands always had. “I guess. And you?”

She nodded. “I have my own studio.”

“Still boycott Christmas?”

She glanced down at her costume. “As much as I possibly can, which isn’t easy in my line of work. You still a sappy kid about it?”

He nodded, unashamed. “Absolutely.” Even if, for the past five holiday seasons, he’d spent a lot more time wondering about Lucy—where she’d gone, if she’d stayed in Europe, become a famous photographer—than he had worrying about what present to get for which sister, niece or nephew.

As if they’d both run out of small talk for the moment, they returned to staring. Ross couldn’t deny it, the years had been good to her; Lucy was beautiful. No perky little elf hat complete with feather could take away from that. Nor could the short dress, striped tights—oh, God, those tights, did they ever bring back memories—and pointytipped shoes.

She should look cute and adorable. Instead she looked hot and sexy, bringing wild, intense memories to his mind of the last time he’d seen her wearing that very same outfit.

He was suddenly—forcibly—reminded of how long it had been since he’d had sex.

Good sex? Even longer.