Kiss Me, Katie!
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Jill Shalvis
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13
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
SHE WAS REALLY going to do it, she was going to seduce Santa Claus. It wasn’t that she had a thing for guys in a white beard and red suit, although she did have to admit, she liked the belly laugh.
But what Katie Wilkins really wanted was the man beneath the costume. Mr. Perfect from the executive offices down the hall. He was everything she wanted in a man: mature, polished…safe. So safe that she’d known him all year and he hadn’t once made a move on her.
She hoped to change that tonight.
The holiday party was in full swing around her, even though Christmas was still three weeks away. Christmas carols blared out of speakers hanging from the rafters of the hangar, and everyone from the airplane mechanics to Mr. Riggs, the director of Wells Aircraft—the small, private airport where they all worked—was ready to party with the proper festive spirit.
The spiked punch helped.
Or that’s what Katie figured when she saw Mrs. Giddeon, their usually prim receptionist, with an empty glass in one hand and Mr. Riggs in the other, a decisively naughty gleam in her eye as she dragged him toward the mistletoe hanging from the nose of a jet parked in the far corner.
Then there were Dale, Jake and Evan, the linemen, and usually the most polite of young men, cheering and egging on Julie, Cassandra and Eloise, three of the women in her office, who were at the moment exhibiting go-go dancing skills to the tune of “Jingle Bell Rock.”
Katie shook her head in amazement. She hadn’t imagined this when she’d volunteered to decorate. She’d known everyone had been working hard, trying to keep up with the expansion plans that had them putting in long hours and stressful times with new clients. But to totally let loose? Was she the only grown-up here?
It felt like it.
And yet, from deep inside her came a yearning to join them, to brush off years of restraint, down a glass of spiked punch and toss caution to the wind.
Which brought her back to jumping Santa’s bones.
Katie glanced across the huge hangar, wildly decorated with gold and silver streamers, red and green ornaments, and of course the pathetic four-foot Christmas tree. Pathetic because, this being Southern California, and a drought year at that, the poor tree looked as though it were on its last legs.
Next to the straining tree stood Santa. Tall, smiling and charismatic. Because she knew who was under the suit, Matt Osborne, aka Mr. Perfect, her heart sighed.
Go for it, a little voice whispered in her head. Do it. Kiss him.
As a rule, Katie didn’t feel the holiday spirit. She wasn’t exactly Scrooge, but the truth was, she’d been Christmas cursed. It had all started when she was six. Her neighbor, Holly Stone, got the Barbie vacation house and Katie didn’t. Then, when they were twelve, and still neighbors, Holly cheated at her holiday party spin-the-bottle game in order to kiss the boy Katie had a crush on. The topper had come three years ago, when they’d been twenty-one—no longer neighbors, but in the small town of San Limo there was no escaping anyone—and Holly had stolen Katie’s fiancé.
Her own fault really. Katie knew she was too careful, too methodical…too much like an accountant, darn it. Yes, she was happy enough, financially stable, yadda yadda.
But she was also dateless.
This was the year that would change. No more bad luck. She was going to see to it herself. She was going to make a Christmas wish, a really good one, and make sure it came true.
What she would wish for would be different from anything she’d ever wished for before. Not a new adding machine, not a new pair of slippers, not a new set of IRS regulations. No, this year she wanted a knockout kiss from Matt Osborne; sophisticated, handsome, intelligent and all-around perfect guy.
“You’re not going to chicken out, are you?”
Katie rolled her eyes, then because that was an irrationally childish gesture, she carefully schooled her features into indifference before turning to face Holly, aforementioned arch rival, and unfortunate coworker. Holly was decked out in a sexy little silver-sequined number that blared self-confidence, and a perfect size-six frame, to the world.
“I never chicken out,” Katie said.
Holly laughed deeply. “We don’t have time to go down that road.”
“I don’t see you kissing anyone.”
“I’m not the one with a boring sex life.”
Nonexistent was more like it, Katie thought.
“Besides…” Holly examined her perfect manicure, which was neon red and topped with ten different, and very wicked, appliqués of Santa in compromising situations. “If I wanted to kiss Matt, I’d just go right up to him, grab him and plant one on him. I’m not shy.”
No kidding. Katie had plenty of incidents to prove that one, years’ and years’ worth, but time was passing and she had a mission—getting Santa beneath the mistletoe, mistletoe she’d purposely planted in several spots with grand hopes for the evening ahead.
In light of that, Katie squinted across the action-filled hangar, past the confetti-covered Cessnas and Learjets and overdressed office staff, to the man in the red suit. “You sure Matt is the one in there?”
They both studied Santa. He had a red festive hat, a white beard and mustache. He also wore the required stuffed belly and red suit. He looked…jolly. But that could have been caused by the very spiked punch. Truthfully, other than being the correct height, which was approximately six feet tall, there was absolutely no way to be certain who was under there.
“It’s him,” Holly said decisively.
Katie definitely knew better than to trust her, but what could go wrong this time? Everyone knew Matt was going to be Santa, it’d been in the weekly office memo.
The office memo never lied.
“Okay.” She handed her still full flute to Holly. “Wish me luck.”
“Merry Kissing and Happy Fondling,” Holly said, lifting her drink in a toast.
Katie smoothed her dress in a useless attempt to scoot the thing farther down on her thighs. Purchasing the bold, red, stretchy number had been a huge departure for her, not to mention a bit of a strain on her bank account. She could only hope Santa liked it, since she’d spent nearly her entire month’s budget on it.
That was okay. If it worked, it’d be well worth having to eat macaroni and cheese from a box for the next month.
She stopped tugging at the hem and straightened, which emphasized the provocative bodice. Good. She, secret chicken of the world, needed all the help she could get. With a hard swallow, she let her high heels lead the way.
To Santa.
To the perfect man beneath the costume.
To a good, hot Christmas kiss.
He saw her coming, she watched as he focused in on her. To be sure he got the full effect, she took a deep breath.
In response, Santa…choked on his drink. The woman standing next to him, Edwina, who ran the small coffee shop in the lobby, starting pounding on his back, which brought on a fresh attack of coughing.
Grabbing his glass, Edwina set it aside and lifted his arms over his head—or that’s what she tried to do, but as Santa was tall and Edwina was…well, not, the only thing she managed to accomplish was to flail his arms near the region of his chest as she bounced up and down in front of him.
From a distance, this seemed like some sort of comical dance, and since Edwina wore a short green cocktail dress, now flapping wildly as she leaped around in front of him, she looked like an elf to Matt’s Santa.
Finally, he waved a hand to indicate he was fine, and when he managed to convince Edwina of this, she left him alone.
“I think it’s the costume,” she whispered as she passed Katie. “It’s really such a trial to wear it successfully. That poor man should be nominated for sainthood.”
“I agree,” Katie murmured, because now that she was close, she could see how right Edwina was. The suit had to weigh a ton, what with the heavy red material and white faux fur, not to mention the added belly and big black boots.
Could she even press close enough past all that tummy to kiss him?
Yes, she decided. Yes, she could. Besides, she couldn’t back out now, not with Holly’s gaze burning a mocking, laughing hole in her back.
The mistletoe she’d decided on was only about five feet behind Matt, around the corner, out of view from the rest of the party. Smiling sweetly, heart thundering, she stepped closer. She really didn’t know what she expected…maybe for him to make things easy, to back up, possibly right beneath the hanging plant?
He didn’t. Instead, he held his ground, watching her from beneath the silliest pair of glasses she’d ever seen. The outside of the lenses were tinted in a design of Santa’s bright, laughing eyes, so that she couldn’t see Matt’s own blue gaze.
She assumed he was smiling, too. Hard to tell with the beard, but hoping for the best, she took another step, silently willing him to help her out.
Why wasn’t he backing up?
Instead he tilted his head, as if asking her what she was doing.
She thought that should be rather obvious!
“I don’t know if you realize this,” she said. “But right behind you and around the corner, there’s some mistletoe…just sort of hanging there.”
Nothing.
“I helped decorate. It’s waiting for some couple to get themselves beneath it. So they can kiss,” she added helpfully.
Still no response!
Okay, she could admit she didn’t know Matt well, but she did know he wasn’t an idiot. He was vice president, for God’s sake. Yes, he was sedate, he was mature and focused, but she was offering to kiss him!
What was wrong with him? According to Cosmopolitan magazine, there wasn’t a red-blooded man alive who would turn down a kiss! The editors had promised!
But Matt didn’t budge and her nerve was fading fast. She was beginning to feel very sorry she’d ever thought about doing this. In fact, maybe she should switch her Christmas wish from a kiss to a big black hole opening up in the floor so it could swallow her.
“You are in there, aren’t you?” she asked with a teasing smile to hide her embarrassment.
Slowly Santa turned and craned his neck, studying the plant in question.
Then looked back at her.
She smiled encouragingly, knowing her time was running out. Any second now, Holly was going to decide she wanted Matt for herself, and she’d have no such difficulties getting him—or any man—beneath that blasted mistletoe.
No, she couldn’t fail. Take charge time.
Grabbing Santa’s hand, she pulled him around the corner, noting his hand was big and warm and callused. At the first tug she also took in the fact that he seemed bigger and more powerful than Matt’s lean physique had led her to believe, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that when she had him so close to her goal.
The noise of the party followed them, but they were completely alone in the hallway. Around them, all the office doors were shut, with not another soul in sight. The music and laughter from the party seemed almost surreal.
They were in their own little world.
Right beneath the mistletoe.
And he was staring at her from behind those ridiculous glasses and fake facial hair; the only real part of him available to her was his mouth.
Perfect, since that was all she happened to need at the moment.
Reaching up to touch his shoulders, she leaned in close. “Merry Christmas, Matt,” she whispered, and set her lips to his in the connection she’d been dreaming about all night.
She felt his startled jerk, felt the immediate tensing of his big body, but she just pressed closer and deepened the kiss, swallowing the growl of desire he made.
Of course it also could have been a sound of surprise, since she’d given him little choice in this kissing matter, but she figured if he hated it, he’d back off.
He didn’t.
Instead, his hands went to her waist, tightening when she pulled off his glasses and tossed them over his shoulder. He tasted like champagne…like wonderful, delicious male…like heaven. It was better than her wildest dreams, and then he was tilting her head for better access and kissing her back. She nearly fell to the floor because it was the most blazingly, most pleasurable sensation she’d ever experienced in her life.
One of his large hands cupped her cheek, his fingers playing havoc over her skin as he slowly pulled back and stared at her.
She nearly staggered from the wonder of it all. Never had a kiss so rocked her world, left her so off balance, so dizzy with rocketing emotions. “That…was some mistletoe,” she gasped.
“It had nothing to do with the mistletoe.”
No, he was right, she could see that in his blue eyes, in the lines of his mouth, that wonderful, soft yet firm, incredibly talented, mouth.
Confusion had her taking a step back, so that Santa’s hands fell to his sides. This was supposed to be just a kiss, she thought, not a life-altering moment with the emotional impact of an 8.0 earthquake. “Gotta go,” she managed to murmur.
Yeah, she definitely had to go. Maybe she really was just a chicken, but Lord have mercy, how could she have known what would happen to her insides over one silly embrace? It made her feel things; wild, reckless, hot things that she’d never felt before.
Had never wanted to feel. All she’d wanted was one kiss! A silly little Christmas wish. But she’d gotten much more.
“Katie.”
She heard him call her name, in a voice made so thick by desire that she didn’t recognize it, but she kept moving, had to keep moving.
Wow. Just wow.
Because she needed a moment to herself, she escaped into one of the darkened offices. It took more than a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart and throbbing body. It took a while longer before she realized she’d gotten far more than she’d bargained for.
By the time she reentered the party, Matt stood by the tree, the Santa costume gone. How did he get rid of it so fast? And why? When she caught his eye, she could only stare, still amazed by the connection they’d shared.
“Good evening.” His voice was perfectly calm. Almost asleep calm.
Catatonic calm.
“It looks as though nearly everyone showed up tonight,” he said.
How could he sound so…so normal? With one kiss he’d leveled her, and yet he stood there as if it’d been no big deal.
Was it possible he hadn’t felt what she had?
And how humiliating was that?
“Matt, about what just happened—”
He looked at her blankly. “What just happened?”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding. “About that—”
“Excuse me?”
“No, excuse me” came a low, husky male voice that made Katie’s entire body tighten.
Bryan Morgan.
Head pilot and local daredevil. He was the hero of every man at Wells Aviation, and the center of every woman’s fantasy.
Every woman but Katie. He was a jump-off-the-cliff type of guy, far too similar to her daredevil father who had gotten himself killed when she was just a teenager. As a rule she steered clear of him, though the reasons were so complicated she didn’t often allow herself to think about them.
Especially now, when he was smiling at her, a wide, devastatingly charismatic smile that would have melted any other female in the room.
“You look lovely,” he said, which was funny only because he was tall, leanly muscled, rugged, and the most gorgeous man ever to walk the planet, and he thought she, plain-Jane Katie, looked lovely. Right.
“Thank you,” she said politely, pointedly turning away from him back to Matt. Darn it, she wanted to talk about their kiss.
“And the decorations,” Bryan said, a small smile in his voice. “So tastefully done.”
Great. He liked the decorations. Now could he just go away? She had a kiss to discuss!
“Especially all that strategically placed mistletoe,” Bryan added, and Katie finally went still, giving him her one-hundred-percent undivided attention.
“What?” she whispered, her heart all but stopping.
Bryan just looked at her, his brilliant blue eyes innocent. And hot. Now she realized that was a complete contradiction, but it happened to be true. Something deep down within her unfurled, hesitated. “What did you just say?” she asked again.
He merely smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
