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  Jessica shook her head.

  Nicholas shrugged. “She was a good ten years older than I, married, and living in Germany when I met Penelope. However, I have kept track of her descendants. It’s a closely guarded secret, but one girl in every generation knows the truth -- that she’s a relative of St. Nicholas. They explain me to their families as their much older, eccentric, antisocial brother Nick who lives in the wilds of Canada.”

  Shaking his head, Richard continued to stare at his “Uncle” Nick. Eccentric didn’t even begin to describe him.

  Richard leaned forward again. “How did you get here?”

  Nicholas grinned at him. “Snowmobile. Snow’s too deep for the four-wheel drive.”

  Relaxing his tense muscles, Richard leaned back.

  “And I only use the deer on Christmas Eve,” Nicholas continued.

  Richard slumped in his chair. “I’m going fucking crazy.”

  Chuckling, Penelope leaned over from where she was now sitting on the sofa and patted his knee. “No you aren’t, dear. I know all this is hard to believe, but how else can you explain sitting here right now?”

  Directing a baleful glare her way, he answered, “Twilight Zone.”

  Her merry laugh bouncing around the room, she clapped her hands together. “You have the most droll sense of humor.” Lifting the shopping bag, Penelope set it in his lap. “Here, I thought you might like some of your clothing.”

  After looking in the bag, Richard locked his gaze on Penelope. These weren’t the clothes he’d worn to the club. “Where did you get these?”

  “Your mother, of course.”

  “My mother?”

  She smiled. “Well, how else would I get them?”

  “This is fucking insane,” Richard growled as he wrenched himself to his feet. “I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere with two women and a lunatic who thinks he’s Santa Claus.”

  Rising from her chair, Jessica said, “That’s enough. Thanks for bringing Richard his clothes, Penny. Nick, it was very thoughtful of you. But it’s time for you to leave.”

  Stomach churning, Richard stared at the three of them. They were all nuts, him included. Still, he had a bone to pick. “I hate Santa Claus.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  That brought all three of them up short.

  “I hate Santa Claus,” Richard repeated.

  “Why?” all three chorused.

  “Because he’s fucked up my life.”

  Nicholas puffed out his chest, a very indignant look on his face. “I have not ‘fucked up’ your life! You got almost every toy you wanted when you were a boy.”

  Richard shook his head. Maybe he was nuts, but he finally had a Santa in front of him, he was sitting in a cabin somewhere in northern Canada without a clue as to how he’d gotten here, and he was going to tell him exactly what he thought. Rising to his feet, he stepped in front of Nick and poked a finger against his chest. “Because every time I got serious about a woman, she ended up fucking some asshole Santa and leaving me for him. So what do you have to say to that, you jolly old elf?”

  Sticking his chin out, Nicholas stepped into Richard’s finger. “Wasn’t me, you young whippersnapper. Penelope’d have my balls in a vise grip if I fooled around. Not that I want to. Not a woman anywhere can compare with her.”

  Well shit. Jessica stared from one man to the other. Just what she needed in her living room, raging testosterone. Her gaze rested on Richard. Damn, but he was the finest man she’d ever met, and considering her age, that was saying something. But was the baggage from his past worth dealing with? The last thing she wanted or needed was a man dwelling on the lost loves of his past, especially since the real Santa Claus was her brother-in-law. Animosity could really screw up a family picnic.

  Jessica shifted to her other foot. Besides, she didn’t even know if Richard was interested in hanging around for the next millennium. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him hanging around that long. Yes, they’d had fantastic sex, but sex wasn’t everything.

  Her lips twitched. Okay, sex was a lot; but, shit, she would like to have a man around who could carry on a decent conversation.

  “Time for you to make up your mind, Jessica.”

  Blinking, she turned to her sister. “What?”

  Penelope nodded in the general direction of the growling men. “Is he worth the trouble? Men are rather like children, you know. They have to be guided. It’s a lot of work, but certainly has its rewards.”

  Sighing, Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know, Penny. Hell, I’ve known him less than twenty-four hours. I can’t make a life-changing decision only based on great sex.”

  Chuckling, Penelope patted her shoulder. “Never settle for anything else. Convince him to stay a few days. Get to know each other. If he’s the right one, you’ll know. So will he. Now, I better get Nicholas home before they come to blows. Santa has never delivered toys with a black eye, and he’s not going to start now. Just let me know if Richard wants to go home. We’ll have him there in a jiffy.”

  With those words, she stepped between the two men, grabbed Nicholas’s coat from the back of the sofa, and tossed it to him, the bells sewn onto it jingling. “Time to go home, Nicholas. Only a few weeks left until Christmas, and there’s still a lot to do.”

  Far more quickly than seemed possible, Penelope had them both bundled up and out the door. The loud roar of the snowmobile’s engine faded quickly into the distance.

  Richard stared at the closed door then down at the gaily colored shopping bag he still held in his hand. He shook it. When the bells fastened to the handle jingled, he cringed. “If I ever hear another fucking bell, it will be too soon.”

  Jessica’s voice was dry. “Really?”

  Dropping the bag on the floor, he turned to look at her. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

  A devilish smile on her face, she held up his G-string and shook it. The bells jangled. “I was rather hoping you’d model this again for me some day.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  She nodded. “Want to hang around a few days and get to know me, so to speak?”

  A smile tugging the corners of his mouth, Richard stared at Jessica. Hang around a few more days? He’d already gotten to “know” Jessica very well, but…

  A full smile stretched his lips… there was a lot more about her he’d like to get to know. “Are you ticklish behind your knees?”

  She chuckled. “I don’t know. No one ever bothered to find out.”

  Letting the wool throw slide off his shoulders, he stepped toward her. “And after I find out just where you’re ticklish, then what?”

  Tossing her long hair back over her shoulder, she slid her hands under his robe, scissoring his nipples between her fingers. “Oh, well, I could find out how many places you’re ticklish.”

  Bending down, he brushed his lips against hers. “Then what?”

  She stepped closer. “Do you like to fish?”

  Placing his hands on her hips, he slid his hands under her sweatshirt up the soft skin of her back. “Yes,” he answered before he nibbled the exact spot her neck and shoulder met.

  Sighing, she tilted her head, giving him better access. “How about cooking? Can you?”

  He slid his hands down her back, under the waistband of her sweatpants -- no panties -- and gently massaged her ass. “Nope,” he breathed against her neck. “But I’m a hell of a Bar-B-Quer.”

  “Hmmmm. That’s great. Do you care if there’s a little dust around the house?” She tugged the robe loose and slid it off his shoulders.

  It puddled at his feet.

  She stepped closer.

  His erection nudged her belly.

  “What dust?” he asked as he pulled her shirt over her head.

  Both pebbled nipples got a quick suckle and kiss.

  Jessica arched her back into his mouth. “Dogs!” she gasped. “Do you like dogs?”

  He slipped his fingers under the waistband of her sweats again and s
lid them down. “Dogs? Man’s best friend.”

  “Oh good. I have eight of them, you know.” She shivered in his arms as he lifted her and set her on the back of the sofa.

  “Yeah, I know. Dashiell, Danny, Prankster, Vicky, Compass, Cueball, Donny, and Blister,” he answered as he lifted her legs and placed one on each side of his hips.

  She locked her legs around his waist. Breathlessly, she answered, “They’re good dogs.”

  He dipped his fingers between her legs. “They saved my life.” He slid two fingers into her.

  She arched. “Yes, they did. And mine too.”

  As he twisted his fingers, she gasped, “Richard!” and dug her blunt nails into his shoulders.

  He covered her mouth with his and sucked her tongue into his mouth. Pulling his hand from her body, he probed with his cock -- once, twice, then slid into her.

  She shuddered both inside and out.

  As she arched her back, he lifted his mouth from hers and slid his hands around her sides to cup her ass. As he thrust, he pulled her closer.

  Hot, moist heat surrounded his straining cock.

  Did he want to stay around and get to know Jessica?

  Hell yes.

  Sara Powell

  Far off places, exotic lovers… Sara Powell dreams of hot passionate love on sultry summer nights, festive fall evenings, winsome winter mornings, and sparkling spring days. Pictures, songs, or errant phrases will set her vivid imagination into flights of fancy.

  Sara is happily married to a man who helps her embellish her fancies. She loves nature in all its myriad forms and can often be found outside in her garden or hiking through the woods.

  Sara would love to hear from you. Email her at [email protected]