The Nanny And Her Scrooge. Deanna Talcott

assured me I’ll have a sleigh gliding by momentarily. I’ll grab a little milk and cookies at the diner down the street and wait. If they’re late, it’s because Donder’s probably acting up again. He does that.”

      He didn’t reply, only stared at her, vaguely wondering if she even had a home to go to. Maybe she was a nutcase.

      “Ho, ho, ho,” she feebly joked, “then off I’ll go. Into my sleigh, and over the snow.”

      With an inexplicable surge of impatience, Jared dismissed her rhyme and looked over her shoulder, down the street. Every storefront was dark, and the diner she mentioned was a good two blocks away. “Look. It’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re half frozen. If you start telling me you actually live at the North Pole, I’m going to think you’re delirious to boot.”

      She laughed, a tinkly little sound that reverberated through the darkness. “Okay. I can assure you I’m not delirious, and I don’t live at the North Pole. What you just witnessed is my kid-appeal. I wanted to wedge it in while I had your full attention.”

      She was making references to the ill-fated job, and Jared pursed his lips, choosing to ignore them. “Miss Holliday, I insist on driving you home.”

      “No. That’s okay.”

      “Do you realize,” he asked, “that I’m trying to do you a favor? Perhaps because I feel somewhat responsible for you missing your ride.”

      She stopped shivering and gazed at him, with liquid, clear blue eyes, as if she were shocked he admitted any culpability at all. “Why? Because you altered the Santa ‘clause’ of my job?”

      He didn’t reply. “Come on,” he ordered, “my car’s right inside the parking garage.”

      She stayed rooted to the spot.

      He turned back, lifting his eyebrows with the unspoken question.

      “I don’t want to put you out,” she said.

      It struck him how there was not a hint of malice in her voice. He’d expected it, guessed he even deserved it. She stood there, looking a little forlorn, her hair all tousled, her cheeks chapped from the bitter wind, and simply met his gaze. Yet there wasn’t a bit of recrimination in her features.

      This woman, ephemeral as the snow, was unsettling. She preyed on his protective instincts, making him want to toss a warm coat around her shoulders and press a hot chocolate into her hand. Even in this bitter cold, he’d rather idle with her on a street corner than leave her here.

      “You aren’t putting me out,” he said too softly, aware the wind pulled at his words and carried them away. He hesitated, raised his voice, and assumed the stance of a dictator. “You’re either going to come with me, or I’m going to stay here with you, until I’m sure you’re on that bus.”

      “If it doesn’t come at all, you’re in for a long wait.”

      “Come on,” he said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his car keys. “Let’s go.”

      Without any pretense or further objection, she lowered her head into the wind and followed him.

      It was a mere fifty feet to his Lincoln, the doors were unlocked and the engine running before they entered the parking ramp. Thank God for remote control. He could get a little heat into her, get another color other than blue onto her lips.

      “Thank you,” she said humbly as he held the door for her.

      “It isn’t a courtesy,” he snapped. “Your fingers are probably too frozen to open the door.”

      She slipped into the passenger seat, then proved his point by fumbling with the seat belt. Snagging it from her, he righted the buckle, and offered it back, intending to make it manageable. Their fingertips brushed; a ping of electricity ricocheted up his arm.

      Startled, they both pulled back.

      Jared straightened and, still looking at her, hung an elbow on the top of the car door. “Miss Holliday, can you tell me something? Why can’t you just be an elf and make this easier on me? I know what you’re trying to do. Really. And it’s not going to work. I promise you, it’s not going to work. I deal with people like you every day of the week—and guess what?—I’m the grinch who eats them up and spits them out.”

      Chapter Two

      Jared’s statement incensed Nicki, but she waited until he’d tossed his briefcase into the back seat and got into the car before answering. “I’m not trying to do anything,” she denied. “And just call me Nicki. It’s not like we have to be formal or anything. Because I don’t work for you. Not anymore. I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last man on earth.”

      He arched an eyebrow in her direction, his mouth a hard firm line as he carefully put the key into the ignition. “Look. Do you need a job or not?” he barked.

      “Of course, I need a job. Everybody needs a job. To pay the bills, to make the mortgage and the car payments and to eat.”

      He snagged a deep, angry breath, nearly scaring Nicki. She put her hand on the door handle, debating whether she should bolt.

      “If that’s the case, then why won’t you swallow your pride and accept the one I’ve offered you?”

      She slanted him a look, gauging his reaction. “Because I don’t like those hideous green tights and that goofy hat with the bells,” came her flip reply. “I’d feel like an idiot wearing that get-up.”

      He sat back and considered, then his mouth twitched and the creases eased from his forehead. He actually laughed. Out loud.

      The resonant sound filled the car, unexpectedly warming Nicki and putting some of her fears to rest. Okay, anybody who laughed like that couldn’t be all bad, she conceded.

      He dragged a hand over his face, as if the joke were unbearable. “And you don’t feel like an idiot wearing a red velvet Santa suit, slapping a beard on your face, and shouting ho, ho, ho?” he finally asked.

      He had her there, and the irony of the situation made her squirm. “Okay, I’ll admit that at the time, I figured it was worth it.”

      “What?”

      “The job. The money,” she explained wearily, slumping down in the plush seat. “My car died a month ago. It’s going to take a lot of money for repairs.”

      “So that’s why you were stranded tonight.”

      “I’ve been able to take the bus, but tonight I spent so much time in your office I missed the one at five o’clock. Since I didn’t really have anyone to call…” Nicki let the statement drift, she didn’t want to admit she couldn’t afford a cab, or didn’t have anyone to pick her up.

      “So about this elf thing…” he began.

      “Forget it. I already talked to the supervisor about that. The elves are typically teenagers and they only do four-hour shifts. Right now, they have too many, anyway.”

      “I see.”

      Nicki rubbed her arms and shrugged. “No, you don’t.”

      His head swiveled and he glanced at her sharply, as if daring her to contradict him.

      She gnawed on her lower lip and tried to not shiver in his presence. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was afraid of him. She wouldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t. “I needed a job where I could make some good money in a short amount of time. A good Santa makes a respectable salary, but the elves are gofers who mostly fill the candy-cane jar and make minimum wage, and salesclerks don’t make much more, so that’s out.” She stuck her hands under her arms, trying in vain to warm them. “I don’t know. The Santa pay is really good. Maybe there’s a union label sewn in the Santa suit or something.”

      He paused,