Christmas With The Marine. Candace Havens
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a Barbie was not his forte. GI Joe maybe, even Superman, but these dolls were beyond him.
“Hey, are you okay?” He glanced down to see a pair of light blue eyes staring back at him. They reminded him of the color of the sky on a clear day and were framed by a heart-shaped face and beautiful long strawberry-blond hair.
“What?”
Well, that was cool. Beautiful woman talking. Pay attention.
“You keep looking at the list and then the shelf. Do you need help? Are you buying something for your daughter?”
Her voice was soft and she didn’t have a drawl like most of the people who lived in Corpus Christi. Even a lot of the guys on the base where he taught had a Texas accent. He’d grown used to it.
“Do you work here?” Of course she didn’t work here. She was dressed in an expensive leather jacket and jeans and carrying one of those purses that probably cost more than his truck. The last woman he’d dated had treated that same kind of purse like it was her child. She’d definitely liked the purse more than she had him.
This lady laughed and heat warmed his lower regions. Come on, he told himself, she’s trying to help you.
“No, but thanks to my twin nieces I’m well versed in everything Barbie. If you tell me a bit more about the little girl, I can probably help you.”
She was beautiful, but more than that, he was desperate. If she could just point him in the right direction, he’d be her love slave for life.
Where the heck did that come from? Dude, chill.
He handed her the list. “It says she wants to be a vet when she grows up,” he said. “Each kid has a short, one-line description about them.”
Her eyebrow went up as she scanned the page. He pointed to the name of Jolie, the little girl in question. “She also likes puppies.”
“This is a long list of kids. Your family must be huge.” She frowned as her chin dropped and then she flipped to the next page and then the next. “There’s more than fifty names here.”
“Oh, no.” He laughed. “I kind of lost a bet and I’m having to get the gifts for the Toys for Tots program. I’m from the Marine base.” He pulled the other list out of his back pocket. “I also have a list of elderly patients from a nursing home facility who also need gifts.” It was the last time he’d be playing poker with his friends Brody and Matt. They’d been in charge of the Christmas event, and now it was all on him.
“Wow. That must have been some bet.”
He grunted. “Yep. Anyway, we have a fund everyone on the base donates to throughout the year, and then the first week of December we try to buy as many items as the money allows.”
“This, my friend, is your lucky day.” She grinned again, and then actually winked one of those beautiful blue eyes. It did all kinds of crazy things to his body.
Funny, he was thinking the same thing—about it being his lucky day. He’d practically been sent an angel for his very own Christmas present. He cleared his throat. “How’s that?”
“Well, I happen to be a professional shopper.”
His brows drew together. “So you like to shop?”
“More than that, it’s my business. I shop for busy professionals. That’s why I’m here. On the hunt for a few gifts for a CEO’s kids.”
“Wait. People pay you to shop for them?”
She smirked. “Yes. It’s a real profession, and I do just fine, thank you.”
He’d offended her, and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I’ve just never heard of anything like that. But it’s cool. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m the guy standing here staring at a million dolls without a clue what to do.”
She shrugged. “I’m used to the attitude. My family feels that way about my chosen profession. Since you’re doing this for charity, and I think it’s sweet you’re taking this so seriously, trying to find the right gift for each child, I’ll help for free.”
“Oh, I don’t mind paying for your services.” That sounded really wrong. A woman walked past them and gave them a dirty look. “I mean, uh, I’d be grateful. So much so that I’ll pay the fee.”
She started laughing. “Sweet. But you can’t afford me.”
Another woman walked by, yanking her kids along, giving them more dirty looks. They would get arrested if they kept this up.
“Before we get thrown out, maybe I should hurry up and say thanks. And can I buy you dinner, at least?”
She laughed nervously. “Hmm. We’ll see.” She held out her hand. “I’m Ainsley Garrett.”
He shook her hand and her skin was so smooth. “I’m Ben Hawthorne, and thanks again.”
“Go get two more carts. I’ll start on your list.”
* * *
TWO HOURS AND six carts of toys later, he had everything he was supposed to buy. He and one of the store clerks were piling the bags in the back of his SUV when Ainsley walked out carrying a couple of large bags of her own.
“Hey,” he called to her and waved. “I really would like to thank you. Let me take you to dinner.”
“It isn’t necessary. Besides, I have plans.” And just like that she shot him down. Figured. Someone as beautiful as she was wouldn’t be alone. But at least he’d tried.
“Okay, but I feel guilty about not paying you for your time.”
“No worries. It was fun.”
If she said so. Even though the toys were for a good cause, shopping gave him a headache.
She turned and walked away, and he wanted to say something. Pull her back into his orbit. Even though he understood she was way out of his league—from her designer shoes to those sunglasses perched on top of her head—he was sad their time together was up.
Pathetic. Yeah, but it had been a long time since he’d met a woman like her. Maybe never. He hadn’t seen a ring, but she might have a boyfriend or be engaged, and he didn’t poach.
He’d seen too many of his fellow Marines cheated on by lonely spouses left back home. So he was wary of that sort of thing. And it was one of many reasons he wasn’t big on long-term anything. He was married to his job and planned to stay that way for the foreseeable future.
He turned to finish helping the clerk with the last of the bags.
“Hey,” she said.
He glanced back.
“So, do you have to wrap all those gifts by yourself?”
Shoot. He hadn’t even thought of that. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Man, that didn’t even occur to me.” It was the truth. He’d have to buy paper, and he was the world’s worst gift-wrapper, not that he’d done it that often. A few times, he’d sent things home while he was overseas, but he never wrapped them.
“Give me your phone.”
Was she giving him her phone number? Things were looking up.
She typed into his phone and then handed it back to him. It was an address.
Even better.
“Tomorrow, meet me there at twelve forty-five. The drill team is holding their annual craft fair.”
“Drill team?” What was she talking about?
“They have a gift-wrapping service. For a dollar donation per gift they’ll wrap it and do a beautiful job.”
“Thank you. I’ll definitely do that. Wait? Did you say meet you there?”
She