All I Want For Christmas. Gina Wilkins
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sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s a possibility. They’re starting younger these days.”
Her gaze wandered back to the children. They really were cute kids. The boy hovered protectively over his little sister, watching her so carefully. And the girl was an adorable moppet, curly haired, big eyed, pink cheeked. Their clothes were faded and worn, and there was something about them that made Ryan feel a bit sad.
She couldn’t define it. But there was something…
“I’ve decided to get this one.”
The blond heartbreaker leaned against the counter, a lace-clad baby doll clutched in one hand and the football she’d noticed earlier in the other. He was giving her that sexy, crooked smile again—the one that made her insides quiver even though she told herself it was ridiculous to react that way.
Lynn, she noted wryly, had suddenly—and deliberately, Ryan was sure—disappeared.
Keeping her expression as polite as possible, she reached for the doll in the man’s hand. “This is a nice selection. I’m sure your niece will love it.”
“I hope so. I had some assistance from an expert,” he said with a grin, nodding over his shoulder.
Following his gesture, she saw the little blond girl and her brother. Ryan smiled, then turned to the cash register. “Will this be all?”
“For now,” he murmured, making the words sound as though they had another meaning.
She didn’t even blink; she simply rang up the purchase and gave him the total. He handed her a gold credit card.
“My name’s Max Monroe,” he said unnecessarily. “I have some more shopping to do and then I thought I’d grab an early dinner in the Mexican restaurant downstairs. Will you join me?”
“Thank you, but no. I have to work,” she explained. She wasn’t exactly surprised by the invitation, but she still felt a bit flustered by it.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll have time to eat, won’t you?”
She shook her head. “It’s one of the busiest shopping days of the season. I won’t be able to take off any time this evening.”
“Then how about a late dinner? After your shop closes, I mean.”
“Thank you again, but no.”
“Some other time, maybe?”
She gave him a vague smile. “If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured, nodding to the two women who’d just come up behind him, their arms loaded with dolls and accessories. “I have to tend to my other customers now.”
Max didn’t look particularly disappointed—not that she’d expected him to. She was sure he could find any number of women in the mall who’d dearly love to “grab an early dinner” with him. She just didn’t happen to be one of them.
He gave her a jaunty salute, tucked the bag holding the doll under his arm with the football and sauntered out of the shop.
Ryan was aware of several long, appreciative sighs from customers in her shop who’d watched him leave. She was also well aware of the frown of disapproval she was getting from her assistant. She suspected that Lynn had overheard the invitation, and Ryan’s refusal. She knew she’d be hearing about it later.
But for now, she had a shop to run.
“OH, MAN,” Pip groaned outside the doll shop. “He crashed and burned.”
“What does that mean?” Kelsey asked innocently.
“Never mind.” He sighed. Things had looked so promising for a minute there.
“There he goes,” Kelsey whispered, pointing toward the glass elevator in the center of the mall. “Our dad’s getting away.”
Pip looked at his Batman digital watch and frowned. “We have to be going, too.”
“But, Pip—”
“It’s getting late, Kels. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”
She shook her head.
“Okay, let’s go then. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
That cheered her some. “Can we see our mom again tomorrow? And my doll?”
“Sure.”
“And Santa?”
“Again?”
“Yes. There’s something else I want to tell him.”
Pip sighed heavily. Caring for a little girl was such a responsibility, he thought somberly. “We’ll see. Okay?”
“Okay, Pip.” She slipped her hand into his.
Together they headed for the same elevator the man named Max had used only minutes before.
ON SATURDAY the mall was as crowded as it had been the previous day. It took Max nearly twenty minutes to find a parking space when he arrived early that afternoon. Not that he particularly minded cruising the parking lot watching the shoppers; it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.
He should probably be working, but he wasn’t in the mood today. To the dismay of his agent and editors, who considered him the worst case of wasted potential they’d ever known, he was all too rarely in the mood to work.
Max was bored—certainly not an unfamiliar condition for him. Problem was, there’d been few challenges lately in his self-indulgent, hedonistic, freedom-above-all-else life-style. And he thrived on challenges. Which was the reason he’d headed back to the mall today.
A brisk wind was blowing, reminding him that winter was definitely at hand. He tucked his leather driving gloves into a pocket of his bomber jacket and pulled the collar higher around his neck. His thick, dark gold hair blew slightly in the wind. He stepped beneath the mall awning and ran a hand through the heavy strands, letting them fall haphazardly into place.
A heavyset woman with a bad complexion and a sweet smile stood beside a collection box patiently ringing a handbell, her nose red from the wind. Her chubby hands were pink with cold and callused from years of abuse. Max dug in his jeans pocket, pulled out a ten-dollar bill and slipped it into the collection box.
“Bless you, sir. And Merry Christmas to ya,” the woman said brightly.
“Cool day, isn’t it?” he asked her.
Still smiling, she nodded. “It certainly is. Your donation will help buy blankets and warm food for those that don’t have ’em.”
On impulse, Max pulled out his leather gloves and pressed them into the woman’s free hand. “Wear these,” he urged. “You don’t want your hand to freeze to that bell handle,” he added lightly.
She blinked in surprise. “But—”
“Merry Christmas,” he said as he walked away, feeling uncomfortable with his gesture.
“Thank you, sir. God bless you,” she called after him, already tugging the soft gloves over her rough hands.
Max blended into the crowd of people pushing their way through the mall entrance. He’d have to pick up a new pair of gloves, he thought. He hadn’t really liked the way the others fit, anyway.
The same Christmas carols he’d heard yesterday poured from overhead speakers, blending with the jabber of constantly moving shoppers. The enticing aroma of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies drifted from a Mrs. Field’s shop, blending with the scents of cinnamon and evergreen and peppermint from Christmas displays.
A frowning, forty-something woman bumped Max’s arm and dropped her packages. He helped her retrieve them, flirted with her for a moment, then moved away, leaving her smiling.
“Hey, Max. How’s it goin’?”
The call made Max look around. He