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Red-Hot Santa
Tori Carrington
Twelve military heroes Twelve indomitable heroines One UNIFORMLY HOT! miniseries
Don’t miss a story in Mills & Boon
Blaze
’s 12-book continuity series, featuring irresistible soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.
Heat up your holidays with A Few Good Marines…
DEVIL IN DRESS BLUES
by Karen Foley
MODEL MARINE
by Candace Havens
RED-HOT SANTA
by Tori Carrington
Uniformly Hot!— The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell!
Available wherever Mills & Boon®
books are sold.
Dear Reader,
What do you want for Christmas? Dangerous question, depending on who you ask. Of course, if a Red-Hot Santa is involved, I’m thinking many of us might make a nice, long list, if only so we could sit on his lap: again … and again … and again …
In our latest UNIFORMLY HOT! book, Jackson Savage (younger brother of Jason from Undeniable Pleasures) is the epitome of all things steamy … something his longtime best friend Maxine McGuire has always known, but never allowed herself to sample. Until now. But does the mind-blowing chemistry they share between the sheets translate into love? Or is it just GREAT sex?
I hope Jackson and Max’s sexy journey heats up those cold winter nights and that you enjoy this latest Lazarus Security title. We’d love to hear what you think. Contact us at PO Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43612, USA or visit us on the web at www.toricarrington.net or www.facebook.com/toricarrington.
Happy holidays!
Lori & Tony Karayianni aka Tori Carrington
About the Author
RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award-winning bestselling duo Lori Schlachter Karayianni and Tony Karayianni are the power behind the pen name TORI CARRINGTON. Their more than fifty novels include numerous Mills & Boon
Blaze
miniseries, as well as the ongoing Sofie Metropolis comedic mystery series with another publisher. Visit www.toricarrington.net and www.sofiemetro.com for more information on the couple and their titles.
Red-Hot Santa
Tori Carrington
www.millsandboon.co.uk
We dedicate this book to servicemen and women
in all military branches everywhere for not only
putting their lives on the line on a daily basis,
but for the heartache they must endure when
serving so far away from the ones they love. And
to editor extraordinaire Brenda Chin … just because …
1
HIS BROTHER WAS a dumbass. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
Jackson Savage tugged on the suspenders holding up the too-big red velvet pants he had on over his jeans. He’d stripped out of the red jacket some time ago, leaving him frustrated at being the one who got stuck wearing the Santa suit for the bar’s Christmas party. The hat and shiny black boots remained intact even though he’d prefer to ditch them, as well. But he was scheduled to play Santa later so he thought he’d better keep them on.
Thank God this was his last night working at the bar. Even if his brother wouldn’t be happy about it.
Oh, he knew there were valid reasons his older sibling felt protective of him. Losing their parents at a young age was the biggest of them. Thinking he needed to be a father figure as a result was another. But as far as Jackson was concerned, he’d grown beyond the nose-blowing stage long ago. It was past time Jason took a good look at him and realized he wasn’t a kid anymore.
If his brother didn’t … well, he was afraid he was going to have to kick his ass just to prove his point. And that would be one fight neither of them would walk away from unscathed, he was sure.
Well, that was adult of him, wasn’t it? Jackson grimaced at the asinine thought and swiped the white puff of the Santa hat back from his brow.
Still, nearly four months had passed since he’d proven himself up for the job, not only as a responsible adult and decorated Marine, but solid Lazarus Security material. If taking a bullet for the cause wasn’t enough, what was?
Jackson shoved the glass of draught beer he’d just filled from a tap a little too forcefully, spilling a good inch of it as he served his countless drink at The Barracks that night. He muttered an apology and then wiped the spot, topping off the glass before presenting it to one of the regulars again.
“Hey, Jax, that’s the third time tonight. What’s the matter?” Winston asked. “Trouble with Mrs. Claus?”
Pete, the guy standing next to him, laughed. “There’d have to be a Mrs. Claus in order for there to be trouble with her. No, Jax here’s trouble is that he needs a little … something from a Mrs. Claus candidate.”
Jackson gave a perfunctory laugh. “What I need is a nice, long vacation. Preferably somewhere warm. Where someone else serves me.”
Genie, one of the three waitresses, stepped up to the bar in her Santa hat, too-tight white tank and red velvet shorts trimmed in white fur, The Barracks’ holiday uniform even if it was December and ten below outside. “I’ll wait on you,” she offered with her trademark purr.
Pete gave a low whistle. “Son, if I were you, I’d be all over that.”
“Against bar policy,” Jackson said absently.
Even if it wasn’t, it was against his personal policy. He made it a point not to sleep with coworkers. He’d seen his fair share of bad episodes when things went south—as they inevitably did. South? On one unforgettable occasion, he’d ended up with a psycho bitch from hell stalking him because he’d given in to temptation and slept with her one night. It was all he’d been in the market for at the time. Apparently, she’d had other ideas. And when sweet persuasion hadn’t worked, she’d resorted to other more disturbing measures to prove her love for him.
No way was he going that route again.
No matter how difficult his hot coworkers sometimes made it for him. He looked over Genie’s generous curves and then up at her suggestive smile. She made his four-month-old wound itch.
But that’s not why he was there. His tending bar was really only a way to keep himself occupied until his brother came around. Yeah, it helped pay the bills, but considering the large, structured settlement and trust fund he and Jason had received upon their parents’ deaths, he didn’t need the money.
Still, he’d barely touched his bank account, gaining a certain satisfaction in supporting himself and his day-to-day expenses with his income. Right now, his life resembled some sort of airplane holding pattern. He only hoped he’d be cleared for landing soon, because he didn’t know how much fuel he had left before he crashed.
He checked his cell phone, knowing as he did who he was hoping he’d find a call or text from. And, strangely enough, it wasn’t his brother. He’d smiled when Max McGuire’s missed call had popped up in this display. She hadn’t left a message, but that was no surprise; she never did.
Max …
His movements slowed as he realized he missed her.
It had been a while since they’d spoken. The last time he’d talked to her, she’d been somewhere out in the Pacific Northwest working for some sort of high-end security firm. Their longtime friendship had always gone through ebbs and flows, with stretches where an occasional phone call was the name of the game.
Then there were the times when they’d been “thick as thieves,” as Gram liked to say, nearly inseparable.
Of course, the physical distance between them currently prevented that.
Still, over the years they made sure to carve out some together time, meeting for at least a few days to catch up, usually on some sort of physical adventure, like mountain climbing or wild water kayaking.
He thought he should call her back, maybe see about scheduling just such a trip soon. Or perhaps he’d go visit her, see what she was up to and how life was treating her.
Jackson told his boss, Chuck, that he was taking his break. He grabbed his leather jacket and let himself out from behind the bar. He returned a few greetings as he walked to the back and then through the door leading to the alley behind the row of buildings. He leaned against the cold brick and shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. It was at times like these he wished he still smoked.
“Hey,” a female said next to him.
He hadn’t realized anyone else was out here. “Hey,” he said without opening his eyes.
“Cold out, huh?”
If he hadn’t been able to tell by her deep inhale, the acrid scent of cigarette smoke would have revealed what she was doing.
“That it is,” he said.
“You work here?”
“Yeah.”
“This is my first time at this bar.” He heard her shoes shuffle in the salt they put down as a de-icer. “My friends suggested it. I haven’t been inside yet …”
Her voice sounded familiar.
He cracked his eyelids open and openly regarded the pretty redhead.
Holy shit.
“Max? Is that you?”
FOR A MOMENT Maxine McGuire was afraid Jackson wouldn’t recognize her. And that was beyond stupid, really. He was her best friend. They’d pretty well grown up together on the farm as kids, and had been together again for a brief stint when they’d been stationed overseas in the Marines. But it had been a good two years since their physical paths last crossed, despite their sometimes lengthy telephone conversations. And while she wasn’t about to tell him, a big part of the reason she’d chosen The Barracks as the place to meet her old high school friends, instead of the countless other bars in the military hub of Colorado Springs, Colorado, was because Jackson tended there.
For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she always experienced a spark of fear he wouldn’t recognize her. That too much time had passed, or maybe he was otherwise occupied …
Liar.
She knew why she felt that way. Or she had an idea anyway.
While they’d always been close friends, she realized she’d always been more than a little bit in love with him. And the worst thing that could ever happen would be that he wouldn’t recognize her. Or that she’d look at him and see indifference in his eyes.
Not that she ever had.
Still, she was pathetic. And it was that very self-esteem issue she hoped to finally nip totally in the bud.
Her relationship with Jax was the only area in her life she experienced such vulnerable emotions. Otherwise she was confident, strong and knew exactly where she was at any given moment and where she was going.
“Hey, Jax,” she said, hoping the smile that warmed her to her toes wasn’t too obvious.
He stared at her for a full minute and then pushed from the building. She stiffened as he gave her a hug. It was silly, really, because he’d always given her the same, brotherly greeting.
The problem was that her reaction had never been quite the sisterly one he was going for.
Not that he ever appeared to have a clue.
Of course, she knew she was the primary reason for that. She’d never let him in on her true feelings.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said. “You called the other day but didn’t leave a message.”
“I never leave a message.”
His chuckle tickled her ear. “Yeah, I know.”
He stepped back and looked her over, as if seeing her for the first time. It was all she could do to maintain his gaze, and not to pat down her too curly hair.
“You look good,” he said.
“Thanks. So do you.”
She took another hit off the cigarette—her first in almost two years—and then flicked it to the ground farther down the alley.
How old had she been when they first met? Five? Six? She and her mom had just moved in with her aunt after her parents’ breakup and she’d run away. It was the first of many doomed attempts, complete with a stick to ward off unwanted critters, the end tied with a handkerchief that held a sandwich, her favorite paperback novel and a pack of matches.
It had probably taken her a whole half hour to reach the Savage barn on the neighboring property, but everything was relative and she could have sworn it had been five hours and that she’d reached the border of New Mexico, at least.
She’d just spread out her handkerchief on the fresh straw, sat on it and opened her sandwich when a shadow fell across the open doorway. There stood Jackson Savage, no older than her, arms crossed over his chest. He’d told her in no uncertain terms she was on private property and that meant she was trespassing.
So she’d gathered up her things and began to stalk from the barn. He’d caught her by the arms and told her he was just kidding … then introduced himself.
She’d wasted no time tackling him to the ground and punching him. Then she’d grabbed her stick and continued on her way.
