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The officer smiled dangerously and stepped toward Silas.
“I’m leaving.” Silas held up his hands and backed up a step, one eye on the cameraman. “Are you getting this?”
“Out.” Mary pointed her finger toward the door, her blue eyes flashing.
Nick almost laughed out loud at how quickly Silas Grentch scurried for the exit. “I’m leaving, but the truth will come out. Mark my words. It’ll be a dark day in North Pole when Santa Claus is brought to justice.”
The cameraman paused at the door with his camera pointing at Mary. “Miss Christmas, with Santa missing and Christmas getting close, what will happen with Operation Santa?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed, her fingers curling into tight fists. “We’ll find Santa before the planes leave. Children in the remote villages will see him.”
The cameraman nodded, lowering his camera before he left.
After the door closed, silence reigned inside the cheerfully decorated Christmas store.
“I’m sorry you had to come home to Silas’s shenanigans, Mary.” Betty took Mary’s hands and pulled her into a tight hug.
Nick witnessed the entire strange scene, his mind ticking through all the slurs and innuendos flung at the missing Santa and his family. One thing stood out like a shining beacon. These people knew Mary Christmas, and from the looks of it, they cared about her. His gaze slid to the new Mrs. Claus. Well, almost all of them cared. Kim Claus warranted some looking into.
Officer Baskin touched Mary’s arm. “If you hear, see or even smell anything, please pass it along to me or one of North Pole’s police officers. I’ll start checking with Santa’s friends in town.”
A tear slipped down Mary’s cheek. “Thanks, Trey.”
Nick resisted the urge to reach out and brush the tear away, clearing his throat instead. “I’m new to town. Is there a hotel where I can get a room?”
The police officer dropped Mary’s hands and zipped up his parka. “Try Christmas Towne Bed-and-Breakfast. It’s just two blocks east of here. I’ve got to get onto this. The temperature is supposed to drop down to minus twenty tonight.” Although the officer didn’t add that a man couldn’t survive in that kind of temperature, he didn’t have to. As he left, a chilling wind gusted through the double doors.
Mary’s gaze followed the officer, her skin even paler than a moment before.
Nick’s gut tightened. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“When I left Seattle, I thought I’d stay with my father. I didn’t make any other arrangements.” She turned toward her stepmother.
“I’m sorry, Mary.” Kim’s mouth twisted into a weak smile. “I’d let you have your old room, but I didn’t know you were coming, and I’m in the middle of a huge remodeling effort. Your room is stacked with boxes, the bed is dismantled and leaning against the wall. You could have the couch, but it too is stacked with boxes. You’d be better off getting a room at the B and B as well.”
Mary stared at Mrs. Claus for a long moment, her shoulders stiffening, her mouth pulling into a thin line. “I see.” Then she smiled and turned to Nick. “Thank you for the ride.”
Not that he had any responsibility for the woman, but Nick couldn’t leave her without transportation. “If you’re going to the B and B, you might as well let me take you.”
“It’s only two blocks. I can manage on my own.” She buttoned the front of her coat and tied the sash around her middle with a hard jerk. Then she turned to Mrs. Claus, her expression as serious as a firing squad. “If you had anything to do with my father’s disappearance…you’ll have me to answer to.”
“Mary Christmas!” Kim Claus pressed a hand to her red velvet dress and tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t realize how much I love your father. I’d do anything for him. I crossed oceans and continents for him. I love him more than life. How could you even imply such a thing? I want him back just as much as you do.”
Mary didn’t answer, but turned toward the door, grabbing the handle of her suitcase as she went. “Remodeling, my fanny,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Nick’s gaze zeroed in on the way Mary’s eyes shone suspiciously, as if she were close to tears.
The teenager, Chris, held the door for her and stared hard into her eyes. “It’ll be all right, Mary. Your father will be all right, and we’ll find him.”
She reached out and gripped his hand, glad for one person’s support in this world gone crazy. “Thanks, Chris.”
Nick followed her out into the blistering cold where he snagged her suitcase.
“I told you, I don’t need your help anymore.” Mary reached out to take the suitcase from him.
He backed away, refusing to let her have the bag. “Let me help.”
“I can take care of myself.”
His face softened. “Even two blocks is a long way with a windchill factor of minus thirty. Please, let me take you where you need to go.”
As if to reinforce Nick’s words, the cold wind blasted through Mary’s thick wool coat and winter scarf.
Beyond exhaustion, Mary didn’t argue. Instead, she climbed into the passenger seat while Nick stored her case in the trunk.
When he climbed in behind the wheel, she turned to him. “I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me. But thanks.” She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have come home sooner. My dad is the only family I have left.”
“Why should you have known?” Nick’s hand paused on the shift.
“Yesterday I got a message on my answering machine from Dad. He said it was urgent that we talk. When I tried to call him back, I got Kim and she didn’t know where he was. That’s when I caught a flight from Seattle to Fairbanks.”
“Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”
“No.” Mary sighed. “My father is normally pretty laid-back. He must be in big trouble, that’s all I can think.” She’d been talking to Nick as if he weren’t an outsider, weren’t a man she’d met only a couple of hours ago. Angry with herself for trusting the stranger, Mary turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you in North Pole? You told Kim you knew my father, you told me you had business with him. I don’t recall my father ever mentioning your name.”
He pulled out of the parking lot, easing onto the snowcovered road. “He probably hasn’t. We don’t talk much.”
“Obviously.” North Pole hadn’t changed much since she’d been gone; the usual snowfall had settled on the landscape, giving credence to the town’s winter wonderland atmosphere. She gestured toward a large old house banked in snow. “This is the B and B.”
After they secured rooms, Nick turned to Mary. “I’d like to help you find your father.”
“Thanks, but you really don’t need to get involved. You’ve already done enough getting me here.” She turned her back to him and jammed her key into the lock on her bedroom door. She liked to think she could handle the situation on her own, but the fact her father was missing and no one seemed to have a clue as to his whereabouts swept over her in an overwhelming wave. Her hand trembled on the metal key.
“At least meet me for breakfast somewhere besides here. I like more than a continental breakfast and I’m new to town.” He paused as though waiting for her response.
Mary couldn’t find her voice to say no, her throat clogged with unshed tears.
“If it makes you feel better, we can go Dutch.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her lips forming the word no. But one look into deep brown, twinkling eyes and she couldn’t resist. Much as she hated to admit, she needed help. Maybe by having breakfast with the man she could get to know him better before she committed to his offer. She swallowed the lump and blurted, “How about the Christmas Towne Diner at eight o’clock? It’s just across the street.”
“Sounds good.” He gave her half a smile. “Good night, Mary Christmas.” Then he closed his door behind him, the deep resonance of his voice lingering in the hallway, warming Mary’s insides.
Their rooms were located across the hall from each other, and for some reason that idea disturbed Mary, not like an irritant, but like a full-body awareness. She was far too conscious of Nick’s good looks, broad shoulders and brown-black eyes. Not to mention, the more she was in his company, the more she seemed to rely on him. And she didn’t want to rely on anyone but herself. She’d relied on her father for so long, she’d forgotten to have a life for herself. The time she’d been in Seattle slammed that observation home. She didn’t know how to be alone and she still didn’t like it, but she was trying.
Mary spent the next hour calling everyone she knew in North Pole, asking if they’d seen her father. Those she managed to speak to replied with the same news. Not since yesterday.
Discouraged, she gathered her toiletries and made a run down the hallway for the bathroom. As she reached the door, it opened and Nick St. Claire stepped out. With a towel thrown around his hips and nothing else, he could melt the heaviest snowfall. Water dripped from his midnight-black hair. A particular droplet landed on his chest and tangled in the dark, crisp hairs.
Mary focused on that drop, her mouth going as dry as Arizona in August.
“It’s all yours,” he said.
Her mouth dropped open and she forced her gaze upward to his eyes.
Nick’s grin made Mary’s face burn. “The shower. It’s all yours.”
Snapping her jaw shut, Mary pressed her brows together. How could this stranger throw her into such a state of moronic confusion? “Of course.” She stepped around him, bumping into his bare arm. The scent of soap and shampoo wafted across her senses.
As she reached the security of the bathroom and closed the door behind her, a soft chuckle echoed in the hallway. Mary snapped the lock over the doorway and leaned against the wooden panels. Surely he didn’t think his bare chest and broad shoulders had her confused. Did he?
Her face burned hotter. Damn, the man was trouble. She should never have agreed to meet him in the morning at the diner. As soon as she finished in the shower, she’d tell him she’d had something come up and that she couldn’t have breakfast with him. Squeezing her eyes tight, she inhaled and exhaled, concentrating on banishing the image of a shirtless Nick from her memory. As if!
She hurried through her shower and teeth brushing. Still practicing what she’d say to Nick, she stepped out of the bathroom.
A big man bulked out in a winter-white parka, ski mask and snow pants barreled down the hall and slammed his shoulder into her before exiting out the rear of the building.
Mary banged into the wall, her breath knocked out of her. Pain smashed into her shoulder blade and radiated through her back and she cried out.
Nick’s door sprang open and he raced out into the hallway. “Mary! What happened?” He reached her in three long strides and grabbed her shoulders, his hands spreading warmth through the thick fleece of her bathrobe.
“I’m all right. Someone just ran into me and left through the back exit.”
Noise from a room down the hallway caught their attention and they both turned. The sound came from her room.
Nick grabbed her hand and ran to his room, shoving her inside. He held out his hand. “Give me your key.”
Wordlessly, she handed him the key from her pocket.
“Stay here,” he commanded, and then he closed his door, leaving her alone inside.
Unable to stand by patiently by herself, not knowing what was going on, Mary eased the door open and peered out into the hallway.
Nick slipped the key into the doorknob as quietly as possible and stepped to the side of the door before he flung it open.
Crouching behind Nick’s door, Mary could see straight into her room. The window stood wide-open, a flurry of snowflakes and wind blew through the confined space, turning the warmth of the quaint little room with its handmade quilts into an icebox. Other than the antique furniture, the room stood empty.
Mary stepped out into the hallway, wrapping the robe around her, chills setting in. Someone had been in her room. The thought made her shake all over.
Nick brushed the snow off the sill and pulled the window closed, latching the lock in place. When he turned to see her, he frowned. “I thought I told you to stay put.”
Her back straightened and she moved into her room with more purpose. “It’s my room. My things are in there.”
“Yeah, but it could have been dangerous.”
Despite her desire not to show any weakness, a big shiver made her shake from her head to her feet. She pulled her robe tighter. “I could see there wasn’t anyone in it.” Her mouth firmed into a tight line. “Besides, you don’t have to yell at me. You’re not my boss or my father.”
“I wasn’t yelling,” he yelled. His forehead creased into a deep frown before the hint of a grin wiped it away. “I’d rather you stayed in my room until we figure this out.” He hooked her elbow and led her out into the hallway.
She only half resisted, not wanting to stay in her room by herself. Somehow it felt as if the entire B and B had been violated and was no longer a secure place. She let him lead her into his room, where he tossed on a sweater, his winter coat and snow boots.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To follow the footprints.”
“By yourself?” She grabbed his arm, stopping him from zipping the jacket. “What if those guys are dangerous?”
Nick shook off her hand, slid the zipper up to his neck and ducked around her, grabbing a gun from the dresser by the door. “Just stay here.”
The gun sent another wave of chills across her skin and Mary stood where Nick left her, wondering what the hell she’d gotten into by coming home to North Pole. And just who was this gun-toting mystery man named Nick St. Claire?
Chapter Three (#ulink_fc7b58db-09d2-584b-94a4-2d5efda038c7)
A blast of arctic air hit Nick like a freight train. He staggered at the force and bent into it, pushing through three feet of snow to the side of the B and B where Mary’s room was located. Disturbed snow only confirmed his concern. Someone had come through Mary’s window while she’d been in the shower. And from the looks of the footprints leading away, he’d gone back out the same window. Which didn’t explain the man in the hallway who’d run into Mary before exiting through the back door, a much more civilized approach than the window.
Nick trudged through the snow as fast as he could, following the footprints into the woods. Every so often, he looked over his shoulder to keep the light from the B and B in sight. The snow blew sideways in near-blizzard conditions. Although he’d like to catch the guy, he didn’t relish getting lost in the storm. An engine roared to life in the distance and the noise diminished as if moving away. Sounded like a snowmobile. Another engine revved and followed the first. Had the two men been working together? And what did they want with Mary?
Figuring the men were out of his reach, Nick hurried back to the B and B to ensure that Santa’s daughter was safe. He also wanted to inspect her room for any tampering or clues as to why someone would be there.
The blue-eyed woman met him at his bedroom door still wearing her robe. The towel had been removed from her hair, and wet tresses lay finger-combed into sleek, damp strands reaching all the way to her waist. Her rounded gaze darted from him to the exit and across the hall to her room, where her door stood open. “Who was it? Did you catch him? No, of course you didn’t or you’d have been gone a lot longer. You scared me to death.” She pounded her open palm against his chest. “Running out of here like some cop on a mission. And what’s with the gun?” She backed up a step and glared at the hand holding the weapon. “Why are you carrying it?”
He shrugged, stalling. “Doesn’t everyone carry a gun in Alaska?”
“Rifles and shotguns when they’re hunting or out on the trails, but not so much the handguns.” Her eyes narrowed. “Just what are you doing here in North Pole? You don’t really know my father, do you?”
Busted. Now, how did he back out of this? “I don’t suppose this could wait until morning?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No way, cowboy.”
Nick sighed and cupped her elbow. “Come on. Let’s check out your room, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Mary resisted only a minute, her eyes still narrowed as if she didn’t trust him any more than she trusted the men who’d invaded her room. The thought disappointed him, although why, he didn’t know. In his line of business, he was always living a lie to infiltrate the situation.
“I’m watching you, Nick St. Claire, or whatever your real name is. And I’m trained in self-defense so don’t try anything.”
A smile tugged at Nick’s lips. “So noted.” Mary Christmas was no pushover and he bet she meant it about the self-defense training. He stepped into her room and stood perfectly still, staring at everything as it lay. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything odd or out of place. Her suitcase leaned against one wall, the clothing she’d worn earlier littered the bed, and a minimal assortment of toiletries lay scattered across the dresser. “Can you tell whether anything has moved from where you originally set it?”
Mary’s arms dropped to her sides as she inspected the room. “Everything looks the same except the water on the floor from the melted snow.” She opened the dresser drawers one by one. “No. Nothing in here is different from when I unpacked.”
When Nick caught a glimpse of lacy black panties and a matching bra, his heartbeat stuttered. He could picture beautiful Mary, dark lace resting against pale skin and nothing else. With a gulp, he turned his attention to the rest of the room. “What about the bed?” From one leap of the imagination to the next, he could have stuffed a sock in his mouth.
Her color high, Mary moved toward the queen-size mattress. “I don’t remember turning back the covers.” She touched a hand to the pillow.
Nick snagged her wrist, arresting her movement before she could lift the pillow. “Let me.”
Shrugging off his grip, she stepped to the side enough to allow him close to the bed. “Are you worried someone planted a bomb under my pillow?” she asked, her indignant tone fading with each word.
“Not really, but better safe than sorry.” He lifted the pillow.
