4 Stars by Romantic Times Magazine

EXCERPT

Chapter One

"No, you can't have chocolate." Gwyneth Colton looked down at one of the three children following her through the Bellevue Mall, little hand clutching little hand so they formed a human chain with her as the anchor. "I'm not sending you back with a sugar-buzz. Your moms would have a fit."

She steeled herself, waiting for the whining and begging that was sure to follow.

"Okay," six-year old Connor replied. No complaining. No tantrum. Certainly no whining or begging. Just quiet acceptance that he wasn't getting what he wanted. Again.

Or ever.

Gwyn stopped midstep. Dammit. Why couldn't they be spoiled brats? She had little experience with children, but since they'd arrived at the mall to visit Santa, she'd seen enough of those children to know what to expect. They demanded. Screamed. Called their parents names and said they hated them.

But living in a women's shelter, these kids were anything but spoiled, and Connor's simple reply told her just how much her expectations were off.

And that the attitude problem wasn't theirs. It was hers.

Gwyn sighed, wishing she could blame work. Granted, when she'd become a private investigator, she'd thought it would be more exciting. Instead, it left her bored and a bit depressed. There was nothing more disheartening than busting a philanderer around the holidays.

It wasn't even Richard's fault. Her latest boyfriend and another PI, he'd had broken up with her just before the holiday season. But she'd always know he wasn't forever and never even saw beyond the next weekend when she thought of him.

No, neither crappy relationship nor boring job could account for her bad attitude.

The fault was hers and hers alone. She was angry at herself for settling. Settling for a boyfriend that didn't love her. Settling for cases that left her empty.

But again-her issue. Not the kids'.

Gwyn bent down until she was level with Connor and the other two children. "Tell you what. After we visit Santa, we'll buy some candy." Their eyes widened. She smiled, warmed by their reaction. "Frango's for everyone?"

The "Godiva of the Pacific Northwest" chocolates might be a little rich for the kids--heck, they'd be happy with a Hershey bar--but it was Christmas, and Frango's were a Seattle tradition.

They grinned at her in unison, and the two boys erupted with small cheers as their answer. Allie, a quiet, dark-haired five-year old, stepped closer and carefully touched Gwen's long, blonde hair, stroking it. "Thank you," she whispered.

So polite. Such good kids. Gwyn blinked back sudden, surprising tears. "Okay, let's go see Santa."

She stood. Ahead of them, through the last-minute shopping crowd, she spotted Santa's Snowman Village, and a long line of children and parents.

And her sister, Glory, towards the front, waving her over.

Thank God.

"Okay, everyone, Santa is up ahead." All three pulled on her arm at the announcement, eager to get in line. Michael broke free of the pack.

"Wait. Wait!" she called. A flicker of panic washing over her, she raised her voice just enough to let them know she meant it while she reached out and clutched his jacket, yanking him to a stop. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. If he'd gotten away... If she'd lost him...

"I need you all to stay with me," she said, willing her heart to stop pounding.

"Or we get on the naughty list?" Connor asked.

"Maybe," Gwyn said, trying not to smile at his solemn expression. "Let's just make sure that doesn't happen."

She hurried the kids towards Glory. "Isn't this great?" her sister said, hugging Gwyn as the kids fell into line with Glory's three kids from the shelter.

Great? Outside, the rain had turned to ice and was growing worse. And parking had been a nightmare. And the thickness of the crowds tested her nerves in a way she never thought possible.

But despite the negatives, Gwyn couldn't be irritated. Not when Glory beamed at her and the kids chattered and laughed as they waited.

"Except for the lack of eggnog with rum, yes," Gwyn said.

"Well, I can't offer you nog, but I can offer you eye-candy," Glory teased. Winding her arm through Gwyn's, she nodded towards one of the elves milling about near Santa. "What do you think of him?"

Gwyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her sister's blatant tactics to fix her up and reminded herself that Glory was just trying to help.

But there would be no dating. Not right now. In the spirit of being both Richard-free and the bearer of bad news that broke up another marriage, she'd promised herself she'd remain single until she figured out what she wanted.

For Christmas, she'd focus on family. The spirit of the season. And try a little harder to be a better person. To be more like Glory.

"A bit tall for an elf, isn't he?" Gwyn said, trying not to stare. Whoever he was, he needed to lay off the candy canes. His thick, green tights left nothing to the imagination and made her vow to remain single easy to keep.

"Not him," Glory said. "Santa."

"You think Santa is hot? That's wrong," Gwyn whispered. But she turned her attention to the man in red, watching him through her lashes as he lifted a child off his lap, the motion causing his beard to swing outward.

It wasn't much, but from their angle it was enough to reveal a man not much older than herself with a strong jaw shaded by a days worth of dark growth. Couple that with a firm, chiseled mouth and the way his broad shoulders and muscled arms pulled at he padded costume, and it made Gwyn want to reconsider her 'no dating' vow.

Hot Santa. "Really wrong," she finished, her tone indicating anything but that.

"Yeah, you sound appalled," Glory said, laughing. "You should let him know what you'd like for Christmas. I bet he has something you'd want."

No doubt. But Gwyn kept the thought to herself. There was no point in encouraging her sister. "You need help."

"And you need a decent boyfriend with a really big--

"Glory!"

"--heart," Glory finished.

"Professional help," Gwyn said, turning her attention back to the children as they shuffled forward and reached the stairs.

The elf waved Conner forward, and the tow-headed child looked up at Gwyn. "Go on," she said, and before she finished the short sentence, Conner bolted up the two short stairs. In seconds, he was on Santa's lap whispering what he wanted.

Gwyn smiled at the scene. This was why she'd come. Right here. Right now.

Less than a minute later, and with the gratuitous candy cane in hand, the boy hugged Santa and jumped down. Gwyn waved at Connor. "Wait over there," she called out, pointing at an oversized gingerbread man on the far side of the fake candy bridge. Grinning, Connor plopped down at the cookie's feet, eyeing his candy cane but not opening it.

"You're next," she said to Allie, giving her a nudge.

But instead of running up the stairs, the little girl clutched Gwyn's leg, burying her face against her denim-clad thigh.

"I think you'll have to go with her," Glory said. "Maybe you can sit on Santa's lap." Snickers raced through the crowd behind them from both kids and parents.

Gwyn's cheeks heated. "Please, speak up," she said over her shoulder. "I don't think the North Pole heard you."

Glory grinned then stuck her tongue out.

Resisting the urge to flip her sister off, Gwyn smoothed Allie's hair. "It's okay. You don't have to go."

But the little girl looked up at her, eyes welling with tears.

Oh crap. Gywn's heart beat harder. What was wrong now? She told her she didn't have to go. "You want to go?" Gwyn asked, taking a shot as to the reason behind the unexpected waterworks.

Allie nodded and held up her arms in the international sign for "pick me up."

"Santa's lap," Glory whispered in her ear.

"Bite me," Gwyn whispered back. Looking at Santa, she shrugged at a loss as to what to do. Was she even allowed to go up there? He crooked his finger and motioned her to come forward, his eyes smiling as he answered her silent question.

Great. Glory was going to love this. With a determined sigh, Gwyn picked up Allie. "Come on, sweetie." The little girl wrapped around her arms round her neck as Gwyn climbed the steps.

"Hi, Santa." Gwyn said stopped in front of him and tried not to stare into his eyes. Vivid, bright green eyes. Like holly. And judging from the lack of wrinkles around them, definitely her age.

Hot Santa.

The litany tripped through her head, and she reminded herself that she was here not to ogle the man in red. She blinked, breaking contact, and continued, "This is Allie."

"Hi, Allie." His deep voice was as warm and reassuring as a down blanket. "Do you want to talk to me?"

Allie nodded but didn't release her grip or look up.

This time, Santa glanced past them. "There are other kids waiting, Allie. And Santa has to leave soon to get to the North Pole and help pack the sleigh."

The beard might hide his facial expression, but his point wasn't lost on Gwyn. He wanted her to hurry?

Allie whimpered, the sound almost imperceptible it was so quiet. There was only one solution. Taking a deep breath, she moved closer. With Allie still in her arms she sat on Santa's lap, ignoring the laughs behind her.

He "oofed" under their weight. Despite that, his thighs felt firm beneath her. He placed his hand on the small of her back, fingers splayed, sending shivers up her spine.

Hot Santa? Oh God, yes.

From the story Santa Under Cover (BLACKOUT AT CHRISTMAS anthology) by Sharron McClellan

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The edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A., Copyright © 2009