Nice Until Proven Naughty Read online

“Trust me, he still likes you.”

  She blows out a breath. “Will you help me or not?”

  “Of course, I’ll help you. But mark my words, you don’t need to be anyone or anything other than your wonderful self.” I take a breath and think about it for a second. “When did you say he gave you the card?”

  “After our last Sal’s company Christmas party.”

  “When is that?”

  Dani’s eyes widen. “In four days.”

  “Then we’ve got four days to come up with a plan.”

  4

  Naughty

  “Umm…” Avery scratches her head and looks at my outfit.

  “What?” I look down at the Santa dress I wore to a costume party three years ago. Red velvet hugs my curves. The skirt hits mid-thigh and has a fuzzy white border. I paired it with candy cane striped knee-high socks, red heels, and a cute Santa hat. “You guys said I needed to dress up like Santa.”

  She points to a box on the table. I peek inside and pull out an oversized Santa costume. “Oh. I didn’t realize you already had one.”

  “You might get a little cold in that.”

  “I have a matching Santa coat.”

  “Of course you do.” Avery takes a breath and turns to the rest of the group. They’re all dressed as elves, although their costumes aren’t nearly as cute as mine. “What do you guys think?”

  Colin, Brian, Curtis, Greg, Barry, and Garrett are all smiling, clearly not at all bothered by my outfit.

  Sarah doesn’t look quite as pleased, but she still shrugs. “Let her wear it. If I had tits like that, I’d flaunt it.”

  My eyes widen, and Garrett chokes.

  “Sorry.” Sarah pats his back.

  I clap my hands together, ready to move this show on the road. “Okay, if we’re all good here, I say we hit the road.”

  Which is exactly what we do twenty minutes later, after everyone uses the bathroom and puts on their gloves. We start at the center of town and work our way out.

  By the time we’re two hours and a bazillion miles in, I realize Avery was right. I am cold—freezing to be exact. My nipples are so hard that if someone tried to tweak them, they’d probably pop right off.

  And these heels… I swear to Santa I’m throwing them away as soon as we get home. I can’t believe I wear heels like this every day. I’m going to have blisters for days.

  “Let’s call it a night,” I suggest after we hit all the houses on our list.

  “Thank God.” Avery cups her hands into a ball and blows.

  By the time we get back to the Community Center, I’m shivering to the point that my body hurts, and I remind myself that I just have to get through another few days of caroling, and then I can check this box off my list.

  But those three days turns into four, thanks to an unexpected snow storm that shuts us down early. It’s two nights before the party, Nice just left my house in a killer red dress and matching heels, and I show up at the Community Center ready for the last night of caroling. We still have fifteen houses to hit up, which would be fine if the other carolers were here and ready to go.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Garrett shrugs and pops a cookie into his mouth. “There’s almost a foot of snow on the ground.”

  I roll my eyes. “We live in Montana. There’s always a foot of snow on the ground.”

  “Yeah, but it’s bitch-titty cold outside.” I look at him. Garrett flushes bright red and looks away with a mumbled, “Maybe they thought we’d just be done after last night.”

  “Maybe.”

  We wait another thirty minutes, and then I turn to Garrett. “I’m going out. Are you coming with me?”

  “Uh, sure.” He pulls the elf hat over his head and puts on his gloves. “But I have to be home by seven because my sister flew in for the holidays and we’re having a family dinner.”

  “I’m sure we can get to all of the houses by then.”

  Garrett and I head east, toward the final three roads. We make it to the last house, and Garrett is climbing into his car to leave, when I see a lone porch light off in the distance.

  “Who lives out there?” I holler past the howling wind.

  The temperature has dropped considerably since the sun went down, and our below-freezing temperatures are now paired with the sting of blowing snow.

  “No clue,” he yells back. “Don’t bother. Just go home. It’s getting nasty out.”

  I nod and climb into my car. I watch Garrett leave and put my car into reverse, ready to go home. A nice hot bath, cup of cocoa, and my fuzzy socks will be the perfect way to end my day.

  But there’s something about that darn light that keeps me from pulling away.

  Screw it. What’s one more house? I’ll trudge up to the front door, and if I’m lucky no one will be home. If I’m unlucky, I’ll sing “Amazing Grace”—a song I’ve perfected this week—and call it a night.

  Happy with my decision, I turn around and head down the country road toward the house. The closer I get, the more I realize that the snow is beginning to drift and parts of the road are nearly impassable.

  I’m tempted to turn around and head home, but I keep moving forward, knowing that in a few short minutes, I can head back out.

  No harm. No foul. And I will have completed my task in its entirety. The goal is to carol at every house in town, and I really don’t want to stop until I’ve done just that.

  The all-brick house sits farther back than I’d anticipated, but my car makes it. I give her a little pat on the dash before I slip out and walk up what I presume is a walkway. It’s hard to tell because it hasn’t been shoveled, but there are several sets of shoe prints leading to the front door.

  I do my best to follow the tracks already laid, and by the time I get to the front door, my fingers are frozen inside my mittens and the sting of the wind causes tears to prick my eyes. I’m pretty sure those tears are freezing to my cheeks.

  God, this was a bad idea.

  I knock twice on the big front door and wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Light is shining through the curtains, and I can hear the sounds of what I believe to be the TV filtering through the air.

  I knock again, prepared to give the resident another ten seconds. If they don’t answer in the next ten seconds, I’m out of here.

  Ten.

  Nine.

  Eight.

  Shit, it’s cold.

  Seven.

  Six.

  A gust of wind about knocks me over, but I stand my ground.

  Five.

  Four.

  Another gust causes a chunk of snow to fly off the roof and smack my face.

  Screw it. I’m done.

  I turn on my heel at the same time the door handle turns.

  Of course, they would decide to open the door just as I’m about to leave.

  I turn around and start singing without even looking at who is standing in the doorway.

  “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like m-m-me.”

  “Stop.”

  I don’t. I keep going. “I once was lost but now I’m found—”

  “I said stop.”

  “—was blind, but now I see.”

  “Clearly you don’t,” the brash voice says, snapping me out of my nearly frozen state.

  I blink past the snowflakes frozen onto my lashes, and when they still don’t go away, I brush them off my face.

  I blink and then blink again as I take in Lucas Dahlenberg in all of his hunky glory. He’s standing in the doorway, his bulging arms crossed against his chest, stretching the navy blue Henley tight around his body. His faded jeans hang a little low on the hips and his bare feet peek out of the bottom.

  Holy Grinch, he’s sexy.

  I suck in a shuddery breath and try for my best smile, which is difficult because my face is frozen.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Caroling.”

  “You cal
l that singing?”

  I narrow my eyes. He might be sexy, but he’s a scrooge. “Yes. I know I don’t have the best voice, but it’s the gesture that counts.”

  “It’s freezing out.”

  “I’m aware,” I say through chattering teeth.

  “And there’s another snowstorm coming through.”

  “I’m aware of that too.”

  “And you’re out here trying to sing.”

  “I wasn’t trying to sing, I was singing.”

  “That’s debatable, and I want you to stop.”

  “You used to be nice. What happened to you?”

  “Life,” he says, right before he slams the door in my face.

  I stand frozen, staring at his door. The Naughty part of me wants to bang on the wood, demand an apology, and call him out for being a complete dickwad right before Christmas. But then I remember I’m turning over a new leaf and all that shit I really don’t care about while I stand here and enter a state of hypothermia.

  It’s none of my business.

  He is none of my business, and his crabbiness will not take away from the good deed I tried to do.

  Channeling my inner Nice, I turn around and shuffle back to the car. The snow is falling so fast that the tracks I followed on my way up are almost completely covered.

  Home.

  I just need to get home where I can forget all about grumpy Lucas and his sexy body.

  5

  Lucas

  Samantha Kringle.

  Or Naughty, as some like to call her.

  Damn, I haven’t seen her in years, although I had a pretty good idea of how kind the years have been to her based on the way her twin sister looks.

  But Samantha—whom I always found to be the prettier twin—looks even better than I’d expected.

  And in that itty-bitty scrap of a Santa outfit, I’d call her downright gorgeous. Too bad I’m in a funk. Have been for the last year.

  If I weren’t still nursing a broken heart, I would’ve pulled her into my house and showed her all the ways I could think of to warm her up. And it would have had very little to do with a glowing fire and snuggly blanket, and everything to do with stripping her bare and increasing her body temperature the old-fashioned way.

  Son of a bitch, I must be getting sick. The last thing I need is another woman in my life.

  Been there.

  Done that.

  My heart has spent twelve months on lockdown, and I have no intentions of cutting it loose anytime soon.

  I grab my beer off the counter and plop down on the couch. I haven’t looked at a woman with interest since I saw my ex for the first time.

  Until tonight.

  And I sure as hell didn’t mind looking at Samantha. She’s just as gorgeous as I remember. Loose dark brown waves that tumble over her shoulders, whiskey-colored eyes, and a body made to drive men wild. But all I can do is look.

  Don’t touch.

  Whatever you do, don’t touch.

  Because touching leads to more, and more leads to heartache, and I’ve had enough heartache to last me a lifetime.

  There’s another rap on the front door, but this time I decide not to answer it. I moved way out here because I needed peace and quiet, and I know by simple logic that the only person crazy enough to knock on my door for the second time tonight while a storm rages outside is the same sexy Santa who was here a minute ago.

  If I remember Samantha correctly, she’s full of spit and fire. She’s probably coming back to put me in place, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t deserve to do that, what with the way I slammed the door in her face.

  But I’m not in the mood, and all I need to do is stand my ground and show her she’s not getting her way tonight.

  She knocks again, but this time she doesn’t stop. The little minx keeps knocking. “Lucas, open up!” She bangs again. “I’m not going to shut up until you open this door.”

  I could think of a few ways to shut you up, I think while pushing away from the couch. I yank open the front door and Sam, who must’ve been leaning against it, falls into my arms.

  Her tiny body is shivering, and a pang of regret for leaving her out there in the first place ripples through me.

  “S-s-s-o c-c-c-c-old,” she stutters, burrowing her face against my chest.

  “Jesus.” I pull her inside and kick the door shut. With her still huddled against me, I walk toward the couch. Instead of letting go and curling up with the warm blanket already sitting there, she stays attached to me.

  Unsure what to do, I sit down on the couch, only to have her yank the blanket over her body while staying curled up on my lap.

  Shit.

  My don’t-touch rule is going to be damn hard to follow with her lush curves all pressed up against me.

  “Please tell me you didn’t walk out here,” I say.

  She looks up, her brow dipped low. “Are you crazy?”

  “I was sort of thinking you were the crazy one for coming out here in a snowstorm.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have, but the goal was to carol at every house in town, and I’ve let people down enough in my life. I wasn’t about to screw this up too.”

  She releases a sigh, and when her fingers circle around my back, I nearly come out of my seat from how freaking cold they are, but I don’t move because even though it’s like ice cubes on my skin, it feels good. She feels good.

  “You were the last house. And for the record, I could’ve been in and out if your driveway was plowed.”

  “You made it down the lane; I’m sure you could’ve made it back out,” I say, pulling her hands up so I can blow on them. They’re soft and delicate and fit perfectly inside of mine.

  “That feels good. And no, I couldn’t make it back out. Why do you think I showed up at your door again?”

  “I just figured you wanted to see me.”

  “You slammed the door in my face. The only reason I came back is because my car is stuck. After I’m warmed up, I’m sure we’ll be able to push it out.”

  “We? You got a mouse in your pocket?”

  “No.” Sam kicks off her heels and tucks her feet under her butt. “I was thinking you would help me.”

  “It’s freezing out there. We’ll call a tow company.”

  “I already did.”

  “And?” I look at her expectantly. With any luck they’ll be pulling up any second, and she’ll be out of here before I get the urge to warm up more than her hands.

  “James said I’m third in line. It’ll take at least three hours before he can get to me—two and half if I’m lucky.”

  Damn.

  I don’t know whether to hug James Pritchard or strangle him. What I do know is I have to get away from Sam for a few minutes, because she feels too damn good pressed against me.

  Better than Lorelei ever did, and that’s a scary thought.

  “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

  “That would be great.”

  I lift her off my lap and walk into the kitchen. It takes a solid five minutes longer to make the drink than it should, and by the time I get back to the living room, she’s standing in front of the fire with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Here you go.”

  Samantha spins around and eagerly takes the drink I offer. “Thank you.”

  She pulls the mug to her lips and blows across the top before taking a sip. “This would be better with a shot of whiskey.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could make that happen.”

  She smiles over the rim of her cup. “If I didn’t have to drive home, I’d take you up on that. Maybe next time.”

  Next time?

  What does she mean, next time?

  There isn’t going to be a next time.

  It’ll be hard enough to hold on to my resolve for the few hours she’s here tonight. If there’s a next time, all bets will be off and my don’t-touch rule will be out the window.

  “I’ve gotta be honest,” I say, sitting
on the far edge of the couch. “I never expected to see you caroling at my door. Your sister maybe, but not you. How the hell did that happen?”

  Her frown is followed by a deep sigh, and she looks at her hot chocolate before her eyes meet mine. “That’s exactly why I did it.”

  “I’m not following.”

  She takes another sip of her drink and sits on the opposite end of the couch. Shifting her body, she turns sideways so she’s looking at me and I change my position to match hers.

  With the fire glowing and a sliver of bare skin from her leg peeking out from beneath the cover, the moment feels more intimate than it should.

  “I did it because I want to be more like my sister.”

  Is she crazy? Danielle has always been sweet, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Sam. “Why?”

  “Why not?” She shrugs. “Dani is kind and funny, and she’s always there for me, as well as everyone else in her life. I’ve recently come to realize just how much of my life I’ve been missing out on because of work.”

  “I can understand that,” I say, taking a drink of the coffee I poured for myself.

  “You can?”

  “Definitely.”

  That’s all I give her before I take another drink. And another and another, and when she keeps staring at me expectantly, I sigh. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

  She grins. “Not at a chance.”

  I should tell her it’s none of her damn business, grab a shovel, and get her the hell out of here. But I enjoy the sight of her in my house. More than that, I enjoy having someone to talk to—someone besides my parents, who want me to talk about my feelings, and my brother, who wants to set me up on a blind date.

  Before I know it, I’m blowing out a deep breath and telling her everything. “I met Lorelei in college. For the first time in my life, I was with the popular girl. She was gorgeous and loved by just about everyone. I was completely taken by her. We finished college, got engaged, and I dove headfirst into my career.”

  “What is it that you do?” she asks, sounding generally interested.

  “I’m a software developer. My buddy and I partnered up and spent the next few years perfecting one of our programs. Our diligence paid off. We sold the program for a hefty price.”