He’d shown up in the Jingle Bell Shop with wet hair and razor stubble. His white beard stuck to his face, forcing Holly to stand very, very close to adjust the mustache.
The scent of pine soap lingered on his skin, subtle, masculine, and Christmas-y. He smelled nice, vital, more lumberjack than ballplayer.
She glanced at him now, as he sat on the big red corduroy chair. He shifted right, left, couldn’t sit still. Although he welcomed each child with a ho-ho-ho, he didn’t have the warm, fuzzy manner that put children at ease. Many still looked leery, others outright fearful.
Alex frightened her most.
The man had kissed her on the carousel. His kiss had teased and tempted. A flame had lit in her belly, warming her from the inside out. She’d barely kept her balance. Had she given in, she would have been a goner. He could have kissed her naked in a very short time.
It had been the look in his eye that struck fear in her heart. He knew he could arouse her and was now out to prove it. The man was as competitive in seduction as he was in sports and arcade games. He saw her as a prize, much like Lola.
Her time with the famed ballplayer would come to an end Christmas Day. Unless she could persuade the judge to release him sooner. She’d yet to speak to Hathaway on Alex’s behalf; maybe she’d do so today.
His continued mumblings about Miami and blond twins set her teeth on edge. Apparently, threesomes appealed to him.
Holly needed only one man to be happy.
The Rogue was out of her league.
“Cracks Nuts,” Santa called to her.
What could he possibly want? There was a break in the line, and she cautiously approached him. “Yes, Santa?” She remained outwardly calm, although her stomach had knotted.
He motioned her closer. His too-small white gloves barely covered his knuckles. She bent, nearly knocking his temple with her big wooden head. He pulled down the lever on her jaw, spoke face-to-face. “What time do we leave for the elementary school? Velvet makes my ass sweaty, and I’ll need another shower.”
Holly looked at her watch. “Thirty minutes, and I’ll close off the line. Louie’s teacher wanted you to arrive for show and tell, then take recess with the kids. Mrs. Rome hoped you’d captain a team for kickball. If time allows, there’s lunch in the cafeteria—”
“Slow down, Nutcracker,” Alex interrupted. “You’ve got my whole damn day planned.”
“You agreed to show and tell,” she reminded him.
“You’ve added on kickball and lunch. Maybe I should stay for nap time to make up for the sleep I lost this morning.”
“Third-graders don’t nap.”
“Shit.” His expletive hissed between his teeth, fluttered his mustache. Fortunately, there were no kids close by, but the workshop helpers had heard him. They tapped their fingers to their lips.
“Shushed by elves.” Alex shook his head. “The day’s headed downhill fast.”
A half hour later, Holly handed Alex a package that had recently arrived from James River Stadium in Richmond, Virginia. It turned out to be his baseball uniform, two dozen baseballs, and a set of his personal photographs.
Once he’d showered and returned as a Rogue, he was ready for show and tell. She stared, couldn’t take her eyes off him—he was that rugged, that handsome.
The man was a star athlete, tall, muscled, primed. He looked hot in his uniform. He was a man other men would envy and women would deeply desire.
He returned her stare, in that tangible way that visually stroked her. She felt his touch, a hot trail of fingertips over her breasts and down her belly, followed by a slow slide beneath the waistband of her green capris.
She went wet for him.
His smile curved knowingly.
She nervously tugged on the hem of her pink flamingo top, ran her sweaty palms down her thighs. She’d never been more embarrassed.
Air, she needed air. “Let’s go.”
Once out on the sidewalk, she pointed to her yellow Volkswagen. “It’s not your Saleen S7, but it will get us to school.”
Alex settled his big body in the passenger seat. Holly was certain he purposely stretched out when he could have hugged the door. His shoulder bumped hers, and his thigh rubbed her own. He rested his hand between the seats, the tips of his fingers a mere inch from her hip.
She started the engine, shifted into first. Her knuckles accidentally brushed low on his side, and Boxer grinned.
Distracted, she ran onto the curb as she was pulling into traffic. The bump and jar rocked Alex sideways. He leaned against her a little too long.
She pushed him back, said, “Don’t crowd me.”
“Don’t have an accident.” He jabbed a finger at the car ahead of them, which had stopped short for a yellow light. “I’d have run it.”
Holly hit the brake. “You would have gotten a ticket.”
“Only in Holiday,” Alex grunted. “Big cities are more lenient.”
She was certain no Richmond cop would write Alex a ticket, no matter his violation. He was a professional athlete and would slide by on an autograph and the promise of game tickets.
They soon arrived at the school and youthful memories made her smile. “I attended Holiday Elementary,” she told Alex as she pulled her VW into visitors’ parking. “Classrooms were small and teachers taught until retirement. A few of my favorites still remain.”
“They must be old,” said Alex.
“The kids keep them young.”
“I wouldn’t have the patience to teach.”
“It takes dedication,” she noted. “My dad used to say ‘if a person loves his job, he’ll never work a day in his life.’ ”
“That’s why I play baseball.”
“So the boy never has to become a man?”
“You’re cracking my nuts again.” He scowled. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m all grown up. There’s nothing little about this man.”
Holly had seen him stripped down to boxer briefs. He was definitely full grown.
Anticipation ran high in Mrs. Rome’s class. The room was decorated with student artwork and an enormous chart that marked good behavior. Gold and silver stars abounded.
Holly stood back as Alex talked baseball. He was by turns serious and funny, told a dozen stories. He captivated every ten-year-old in the room.
He drew Louie Kessler to the front of the class, had the boy try on his big league glove. The glove with which he’d caught the final out in the World Series.