A sappy as hell move for most, but with the judge, it was the real deal. True love.
“I’ll see you both at dinner. Thank you for planning such a festive week for us, Birdie. I can tell that you’ve put quite a bit of thought into our time here in Kringle,” the judge added, then nodded to Dan as the men headed toward the old Rover.
Soren breathed a sigh of relief. If he could fool the judge, he could fool anyone.
He and Bridget waved as the pair made their way down the snowy drive, headed for Kringle Village, and thought of that crinkled photograph. He couldn’t imagine keeping any woman’s picture with him all the time.
Or could he?
An icy breeze picked up, and a lock of Bridget’s hair brushed against his arm.
And then it was just the two of them.
“Shall we,” he said, gesturing to the mountain house.
The massive one-story structure looked like something kids would dream up with multiple boxes of Lincoln Logs at their disposal. Tucked into the side of the mountain with smoke coming out of the stone chimney, this place was the epitome of rustic chic and had a certain charm he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
No matter. This would soon be the location where Tom came to his senses. He should look into flights to Bali or Australia. After his friend ended things with Lori, he’d need an adventure to get her out of his head.
“That was interesting,” Bridget said with a surreptitious twist to her lips as they crunched through the snow toward the house.
He pasted on his cocksure smirk. “See, I can be nice.”
She barked out a laugh. “No, you can’t.”
“I can’t?”
His pulse quickened. Why did he like going back and forth with her?
He reached to open the door, but she pressed her back against it before he could pull it open.
“I know what you’re doing, and I’m not falling for it, Scooter,” she said with a determined edge.
He took a step closer and tipped her chin to meet his gaze. Barely an inch apart, it would take no effort for him to lift her into his arms and kiss her into oblivion.
“What is it that you think I’m doing, Birdie?” he asked instead, his fingers twitching at the thought of gripping the globes of her perfect ass.
Sweet Jesus, this was hot!
She lowered her voice. “I see you playing the nice guy, and we both know that you’re not a nice guy.”
His fingertips grazed hers as electricity crackled between them. “You thought I was nice enough last night after I gave you, what was it, five orgasms?”
She looked away and murmured something under her breath.
He wove his fingers with hers, and the contact had him rock-hard.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you, Bridget?” he continued, loving the sound of her name.
Her chest heaved with each punctuated breath. She felt it, too—this crazy charge between them.
She schooled her features. “Seven, I said seven! I had seven orgasms last night. Are you happy now? You shouldn’t be. That whole orgasm business is over. From this moment on, I won’t have any time for orgasms because I’ll be watching you like a hawk.”
“Is that right?” he purred.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You bet your life, Scooter.”
They were back to the Scooter and Birdie game.
He cupped her cheek in his hand and licked his lips. His one-night vixen looked good enough to eat.
“What if I plan on not letting you out of my sight, Birdie?”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The cold air paired with the inferno blazing between them sent a delicious buzz through his body. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, unable to stop himself when a sharp knock on the mountain house window broke the kissing spell. Bridget shrieked, then shoved him with the force of an NFL linebacker. Surprised at his vixen’s upper body strength, he lost his footing, hit the side of the steps, then fell into a mound of snow with a frosty thud.
“Are you two coming in, or do you plan on standing in front of my door all afternoon?”
He raised his hand to block the sun and got a glimpse of a smiling older woman with round wire-rimmed glasses and a coat covered in candy canes.
“Mrs. Claus?” he sputtered.
“No, dear, it’s Mrs. Donner. I’m Dan’s wife. You can call me Delores.”
Jesus! More damn reindeer names. And, in his defense, the Claus remark was a knee-jerk reaction to a