All He Wants for Christmas Read online

  THIS CHRISTMAS

  She stood, straightening her spine. “I’m Danielle Sharpe. Welcome to Moosby’s in Kismet, Mr. Hamilton. You’re late. Really late. We were starting to wonder if you’d ever arrive.”

  Her blunt approach had its desired effect. He forgot about shaking her hand—something Danielle wanted to avoid, given its mind-scrambling effects on Betty—and apologized instead.

  “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry about that.” He ducked his head, treating her to an intimate view of his rumpled dark hair.

  It looked soft. She wanted to run her fingers through it.

  Wait. What? No, she didn’t. That was crazy. Super crazy.

  He’d been wearing a Santa hat a while ago. Where was it? If he’d still had on that hat, he might have seemed less appealing.

  Ha, her inner sense of flutteriness mocked. As if.

  “I’m not used to driving in the snow.” He offered her a bashful smile, then raised his hands. “My hands are L.A. hands. Good for surfing, going to parties, and putting on sunglasses. Not so much for steering through snow flurries, I’m afraid.”

  Of course she looked at his hands. How could she not?

  He’d invited her to. Even as Jason frowned at them with faux chagrin, Danielle studied them herself. She couldn’t help drawing an altogether different conclusion than he had.

  His hands were big but graceful. His fingers were long but elegant. His palms were slightly callused. They looked manly.

  How did a posh, spoiled-to-the-max CEO get calluses?

  “I dunno,” Danielle mused aloud. “Your hands look plenty capable of doing interesting things to me.”

  Praise for the Lisa Plumley’s Kismet Christmas romances!

  TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS

  “Plumley makes her third trip to Kismet, Mich. (after Home for the Holidays) in this laugh-out-loud Christmas romp. This sweet romance tugs at the heartstrings from the beginning and doesn’t let up until the final page.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “This is a genuinely fun story, with complex, engaging characters and a thoroughly charming holiday atmosphere. No matter what, Lisa Plumley knows how to craft a terrific, heartwarming story with deliciously happy endings.”

  —The Romance Reviews

  “The chemistry between these two characters was intense. And waiting to see if Casey would overcome his bah-humbug ways left me feeling hopeful and starry-eyed.”

  —Melissa D’Agnese, First for Women magazine

  HOLIDAY AFFAIR

  “Secrets and subterfuge add complexity and zing to this well-crafted, heartwarming story that features a wealth of engaging characters, including five remarkable, memorable children, and great sexual tension. A deliciously satisfying, cocoa-worthy holiday read.”

  —Library Journal

  “Lisa Plumley’s latest holiday novel delivers. It has warm, gooey holiday moments complete with happy children, Christmas traditions such as caroling and decorating Christmas cookies, and, oh yeah, hot-and-steamy romance. Loaded with fun pop-culture references and witty dialogue, Holiday Affair delivers on entertainment!”

  —The Romance Reader (5 hearts)

  “A delightful story with utterly charming characters. It brings to life the sounds, smells, and tastes of Christmas as it brings together more than just the two main characters for a joyous holiday season.”

  —Romantic Times Book Reviews (4½ stars)

  HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

  “Lisa Plumley once again gifts readers with a Yuletide story sure to put you in a holiday mood. This is vintage Plumley. She’s created a cast of characters that are a bit eccentric, quirky, and likeable and spun a story that will make you smile.”

  —Lezlie Patterson, McClatchy-Tribune News Service

  “A delightful secondary romance adds to the fun in this upbeat romp that is touching, hilarious, and lightly dusted with seasonal charm.”

  —Library Journal

  Other Books by Lisa Plumley

  MAKING OVER MIKE

  FALLING FOR APRIL

  RECONSIDERING RILEY

  PERFECT TOGETHER

  PERFECT SWITCH

  JOSIE DAY IS COMING HOME

  ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS

  MAD ABOUT MAX

  SANTA BABY

  (anthology with Lisa Jackson,

  Elaine Coffman, and Kylie Adams)

  LET’S MISBEHAVE

  HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

  MY FAVORITE WITCH

  HOLIDAY AFFAIR

  MELT INTO YOU

  TOGETHER FOR CHRISTMAS

  SO IRRESISTIBLE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  All He Wants for Christmas

  LISA PLUMLEY

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  THIS CHRISTMAS

  Praise for the Lisa Plumley’s Kismet Christmas romances!

  Other Books by Lisa Plumley

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Copyright Page

  To John Plumley, with all my love.

  Chapter One

  Los Angeles, California

  Three minutes into the board meeting Jason Hamilton had been shanghaied into attending, he realized he was being set up.

  Not two minutes. Or one minute. But three minutes.

  Three whole minutes went by before he understood that his persnickety squad of planners, investors, and overgrown babysitters had an agenda that went beyond figuring out how to move even more Barbie dolls and Tonka trucks at the Moosby’s Toy Stores that (nearly) covered the globe.

  Hell. He must be losing his edge. Ordinarily, his bullshit detector would have gone off the minute he’d gotten the first phone call summoning him back from his pre-crunch-time vacation.

  Instead, he’d blithely agreed to this meeting without giving it much thought. Or preparation. It was four days after Thanksgiving. Everyone should have been knocking back turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie, not sitting around a boardroom table sharpening their knives for a good absentee CEO slice-and-dice.

  Because that’s what this was. Jason could tell, now that he was paying attention. He hadn’t gotten to the top of his field by being oblivious. The rarefied boardroom air held a definite hint of “this is all your fault,” tinged with a “so fix it” chaser. He was there to be called on the carpet. For . . . something.

  Well. This took the buzz off the freedom he’d been enjoying while out of the office. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as being named People magazine’s first-ever CEO “Sexiest Man Alive,” either. He’d kind of enjoyed that. Disgruntled to know he’d been suckered by the board, even temporarily, Jason leaned back in his executive chair. He’d have to handle this situation differently than he’d planned to.

  But that was all right. He could roll with the punches.

  Proving as much to himself, he caught the eye of the nearest board member, Mary Sue Marb
ury, who was fifty-six and steely, with a dignified demeanor. He gave her an easygoing nod. Mary Sue blushed in response. She grinned. Jason grinned back, then pulled a funny face. Mary Sue touched her hair. She glanced away, seeming simultaneously amused and pleased.

  Ah. That was better. The first step in defusing a disaster was lightening the mood. The second step was collecting allies. Those were things Jason was good at. Those skills had taken him—a kid who’d loved cracking wise in the back of the class (when he showed up)—and turned him into one of the youngest and most successful CEOs ever. At thirty-two, he’d been the subject of innumerable media profiles, a fair amount of Wall Street speculation, and more than one Man of the Year designation.

  Fun was officially Jason’s business. He excelled at it.

  The chairman of the board droned on, describing the day’s agenda. On the table, Jason’s cell phone vibrated. Offhandedly, he glanced at it. He blinked, then squinted at the suggestive text message on his screen. Whoa. Apparently, Mary Sue Marbury was a lot more freewheeling than he’d given her credit for.

  Another board member cleared her throat. Everyone sat up straighter. They turned their attention to the agenda again.

  Suppressing a sigh, Jason did too. Board meetings made him antsy. Even dressing up Moosby’s luxurious top-floor boardroom with a towering Oregon Christmas tree and swags of garland at the floor-to-ceiling windows didn’t make up for all the tedium involved. If he’d known that success meant nothing but memos, meetings, and PowerPoint presentations, he might have thought twice about becoming a world leader in targeted niche retailing.

  Whatever the board had gotten worked up about this time, though, Jason knew he could handle it. He was ready, capable, and relaxed. He’d cut short his tropical Thanksgiving vacation just that morning to fly into L.A. He probably still had beach sand between his toes. That showed dedication. None of the women and men who comprised his board of directors could say that.

  Besides, he was the CEO. He was the heart and soul of Moosby’s. He’d brought the company into the big leagues and into public trading . . . with all its attendant profits and demands.

  Sure, technically Jason served at the board’s behest. They’d hired him. They could fire him. He could, theoretically, lose everything he’d worked so hard for. But business was booming. Expansion into overseas markets was burgeoning. Days after Black Friday, the official kickoff to the holiday shopping season, Moosby’s had never sold more toys to more kids in less time than they had this year. There was no reason anyone in their right mind would want to oust their fearless leader.

  “. . . and so we’ve decided to take meaningful action,” intoned Chip Larsen, Moosby’s elected chairman. He pointed at the screen that was the meeting’s focus. “In response to this image.”

  Jason transferred his attention to the image being shown.

  It was a photograph. A grainy, crookedly framed, utterly incriminating photograph. Of him. At a party. With several other people. In it, five scantily clad women clustered suggestively around Jason. All of them were laughing. Most of them held cocktails. The woman nearest Jason was lifting her mojito with one hand and hoisting her sequined tank top with the other, gleefully showing her (now digitally pixelated) breasts.

  The photo must have been taken a few days ago. Jason couldn’t remember posing for it. Probably because he hadn’t.

  He was no stranger to seeing surprise photos of himself. These days, who was? But that unplanned photo jarred him.

  Examining it gave Jason time to realize a few things. First, that this was undoubtedly what had prompted his board-instigated ambush here in L.A. Second, that nothing made an ordinary man look like a knuckle-dragging mouth breather faster than the sudden appearance of bare breasts. To Jason’s credit, though, he knew he’d tactfully looked away an instant later.

  He’d also held the woman’s mojito for her while she put on her top again, having accomplished her mission for the night: being a part of a new Internet meme involving posting topless “selfies” taken with “hot” strangers.

  Unfortunately, those gentlemanly impulses of Jason’s had not been caught on camera. Instead, in the photo, Jason was grinning while holding up his Guinness stout . . . giving the unmistakable appearance of not just ogling Miss Best Breasts’ nudity but also saluting her breasts for good measure.

  At that moment, Jason recalled, he’d been surprised to find himself looking at a topless woman. His board members were not similarly caught off guard now, though. In response to the photo, a dry buzz of disapproval made its way around the room.

  For another man, smoothing over this issue would have been impossible. For Jason . . . well, he was famously charismatic, wasn’t he? That word turned up so often in articles about him that he occasionally joked about having it tattooed on his forehead to spare journalists the trouble. Sure, it was flattering—the first two dozen times or so. After that, the novelty wore off.

  Jason knew he was just a regular guy. A guy who’d gotten lucky. A guy who wanted to stay lucky, if he could.

  Fortunately, he knew he could. He always had. In this situation, all he had to do was explain himself. His board members knew him. They knew who he was. Plus, he’d been on the straight and narrow for so long that his character was unimpeachable. He’d simply explain what had happened, and then—

  “Public disapproval of this image is overwhelming,” Chip went on in a censorious tone. “Our customer hotlines have been going crazy. Our website actually crashed. Two days ago, our Twitter account single-handedly pushed the service over capacity.”

  “Well, all publicity is good publicity, right?” Jason said, looking for a segue into his explanation. Maybe now would be a good time to mention his charity work. “Speaking of which—”

  “Not when it comes to the face of our company—our family-focused chain of toy stores—looking like a giant perv.” Tony Estes, another board member, shook his head. He did not, Jason noted, swerve his gaze a single millimeter from the photo while he spoke. He just kept right on gawking. “We sell toys! To children! You plus booze plus nude coeds isn’t good publicity.”

  “Okay. Come on, now,” Jason cajoled with a grin, not bothered by their corporate-mandated outrage. His board members were required to be dicks about misunderstandings like this. They were doing their jobs. He knew he could make them see reason. In fact, he was happy to have things out in the open, where he could deal with them. “Yes, I had a few drinks,” Jason told them genially. “I was on vacation. Yes, they were coeds—grad students in anthropology, to be precise. I know that because I had conversations with them during the party. And yes, one of them is topless in that photo.” He took a moment to make eye contact with each board member, making sure they understood his explanation. “But that was a big step forward for Bethany. She’s very shy. She’s been coping with some body-image issues—”

  The men around the board table scoffed. But the women looked interested. Also, sympathetic. For whatever reason, Jason usually had greater success building alliances with women.

  Maybe that was because he liked women. He liked most people. He had two younger sisters and a younger brother. He couldn’t have survived his rocky childhood without them.

  “—and posting her picture online was going to be a big deal for her,” Jason finished, knowing that, if nothing else, the woman who’d made him look most guilty of wrongdoing would not have minded that image becoming public. That was the whole point of the meme. There weren’t any secrets online. But Bethany probably hadn’t bargained on this. He needed to contact her and apologize for the media mêlée. He’d been unplugged while on vacation. He hadn’t known. “She was proud to be part of the—”

  Meme, he’d been about to say, winding up his (technically unnecessary) explanation and earning his (almost) inevitable absolution. All he needed was a chance to tell his side of the story. But Tony Estes cut him off with an impatient hand wave.

  “Save it for the Oprah show, Hamilton,” he said. “We’re no
t here to listen to you wheel and deal. This is an epic disaster.”

  “‘Wheel and deal’?” Jason tightened his jaw. For the first time, he felt irked. Also, unfairly dissed. What had he ever done to Tony except earn him scads of cash? “I’m telling you what happened, straight up. I went to a party. I met those five women. I met lots of other people, too. I got caught on camera—”

  “I’ll say you did.” Chip made that snarky comment without so much as glancing up from his PowerPoint presentation. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We all knew it. This is the downside of your popularity, Hamilton. We never should have—”

  Kept you on as CEO, he was about to say. Jason knew it. That’s what Chip always said whenever there was a problem.

  Rather than be sidetracked, Jason kept his focus.

  He was a patient man, he reminded himself. He could be patient with his board members. He had to be.

  He’d survived worse circumstances than this.

  “Look, this photo is misleading.” Jason gestured at it. He shrugged. “It’s one moment, frozen in time. It’s not indicative of anything except that Bethany has a very nice smile and nice breasts, and I have an appreciation of a good Dublin stout.”

  “Looks to me like your ‘appreciation’ has more to do with her boobies than it does with your beer,” Tony chortled.