Tess gripped her cloak, wishing she’d directed the coach driver to a dress shop instead of coming here directly from the station. When Mr. Tutt had noted her lack of luggage, he’d quietly suggested a seamstress in Colorado Springs who would send him the bill, but Tess was too proud—in too damn much of a hurry—to accept Charley’s help.
And now she stood before the devil himself, olive-skinned with midnight hair and lashes, wearing a white silk shirt unbuttoned to such an indecent length she saw the curls on his broad chest. A hot yearning welled up and came out as a sigh.
His smile widened—as well it might! Hadn’t she just announced she was lonely and desperate and willing? And then she’d called him Santa! How stupid was that? “Yes, I’m Mrs. Bennett—Tess—here to answer your advertisement. And . . . well, I had no idea what else to call you. Sir.”
Oh, his sly smile hid secrets. Tess stood absolutely still, determined to not lower her gaze, but the wind made her shiver.
Her inquisitor softened. “Please, come in! How rude of me to keep you waiting in this cold!” He took her arm, guiding her into a vestibule that sparkled like the inside of a queen’s jewel box. “The house is underground, to discourage spies and busybodies, so we have no idea when it snows or—”
The house is underground. For a heart-stopping moment, Tess imagined herself in Henry’s place, boxed and buried where the sun would never shine. It was a morose thought, the stuff of her nightmares after her husband and Claire had died, but it was not what she expected after reading that whimsical advertisement. Nor did the high-ceilinged entryway, with its skylight and mirrors framed in faceted stained-glass gemstones, hint at anything so funereal.
“We hope you’ll find Mr. Penney’s home as delightful a place to live and work as we have,” her greeter continued. He wasn’t releasing her arm; instead, he rubbed her hands between his larger ones to warm them. “We’ve been looking forward to your arrival, dear lady.”
He would think her dense if she didn’t reply, yet Tess’s head had already filled with more questions than answers, and she didn’t even know this brazenly handsome fellow’s name. “So . . . you’re not the man who ran the ad in the Rocky Mountain News, asking for—”
“But I’m the man who ran the ad to the News office,” he interrupted playfully. His smile flashed as he raised her knuckles to his lips. “Johnny Gazara. So nice to meet you, Tess,” he purred. “And while I’m not directly associated with Edgar Penney’s candy company, I’ve been decorating his home and factory for several months now. So if you have questions—any questions at all . . .”
Why is a dangerously attractive man like you becoming tongue-tied over a waif like me? sprang to mind, but Tess kept quiet. Mama had often remarked that while beauty might only be skin-deep, it was most men’s strongest weakness.
And if this rake was hoping to be her mentor and close personal friend, in a house that sounded decidedly strange, she wasn’t sure how much she should ask him. Or reveal. It seemed that ever since she’d run away from home, men with alluring smiles had appeared to assist her. It was only a matter of time before one of them turned out to be the Big Bad Wolf—wasn’t it?
Tess looked around the colorful vestibule to assess her situation. It would be a shame to leave now, after traveling so far on her high hopes of finding joy again . . . and it would be no easy feat to get a stagecoach, out here in this drifted hinterland. She’d delighted in looking at the deepest snow she’d ever seen while they’d rolled along a road that glistened with fine, powdery diamonds, swirls of sparkling white against a sky the color of morning glories. But it was another thing altogether to navigate this snowy mountain town on foot, wearing clothing more suited to Memphis.
Not that the man holding her hands seemed inclined to let go. He cocked his head slightly, still smiling in that secretive way. Could he hear how her pulse thrummed? If he could feel her rising excitement . . . Was he about to kiss her, or had it been so long she was misconstruing his cues?
Tess glanced away, pretending to admire the play of stained-glass colors in the sunbeam from the skylight. What if this whole adventure had been a bad idea from the start? Why had she picked up that newspaper, anyway, when Warren Coates had arranged an itinerary that was safer for a woman alone? Would she never listen to that inner voice that warned her to behave like a lady? To follow the rules for her own good?
“Have I said something to upset you, dear Tess?”
Everything you do upsets me. In the best possible way. She met his shining black eyes again. Damn. Johnny Gazara, a man as rakish as his name, stooped to meet her gaze with his onyx eyes.
He expected an answer. He expected a kiss. And then he expected a yes.
Tess sucked air, struck dumb by this man’s intensity. “You say you have decorated this fabulous room, Mr.—”
“Please, call me Johnny. And, yes, I did!” He bowed, obviously pleased with his work and her response to it.
He’d regained control of his voice now, and his rich baritone wrapped itself around the need inside her . . . the need to hear such a masculine voice murmuring in her ear while his fine artist’s hands did unthinkable things to her bare body. Tess inhaled deeply, hoping to clear her head, but his scent . . . the rich aroma of mint tobacco . . . harkened back to afternoons in Papa’s study, where she’d felt so cherished and secure. So loved.
Her eyes drifted shut, even though Gazara knew exactly how to play her to his advantage. Her lips parted to meet his. Johnny’s sigh was so soft and his breath so warm as he kissed her, framing her face with hands that barely skimmed her skin. It was an eager yet thorough exploration of her mouth that promised far more.
Just that fast she became his captive.
Tess rose to meet him, her arms encircling his neck as her senses reeled and her body came to life again after too many months of not having a man. Sweet and eager, Johnny tasted. When his tongue darted between her teeth, Tess’s giggle echoed in the vestibule.
“And now that Mr. Gazara has welcomed you,” a male voice resonated around them, “he’ll be returning to his work.”
Tess jerked away. Damn it, why did Johnny wear such a triumphant smile? She barely knew him, and already he’d compromised her—presumably in front of the man she’d come to work for!
“I’m delighted to meet you, Tess,” he went on. “We heard of your arrival only moments ago, or I would’ve fetched you at the station. Edgar Penney at your service, my dear.”
In the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, his reflection became a caricature caught in a kaleidoscope: A man dressed in a red, ermine-trimmed cloak and shiny black boots stepped briskly in front of her, his wrap swirling about his red trousers. Beneath his matching hat, his boyish grin widened as he gazed eagerly at her, holding her spellbound with his sparkling brown eyes. He caught her hands and fervently kissed her knuckles. Before Tess knew what was happening, he unfastened her cloak to sweep it back from her face and off her shoulders.
“Oh, my,” he breathed. He glanced at Johnny Gazara. “Won’t she look fetching in an elf suit?”
“She’d look fetching without one,” Gazara muttered.
Edgar Penney assessed her with a lingering look, turning her face slightly, one side to the other, then stepping back to observe how her waist nipped in above her hips. He stared for a moment, as though he were looking through her black dress and her bloomers and corset. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bennett. My mission is to put a smile on that arresting face and a song in your heart while you’re here with us.”
Tess’s cheeks went hot. “I . . . My telegram must’ve sounded arrogant or cocky—”
“Around here, cocky is the norm.” Penney’s fingers followed the rise of her cheekbones to her ears.
“And I didn’t mean to imply . . . for all I know you’ve hired an assistant, because the newspaper was dated—”
“And where did you see that paper, dear Tess?”
The room echoed with a silence she didn’t know how to interpret. But then, what had made sense since the moment she’d met these two men? Johnny Gazara stood staunchly beside this dashing Santa, refusing to relinquish first rights to her, while Mr. Penney lifted her chin with his finger. “In the train station. In Memphis, sir.”
“Memphis! That explains your bewitching accent.” He grinned at Gazara again. “Who could’ve imagined my advertisement would make its way from the Rockies to the Mississippi? And then attract this Southern belle—precisely the right Penney Candy girl—to our door? Magic, I tell you! Never stop believing in magic!”
Tess held her breath. What might Mr. Penney do next? No gentleman would take such liberties with a woman he’d met mere seconds ago, and yet he’d proclaimed her perfect—precisely right. And this after catching her in another man’s embrace. “It is magic,” she whispered. “And if ever I needed a visit from Saint Nicholas, it would be now.”
Edgar Penney’s eyes melted like chocolate. As though he, too, had suffered her trials this year, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her so close his exquisite ermine collar tickled her face as he breathed. He smelled clean and fresh, and his smooth-shaven cheek felt heavenly against hers. She sensed that in the silence of this memorable moment, important matters were being considered and problems were being solved . . . perhaps by this man’s magic.
“You’ve come to the right place, Tess,” he murmured. “Your life’s about to take a wild turn—for the better. What we make here is joy! The candy is merely a token of that.”
Tess longed to believe him. But what if this fellow turned out to be a shyster? A man who lured unassuming women to this remote outpost to—
She shook her head to free it from this unspeakable idea.
“Are you all right, dear heart?” Penney’s fingertip teased the rim of her ear. “You’ve had a long journey, and it’s rude of me to keep you standing here without explaining things. You see, I’m Edgar Penney. Each December, my Penney Candy girls hand out sweets to orphans at our charity events, where local merchants place their seasonal orders and our wealthier guests donate to the children’s cause. Do you think you could do that for me?”
Just keep talking so I can watch your mouth. Tess blinked at this blatant thought. Moments ago she’d been losing herself in Johnny Gazara’s kiss, and now she was allowing another man to hold her while Johnny watched. What had happened to the model wife and mother she’d been for so many years? It was as though Mrs. Henry Bennett had blown away with the powdery snow.
Then her eyes widened. “You mean, the Penney Candy? Known around the world for its vivid colors and incredibly intense flavors?”
“The very one.”
“But you can’t be old enough to . . . I mean . . .” Tess flushed at her rude remark. “The man on the packages leads one to believe you’ve been around, well, almost as long as Santa himself!”
“I took over the business from my grandfather. Generations have enjoyed our candy, and I didn’t want to lose our customers’ trust by changing our image.” When Edgar removed his close-fitting red hat, his shimmering brown hair framed his face like a windswept mane. And indeed, he seemed the lionish sort, all high cheekbones and angular facial planes. “Shall we continue this interview while I show you the candy factory?”
“Oh, yes, I’d like that!”
“Excellent!” He gave Johnny a purposeful look. “Tell Blythe and Daphne I wish to remain uninterrupted during our tour. They’ll meet Tess in due time.”
Why did Gazara look like he’d bitten a lemon? Was he peeved about being upstaged? “Yes, of course, Edgar,” he muttered. “We’ll not wait for you at dinner, then.”
“Please ask Hortense to freshen the room adjoining mine for our guest,” her host continued breezily, “and, if you would be so kind, please take Mrs. Bennett’s trunks there so she may unpack after our tour.”
The vestibule grew quiet as both men looked for luggage. Johnny turned toward the door, thinking her personal effects were still outside.
“I have no trunks,” Tess confessed. She held Edgar’s penetrating gaze while she thought up a logical reason for this. But there was nothing logical about anything she’d done since Reed Mahaffey had come to the house too early, was there?
“I left home on the spur of a desperate moment.” She sighed. No sense in lying, but no good reason to reveal every detail, either. “My husband and little girl died from yellow fever last summer. I couldn’t spend December in the home where they had delighted in trimming the tree and shaking the presents. Matter of fact,” she added sadly, “when I realized I had no one to buy gifts for, I couldn’t stay in Memphis a moment longer. I . . . I didn’t mean to burden you with my tale of woe.”
“Tess, I’m sorry.” Johnny squeezed her shoulder, his brow furrowed with sympathy. “It’s good you didn’t put yourself through the holiday alone.”
“I repeat: It’s my mission to put the roses back in your cheeks and to help you celebrate the season again.” Edgar smiled warmly. “You’re the perfect elf for handing out treats to our orphans! They’ll sense your compassion—a kindred spirit. And you, in turn, will rediscover the joy of giving.”
Her eyes filled with tears, damn it. She hadn’t intended to invoke their pity. While she had sidestepped the topic of Mahaffey’s one-sided courtship, she hadn’t exactly lied. Gifts for her staff didn’t count, the way presents for Henry and Claire had....
And what could she possibly tell the Delaneys about where she’d gone and what she’d done? They would worry about her, no matter how Warren Coates assured them she was safe. But it was too late to be concerned about that, wasn’t it?
Edgar Penney fixed her in his brown-eyed gaze as he offered his elbow. “Shall we go? I have so much to show you, my dear!”