Kissing Santa, A Clover Park Novella (Clover Park, Book 4) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Read online

  His mother’s gaze fell on the other men. “You men can laugh all the way outside. Go rake all the leaves for Maria. She says they’ve been sitting there for a month. Kids, follow me!”

  Everyone snapped to with a few moans and groans thrown in.

  Rico headed for the kitchen, glad he wasn’t outside with the men. He spent most days doing the hard labor of landscape maintenance and cleanup as crew chief at his best friend Trav O’Hare’s company Elegant Land Designs. He set the dishes in the sink and ran the water. So he’d lost a stupid wishbone break. Big deal. He’d go on one date with what was most likely a very homely, lonely woman who depended on a network of parents to find her dates, and move on. He could survive one dinner.

  Chapter Two

  Rico rang the bell at the Dixons’ house in nearby Eastman right on time on Saturday night. God forbid they report back to his mother that he showed up late. He still couldn't believe he was going out with someone his mother had set him up with sight unseen, but he knew if he didn't go, he'd never hear the end of it.

  The door swung open, and he goggled. Standing in front of him was a beautiful, sexy woman. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves, ending mid-thigh with black fuck-me heels. Her hair was dark brown and fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her skin was smooth like cream. And her mouth—full pouty lips meant for sin. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was who his mother picked out for him? He should’ve let her set him up years ago.

  He met her dark brown eyes and saw the same surprise he felt reflected there. He gave her his I’m-very-happy-to-see-you smile that always got a return smile from the ladies. She smiled back, and their gazes locked. Some powerful chemistry sizzled between them, keeping him rooted to the spot. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he instantly got hard.

  A woman’s voice rang out from the house. “Who is it?”

  The spell was broken. Samantha stiffened, muttering, “Who do you think it is, Ma?” She stepped onto the porch, shut the door behind her, and pursed her sexy lips. “So you’re my date.”

  The vibe coming off her went from yeah, baby to aggravated in seconds. Probably her mother had killed the moment. That was okay. Once he got her to dinner, he’d charm the panties off her.

  "Hi, I’m Rico," he said, holding out his hand to shake.

  She shook his hand and quickly dropped it. “Samantha.”

  He nodded. “Nice dress. You look good in black.”

  She regarded him somberly. “I’m wearing black because I’m in mourning.”

  “Oh, you are? Who died?”

  “My dreams.”

  He stared at her, confused. “Your—”

  “One dinner,” she said. “That’s it.”

  Her mother’s voice hollered from inside the house, “Bring him in!”

  Samantha looked to the sky, and then in the exact same tone of aggravation that he always used when he said the word, she groaned, "Ma-aaa-aaa!"

  She looked at him. He gestured inside. She huffed, stepped inside, and slammed the door in his face.

  He heard some loud female voices arguing behind the door, and then Samantha stepped outside, holding a black coat and purse, and slammed the door behind her.

  He raised a brow. “I take it I’m not gonna meet your mother.”

  Her eyes flashed at him. “If my mother can sing your praises for three days straight, then she doesn’t need to meet you.” She marched down the sidewalk and ticked his virtues off on her fingers, only they came out sounding like the worst sins. “You come from a good family. You’re Catholic. You have sisters, so you know how to treat a lady. You’re respectful to your mother. You have a good job.” She pinned him with a sharp gaze. “Did I miss anything?”

  He bit back the joking remark that immediately came to mind: I’m good in the sack. She was royally pissed at her mother, and he didn’t want that falling on him.

  “That about covers it,” he said.

  They arrived at his truck, and he opened the passenger-side door for her. “You have a beautiful name.”

  She heaved a sigh. “My mother has the crazy idea that she and your mother have agreed on an arranged marriage between us.”

  She got in the truck, and his eyes trailed down to her curvy ass. Her words suddenly sank in. “Wait, say what?”

  She smirked. “News to you, huh? The groom is always the last to know.”

  He shut the door and walked slowly to the driver’s seat. Every alarm bell was ringing in his head over that arranged marriage deal. He considered opening her door and setting her free. They didn’t have to go along with what their mothers said. He thought his mother with her married-and-kids talk was just doing her usual wishful thinking. Their mothers actually thought they’d arranged a marriage?

  He slid into the driver’s seat and glanced at her. Her jaw was clenched tight as she stared out the front window. A woman with that much fury could be channeled into passion. Her dress rode up higher now that she was sitting down, exposing even more shapely leg. Nope, he wouldn’t mind that passion directed at him at all.

  He pulled out of the driveway. “Look, as long as we agree our mothers are meddling busybodies that we can ignore, it’s okay for us to go out.”

  “You think it’s that easy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t know my mother.”

  He paused. He knew his mother, and if hers was anything like his, that meant a lot of follow-up. If the date went well, his mother would want to know when the wedding was. If the date went badly, his mother would want to know what he did wrong. Damned if you do…

  “Well, we gotta eat,” he said. “You like Italian?”

  “Let’s just get some fast food and call it a night.”

  “No can do. I’ve got reservations.” He headed over to Lombardi’s, a nice restaurant that he’d been to a few times when he wanted to impress a date. He hadn’t wanted word getting back to his mother that he was cheap. Though usually all he had to do was buy a girl a drink.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “Here’s the deal. I’m telling my mother that you’re in love with someone else. You tell your mother the same. Then we’ll pretend we have someone on the side that we’ll break up with just before anyone can meet them. Okay?”

  “I’m not pretending I have someone on the side,” he said. “She’ll be all over that.”

  “Just do it! There’s no better way.” She frowned. “I’ve been over all the angles,” she added grimly.

  He stopped at a red light. “Can’t we just say we didn’t get along?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Perfect! That way it’s nobody’s fault. We’ll just say we didn’t click.”

  “You have beautiful brown eyes.”

  “Thank you, Rico, but you don’t have to keep giving me compliments. This is a onetime deal to get our mothers off our backs. One dinner, back home again, and done.”

  Rico held his tongue. He wasn’t going to argue for more than one dinner. One date was usually all it took for a very successful evening. He had a lot more compliments stored up that worked very well for him, but he’d wait until she was more agreeable after some wine. He just needed to loosen her up a bit.

  ~ ~ ~

  Samantha forced herself not to look at Rico’s handsome profile as he drove to the restaurant. It was bad enough his musky cologne wrapped itself around her in the confines of the truck, making her want to reach over and taste…No. Absolutely not. This guy had player written all over him. And while her body had reacted to meeting him with a resounding Hello, let’s fuck like rabbits! (a natural biological instinct any woman would’ve had upon meeting him), her brain knew better. She had him pegged the minute he showed up on her doorstep, all confidence and swagger and good looks. He knew he was good-looking, too, with that caramel skin, deep brown eyes, and stubble along his jaw. Not to mention a voice that could’ve been on the radio it was so smooth and melodic. Oh, and the fact that he hadn’t even zipped his leather jacket so she’d notice right away the way he fille
d out the dress shirt.

  Nice touch, play-uh.

  Rico parked, opened her truck door, and walked her into the restaurant. She relaxed as she stepped inside. The place was festive and cheerful, decked out for the holidays with greenery and twinkling white lights along the ceiling, archway, and windows.

  The hostess, a gorgeous brunette with cleavage on prominent display in her barely buttoned shirt, practically purred at Rico.

  “Long time no see.” The woman walked around the hostess stand to kiss him on the cheek while letting her breasts rub against his arm.

  Rico slung an arm around the hussy. “Miss me, darling?”

  “Like an itch that needs a scratch…” She leaned in and whispered something in his ear, then bit his earlobe.

  Rico chuckled. “You’re so bad. I’ve got reservations for two. This is Samantha.”

  The brunette glanced at Samantha dismissively. “Right this way.”

  After she showed them to their table, the woman had the nerve to lean down to Rico, showing off a clear view down her shirt, and whisper, “Call me.”

  Rico winked, and the woman strutted away, hips swaying.

  Samantha stifled a groan.

  “Nice place, huh?” Rico asked, all innocent and clueless.

  “Yeah, nice,” she muttered.

  She took a deep breath. She just had to get through one dinner. Be polite. Pretend it didn’t matter that her date was a complete man-slut. That only mattered if they were a couple. Which they never would be. She focused on the warm and cozy atmosphere of the restaurant. A pianist on a baby grand in the corner played gentle Christmas music. Each round table held a glowing candle.

  Rico opened up the menu. “Should we order some wine?”

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  The last thing she needed was to let her defenses down and fall prey to his womanizing ways. She’d get through this dinner stone-cold sober if it killed her.

  He gave her a slow, sexy smile that she steeled herself against even as her insides turned to mush. “That really is a pretty dress.”

  “Thanks,” she said dryly. She had to let him know she was immune to all his false flattery. “I like your shirt too,” she added. “Nice buttons.”

  He raised a brow and rolled up the sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. Oh no, he didn’t. Her mouth went dry. His moves were so obvious they really should have zero effect on her. Thankfully, the waiter showed up to tell them about the specials, giving her a reason to tear her gaze away from Rico’s muscles.

  The waiter left, and Rico picked up right where he left off. “You look beautiful by candlelight.”

  She pursed her lips and stared him down. “Everyone looks beautiful by candlelight. You can barely see me.”

  “Something wrong?”

  She was about to say, Yes, something’s wrong! My mother set me up with a blind date who turns out to be the one kind of man I never want to be with again! Been there, done that, got the devastating heartbreak. But his attention wasn’t on her. He waved to someone across the restaurant. She turned to see the hostess blowing him a kiss while she seated another couple.

  “Would you like to get better acquainted with our hostess?” she asked sweetly.

  He turned and gave her that slow, sexy smile again. This time she felt nothing but aggravation. Okay, a little tummy flutter, but whatever.

  “I want to get better acquainted with you,” he said. “How did I get so lucky to be set up with a beauty like you?”

  She was too mature to stick her finger down her throat in a gagging motion, but she wanted to. Badly.

  “The usual way,” she said. “I had no choice in the matter.”

  He barked out a laugh. Flustered, she stared at her menu, debated just walking out, and thought better of it with the fallout she was sure she’d get from her mother upon her early arrival home.

  The waiter came to take their orders. She chose a salad so it would be a quick meal.

  Things went downhill from there. He spent the entire evening giving her all these super fake compliments about her glossy hair, her deeply thoughtful eyes, her devastating smile, her dainty wrists, even her graceful fingers. Seriously, she knew she wasn’t model beautiful. Obviously these lines worked on some women, but to her they just sounded like the worst kind of phony talk.

  They lapsed into awkward silence. He must’ve sensed his phony lines weren’t going to get him anywhere. Finally she couldn’t take the silence anymore.

  “I need to use the ladies’ room,” she said, excusing herself.

  She stood in the ladies’ room, wondering how she got to such a sucky place in her life. Single, living at home, letting her mother direct her love life. After she felt she’d waited long enough for him to finish his meal, she touched up her lipstick and returned to their table.

  “You want dessert?” he asked.

  “I want to go home.”

  He signaled for the check and turned to her. “Let me ask you this, if you had met me any other way, would you be interested?”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Interested in what?”

  He gestured up and down his body.

  Argh! Samantha threw down her napkin, grabbed her coat and purse, and stood. “Take me home. Now.”

  He pulled out his wallet, left some bills on the table, and they headed out the door.

  Samantha jammed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. She couldn’t spend one more minute sitting across from that big phony. As if that wasn’t enough, she had to endure uncomfortable silence followed by him propositioning her. He probably wanted to make out in his truck in front of her parents’ house.

  They walked in silence to his truck.

  “We’re not kissing good night,” she informed him.

  He stopped walking. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

  He actually looked hurt, and she was swamped with sympathy. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a very nice person in some ways. I mean, you do love your mother or you wouldn’t be here with me, right? I’m just not liking this whole deal. Let’s leave it as friends and go on with our lives.”

  They continued on in silence. He opened her door for her. That was nice. He was rather gallant.

  “I don’t have women friends,” he said before shutting her door.

  She waited for him to get in. “Why not?”

  He put the truck into gear. “What’s the point?”

  “What do you mean what’s the point?”

  “Never mind,” he said quickly. They headed back toward her parents’ house.

  “No, I really want to know. Why is there no point in having a woman friend?”

  He kept his mouth shut.

  I know your type all too well.

  “You use women for sex and that’s it,” she said.

  “I don’t use women. We use each other.” He looked over at her lecherously. “And everyone comes out happy, I assure you.”

  “You’re a sexist pig.”

  “How is that sexist? I said we use each other. Believe me, the women I sleep with are very satisfied. Haven’t heard any complaints.”

  “Because you’re already outta there. You’ve probably broken hearts without a backward glance.” Her throat got tight. “Just know that when two people sleep together, the woman’s heart is involved big time.”

  He glanced at her curiously. “Is your heart broken?”

  She’d said too much. “I’m just speaking in general.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “On behalf of my gender.”

  “I really do like that dress,” he said with a leer at her now pushed-up cleavage.

  She dropped her arms. “Shut up.”

  He shook his head. “I have no idea why our mothers thought we’d make a good couple.”

  A flash of hurt went through her, and she instantly tamped it down. He was right. They wouldn’t make a good couple. But she wanted him to think she was a catch, even if she thought he was a sexist pig.

  She lifted
her chin. “I have no idea either. They’re insane.”

  He laughed, a deep, rolling laugh that warmed her and had her laughing too.

  “You got that right,” he said.

  When they got to her parents’ house, Rico turned off the truck, got out, and opened her door again. At least his mother had taught him some manners.

  He walked her to the front door and extended his hand to shake. “I guess this is good-bye forever.”

  A stab of regret went through her. Would things have gone differently if they hadn’t been forced together? No, he was a player, and she’d already had her share of those.

  She shook Rico’s hand, and just like the first time, a hot tingle ran up her arm. She quickly dropped his hand. “Good-bye forever, Rico. Thank you for the salad.”

  He grinned, flashing a perfect white toothy smile. The man could do commercials for whitening strips. “Thank you for the beautiful view.”

  Before she could come up with some snappy reply, he turned and strutted down the front walk. She clenched her teeth. Major player. She was lucky she’d seen him for exactly what he was.

  Chapter Three

  One week later, Rico headed back to his apartment after work, looking forward to his usual Friday night hanging out at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill. He almost always went home with a new phone number in his pocket or a woman on his arm. He was glad all that Samantha business was finished. He’d told his mother he’d been on his best behavior, but they just didn’t get along. His mother had been surprisingly sympathetic to him. Maybe Samantha’s mother had told her how difficult Samantha had been. All of his usual compliments and charm had seemed to irritate her. Hell, no one could’ve gotten through that major attitude.

  He stopped short at his front door. A note was taped to it. Strange. The note asked him to stop by his downstairs neighbor’s apartment “for a quick visit.” The older man, Harold, had always been friendly and helpful, but they’d never hung out.

  When he arrived at his neighbor's door, a middle-aged woman answered. "My dad is sick and can't do his gig as Santa at the pancake breakfast tomorrow. He’s so sorry to miss it. He loves playing Santa every year. He asked if you could take over."