Unwrapped (24 page)

Confusion and loss hit him hard. What the hell had happened? She’d wanted him as bad as he wanted her. Yet she hadn’t stuck around, hadn’t given them a chance. She’d left without breakfast or a good-bye.

He knew so little about her. He had no idea where she lived. Where she would next ski. Where she spent the summer.

They hadn’t exchanged last names.

Chances were good he’d never see her again.

His holiday went to hell.

Chapter One

Chicago, Illinois
December 24th, three years later

T
he worst blizzard in twenty years was forecast for Christmas Eve. The winter snowstorm had struck much of the Midwest, and Chicago would be hit the hardest. Meteorologists had tracked the system for the past week. They predicted four feet of snow.

Law enforcement warned people to stay home. Schools and airports had closed. Rail service was halted. Interstate travel was seriously disrupted and traffic would soon be paralyzed. Snow removal couldn’t begin until the storm passed.

Two-fifteen, and a few downtown businesses remained open for last minute holiday shopping. Only die-hard customers fought the biting wind and blowing snow.

Allie Smith had arrived in Chicago on the last outgoing flight from Denver. An invitation to spend Christmas with her sisters brought her to Dutton’s Department Store. A bottle of Snow Angel cologne was at the top of their gift lists. Dutton’s was the only store to sell the signature scent. Allie felt a tug at her heart. She wanted to make them happy and neither snow nor sleet would stop her from fulfilling their Christmas wish. Beth and Laura meant everything to her.

A ponytailed taxi driver named Jeremy Bott was still taking fares from O’Hare. The heater barely worked in his yellow cab. The defroster whistled noisily. He kept wiping his jacket sleeve across the front windshield. There was little visibility.

An hour’s drive and Jeremy parked at the snowbanked curb on State Street. He offered to wait while Allie did her shopping. She exited the cab, promised to be as quick as she could, which in actuality was quite slow. She had a sprained ankle. She winced. It hurt like hell.

Earlier that week she’d been struck by a snowmobile while giving ski lessons at the base of a bunny hill. A male college student had ridden out-of-zone to show off and flirt with her. He’d spun the machine in a circle, lost control, and knocked Allie down. He’d apologized all over himself. Neither his regret nor ice packs had taken down the swelling. She continued to limp.

The lodge physician had suggested X-rays. She planned to see an orthopedist after Christmas. Until then, she’d live with the pain.

On the icy sidewalk now, she braced herself against a wind that threatened to blow her down. Her sheepskin UGGS had little traction and she slid toward the front entrance. The electric doors swooshed open and an elderly doorman blocked her path.

He looked down his nose at her, as if she was a homeless person blown in off the street. Determined not to be dissuaded by his disapproving frown, she smiled at him, though she had to admit her white knit cap, worn ski jacket, and faded jeans had seen better days. Her khaki backpack had traveled many miles.

“Welcome to Dutton’s, the ultimate shopping experience,” the man said stiffly. “You’ve got thirty minutes until we close.”

She nodded, and stepped deeper into the store. What she saw took her breath away. Her mouth went dry. The media promoted Dutton’s as the American Harrods. The opulence reminded her of a palace. She admired the black Italian marble floor, gold columns, and wine silk brocade wallpaper. A crystal chandelier hung from the domed ceiling. Four uniformed operators stood at attention before the bank of elevators. The store offered seven floors of designer luxuries.

The grandeur was intimidating. The scent of old money and snobbery surrounded her. Classical music played softly in the background. Dutton’s was far more than she’d ever imagined.

She exhaled slowly, trying to take it all in. Sales associates scurried to close up their departments. Security guarded the jewelry counter as personnel stored diamond rings and Rolex watches in satin boxes then locked them in a safe.

Allie passed Santa’s Grotto to reach the octagonal glass counter where beauty products and fragrances were sold. Snow Angel was prominently displayed. The hand-blown bottles with twenty-four carat gold halos were arranged on silver wings.

She sprayed the test atomizer and perfumed the air. The scent was as ethereal as it was sensual, and captured the magic of a winter wonderland. A second spritz, and memories of downhill skiing, a hot tub, and Christmas Eve sex shook her. She nearly dropped the tester.

Aidan.
She’d never forgotten the man. His image was as clear to her now as it had been three years prior. She could still picture his amazing body, naked and on top, thrusting into her. She’d arched her back beneath him as one sensual tremor after another possessed her whole body. They’d mated with an intensity that came full circle. He’d drawn her out of herself and into him, and she’d felt his pulse touch her soul. They’d experienced oneness and comfort. She’d fallen hard and fast for him. She’d never experienced anyone like Aidan.

Their short time together had terrified her. She’d never done serious, had never trusted forever. He appeared solid and stable while she was gone with the wind.

She was her mother’s daughter. The memories of Margo’s poor relationships crippled Allie. She’d been an emotional mess, so she’d done what she did best—left Aidan before he could hurt her.

She often wished she’d gotten his last name. She’d have made an attempt to see him again. Maybe she’d have worked up the courage to speak to him. She’d never know. Three years to the day separated them now.

She set down the tester cologne. Time was of the essence. She glanced at her watch. She had seven minutes to locate a sales associate and pay for her gifts. She’d never forgive herself if two bottles of Snow Angel didn’t sit under her sisters’ tree on Christmas morning. The cologne was a fragrant reminder of her affection for them that would last long after the holiday.

A sign near the cash register sent her to stationery, photo albums, and frames. She hobbled to the back of the store, only to be directed to art and antiques. Once there, a handprinted note taped to an oil painting of an old-fashioned Santa Claus pointed her to the bootery.

She kept walking, dragging her foot and breathing hard.
She was running a freakin’ maze.

The overhead lights flickered and an ominous silence took hold. Allie prayed she could check out and be on her way before the store lost electricity.

She moved to the main aisle, looked toward the front door. No doorman. She cut her gaze toward the elevators. No operators. She stood on tiptoe and scanned the first floor. No sales personnel. No customers.

Being alone in Dutton’s Department Store on Christmas Eve gave her the creeps. She had to get out now.

She pulled her wallet from her jacket pocket, found a grand total of six dollars in cash, one personal check, and two credit cards. She panicked. How the hell was she going to pay for her gifts? There was no one around to ring up her sale.

Frantic now, she returned to beauty and fragrance. She located an ink pen on the counter and quickly wrote out a check to Dutton’s for the price of the cologne. She slipped the payment beneath the register drawer, making sure a corner of the check would be visible to the salesclerk.

She cradled the Snow Angels in the crook of her arm and pushed for the door, only to be brought up short when a man shouted, “Shoplifters will be prosecuted.”

Holy crap, security.

“I’m armed and won’t hesitate to—” his words were swallowed in a blackout as the blizzard abruptly cut all power. She froze as red emergency lights flashed, followed by the buzz and click as the automatic doors locked. Snow beat against the main door and thick frost closed off the front display windows to the outside world.

Darkness shrank her visibility to ten feet in front of her.

What now? She was trapped.

“Hands in the air,” the guard ordered right before he beamed his Maglite flashlight in her face, blinding her.

Allie squinted, raised her arms. She held a Snow Angel in each hand over her head. “I’m not a thief. I paid for the cologne.”

“Where’s the sales receipt?”

She didn’t have one.

“Don’t move,” he said gruffly.

How could she? She had nowhere to go.

It took a minute, maybe two, before the store generators kicked on. The machines whirred, chugged, and struggled against the storm. Wall sconces soon cast a smattering of light near the elevators and along the far aisles. Shadows played against the darkness.

The guard lowered his flashlight, and the beam bounced off her chin. She blinked, focused on the man before her. He was short, wiry, and wore a black uniform. His legs were widespread. His fingers twitched over his duty utility belt, a belt so loaded with gadgets it rode low on his hips. He bounced on the balls of his feet, all antsy and edgy and itching to fight crime.

He considered Allie a criminal.

Before she could explain, heavy footsteps sounded down the center aisle and a second person walked out of the darkness. A much taller man, she noted, broader in the shoulders and thicker in the chest than the guard who held the Maglite on her. She was unable to see his face, but she sensed his authority. Perhaps he was head of security or the store manager.

“What’s going on, Sam?” The growling whir of the generators distorted the newcomer’s voice.

Sam puffed out his chest. “A shoplifter, boss, I caught her leaving the store with two bottles of Snow Angel. There may be more items in her jacket pockets.”

“I’m not a thief,” Allie ground out. “The store was about to close and I couldn’t find a cashier. Go to beauty and fragrance, and you’ll find my check under the register drawer.”

“Verify her story while I pat her down,” the boss said to the watchman.

Allie stepped backward. “Why don’t you check my story first before you frisk me?”

“Sorry, miss, but I have to follow store procedure,” the boss said without apology.

“Handcuffs, baton, Taser?” Sam offered.

Taser
? She swallowed hard. The gangly guard was an alarmist. He’d blown the situation out of proportion. He was having a Barney Fife moment and taking his job way too seriously.

Allie swore she heard the man in charge sigh. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t carry a Taser, Sam,” he said with great patience.

“It’s the holidays, sir,” Sam said. “Dutton’s has been swarming with shoppers. Many customers aren’t our usual clientele.” He looked pointedly at Allie. “I wanted to be prepared.”

She wanted to say something back to the guard, but kept quiet. She was already in enough trouble. She didn’t want to be zapped for being a smart mouth.

The boss held out his hand. “I’ll take the Taser in case the woman tries to run.”

Allie shifted her weight. Her ankle hurt like hell. She wanted to tell these two to show a little respect for a paying customer. She’d sell her soul to sit down, to get her weight off her foot, even for a minute. The pain was making her light-headed.

She watched as Sam unclipped the weapon from his utility belt. He pulled the trigger and electricity arced. His scare tactic forced Allie back. Not so much for her own safety but for the guard’s. The man’s hand shook so badly, he nearly zapped himself. She didn’t want him falling at her feet unconscious.

A few more sparks and Sam handed his supervisor the weapon, along with a smaller flashlight. “I’ll hurry back.” He shuffled off, the beam from his Maglite sweeping the floor.

Silence stood like a third person between Allie and the boss. “Turn around and drop your backpack,” he instructed. “Take off your ski cap, jacket, and boots, then put your hands on the jewelry counter.”

Allie froze. This man with the deep voice and dominant presence was going to frisk her. He might even arrest her. She was at his mercy. She hoped to get through the ordeal with her dignity intact.

Allie
. Aidan Dutton had a desperate need
to touch
this woman. To see her naked. To breathe in her scent and revel in its intoxicating effect. He would now feel her up and stroke her down. Slowly. He planned to take his sweet time and enjoy her discomfort. She’d yet to see his face, which was to his advantage.

He couldn’t believe Allie of Frost Peak Lodge stood before him now, his snow angel in the flesh. She’d inspired the store’s signature scent. The fragrance took him back to their Aspen holiday, to the chase, to unforgettable sex, to a bond that made a connection, but never fully formed. She’d snuck out of his suite without a trace.

He’d tried desperately to find her. The hotel had been cooperative. The manager had searched their database for a guest named Allie, yet there’d been no listing for the woman. It was as if she’d never existed.

She’d been at the top of his Christmas list for three long years. He let out a long, slow breath. Santa had finally filled his stocking.

Before they could move forward, he needed to know why she’d abandoned him, without a good-bye. She owed him an explanation and he intended to get it. He hadn’t gotten over her leaving him like that. He could still feel the hurt.

Fate had placed him in Security when she entered the store. Sam had put through a call to the corporate offices and requested his presence. They’d then monitored the worsening weather and the immediate need to close. Six guards had hastily escorted the last few customers to the door. People needed to reach their homes before the brunt of the blizzard hit.

“Crazy-ass woman,” Sam had grumbled, jabbing a finger at one of the monitors. “She looks half frozen.”

Curious, Aidan had shifted his gaze from the televised weather report to the security screen. The doorman had tried to block the shopper blown in off the street, but she’d hobbled past him. By the intense look on her face, he could see she was on a holiday mission. He smiled. He had to admire her tenacity. Dutton’s needed more shoppers like her.