Stealing Christmas Read online

  He covered the mound of dough with a towel, and then followed her to the front of the store, peering through the picture window. “Honey, that’s just a bell ringer for the Salvation Army. He’s been on that corner the last few weeks.”

  She stared at the Santa. He wore brown mittens. “He’s not the same one. The other Santa had white gloves and a cape.”

  “Sara, sweetheart, calm down. His hands probably got cold. You’re in here, with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “You say that now.”

  Jake smiled. “I say that always.” He glanced toward the door. “Since you’ve locked up, why don’t you get the deposit ready and I’ll finish the bread.”

  “The deposit can wait until Tori gets here.”

  Tori was one of three employees who worked in the shop. Seth and Marty, the other two. Jake checked his watch. “She should be here any minute. Where’d Seth go?”

  “Delivery for the Children’s Home and then he’s stopping by the bank.”

  “Tori’s not closing by herself, is she?”

  “Marty’s closing with her tonight, since she switched with Seth.” Sara darted an anxious glance at the window. Same gloves. Same Santa. “Has she said anything to you about Marty?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I found him in the vault today. He gave me some lame excuse about losing his phone and he’s been asking a bunch of questions about the vault. Since you’re the resident expert, I thought he may have come to you.”

  “Marty hasn’t said anything to me. Actually, since I’ve been back he’s pretty much stayed out of my way.”

  “You don’t like him?

  A scowl marred Jake’s handsome face. “No, yes. I don’t know. He comes in on time, does the work, and is pleasant enough with the customers.” He paused. “I-I don’t trust him.” Jake shrugged apologetically and moved toward the back room.

  Sara stared across the street. Santas were everywhere. How could she be certain of the details from this distance? Footsteps scraped across the floor, she turned when Jake’s hand touched hers. She lifted her chin, peered into his gentle gray eyes, and offered him a smile.

  “You’re safe with me,” he said.

  She nodded and unlocked the door.

  “I even hung mistletoe in your honor.”

  She smiled, her heart skipping a beat. “Uh, yeah, I saw that. I think I’ve managed to avoid it.”

  The silence lingered between them and Jake arched a brow. Did he really expect her to stand under mistletoe and hope he would kiss her? Disappointment clouded his face and her heart sank. Maybe he did.

  “I’m going back to my bread now.” He turned and walked away. “Call if you need me.”

  ****

  Once Tori arrived, Sara returned to the office. Jake stood in the prep area, still up to his elbows in dough. He glanced up as she walked by. “I’m going with you to the bank.”

  “You’re behind on the breads. I can take Tori with me or wait until Seth gets back.”

  “I won’t be that long, Sara.”

  She faced him. “Neither will I.”

  He plopped a portion of dough on a scale, checking the weight before rounding it in a ball. “I’ll be done by the time you’re finished with the deposit.”

  She groaned. He wouldn’t leave her alone until she agreed to his company. “Fine, I’ll even start the car to give you extra time.”

  Jake inclined his head and continued his task. Sara studied the way he manipulated the dough, used the heels of his hands to push the bread away and his strong fingers to fold it over and bring it back. Over and over, he tugged and pulled, kneading and twisting. For a moment, Sara envisioned him doing the same thing to her, even when he occasionally pinched the dough to see if it was ready.

  “You’re staring,” he said.

  She swallowed. “I wasn’t. How long will the dough take to rise?”

  “Depends on how much heat and moisture it gets.”

  “What happens if there’s too much heat and moisture?” She met and held his gaze.

  “The dough gets too sticky and it won’t rise as much.” He never stopped moving his hands.

  She wondered what would get a rise out of him. “I-I’ll be in the office.”

  He rounded the dough. “I’ll be here.”

  She spun on her heel and bumped into the door, her face burned when he laughed behind her. Head held high she entered the office and closed the door. What was she doing thinking about Jake like that? Could he really want to pursue something with her now? She put her hands to her flaming cheeks, glancing through the door window. He still had his eyes on her. She spun away, and leaned against the door, a hand over her racing heart. A faint smile brushed the corners of her mouth as she went to the safe and pulled out the deposit.

  Ten minutes later Sara had the money bundled, her change order ready, and her coat on. She stepped out of the office, digging in her purse for her keys. “I’m starting the car. It’s snowing again.”

  “Wait for me. I just have to wash my hands.” Jake placed the last of the dough in loaf pans.

  “My car is three feet from the door.” She shook her head. “I’m just warming up the car!”

  He chuckled. “I still have to wash my hands.”

  With a huff, Sara stepped into the back alley and slammed the door. She paused, thumbing through the jumble of keys for the right one and peered around the drab gray world. Her car wasn’t exactly three feet from the door, more like thirty. She pulled her hood over her ebony hair and started forward.

  She was perfectly capable of going to the bank by herself, but now that she was in a winter wonderland alone, her bravado failed. Sara crunched across the snow, bare asphalt peeking through in spots. The keys jangled as her foot slid on an icy patch. She stuttered stepped and came to a bone-jarring halt. That could’ve been bad, she’d have to throw down more salt. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved forward again.

  Rough hands seized her jacket.

  Sara struggled for purchase while jerking away from her assailant. How could she have been so stupid? Panic turned her limbs to jelly, her breath came in stuttered gasps. She had to get away. His strong grip held her purse and jacket. She pried at his hands, but he refused to release her. Twisting in his grasp, she stared into his cold eyes, his thin lips curling into a sneer.

  “Let go!” she shouted.

  “Give me what I want!”

  Sara wrenched away from him, ripping her coat. He struggled to retain his grip, yanking the purse tangled around her arm. If she could get enough room to maneuver she could get away. His fingers slipped. She raised her foot and kicked, her boot connecting with his shin. He howled, but didn’t release her.

  He seized her arms, lifting her. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed this way and that to break his hold. Santa’s sleeve fell back. Her eyes fastened on the bit of ink ringing his wrist. She struggled harder. A shriek left her lips and disappeared into the snow. She kicked her legs, hoping to connect with a body part. Nothing but air. He swung her around. She should’ve waited. The door scraped open. He gave her one final, violent shake, dropped her and fled.

  Her feet slid from under her. Sara fought to regain her balance as warm arms encircled her waist. She struggled a moment longer before a familiar voice stilled her efforts.

  “Hey! Hey! I’ve got you.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and found Jake’s eyes filled with concern.

  Sara turned, throwing her arms around his neck. “Jake.”

  He held her close, smoothing her hair from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded against his shoulder, sagging into him as she gulped several deep breaths. He tightened his arms around her when she trembled uncontrollably. She should have waited for him. Sara inhaled. He smelled of fresh bread and warm promises. Right now he was her safe haven. Closing her eyes, she savored the strength and security of being in his arms.

  Jake rested his chin on her head. She listened to the thudding beat of
his heart a moment longer, the strong tha-thunk comforting beneath her ear. With a sigh, she stepped away, but his arms were slow in releasing her.

  He cupped her face, his palm warm against her chilled skin. “You sure?”

  “I-I think so.” Once more he had come to her rescue.

  His gaze drifted over her face. Sara put a shaky hand to the back of her head, realizing her thick hair had slipped from her ponytail during the struggle. She had to look crazy, her jacket ripped and her hair a mess.

  “What happened?”

  Her gaze swept the near-vacant parking lot, now coated with a fine dust of snow. Daylight was fading even though it was still early afternoon. She returned her focus to Jake’s handsome face, and he creased his luscious mouth in a disapproving frown.

  “I was headed to my car, and... Wait. I dropped my keys.” Turning in a semi-circle, she scanned the ground, “I-I didn’t even get to the car.” She peered down at her purse. The bag dangled by one long thread, the strap torn and hanging...useless. Another hard yank and Santa would’ve had her purse. Tears blurred her vision. The deposit wasn’t even in her purse. She’d stuck the money in an inside coat pocket. She blinked several times to clear her vision. “I’ve lost my keys.”

  “Shh, I’ll find them.” Jake put his arm around her waist and led her back inside. “You should have just let him have your purse.”

  This was the second time she’d been mugged. Not unheard of in Flint, but a definite rarity for her. The first time had been just after Thanksgiving, also on her way to the bank. The thief had succeeded in getting her purse that time. He didn’t get the bakery’s money, but she had to replace everything in her wallet. She hated the DMV.

  “I just got my new ID in the mail, not to mention my debit card and checks. I wasn’t going through that nightmare again.”

  “What if I hadn’t been here? What if he had a weapon?”

  “Well, you were and he didn’t.”

  Tori rounded the corner into the back office. “Have you seen the etchings? One of the customers...ohmigosh! What happened?”

  Sara looked down at her tattered coat, before she plopped down in a chair. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? That doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “Santa tried to rob her,” Jake answered.

  Tori’s eyes widened, her blue eyes filled with concern. “No way. The recession’s hit the North Pole too? We should call the cops. You could’ve been hurt.”

  Sara smirked despite the circumstances. “And tell them what? The jolly ole elf tried to rob me? Do you know how many Santas are running around the city right now?” She sighed. “Christmas is two days away. No sense in scaring little kids.”

  Jake shook his head. “You shouldn’t have gone out alone.”

  “I don’t want someone babysitting me whenever I step outside. You have enough to worry about.” Checking her reflection in the mirror, she pulled her comb from her purse, dragged the rubber band from her hair and reseated the ponytail. She stowed the comb back in her bag. “Really, Jake. Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary.”

  He touched her cheek. Static crackled against her skin. She stepped away from him. Whenever he was near her pulse went into overdrive. She wanted to mold her body against his, for him to relieve her persistent ache.

  He had the most amazing set of lips she’d ever seen. Not too thin or too thick, just the right shape for kissing. She bet they’d be soft and firm, like meringue on a lemon pie and just as delicious.

  “Don’t you have something better to do with your time?”

  He fingered her torn jacket. “Aside from arguing with you? No. And I worry because I care. Let’s go to the bank. We can stop by the police station on the way back, tell them about your notes and the attack.”

  Her gaze slid to the door. Santa was still out there somewhere...waiting. She shook her head. Going back outside was the last thing on her mind. “Jake.”

  “Sara!”

  Tori looked between them. “You two do know you’re standing under mistletoe, right? You’re supposed to kiss, not argue. Oh, and I called the police. They’re on their way.” She spun on her heel when the bell chimed and walked toward the front door.

  When Sara groaned, Jake flashed a grin. “So I guess we better get to the bank before it closes and the police get here.”

  She shook her head and pivoted to leave. He slipped his hand into hers before she could step away. “What now?”

  He pointed to the green and red sprigs over her head. She looked up and sighed.

  “We have to follow tradition,” he said.

  She would have stepped away but Jake kept his fingers twined through hers. Her heart pounded so loud she worried he could hear it. “I don’t think kissing you would be a good idea.”

  He tugged her closer, and leaned in, bringing them together. “Kissing me is a great idea. It’s mistletoe.”

  The kiss wasn’t a quick peck, perfunctory. This held more juice, a promise of passion, of heat of-of...and he pulled away far too soon. Jake stepped back, still clutching her jacket in his hand.

  “I’m coming with you.” He released her and strolled out the back door.

  Sara stared after him, still a little dazed. The man knew how to kiss.

  Chapter Three

  Sara warily eyed the heavy-set officer. He didn’t even bother to take out his notebook, and kept glancing at his watch, like he had something more important to do than take her statement. She resisted the urge to scream.

  “You say this is the second time you’ve been attacked?” Officer Dudley worried the toothpick stuck in his mouth, before patting his pockets for a pen. “Do you have any enemies you can think of?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure your attacker was Santa Claus? Maybe it was the Thanksgiving Turkey or the Easter Bunny?”

  The amusement in his voice set her already frayed nerves on edge. He could at least take her complaint seriously. She stood. Enough was enough. “I appreciate the concern. It was someone dressed like Santa Claus,” she said, her words clipped and brittle. “He was across the street, staring at me this morning. He didn’t take anything, just ripped my coat.”

  “All joking aside, we have had two or three complaints of a Santa-like assailant mugging people, mostly at the shopping centers though. Your shop is a little out of the way.”

  She huffed and Jake gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “Do you remember anything else about what he was wearing?”

  Sara thought a moment. “Not a traditional Santa suit. It was crimson with white trim. He had a cape and that hat thing the Catholic priests wear.” She shook her head.

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  “I fought back. I kicked him in the shin, and he was very strong.” She glanced from the officer to Jake, and then peeked through the door at Tori, out front dealing with a mob of customers. “I’m really okay, just some bruises. I told them not to call.”

  “If you happen to see him again, give us a call. One young lady ended up in the hospital, so you’re very lucky.”

  ****

  The officer’s words echoed in her head long after he left. Sara surveyed the quiet bakery. The sun had set, frost accumulated on the windows, the refrigerator hummed and the bank of ovens ticked as they cooled.

  She leaned against the stainless steel table and flipped through tomorrow’s orders. Her gaze strayed toward the office. She’d never been kissed like that before. He could have just given her a quick peck. He didn’t have to kiss her like...like...he was eating a ripe, sweet strawberry nibbling each juicy morsel until all that remained was the sticky goodness on his fingers. She stared at the open office door. Was it possible he wanted more than a business relationship?

  The familiar squeak of chair springs echoed through the door, a moment before Jake’s lanky form appeared in the door way. He held a wrinkled paper in his hand. “Could you come here a moment?”

  Sara set down the clipboard. “Did
I make a mistake on the supply order?”

  Jake wagged his head from side-to-side. He backed into the office and waved a hand toward a nearby chair, taking the one beside it. “Have you seen this?” He spread the paper out on the desk, for her inspection.

  Sara recognized the heavy sprawled writing and blinked back a set of tears. Jerry had written the note. “Where did you find this?” She leaned closer, catching a whiff of Jake’s cologne, the cool woodsy scent intoxicating enough to make her forget her next words. She shook herself. “I’m sorry. Where?”

  “It came in the mail today.”

  She stared at the drawing and then at the words scribbled near the bottom. “Four of twelve? That doesn’t make any sense.” She sat back. “Maybe this,” she tapped the paper, “was Jerry’s way of telling us to expand the bakery. Maybe he wanted twelve stores, and only had the funds for four.”

  Jake shifted closer, and his knee brushed hers. “And maybe your theory this morning was right. You said my grandfather always opened twelve boxes. Maybe something’s in the fourth box he wanted us to see.”

  “He never told me what boxes he planned to open until we got to the vault.”

  “He had to have some sort of system.”

  Sara shrugged. “I could never figure it out. Jerry once told me if anything ever happened, you would carry on the tradition. Right where he left off.”

  “Yeah. I was always curious about the vault so I wrote a paper on the deposit boxes when I was in middle school, but Granddad never told me his system.”

  Silence stretched between them. She looked him over, her heart tugging at the sadness clouding his face. He held her gaze when she grasped his hand. A small smile graced his lips and he brushed a hair back from her cheek.

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

  His caress sent a tingle down her spine. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He grinned. “You were staring at me earlier.”

  “I wasn’t staring.” Heat infused her cheeks.

  “What would you call it?”

  “Admiring?” She shuffled a stack of invoices to dispel some of the nervous tension.