"In New Orleans, a few years back. I was doing an investigation for a Vamp with amnesia."
"Really? Did you find out who he was?"
Ian nodded. "He was a cowboy with a secret baby."
Toni laughed.
"I'm serious." Ian grinned, and it made his white beard twitch. "And what are ye supposed to be?"
"An elf, and don't you dare make fun of me."
"Are ye kidding? Yer red tights are driving me crazy."
She bumped against his fake belly that stuck out above his belt. "Is that padding in there, or are you happy to see me?"
His beard twitched again. "And what are these?" He fingered the wooden stakes in her belt. "Are ye intending to use them on me?"
"Maybe. If Santa doesn't give me what I want for Christmas."
"And what do ye want?"
She almost said, You, but she hesitated. "It's a secret."
"Another secret?" His blue eyes twinkled. "Are ye ever going to tell me yer full name?"
She shrugged. "Maybe never."
"But I need to know. I'm making a list. And checking it twice."
She laughed.
"Tell me, Toni." He pulled her closer. "Have ye been naughty or nice?"
A warm feeling swept through her. She wanted this man so much. She curled her hands around the back of his neck. He tightened his hold on her.
She glanced at his eyes, and suddenly felt the warmth ratchet up a few degrees. "It might be fun to get a little naughty."
A red tint flared in his eyes. "We could go somewhere private. No one would notice one less Santa in the room."
Toni licked her lips. The thought of ripping his beard off to kiss him was very exciting. "Your eyes are turning red."
"Your heart is beating faster." He leaned close, his white beard tickling her cheek. "I'd like to peel those red tights down yer legs."
"I might let you," she teased. "If you give me what I need."
His eyes glowed a deeper red. "Sweetheart, I have what you need."
She grinned. "What I need is a few answers. I have some questions for you."
"My favorite color is green. Like yer eyes."
"Not that question." She smoothed her hands down his chest. "I could make it worth your while. If you answer, I'll…take something off."
His eyebrows rose. "Now that is naughty."
"Of course you have to agree to the same terms. If I answer one of your questions, you have to take something off."
"Agreed." He glanced around the room. "We'll leave separately. Meet me in the hall in three minutes." He strode away, leaving her alone on the dance floor.
She wandered back to the refreshment table for mortals with her mortal heart pounding in her ears. Good grief, what had she just agreed to? She wanted some answers, but stripping for them was likely to get out of hand.
Good. She smiled to herself. She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no denying that red glow in his eyes.
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then drank some punch. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a Santa leaving the ballroom. She drained her cup, then strolled toward the exit. She wandered down the hall in the direction of the chapel. Where was he?
A door to the right cracked open and an arm in a red velvet sleeve reached out and grabbed her. She gasped, then laughed as a Santa hauled her into a dark room. He shut the door and pinned her against it.
"You'd better be Ian."
"Aye." He nuzzled her neck.
"Take off that beard. I want to kiss you."
He chuckled. "Ye're a demanding lass." He locked the door, then led her into the room.
It was a conference room, she noted, with a long table surrounded by a dozen chairs. Ian had left the lights off, so the only light came from the red exit sign over the door and the lights from the parking lot outside the large plate-glass window.
"It's snowing outside." She wandered alongside the table. "Should we close the blinds?"
"It's one-way glass." He sat in a chair midway down the table. "So what's yer full name, Toni?"
"That again? Does it really matter?"
"I'm only curious because ye'll no' tell me."
"Okay, okay." She perched on the table next to him and propped one foot up on the arm of his chair. "But it'll be worth two articles of clothing."
He wrapped a hand around her ankle. "All right."
She leaned back, bracing her weight on her hands. "I only know what my grandmother told me, so my knowledge of the events is a bit sketchy. It appears my mother had a desire to marry a racecar driver when she was seventeen. She went to the Daytona 500 to find a driver and jumped a guy in a jumpsuit in a garage. She was a bit pissed to discover afterward that he was just a mechanic and even more pissed when she discovered herself pregnant."