He was watching me, blue eyes twinkling.
“You aren’t Curt,” I said with certainty; Curt’s eyes were brown.
“Of course not. I’m Santa Claus.” He pushed up, knelt above me, and began stripping off his jacket.
As the jacket came off, he changed.
His white curls, which had been thick and a little long, darkened and shifted from a tangled, curly mass to something shorter and wavy. His long white beard vanished until only a haze of stubble remained to accentuate his strong jaw. I stared, and if I’d been enraptured by the way his mouth felt on me, I was completely, totally in lust with how gorgeous he was.
He gave me a moment to absorb his new look, then winked at me. “Now that I’ve given you a taste of your present, I think it’s high time to give you the big package. What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been a very good girl, Santa,” I breathed.