Unwrapping Mr. Roth Read Online Free PDF

fists.
    “Fine,” he muttered, pulling away, so she had to release her hold on him. Letting go seemed unnatural for some reason. “I’ll share everything I have except my woman. No one gets to touch her.”
    “I’m not your woman.”
    “Obviously, you are.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    He pulled them back into the stream of time and Nick took his seat on the stage as the first infirm child approached with her list.
    His broody demeanor gone, Nick was an absolute pro—his focus only on the kids and their happiness. He told them jokes, tickled their cheeks, and just listened when they needed it.
    Gillian listened, too, smiling as she took their lists and jotted down notes. They really did see him as Santa, and she didn’t have to use her imagination to see the happiness radiating off them.
    And again, that made her wonder about his age. How old must he have been for him to have gleaned that sort of experience? He looked to be around thirty—maybe thirty-five—in human years, but something about him felt old . The ladies in her family always claimed to be a little psychic—going way back to their fortune-telling days in Eastern Europe, but Gillian had always thought that was just a cute story.
    Maybe there’s some truth to it. Her family had always had more secrets than money.
    When all the kiddies had been escorted back to their rooms by their nurses and aides, the intern—whom Gillian had nicknamed ‘Dr. Slick’ in her mind—sidled over to her with his hands clasped behind his back. Nick was busy confirming the next year’s appearance date with the program coordinator and obviously didn’t see him.
    “Well, you must be new,” Slick said, squinting at her. “I don’t remember you from last year or the year before. What happened to Camellia? Such a sweet old girl.” He stared down into Gillian’s cleavage.
    She hiked up her neckline.
    Jerk.
    She gathered up the stack of lists the children had thrust at her during their sprints, hobbles, and wheelings toward Santa. In between Billy and Tyrone, Nick had quietly informed her that the lists had their own bit of magic and that she should be very respectful of them. She didn’t know if he’d been pulling her leg, but she was going to be careful just in case.
    “Yes, I’m new,” she said simply.
    “Well, pleasure to meet you, New .” He laughed at his own joke.
    She gritted her teeth and put on the fake happy face she always wore when her preschoolers’ parents showed up making unreasonable demands about the tots’ educations. Preschoolers weren’t supposed to know things like the names of the three branches of government, and some of those parents needed serious reality checks.
    “Say, do you live here in the area?” he asked. “Haven’t seen you around.”
    “Imagine that, in a city this size.”
    “Oh, I remember faces. I’d remember yours .”
    “Well, nice to meet you.” She started walking toward Nick, hoping Slick would get the hint, but the doctor jogged around her and got in her way.
    “Well, we haven’t really met . What’s your hurry? I’m on lunch.”
    Nick, having finished his administrative discussion, walked over and looped an arm around her waist.
    The gesture probably seemed platonic enough coming from a jolly guy in a red suit, but Gillian knew he wasn’t that. She could hardly wrap her mind around the magic stuff, but she’d seen the proof, thanks to some Polaroid pictures. On film, Nick was Santa. Gillian’s eyes had damned near fell out of her head when she’d glanced down at Tyrone’s keepsake shot.
    “The lady wants to be left alone,” Nick said.
    “Well, she can say that for herself if that’s the case,” Slick said. “We were having a nice conversation.”
    She rolled her eyes.
    “Fine, we have to leave now, so sorry for cutting your conversation”—Nick made air quotes around the word conversation —“off abruptly.”
    “Oh, I see.” Slick narrowed his eyes and rubbed his bare chin.