Secret Santa by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-09-12T16:00:00+00:00

I headed for the Conspicuous Consumption parking lot, my elf costume in a garment bag, dreading the thought of wearing the damn thing in public. As I tossed it in the backseat of my Corolla, I prayed that somehow it would morph into a tasteful Eileen Fisher pantsuit by the time I got back to my duplex in the slums of Beverly Hills.

(Contrary to popular belief, not every street in Beverly Hills is studded with mansions and Mercedes. There are quite a few humble pockets in town—none quite so humble as the duplex-and-Toyota lined street that I call home.)

Driving along, I shuddered at the memory of how I’d looked in my elf suit, my thighs glowing like giant neon barber poles.

But then a ray of hope dawned on my horizon. Maybe the mirror at the mall was a “fattening” mirror—one of those distorted mirrors I so often find in department stores when I’m trying on bathing suits.

That was it. I bet I’d look much thinner in my mirror at home!

And so, filled with a desperate burst of optimism, the minute I got back to my apartment, I raced to my bedroom and tried on my elf costume again, hoping the Conspicuous Consumption mirror was all wrong.

And indeed, it was.

As it turned out, my striped tights did not add another five pounds to my thighs. No, siree. In my mirror at home, they added another ten pounds.

I was standing there groaning in dismay when there was a knock on my front door.

“Open up, Jaine. It’s me. Lance. I want to hear all about your job interview.”

I trudged to the door to find Lance on my doorstep, spiffed up in his Neiman-Marcus work togs, his blond curls moussed to perfection.

He took one look at me and gasped.

“My God, Jaine. What happened? You look like you were mugged by a leprechaun.”

Wearily I told him how Molly had offered me a chance at the Conspicuous Consumption writing gig, but only if I agreed to be a Santa’s elf.

“The pay stinks, the hours are awful, I get a twenty percent discount on things I can’t begin to afford, and worst of all, I have to work with a Santa from hell.”

“You poor thing,” Lance tsked soothingly. “You can’t possibly be seen in public in that outfit. You’re going to have to quit.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely! But not before you use your twenty percent discount to get me a Hugo Boss tie for Greg.”

“Greg?”

“The most adorable guy at work. I pulled a few thousand strings and I’m his Secret Santa! I saw the perfect tie for him at your mall the other day.”

A tiny alarm bell went off in my head.

“How much does this tie happen to cost?”

“About two hundred bucks. But don’t worry. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my Christmas bonus in December. No, wait. I might need that money for last minute gifts. How about early January? Possibly February. April at the latest.”

“Forget it, Lance. I’m not laying out two hundred bucks so you can impress a guy you barely know.

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