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a spike. “Well, back to the drawing board ... Blast, I can make practical. I can even make interesting. Pretty? Not so much.”

“You have money, doncha?” Theo tilted his head.

Ellis laughed. “That I do. So … how about you and me hit the shops tomorrow and find something perfect for Miss Nyss? Apparently I’m going to need some help.”

“Really? Can we go now?” Theo grinned.

“It’s already almost supper, and we need someone to hold down the shop while Nyssa’s out.” It had been a busy afternoon. Though the crowds had finally thinned, the till had a healthy balance.

Ellis had started the shop mostly for Nyssa, who grew anxious if inactive. He had family money, and while living incognito abroad kept most of it from his fingertips, for him work was more an amusement than a necessity. However, between everything he’d learned overseeing his father’s business during the man’s lapse in sanity and Nyssa’s technical aptitude, they’d managed to earn a steady profit.

Someone rapped on the shop door. A mountain of parcels, seemingly moving on its own, stood on the other side of the glass. Ellis hit a button on his desk and the door swung open. Theo sprang to help, and soon excavated Nyssa from under the precariously balanced load.

“Wow, look at all this stuff.” Theo whistled, lining the parcels up on the counter.

“Would you take these to Mrs. H?” Nyssa handed him two bundles. “If I remember correctly the ones with the red string are for the kitchen.”

Theo carried the packages out the back.

“Looks like you got a bit carried away,” Ellis said.

Nyssa rolled her eyes. “Amara.”

“Ah. Enough said.” He chuckled and wheeled towards her. “You survived the encounter?”

“Just barely.” She laughed. “It’s going to take days to put all these decorations in place.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. He trailed his hand across her cheek, savoring her soft, warm skin.

Nyssa stepped around him and got behind the counter. “I’m not even sure where to start.” She picked up one bundle, her teeth squeezing gently into her pink lower lip. Ellis could almost feel the pressure of her bite. He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze tracing her elegant neck down to her exposed collarbone … Her voice hummed pleasantly.

“Ellis?” her voice sharpened.

“Huh?”

She tilted her head to one side. “What radiowave were you listening to?”

“Nothing. Just … nothing.” He shook his head. “Did you say something?”

“Yes, I said I have an appointment with Amara tomorrow after lunch.” She unwrapped the first package and held aloft a silver reindeer attached to a hook. “What is this thing?”

“I think it’s a stocking hook. You know, to hang them on the mantel?”

“What’s wrong with nails?” She set it aside and cut through the string around the next package with a penknife. “Are you all right alone in the shop again for a few hours tomorrow? I can get out of it if you need a break.” She peered at him, the corner of her mouth quivering.

Does she want me to tell her not to go? No, Nyss doesn’t play games like that. Still, I’ll give her an out if she wants one.

“I did tell Theo I’d take him shopping tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep your appointment. It won’t hurt to close the store a few hours early. It’s up to you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Amara.” She held up a garland of foil stars. “These might look nice across the window, don’t you think?” Taking a roll of tape, she crossed the room and stuck the stars over the entry. She stepped back with her hands on her hips. “That does look rather festive.”

Ellis nodded, but his eyes were still on her. Even in the somber grays she wore, she was gorgeous. Truly, though, she did deserve something pretty.

I’m going to get her the best present money can buy or hands can make … and it still won’t be enough for my Nyss.

Chapter Five

Nyssa fussed with her skirts. Amara had told her to wear something feminine, but none of Nyssa’s clothes made her think of dancing. Also, Ellis would question it if she left the shop dressed for a party. He was too clever to easily keep secrets from.

I have to up the subterfuge or he’ll have me figured out faster than those mystery novels he always guesses the ends of. I’m going to surprise him if it kills me. Lying isn’t a sin around Christmas … I think.

The conductor called, “Next stop, Continental Avenue!”

Snatching up her satchel from the seat, Nyssa pushed through the knot of exiting passengers out onto the cobblestone streets. She hurried past the shops, dodging pedestrians and street vendors hawking everything from cloyingly sweet pastries to automated shoe shining. At the end of the street a three-story brick building beckoned. A life-sized clockwork ballerina pirouetted on a pedestal before the door.

Through the door lay a reception room with cherrywood paneling. A young woman with raven hair done up in a high bun sat behind a desk. She wore a lacy gown of pastel yellow. Her eyes swept up and down Nyssa, and her nose wrinkled.

“Do you need directions to a tailor?”

Nyssa scowled. Her clothes were practical but presentable. “I have an appointment. Lady Amara Azores called for it.”

The woman straightened her posture until veins bulged from her swan-like neck. “Oh, you’re Henri’s new client. You are extremely lucky. His private lessons are in high demand.” The woman glided from behind the desk. She opened a door revealing a long hallway. “Henri is in Studio Three. If you need to change before your lesson, there is a powder room across the hall.”

“Thank you.”

The receptionist shut the door behind her, and Nyssa started down the hall, glancing at each door in turn to read the numbers. Music floated through the walls, muffled, but sweet, like something out of a dream. Finally she reached the door marked “3.”

Nyssa’s pulse throbbed in her ears. She reached for the knob, and

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