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Four

Bella gripped the door to her hotel suite, resisting the urge to bolt back into the hall. It wasn’t like she had to face a pack of wolves. Seated on the floral loveseat was her cousin Charlotte, thumbing through a newspaper, one of her favored Jamin Puech beaded purses beside her.

A cousin who was actually her half sister since they shared the same father.

What a convoluted family tree. Bella had three brothers she’d grown up with, and now her two cousins were actually half siblings.

Charlotte Hudson Montcalm lived with her French aristocrat husband at the Chateau Montcalm, a palatial estate outside Provence, a fair ways from this port city. What in the world was she doing in Marseille?

And more particularly why was she in Bella’s hotel suite, sitting there as serenely perfect as the white calla lilies on the coffee table in front of her?

She loved Charlotte, but wasn’t ready to deal with their changed relationship. Sorting through the tumultuous emotions would take time. She wasn’t ready to see anyone associated with her tangled family tree.

Then why had she decided to hide out in the very country where her cousin/half sister lived with her husband Alec?

Bella sighed, wishing that annoying voice of reason niggling at the back of her mind would take a nap. Freudian slips were a real pain in the butt.

She closed the door behind her and stepped deeper into the sitting area. Light streamed through the window, whispery gold curtains pulled wide to reveal the harbor with sailboats and ringed with quaint whitewashed buildings.

Pulling a smile, Bella opened her arms for a hug, determined to act as normal as possible. “Hello, Charlotte. What a pleasant surprise to find you here waiting for me.”

Her cousin’s signature perfume reminded her of summer vacations together, staying up late and trying out makeup together.

“And hello to you, too.” Charlotte stood, her stomach large with her advanced pregnancy. Still the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty carried herself with her usual sophistication. They were the same age and during their teenage years, Bella had felt freckled and chubby next to her willowy cousin.

Bella hugged her taller cousin—sister. Damn, it was tough to rewire a lifetime of programming.

Easing back, she reminded herself none of this was Charlotte’s fault. “What are you doing here so far from home?”

Bracing a hand behind her on the arm of the sofa, Charlotte lowered herself back to sit again. “Alec and I flew over this morning to shop for the baby and learned you were here, too.”

An odd coincidence, but Charlotte’s serene smile showed no sign of subterfuge. Alec had planes at his disposal ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

Charlotte pulled back, her brow puckered with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in Marseille?”

Bella sat in the tapestry wingback chair. A light breakfast had already been laid out on the antique tea cart—small baguettes, jams and fresh fruit beside a carafe of coffee, starched linen napkin lying beside the silver tray.

The thought of food churned her already nervous stomach. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Does a bird sing? Of course I would like something to eat.” She grinned. “I’m pregnant.”

Bella watched as Charlotte tore off a piece of bread. “How did you find out I’m staying at the Garrison Grande?”

Charlotte smoothed her hands over her baby belly. “Alec heard it from one of his business contacts.”

The truth exploded in her mind. “From Sam Garrison.”

Charlotte’s silence and neutral smile answered clearly. She swirled the silver knife through the glistening preserves and smoothed a dollop of raspberry jam on top of her bread.

But when would Sam have had time to do this? They’d only met up the night before and they’d spent every waking moment together…

Charlotte speared a melon ball. “Okay, yes, he called early this morning.”

While she’d been sleeping, before his shower. The only question was had Charlotte truly already been here shopping or had she dropped everything to fly over just because Sam sent up an SOS. Regardless, her half sister had gone to a lot of trouble for her. Bella poured a cup of black coffee and took a sip to wash down the lump in her throat.

“I appreciate your stopping by, but why would Sam call you?”

She barely knew the man and already he was tampering with her life. She’d come here to feel closer to her grandmother. If she’d wanted to see her sister, she would have called her. Now she was stuck in an awkward situation where she appeared rude.

Charlotte waved the silver jelly knife lightly. “Who knows what men think most of the time? I do know that you shouldn’t be staying at a hotel. You should be at the estate with Alec and me.”

Damn, damn, damn Sam for interfering. “I didn’t want to risk bringing the media down on you. Stress is the last thing a pregnant woman needs.”

“I’m completely healthy—and ravenous.” She popped the last pinch of bread into her mouth. She chewed slowly before saying, “Are you staying away from me because of our father?”

Bella snapped back in her seat. She hadn’t expected ever-poised Charlotte to be so blunt. Hearing the truth of her parentage still cut straight through to her heart.

“Why would I do that? Mother and Uncle—” she winced “—David are the ones at fault, not you. They’re the ones who cheated on their spouses.”

“Looking at me could make you remember we’re half sisters rather than cousins.” Her blue eyes darkened with pain.

For the first time, Bella considered how all of this must have hurt Charlotte. David Hudson hadn’t been much of a father, always too busy to spend any time with Charlotte or her brother, but he was still their father. The way he’d torn apart the fabric of their family with his betrayal was terrible.

Bella mentally kicked herself for being so self-centered in her grief. Charlotte deserved reassurance. She reached past the wooden tea cart to squeeze her hand.

“I loved you before; I love you now.” As she said the words, she realized they were true.

Her issue was with their father, David. How strange to think she wouldn’t be here without him, yet at the same time it felt as if he’d stolen her real father from her—Markus, the man who’d brought her up, the man who’d declared her Daddy’s pampered girl, the man who’d been kept in the dark for years just as she had.

Until the whole ugly secret had come to light.

Blinking back tears, she snatched the rolled linen napkin from the silver tray and dabbed her eyes. She was tired of crying over this. She needed to quit feeling sorry for herself and move on. “I’m sorry. You’re right that I was avoiding you. I have to confess, I wasn’t sure if I could even speak to anyone about this without crying.”

Yet somehow she’d managed to tell Sam the whole sad and sordid tale. Memories of strawberries and champagne bubbled in her brain, stirring a phantom taste on her tongue.

Charlotte clasped Bella’s hand. “It’s just going to take a while to settle into this new family tree.”

Was it wrong to want the old one back? Was it wrong to be damned indignant on Markus’s behalf? So much anger could sour her insides quickly. She could sure use some of Charlotte’s serenity right about now.

“Wise words.” Bella nodded, ready to talk about anything but this. “How do you feel? Is everything going well with the pregnancy?”

“Totally perfect. I’m huge, but happy.” Her joy sparkled as brightly as her diamond ring catching the sun when she straightened her pearls. “Alec is spoiling me shamelessly. He even says pregnancy is sexy.” She rolled her eyes. “I laugh, but I’m secretly soaking it up. It’s no secret I had a hard time trusting him after the way our father treated my mother.”

Bella tried not to flinch every time Charlotte used the word father. How could she ever grow accustomed to thinking of him that way? She’d always thought she had her mother’s blue eyes. Now looking into Charlotte’s flashing blue gaze, she saw the real source of her eye color.

David Hudson.

She struggled not to cry and risk another outpouring of sympathy from Charlotte that would only make the urge to feel sorry for herself all the stronger. Blast Sam for pressing this on her before she was ready. “Thank you for coming to check on me. That was truly a sweet thing to do. No matter what, we’re family.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Tears filled Charlotte’s eyes this time. “I was afraid things would be uncomfortable between us.”

“We’ll be fine.” She wished she could be so certain about how things would work out with the rest of her relatives.

“So will you stay with Alec and me?”

And watch her sister wallow in all that newlywed love and happiness as the two of them waited for their first child?

Not a chance.

Charlotte may have found peace and happiness in spite of their family’s crummy track record with marriage. But Bella just wasn’t feeling it for herself.

She patted Charlotte’s hand. “Thank you for the generous offer, but I’m afraid I’ve already hidden out from the press as long as I can. I need to get back to the States for the premiere of Honor.”

Charlotte pressed a palm to her back. “Only a few more days until the Christmas debut. I wish I could be there, but a flight that long really wouldn’t be wise for me this late.”

“Everyone understands. You have to put the baby’s health first.”

Charlotte’s smile wavered. “I just hope our grandmother can hold on long enough to see this baby.”

Facing Lillian’s impending death was difficult for the whole Hudson clan. Bella felt as if her whole family was falling apart.

Charlotte sniffed. “Enough tears. I’m meeting Alec in an hour. Please, keep in touch.”

“Of course, I will.” Bella hugged her cousin-turned-sister a final time before walking with her to the door with a farewell wave.

She stayed in the open doorway, watching Charlotte step into the elevator—

Just as Sam stepped out.

Bella gasped and started to back into her room but, oh, my God, she was too late. And hey, wait, she had a bone to pick with him anyway over the heavy-handed way he’d interfered in her life. She stiffened her resolve and waited to face him, toe-to-toe. She had a lot of mixed emotions roiling around inside her these days and he would make a perfect target for a good, old-fashioned shout down to release the pressure.

Sam closed the last few feet between them and walked her backward toward the suite again.

Stopping in the open doorway, she put her hands on her hips and wished she had on heels for height. “Why are you here?”

“Well, good morning to you, too, Bella.” He held up his hands, a filmy gold scarf dangling from one, large-framed sunglasses from the other. “I’m here to kidnap you.”

From the look on Bella’s face, this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d planned.

“Come on,” Sam urged, “at least talk to me inside, so we don’t risk some reporter seeing us.”

Not a chance in hell would that happen here, but she didn’t need to know that.

Huffing, she spun on her heel and headed back into her suite. He closed the door behind them.

He’d hoped a visit with her cousin/sister would soften her up, help her deal with some of her frustration. He’d also hoped reminding her of her family connection to this area would entice her to stick around awhile longer. His instincts were never wrong when reading people in the business world. Why should handling Bella be any different?

He would be analytical about this. Emotions were messy and led to mistakes, a truth he’d learned from his failed engagement to Tiffany Jones. He’d certainly missed the boat on reading that woman. She was the daughter of a respected business acquaintance, and Sam had considered settling down after attending yet another wedding for one of his Garrison cousins.

A momentary weakness.

Tiffany wasn’t worth his trust. She’d slept with a yachting friend of his, then had the gall to try and blame it on Sam for not paying enough attention to her. He might not be the most attentive man on the planet, but he’d been straight-up honest with her from the start about the demands of his career. She’d responded by accusing him of loving his job more than her.

He’d realized she was right and called it quits between them.

Sam shoved aside doubts. He’d taken care of the Tiffany situation before it spiraled out of control into a lifetime mistake. Thank God they hadn’t gotten around to setting a date or sending out invitations. He hadn’t totally screwed things up.

And Bella wasn’t looking for forever. In fact, he was going to have to work his ass off to wrangle a few weeks with her. She was as committed to her career as he was. That boded well for them.

Although her scowling silence wasn’t exactly promising.

Sam looped the gold scarf around Bella’s neck playfully. “Come on.” He tugged lightly, drawing her deeper into her suite. “Smile.”

“Like hell.” She whipped the scarf out of his hand and off her neck. “I’m mad at you.”

The best defense was a good offense. “If anyone has cause to be angry, it’s me. You ran out without saying goodbye. If I’d done that to you, I would be scum. Why is it any different when you skulk off?”

She pitched the wadded scarf at his chest. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What?” He snagged the whispery fabric before it slid to the floor. “Only women get to be indignant over someone running out after sex?”

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. Her brow furrowed with confusion. Ah, he had her off-balance. Good. Let her wonder if maybe he wanted some postcoital cuddling.

Bella shoved her tangled hair back from her face. “I’m sorry for not saying goodbye.” Her frown shifted into a scowl. “Now you can apologize to me.”

“For what?”

She crossed her arms over her luscious chest. “You know what you did.”

“I saved you from the press yesterday. Damn, I’m a real bastard.”

She jabbed him in the chest with one finger. “You called Charlotte.”

“Says who?” he hedged.

“Are you denying it?”

Apparently she knew already, so he confessed, “I’m not denying anything.”

He walked past her, deeper into her room, making it tougher for her to usher him out. He ran a cool hotelier’s eye over the polished sheen of the antiques, the designs unapologetically European. There might be a forty-six-inch flat screen with surround sound at any given U.S. Garrison Grande, but the curtains here were raw silk and the floors polished bamboo.

Here, he’d cultivated a rich, old-world feel all the way down to the paneled murals on the walls. “I called Alec this morning. I was worried about you.”

Her plump lips went tight. “You have to realize from what I told you that my cousin is really my half sister.” She dropped into a tapestry wingback chair. “I’ll deal with that when I’m good and ready.”

He looked around but saw no sign of the padded pink dog crate. “Where’s Muffin?”

“One of your helpful staff is walking her.”

“Good.” He nodded.

“Maybe you can go find her for me,” she said, her hint to leave none too subtle.

“About Charlotte…I thought you might need someone to talk to.” He plucked a couple of grapes from the breakfast tray and popped them into his mouth.

“That’s my decision to make.”

“Hey—” he thumped his chest “—I’m trying to be nice here.”

“No hidden agendas?”

“Who me?” He pinched up another purple grape.

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“Forgive me?” He brought the plump fruit to her mouth, caressing it along her lips, reminiscent of how they’d fed each other strawberries and champagne.

She bit the grape, nipping his fingers none too gently in the process. “Not yet.”

Yet? That meant he had a chance to get in her good graces again, a prospect that became all the more important as even her playful bite sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

Bella swallowed the grape, her tongue flicking over her lips.

“What did you mean about kidnapping me?” she asked, her voice throaty and confidential.

Victory shot a second jolt through him almost as strong as desire. “I thought you might like to spend time in France somewhere other than cooped up in a hotel.”

Her nose scrunched. “And run through the gauntlet of reporters? I don’t think so.”

He looped the scarf over her head and dropped the sunglasses in her lap. “Put those acting skills of yours to work and change up your walk a bit, take on an accent. Leave the rest to me. I’m willing to bet you could plow through your entire Christmas shopping list before a single photo is snapped…unless you would rather go home.”

She winced.

Good. Score one for his master plan.

“Come on, Bella. I have Christmas shopping of my own to take care of and I could really use your help in choosing something for my mother. So?” he pressed. “Are you in?”

“Well, I haven’t had time to shop for gifts.” Finally, her face cleared and she sighed. “All right. Find my dog and you can take me shopping.”

He held back his smile of victory.

“I need to shower first.”

His body stirred at even the thought of her naked under the spray of water. Too bad he couldn’t convince her to skip shopping altogether and spend the day in bed together.

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You are not invited to join me.”

“Muffin and I will be waiting.”

Five

If only every day could end with coffee and a handsome man, the Eiffel Tower silhouetted in the distance.

Bella tightened the gold scarf draped over her head, but she’d ditched the large sunglasses since the sun was setting. Besides, they were indoors, tucked away in a corner of a small Parisian café. The scent of espresso wound through the restaurant, the soft chatter of native speakers soothed her with its melodious cadences.

So far Sam had done a brilliant job at evading the press, arranging a limo and extra security at one side entrance while spiriting her away to a private car out another. The plan had gone off without a hitch, but then he was full of surprises today.

Sam had told her he intended to take her shopping. He hadn’t mentioned they would be flying to Paris in his personal jet.

They’d left her dog at the hotel. Sam had reassured her that his assistant—Parrington—would take care of Muffin’s walks, food and water. Muffin would be happier playing, after all, rather than being carted around in her carrier all day.

He was right. Besides, juggling the little crate and her packages could be tough. She’d bought so much, they’d already left a load in their chauffeured car. She hadn’t had time to do any Christmas shopping with the hectic prerelease publicity schedule for Honor. She’d certainly fixed that problem now.

Somewhere around the fourth store, her anger at Sam for interfering had diminished to mere irritation. She didn’t totally trust him. After all, what man actually wanted to go shopping? Yet he hadn’t made even one move on her since they’d left the hotel. She would simply keep a wary eye on him.

A guitarist in the corner crooned “The First Noel” in French while Bella sipped her black coffee contentedly, eyeing the rest of her dessert and wondering if she dared pack on more calories. The answer? Definitely. The poire au chocolat—a Bosc pear, cooked in wine, dipped in chocolate, served with whipped cream—was irresistible.

She speared another bite, as the couple at the next table left, speaking in French at the speed of light. “I’m never going to fit into my dress for the movie premiere if I let you keep feeding me like this.”

He cocked a brow. “You look fabulous and you know it. Quit fishing for compliments.”

“Ouch.” Her irritation sparked higher. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Of course, most people had no way of knowing how hard an actress had to fight to stay competitive in an absurdly weight-conscious business. Bella had never been one of those stars accused of being anorexic, after all, she liked her food. But to remain in an industry where she was photographed constantly, she had to be extremely disciplined. One day, when she’d had enough of Hollywood, she planned to celebrate with a ten-day doughnut spree. All doughnuts. All the time.

He toasted her with his coffee, the bone china absurdly delicate in his large hand. “I’m a no B.S. kind of guy.”

“I guess there’s honor in that.” She forced down miffed feelings and savored another bite, her eyes closing in ecstasy. “I love food, but it’s true what they say about the camera adding pounds. I work out a lot. I decided early on I would not spend my life living on rice cakes and cocaine.”

“Admirable.” He seemed surprised, darn him. “Did your personal trainer come along?”

She snorted and quickly dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Don’t have one. Sure I consult with trainers on how to target problem areas, but honestly, I have such a large entourage following me around with a camera documenting everything I do, I prefer to exercise alone. Well, except for Muffin of course. Muffin needs lots of exercise too or she misbehaves. So when I walk on the treadmill, she runs circles around me. I enjoy bike rides and she trots alongside. If she gives out, I have a carrier attached to the back of the seat…”

She paused mid-ramble and stared across the table at Sam who was watching her intensely. The sunset through the window cast shadows on his leanly handsome face. Had he truly been listening or was he a B.S. artist after all? Because she truly didn’t have a clue why he’d signed on for a shopping trip today. Most men would have avoided this like the plague.

Bella ducked closer to him, careful to keep her voice low so the waiter angling past wouldn’t overhear. “Why are we doing this? What do you hope to gain?”

“I enjoyed last night,” he said simply. “I don’t see why it has to be a one-time deal.”

She’d been wondering, half expecting this all day, but hadn’t wanted to face the inevitable discussion. Spending time with him had been more fun—laid back and easy—than she’d expected.

Now that was coming to an end. “Weren’t you listening to me when I poured my heart out to you over supper? My life is a mess. I’m not in any shape for a relationship.”

She wasn’t in any shape to withstand more hurt.

“I never said I wanted a relationship.” He set his coffee back on the small café table and leaned on his elbow, closer, intent. “No offense meant, but I am most definitely not looking to marry you.”

She leaned back, her cheeks puffing out a sigh that played with the flickering candle in the middle of their table. “Wow, no need to soft soap it.”

“You’re the one who asked for reassurance.”

She was mad at herself even more than at him. She resented the pull of attraction even as she seemed unable to back away. “I didn’t ask for anything except a change of clothes to get back to my room. You don’t seem to understand.” She struggled for the right words. “I am hurting, really hurting. Despite how it seemed last night, I’m not the casual-sex sort. What we did was…an anomaly.”

“Stupid me.” He grinned. “I thought we ate strawberries off each others’ bodies.”

She slapped her napkin on the table. “Quit trying to make me laugh.”

“Why? You just said again how much you’re hurting. Is it so wrong of me to want to make you smile?”

“As long as I still have my clothes on.” Was that possible around him? Even with her defenses on full-scale alert, she couldn’t help but notice the ripple of muscle under his shirt as he’d carried her packages.

Or how the appealing scruff of his five-o’clock shadow along his jaw gave him an edgier, sexy appeal. She itched to test the texture beneath her fingertips.

Against her better judgment, her fingers began crawling across the table. The very small table. Another couple of inches and she would throw caution to the wind—Snap, snap.

The unmistakable click of cameras sounded behind her. Damn it. Her stomach clenched in frustration—and disappointment.

Sam’s face hardened. “Head down.”

So far the photographer had yet to get in front of her. Sam pitched cash on the table and looped his arm around Bella’s shoulders. She ducked into the strength of his protective embrace. Luckily, they’d already stored all their shopping bags in the car, so they were unencumbered to make a break for it.

He raced straight toward the restaurant’s kitchen door, hurrying her alongside while shielding her face. They pushed through the double swinging doors, steam blasting through carrying the scent of frying meats. Pots clanged loudly as voices shouted instructions back and forth. A humidity-limp plaid Christmas bow hung over the clock marking six o’clock.

Sam pointed across the crowded kitchen, past the cooking island down the middle. “The back exit is that way.”

“Our coats?” The winter temperatures felt all the colder to her after a lifetime in sunny California.

“Already taken care of.” He rushed her past a chef in a tall white hat, the industrial stove sizzling with sliced vegetables.

An attendant stood by the back door, their coats draped over his arms. Sam had obviously made contingency plans for evading the press. She had to admire his thoroughness.

“Merci.” Sam shrugged into his black coat while their accomplice helped Bella with her longer one of white wool.

He shuttled her out into the empty back lot, the crisp air echoing with cathedral bells chiming “Silent Night.” The lot was very empty other than their waiting transportation, thank goodness.

Sam’s arm around her shoulders, he sprinted toward the Mercedes parked nearby, exhaust chugging into the early evening. “Hurry up, Cinderella, before this sucker changes into a pumpkin.”

The chauffer swept open the door. Bella slid in as Sam launched into the other side. Her heart pounded from the exertion as much as the threat. She knew too well how quickly a frenzy of reporters could cause an accident by jumping all over a car. Once their car pulled out onto the main road, two motorcycles roared away from the curb.

The press had found them.

Their driver raced through the streets of Paris at a breakneck speed, motorcycles speeding closer behind. Her pulse thudding in her ears, Bella double-checked her seat belt. Sam pulled out his cell phone, issuing instructions for the crew on his plane to be ready for takeoff. Otherwise, silence hovered heavily in the vehicle as she checked anxiously over her shoulder.

Mere minutes later, they pulled into the small private airport, through a security gate. Sam’s silver private jet waited, the crew prepped and ready outside.

She leaped from the vehicle. A few yards away, the paparazzi on motorcycles screeched to a halt behind the fence. They wouldn’t get any farther, but their cameras had mighty powerful lenses.

“Hurry!” He ushered her up the airplane steps. “That security guard isn’t going to hold up much longer.”

Two men wearing vests with reflective tape unloaded her packages from the trunk at lightning speed while she raced up the metal stairs.

Inside, she unlooped her scarf and sunk into the leather seat. Gasping for air, she couldn’t recall feeling this breathless in a long time. She should have been frustrated, angry even.

Yet for some reason it had felt more like an adventure with Sam at her side.

Because she’d never doubted he would take care of the situation? “I can’t believe you managed to elude them all day.”

Sam sidestepped the media center dominating most of the space. He secured his seat belt near the wine refrigerator at an old-fashioned bar. Sparkling cut-crystal glasses hung upside down above a black, granite prep area. “It helps that you speak fluent French when shopping or ordering meals.”

“As do you.”

His fluency in the language shouldn’t have surprised her since he worked here, but it did make her wonder what other surprises he had in store.

“People see what they expect to see. We appeared to be two locals finishing up last-minute Christmas shopping.”

Still, Sam had a knack for ditching the press beyond anything she’d seen before. And given the high-profile Hollywood sorts who made up her regular circle, she’d seen some mighty adept press dodgers.

The airplane engines roared louder, the craft easing forward, faster, until the nose lifted off. With a smooth swoop they were airborne. The neat pile of her shopping bags barely moved from where they rested in a corner.

And it was quite a hefty pile.

She’d checked off everyone on her growing list of family members. Buying for her grandmother had been particularly difficult—and sad. What did you get for a person who wasn’t expected to live much longer?

She hoped she’d chosen well.

God, what was she even thinking wasting her grandmother’s final precious days apart? Or worse yet, what if her grandmother died before Bella could say goodbye?

The holiday cheer she’d found with Sam seeped away. Even the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower were fading in the distance. Her escape was truly over. Time to face reality—and Beverly Hills—again.

She needed to tell Sam that while their day shopping together had been special, come morning, she would be leaving for California.

Sam could see Bella mentally pulling away from him as clearly as if she’d risen from her seat and hopped out of the plane.

He wasn’t sure what had changed, but most certainly he’d lost some ground. He needed to get her talking again so he could find the right opening. No great hardship, actually. Spending time with her today—even out of bed—had been surprisingly entertaining.

She hadn’t shopped like a diva with the world at her feet. There hadn’t been any special requests for private showings or traipsing up the aisles with complimentary champagne in hand. Bella spent most of her time admiring the different style crèches, delighting in everything from delicate crystal figurines to rustic wood carvings. She’d slid a huge donation into a charitable collection plate when she thought he wasn’t looking, then turned around and purchased a miniature père Noël bell on a ribbon to drape around her neck—his own personal Christmas elf.