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going gets tough? So I hijacked the sleigh and took off from the Pole before he finished buckling that thick black belt of his around his waist. And then — about four hours into the delivery process — the Qantas airbus happened to cross my flight plan. So much for good intentions.
    What the hell was I to do now?

Chrissie
    The first thing I noticed — apart from limping reindeer scattering into the rainforest edging the sand — was how cute my mission was. Actually ‘cute’ is not the right word. ‘Cute’ is an understatement. My mission, my target , was gorgeous. With a capital G and an exclamation mark.
    Hovering behind an ancient eucalypt, I watched him push himself up from the sand, unfurling from the crumpled mess of his sleigh to stand upright and cast a look around.
    I licked my lips, the warm core between my thighs clenching in anticipation. Old Man Claus had mentioned his nephew was easy on the eyes, but not how easy. By the Elf Lord, he was divine.
    Tall and lean, with shoulders broad enough to make Atlas envious, a back that rippled with muscle tapering down to low, narrow hips, an arse tight and sculptured and entirely biteable, and long, hard legs. Nick Saint Nicholas looked nothing like his famous uncle.
    Thank the Elf Lord for that.
    My wings fluttered a little, rustling the long, slim leaves of the gum tree. They’re like that, my wings. When I get excited they seem to develop a mind of their own. The faster my heart starts to beat, the quicker my wings flutter. It’s kinda endearing, but can be a bit frustrating. There are times when I don’t want to defy gravity, and sucking in lungful after lungful of air in an attempt to slow my heart and return my feet to theground can be a real mood killer. Thankfully at that very moment I was gripping the eucalyptus’s trunk, its soft warm life acting as an anchor. Studying Nick Saint Nicholas was making my heart beat like mad.
    I watched him walk to the overturned sleigh, stepping over scattered presents as he did so. He stared at it, dragging long-fingered hands through dark blond hair that belonged more on a surfer than the nephew of the world’s most loveable present-giver. I licked my lips. ‘ Distract him ,’ Old Man Claus had instructed. ‘ I know he’s acting out of love, but I haven’t the time for a family intervention.’
    Distract him.
    I’m still not sure what type of distraction the old man had in mind. He’d contacted me the second his nephew and the airbus crossed paths. I think Claus wanted me to tell the vegetation on the beach’s rim — the Yellow Lawyer Cane, the Wait-A-While, the Lantana… plants of similar ilk — to detain him, tie him up as such. Why else call in a bushland sprite for assistance? But then, who knows the mind of a man centuries old with the sole purpose in life of bringing happiness to adults and children alike?
    I flicked an appreciative glance over Nick Saint Nicholas, this time admiring the sculptured perfection of his chest, shoulders and biceps bulging under a form-fitting red T-shirt. A T-shirt Nick suddenly pulled up over his head, bunched into a wad and wiped at the tiny beads of perspiration popping out on his forehead. I stared at his now exposed torso, at the small nipples on a chest both hard and smooth and utterly lickable.
    Oh my… My wings quickened their beat. Tying up Old Man Claus’s nephew was sounding quite…appealing.
    A squirming tickle of anticipation fluttered between my thighs, in perfect harmony with my fluttering wings. I grinned, letting my gaze caress the delectable form of Nick once more… and shimmered into nothing.
    It was time for the ‘distraction’ to begin.

Nick Saint Nicholas
    The first thing I needed to do was round up the four-legged propulsion units. Ignoring the raucous laugh of a kookaburra perched, I assumed, in one of the many eucalypts edging the beach, I turned from the sleigh and stared up into the dense rainforest.
    And felt soft fingers skim down my