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thrilled.”
    “An Argentine polo pony is hardly just a stupid horse,” Angela corrected. “I told you. It’s an investment.”
    Nathan laughed curtly. “Sure it is. An investment in bankruptcy. Heaven forbid she might actually want to compete with the thing someday. There’s a reason they call it the sport of kings, you know.”
    “I believe that’s horse racing, dear,” Angela corrected again, her white, perfect teeth clenched.
    “Whatever.” Nathan could sense her mood swinging again. He had to nip it in the bud by going on the attack. “Neither of the children needs or even wants an Arnie. You’re the one who does, just so you can say you have it.”
    Little spots of color appeared on Angela’s cheekbones. “So? You bought a Porsche for the same reason.”
    “I drive the car. You wouldn’t even look at the stupid spider, now, would you? With its hairy legs and little beady eyes? They stick to your skin, you know, and won’t come off.”
    “Stop it!” As quickly as she had colored with anger, Angela now went pale. She stood up, hugging herself.
    “See? Now what would you do with an Arnie?”
    Angela glared at him. “I don’t want one, you stupid fool!” she returned sharply. “I want the shipment that Lyon’s is getting. And so should you. You call yourself a Bayer? Hah! Your father is spinning in his grave.”
    The light was dawning in Nathan’s mind. “I see. And you thought that by nagging me to find one, I might stumble onto a source? A black market source, maybe?”
    “No, idiot! I thought you’d have the guts to make your own breaks this time. Those damn spiders are somewhere.”
    His eyes went wide. “You mean, you hoped I’d find them, and then steal them?”
    “Don’t look at me like that,” Angela said. “You’re not above it. You take so many nips and tucks in the deals you put together, you should have been a plastic surgeon. I have access to the books, remember? I know what goes on.”
    True. Angela was not just a pretty face. She had a mind for business, Nathan had seen it in action before. What he had not been aware of was that beneath those breasts beat the heart of a thief. He rather liked the idea.
    “But you’re not on top of everything, obviously,” he told her with a self-satisfied smile. “For your information, I have done some digging. But this is the cagiest marketing gambit I’ve ever seen. I doubt we could trace this company down even if we did have the time, and we don’t. Even the manufacturer is keeping a very, very low profile.”
    “Why, Nathan!” Angela exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. “You mean you’ve been holding out on me?”
    He nodded. “I’ve even developed a plan, something of a Christmas present for the both of us. You see, dearest, we don’t need to find the shipment.”
    “We don’t?”
    “No. We can make the shipment come to us.”

Chapter Four
    B y seven-thirty in the evening, Rick had filled in for Hans, the main Santa, a total of six times—three bathroom breaks, one dinner break and two rest periods the normally self-composed elderly gentleman referred to as sanity breaks. Even so, the man was wearing down, and Rick had the feeling that he would soon find himself in charge until closing time.
    Though Rick was bearing up stoically, he didn’t know how the old guy did it. To think, he had envisioned this job as a pleasant change from physical labor.
    The small of his back ached from helping the kids onto his lap. His left knee was killing him, since this was the one on which most children preferred to sit. That meant that even with the traditional heavy black boots on, his right shin was bruised and battered from the kicks—some accidental, some intentional—he had received from approximately seventy pairs of little feet. And if one more kid pulled his beard, which Leo had insisted he must glue to his face with spirit gum, Rick was quite certain he would scream.
    Not that anyone would notice. For a supposedly happy