by Lisa Plumley
“I’m looking forward to it.” He glanced pointedly at the empty spot beside him on the sofa. “Why don’t we start right now?”
He should have looked ridiculous—a big, brawny man with his foot propped at nose-height on those pink-fringed pillows. He should have looked crazy, going on about love at first sight like he had. The trouble was, he didn’t.
This spontaneity business wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, Holly realized. Agreeing to let Sam move in was the most spontaneous act she could remember making, and already it was throwing her nice, steady life out of whack.
But Brad leaving her was what had really messed everything up. If seeing her with a roommate like Sam could bring Brad back to his senses—and there was still a good chance it could—it would be worth it. She and Brad made sense together. Holly had to do all she could to rebuild their relationship—to make her life the way it used to be…ideally, before the official eggnog-and-jingle-bells season set in.
Sam watched her, still waiting.
Holly sighed, but didn’t move any closer to him. “I have to be honest, Sam. What I said before is true. I’m trying to work things out with Brad. Even though we’re…apart…right now, I haven’t given up on him yet. I can’t.”
He was silent, thinking. Then, “I hope Brad knows how lucky he is. I wouldn’t have let you go in the first place.”
“Thanks.”
It was sweet of him to say that. But Holly had no intention of letting Brad let her go, either. Her plan was almost ready to go into motion.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to change Brad’s mind,” she said. Then she stood, turning to Sam with both hands on her hips. In her most businesslike tone, she added, “As for you, you’re not looking so good—”
“Thanks.”
She grinned. “That’s not what I mean.” Obviously, he was pretty easy on the eyes. “But I do think you should get some rest. Are you going to be all right driving home?”
Sam flexed his injured foot. “If I said I wasn’t, then what?”
Then I’d say you should stay with me tonight. The thought came out of nowhere. Holly blinked. Obviously the events of the past week had affected her more than she’d thought. She was lonely without Brad, that was all—lonely and vulnerable and not at all looking forward to crawling into that big empty bed all by herself again tonight.
“Then I’d drive you home myself,” she said, forcing a certainty into her voice that she didn’t really feel. “I could pick you up again in the morning, or…or whenever you decide to move in…”
“Is tomorrow too soon for you?” Sam’s gaze caught hers and held, clear and honest and much too perceptive for her peace of mind.
“Not at all.” If she was going to be spontaneous, she was going to do it all the way. “The sooner the better.”
He seemed to approve. If he’d been calling her bluff, he was pleased with the results.
After some discussion about the state of his Wile E. Coyote foot, they compromised on the following weekend for a move-in date. They ironed out the details, and Sam pronounced himself fit to drive. He lifted his foot from the pillow pile to the floor, then held up his hand to her.
“Can I trust you to help me up, or is that just asking for trouble?”
“Very funny.” Holly caught hold of his hand. He squeezed back, and without thinking she glanced down at their coupled hands. His was bigger, stronger, browner—so different from hers. It was…it was stupid to stand there staring at his hands. She dug her heels in the rug and pulled.
She realized her mistake in the same instant the rug slid across the glossy hardwood floor. By then it was too late to correct it. She fell forward on top of him, landing with enough momentum to roll them both hard against the sofa back.
“Ooof!”
She lifted her face from his shirtfront, shook her hair out of her eyes, and found herself plastered against him from chest to knees. She was all of four inches from Sam’s face.
“I think you have an unconscious desire to be close to me,” he said, unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” she shot back.
She tried to wriggle backwards so she could stand. It didn’t work, partly because Sam’s strong arm around her waist kept her there, and partly because she was afraid to wriggle too hard and accidentally hurt him again.
“I didn’t do anything.”
His chest rumbled against hers as he spoke. They were much too close. Holly wriggled a little more.
Sam’s eyelids lowered slightly. She would have sworn he was looking at her lips. At the thought, her stomach did a flip. She wriggled in earnest.
“Mmmm. That feels good.”
She stopped cold. He was right. It did feel good. Really good. She was still thinking about that fact when Sam’s hands slipped from her waist and starting moving toward her hips in long, slow arcs. Holly sucked in her breath, her attention temporarily caught by the feel of Sam’s hands on her body. His fingers, warm and sure, traced a path over her lower back and downward.
Reality came crashing back.
“Another inch further south,” she said, “and our roommate arrangement is history.”
His hands lifted. “I thought you were enjoying it.”
She was. Holly would have died before admitting it. She pushed up on her elbows and Sam let her go. After a bit of maneuvering, she wound up on her knees on the sofa, leaning in any direction but his. It wasn’t a very dignified position, but she did her best to sound dignified anyway.
“I think you’d better go,” she said.
Miraculously, he managed to get to his feet on his own power. She guessed keeping the renovation job and retaining their roommate arrangement was a powerful incentive.
“Hey, you’re the one who jumped on top of me,” Sam observed with an overly innocent lift of his eyebrows. He was obviously enjoying himself.
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Her knees felt wobbly as she stood. That unsteady sensation only got worse when Sam put his hands on her shoulders.
“There’s something between us, Holly. I know you can feel it, too,” he said. “You can’t ignore it forever.”
Oh, yes, she could. She could ignore it, and she would. All she felt for Sam was the same garden-variety lust any woman would feel if she were plastered up against more than six feet of hard-muscled male. Nothing more. She wasn’t going to wreck her future to satisfy it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, staring out the darkened window behind Sam so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.
“Mmm-hmm.” He squeezed her shoulders, then let his hands fall to his sides again. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”
She nodded. “It is.”
It was. It was exactly the way she wanted it, Holly reminded herself as she handed Sam his boot at the door. It was the only way it could be, she told herself as she watched him get in his truck and drive away. It was the smartest decision she could have made, she congratulated herself afterward, when she got in bed and turned out the light.
It was the loneliest night she’d ever spent, she thought to herself an hour later, when she still couldn’t sleep. So she got up again, took out her day planner, and set about remedying the problem.
Chapter Four
The following weekend, Holly drove with Clarissa to their favorite mall at the edge of Phoenix, a forty-five minute drive from Saguaro Vista. It was the preparatory phase of her plan—materials gathering. Unfortunately, circumstances demanded that this phase fall on the busiest shopping weekend of the year, when holiday shoppers came out in force after Thanksgiving.
“We must have been insane to come here today.” Clarissa waved her arm at the throng of mall shoppers who streamed past them on both sides. “This is like feeding time at the zoo.”
“I know.” Holly clutched the shoulder strap of her purse tighter against her shoulder. They dodged two teenagers running past t
hem, maneuvered around a pair of women pushing tandem strollers, then edged past a clump of men hypnotized by the big-screen showing of a football game at the electronics store.
“Have you ever noticed those stores never show anything but sports on those big-screen TV sets?” Holly asked, panting a little. Following Clarissa through the mall was a triathlon-worthy event.
“That’s because purchasing power comes with a Y-chromosome, Holly Berry, didn’t you know?” Clarissa replied with evident sarcasm as they veered into the potpourried atmosphere of the lingerie store next door. “Besides, it makes the balls look bigger.”
She grabbed something from the nearest rack and held it out for Holly’s inspection. “Hey—what do you think of this?”
Holly shook her head. “That’s not clothing. It’s a shiny, hot pink hair elastic. That wouldn’t cover more than ten percent of me.”
“That’s the idea.” Clarissa threw back her head and batted her eyelashes, holding the lingerie on top of her T-shirt and jeans. “Brad will love it,” she promised.
“Absolutely not.” Holly snatched the hanger. The pink spandex quivered as she shoved it among its pseudo-satin companions. Why did those things need a hanger anyway? Any one of them could just as easily have been packaged in a number ten envelope.
“Brad has subtler tastes. He’s a classy guy. He doesn’t like this kind of stuff.”
Clarissa rolled her eyes as she sifted through a bin of thong panties. “All men like this kind of stuff. How ‘bout some of these? They’re fifty percent off.”
“There’s a reason for that, I’m sure,” Holly said, eyeing the panties skeptically. She picked up a white pair with pale pink flowers, the most subdued-looking one in the bin.
“At least it’s cotton.” She looked at the price again. It really was a great deal, a third the price of her ordinary underwear. Maybe it would be a good compromise, plain in the front but sexy in the back. She could just ease her way into the new, more seductive her—a woman Brad wouldn’t dream of letting go.
She picked up a few more pairs in her size, holding them bundled against her chest while she went in search of Clarissa. She found her beside a display of garter belts.
“You need one of these, too,” Clarissa advised, selecting a red satin one printed with tiny green Christmas trees. She waggled it toward her. “Look! It’s seasonally appropriate.”
She opened one of the drawers below the display and rummaged through it, presumably for a pair of matching candy cane patterned stockings.
“Come on, this really isn’t me,” Holly protested, examining the bright rows of garter belts above Clarissa’s head. They looked like instruments of torture. “I don’t even know how to wear one of these.”
“It’s very simple.” Clarissa held up a pair of black seamed stockings—blissfully sans candy canes—then glanced at her thoughtfully. “What size, I wonder? How much do you weigh, anyway?”
“I’m going to tell you?” Holly shook her head vehemently as she reached for the garter belt and stockings. “I’m sure these will be fine.”
She probably wouldn’t be able to get up the nerve to wear them anyway. Not that it would matter. Her other ideas to win back Brad would be successful long before more drastic measures became necessary. Holly viewed a seduction attempt strictly as a last resort, but she wanted to be prepared, just in case. They moved on to the bras.
“Oooh—this one!” Grinning, holding the bra by its satin shoulder straps, Clarissa turned around. It was red, really red, look-at-me red. Appliquéd to the cups was a pair of what seemed to be black velvet hands, hands squeezing the…
“Oh, no. No.” Holly shook her head.
“It’s cute. You want to try it on?”
“No.” Holly backed up.
Clarissa followed her with the bra. “Don’t be a baby. It’s about time you shed that Goody Two Shoes image and started enjoying yourself a little.”
Raising her eyebrows, Holly stopped. “Goody Two Shoes?”
“You know what I mean.” Clarissa pushed the bra forward. “Come on, it won’t bite you.”
Okay, maybe Holly was a little conservative, but she was no Goody Two Shoes. She touched her fingertip to one of the appliquéd black hands. The velvet nap wiggled slightly beneath her finger. She squealed.
“This is too much.”
“Trust me.”
Clarissa pushed the bra into her arms. Holly couldn’t give it back without dropping the garter belt, stockings, and thong panties she was already carrying. She squished it all into a tight, inconspicuous lingerie wad and followed Clarissa toward the rear of the store.
She was browsing in a corner nook labeled Couples Cove. The aroma of potpourri and scented candles was stronger here, and the lighting was dimmer.
“Just for inspiration, we’ll get you a copy of the Kama Sutra.” Clarissa selected an ornate-looking book. “And some of these.” She grabbed a fistful of brightly wrapped condoms. “And a couple of these.” She added two bottles, balancing them atop the book.
Holly picked up one. “Aphrodisia Massage Oil,” she read aloud. She peered at the other bottle. “Lover’s Potion?”
“It’s edible,” Clarissa told her, looking helpful.
Holly dropped both bottles back in Clarissa’s arms. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Clarissa’s sigh was all the answer she needed.
“Have you and David actually used this stuff?” Holly whispered. She gazed at her best friend with new eyes. Clarissa had always been more adventurous than she was, but this? And what in the world did that Lover’s Potion taste like, anyway?
“The point is,” Clarissa replied evasively, “that these things work.”
Feeling doubtful, Holly raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, I can see I’m going to have to speak your language.” Clarissa sighed. “It’s been scientifically proven that these things work. Take the bra, for instance—”
As if on cue, one of the black velvet fingers popped out of the lingerie wad. Holly crammed it back in.
“—scientists have proven men respond best to red and black lingerie.”
Holly made a face. “Why can’t men be attracted to a pretty floral print? Or, even better, why don’t they think a comfy pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt is the sexiest get-up around?”
Clarissa ignored her. “Men also find the scent of vanilla arousing,” she explained, nodding toward the Aphrodisia Massage Oil.
She caught hold of Holly’s sleeve and steered her to the cash register. Just before they reached it, she added, “Oh, and one more thing. Be sure to leave the lights on.”
“All the lights?” Holly asked, aghast.
Appear in front of Brad, illuminated by more than a hundred watts of cellulite-revealing lamplight? Or, God forbid, in daylight? He’d see every ripple, then demand she go running with him. The last thing she’d be feeling under those circumstances was sexy
“At least one,” Clarissa specified.
She put everything she’d selected on the counter, then reached for Holly’s lingerie wad and added that, too. Despite the garter belt’s “seasonally appropriate” Christmas tree print, the whole mess made a pretty risqué-looking pile. Especially when combined with the book, condoms, and exotic oils.
“It’s on me.” Clarissa handed her credit card to the clerk, a goggle-eyed teenaged boy. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”
“I can’t let you—”
Wearing a no-nonsense look, Clarissa held up her hand. “I want to. Look, I know how much your plan means to you. If this’ll make you feel better, then I’m glad to help. What are friends for?”
Holly disagreed. She snatched Clarissa’s credit card from the clerk’s hand, then offered her own instead. The shoppers in line behind them sighed.
“I’m paying,” she said firmly. If she paid for it, then she wouldn’t feel too bad about shoving the lingerie in a drawer until she found the necessary nerve to wear it. But if Clarissa paid for everything, H
olly knew she’d feel twice as obligated to actually make use of it.
Judging by the persistence with which her friend slapped another credit card down on the counter, Clarissa knew it, too.
“Humor me. You can pay at the next store. I might even let you pick out your own clothes,” she promised with a grin.
The clerk scooped up Clarissa’s credit card and scanned it before they could change their minds again. Case closed.
Five and a half hours later, they headed for the mall parking lot, wearing matching red felt Santa hats and carrying enough sexy clothing to outfit a troupe of Playboy bunnies in their off-hours. Holly stopped beside her car and dropped her shopping bags on the asphalt. She dug in her purse for her car keys.
“Mission accomplished!” Clarissa beamed. “I’ll bet you thought it couldn’t be done.”
“Not for a second.” Holly lifted the trunk lid. They loaded the shopping bags inside. Shopping exhausted her, but at least now she could consider part of her plan completed. All she needed now was an opportunity to put everything into action.
She added her Santa hat to the pile and slammed the trunk shut with a feeling of accomplishment. Now that she’d taken steps toward getting her life back to normal again, the future looked a little brighter.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Clarissa said halfway through the drive home. “How did it go with Sam last weekend? Did he like your house?”
The questions were put much too casually for typical Clarissa-speak. Holly glanced at her, then back at the road.
“Fine.”
“Good. Sam’s a nice guy.”
“Except for his broken toe.”
“What?”
Holly explained the book-dropping incident. She left out the kiss that had prompted it, though. Somehow, she didn’t want to share that part. Although, speaking of kisses, this might be a good time to try hanging some mistletoe around the house….
“At least Brad the Bad was decent enough to pay a house call,” Clarissa muttered, scanning the desert landscape through the passenger-side car window. “I hope Sam will be okay.”
