Once Upon a Christmas

by Lisa Plumley

  So much for his brilliant plan to get her into some different clothes. Maybe next time he ought to try reverse psychology. For now he’d have to admit defeat. Maybe if they went someplace dark….

  Hell, he was a grown man, wasn’t he? It would take more than the sight of Holly in a pair of short shorts, looking fresh from a roll in the hay, to take Sam McKenzie down.

  In the foyer, she paused, keys in hand. “You fellas coming, or not?”

  Sam nodded.

  “We’ll take my car,” she announced when he and David got to the front door.

  She seemed about six inches taller, flush with the thrill of running the show. Proud of herself. Despite everything, Sam felt glad for her. Maybe that roadmap of hers was splintering a little already.

  Holly could have kicked herself for saying they’d take her car. She’d been so pleased with the way she’d asserted herself with Sam, she’d forgotten there were three of them going to lunch—one more than would fit comfortably in her two–seater convertible.

  To their credit, neither Sam nor David said a thing about her mistake as they piled into Sam’s old pickup truck instead. Sam got behind the wheel. Holly slid across the wide bench seat to take her place in the middle, leaving David smashed up against the passenger–side door. To give him more room, she scooted a little closer to Sam.

  The truck was just like Sam—big and messy, but in perfect running order. When he turned the ignition key, the engine purred to life quietly as a luxury sportscar’s. The stereo system he turned on sounded even better than the expensive one Brad had so rudely repossessed after their split.

  Sam raised his eyebrows, seeking her approval of the radio station he’d tuned. Holly nodded, surprised he’d bother to check with her at all.

  She probably shouldn’t have been. From the day she’d met him, Sam had wanted to please her. To pleasure her. In that, too, he was exactly unlike Brad. She shivered and turned her attention to the things jumbled inside the truck, a much safer subject than Sam’s feelings for her.

  Her inspection ended abruptly with the warm, unexpected feeling of Sam’s hand on her bare thigh. Her gaze shot downward as he slid his hand along the inside of her thigh. He moved toward her knee until his tanned arm lay against her, then he gripped…the gearshift. It was right between her legs.

  Their eyes met.

  “Excuse me,” Sam said. “I hope this won’t be too uncomfortable for you.”

  The sparkle in his eyes told her he wasn’t too sorry about their driving arrangement. Trying to retain the upper hand, Holly shrugged.

  “As long as you’re not uncomfortable,” she said solicitously. “I guess I can stand it as long as you can.”

  He stroked her thigh with his thumb. “I’ll remember that,” he promised with a wink, then he set the truck into motion.

  Sam could make a grocery list read like erotic innuendo, Holly thought. She didn’t know how he managed it. Maybe you want it to sound that way, a part of her nudged. Maybe you’re the one who wants him.

  She shoved the thought aside and tried to focus on her neighbors’ holiday decorations as they drove into town. She tried not to think about the hungry way Sam had looked at her this morning, when he’d realized how little she had on beneath her trench coat. She tried not to remember the feel of his body against hers, to relive the kisses they’d shared, to re-experience the heat and intensity of his mouth on hers.

  Who was she kidding?

  Holly sighed. Being around Sam made her priorities go so far underground she couldn’t remember what she wanted anymore. She remembered feeling certain Brad was the right man for her, that marrying him was the only sensible thing to do. She’d thought he was the ideal man to share her future with.

  All of a sudden, that future looked awfully bleak.

  She didn’t want to fail. That’s what would happen if her plan didn’t bring her and Brad back together again. She’d fail.

  She’d probably ensured failure by giving Brad a deadline to decide about their future together. Holly hadn’t been able to think of another alternative. She didn’t want to end up like her mother had after the divorce—alone. Alone and…yes, a little bitter, too. Holly supposed that a great, passionate love gone wrong could do that to anybody.

  Even Sam? She glanced at him. As usual, he wore low-slung jeans and an attitude so relaxed that being with him was like the best vacation she’d ever had.

  As though he sensed her gaze on him, he gave her a smile, then looked back at the road. No, Holly decided, probably not Sam. Love wouldn’t dare go wrong on Sam.

  They had lunch at the Downtown Grill, and afterward they brought David back to pick up his car at Holly’s house. Still sitting in the driveway in Sam’s truck, they watched him make a U-turn in the street, then drive away.

  “So, should we go in and finish up the floor?” Sam asked.

  He looked as if he’d rather dye his hair green than go back inside and scrape more linoleum.

  “No. I’ve got other plans for you.”

  “Really?” He nudged closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Tell me all about it.”

  “Well.” Holly smiled up at him, feeling better now that she’d been fortified with a double cheeseburger and fries—and a hefty helping of Christmas cookies from the City Bakery. “First we’ll go to the formal wear shop downtown…”

  “Yeah…?”

  “Then we’ll pick up your tuxedo. Did you forget my mother’s Christmas party at the Cheshire is next weekend?”

  Sam groaned and started the engine. “I thought you were kidding about wearing a tuxedo.”

  “Nope. I already ordered one for you. Just in case you, um, forgot.” Her smile broadened.

  “You don’t leave much to chance, do you?”

  “Not usually. Let’s go.”

  At the formal wear shop, Holly picked up the dress she’d ordered for the party. Sam reluctantly accepted a black tuxedo and the full dress regalia that went along with it.

  “Can I try on the dress, please?” Holly asked the salesperson. “Just to make sure it fits before I take it home?”

  “Certainly.” The clerk nodded toward a curtained area at the rear of the small shop. “The fitting rooms are right through there.”

  Murmuring her thanks, Holly headed to the changing rooms. She chose one of the three mirrored alcoves and pulled the curtain closed behind her. After hanging her dress on the hook provided, she shucked her shorts and T-shirt at warp speed.

  Brad had always hated shopping with her. Holly supposed most men were the same way—including Sam. She wanted to hurry so he wouldn’t have long to wait.

  Someone entered the cubicle next to hers and dragged the curtain shut with the metallic scrape of the hanging rings against the chrome rod. Whoever it was, she was tall. Holly glimpsed a headful of shaggy blond hair over the partition before she bent down again.

  She shrugged and stepped into her new dress. One zip, thirty seconds of fiddling with the shoulder straps, then… voilà. She looked in the mirror.

  It was a great dress, the sexiest one she’d ever owned. White, mid-thigh length, and close-fitting, it needed only a matching sheer chiffon scarf to accessorize it. Holly arranged the scarf over her throat, leaving the ends to trail down the dress’s low-cut back. Uncertainly, she scrutinized the effect.

  “You look great in white,” Sam said. “It sets off all that red hair of yours.”

  He winked down at her from the neighboring dressing room. At that moment, Holly decided the expensive designer dress was worth every single cent it had cost her.

  “You’re not supposed to be back here,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying on my stuff,” he answered reasonably. He propped his arms on the partition, making it wobble. “There are only these three little rooms, you know. Was I supposed to change out there in front of the three-way mirror like one of those Chippendales guys?”

  Holly pictured him doing an exotic dancer’s bump and grin
d routine, slowly stripping off his clothes in front of the big mirror. The idea had merit.

  “Of course not.” The way he was looking at her, she couldn’t resist preening a little in her new dress. Pivoting, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Do you really like it?”

  “Come next door and I’ll show you how much.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” Sam grinned. He disappeared from sight behind the partition. There was a rustle of fabric, then the sound of a zipper. He reappeared. “Pants fit.”

  He must have been talking to her in his underwear. “Good.“He struggled into his white dress shirt. “I meant what I said. You look great. The only way you could possibly look better is if you were wearing that white dress at our wedding.”

  He ducked behind the partition again, swore, and re-emerged a minute later with his bow tie draped loosely around his open shirt collar. He waggled one end of it.

  “Can you help me with this thing? I think it’s possessed.”

  Holly gaped at him. Sam took one look at what had to be her stupefied expression and said, “Never mind. I guess the saleslady can tie it for me. I just won’t take off the monkey suit until after the party.”

  “Did you just say, ‘our wedding’?”

  His expression turned serious. “Yeah. What did you think I had in mind? Seducing you and skipping town the next day?”

  He waited for her answer, but somehow Holly’s brain had turned to Jell-O. That was exactly what she’d thought, she realized. She’d thought that if she let herself fall for Sam it would only mean heartache when he left.

  She nodded slowly. “Umm, yes.”

  This was getting way too serious. She turned to the mirror again. She fiddled with her dress strap, trying to disguise her confusion.

  “Aren’t all men commitment-phobic, anyway?” she asked lightly. “What makes you so different?”

  The curtain slid away. Suddenly, Sam was there. He closed the curtain behind him, secluding them both in the tiny cubicle.

  He looked good in a tuxedo, even with it only half on. No, make that especially with it only half on. Holly experienced a brief, ridiculous impulse to duck beneath his outstretched arms and run as far away as she could. It didn’t happen, because she couldn’t move.

  “I’m different,” he said, “because I’m the man who loves you.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” Holly babbled. “You shouldn’t say things like that, and not so loudly, either. Somebody might hear you.”

  “I don’t care who hears me.” He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ll take out a billboard if it means you’ll listen. I’ll put an ad in the paper.” He grinned. “I’ll wear one of those signs you strap on and walk around with. I’m in love with you.”

  “You only think that,” Holly said with certainty.

  She stared at the walls, at the curtain, at her feet—anyplace but at him. Why had they started talking about this in the first place? Hadn’t she had enough cold reality for one day?

  He splayed his fingers along her shoulder blades, lightly teasing her bare skin. Halfheartedly, she tried to shrug away his touch.

  “It’s only that love at first sight thing,” she said.

  “Not anymore.”

  Sam drew her closer, his fingertips pressing harder. When his mouth lowered to hers, Holly stopped thinking altogether. His kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with passion and sweetened by longing. It hinted at promise and possessiveness alike. When it was over, she felt limp in Sam’s arms.

  “Is that proof enough for you?” he asked.

  Rational thought returned.

  “No. It only proves there’s a…a sexual attraction between us.” She put a good eight inches between them by retreating to the tiny triangular bench in the changing room corner. She felt damp and disheveled, and fiercely aroused. “Nothing more. You’ve got that love at first sight thing in your head and you’re too stubborn to give it up.”

  “I’m not the only stubborn one,” Sam pointed out. “Are you saying all this to convince me? Or to convince yourself?”

  With a sigh, Holly pressed her thighs together to stop the ache he’d aroused—just a natural reaction, she assured herself.

  She glanced up at him. Sam leaned a shoulder against the partition and stuffed both hands in his pockets. He didn’t say anything else.

  “You have a life in another city. A life I know almost nothing about, aside from the bare facts,” she said. “And I—”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Oh, Sam, that’s not the point. Don’t you see?” She wanted to cry, caught between hope and fear and a bunch of feelings she’d never experienced before. At least there was logical thought to cling to. “You have your life and I have mine, and they’re happening in different places. When the new year gets here, you’ll be gone.”

  Sam shook his head, but she couldn’t stop until he understood.

  “You drop the idea of marriage on me as if it’s as easy a decision to make as picking what brand of toothpaste to buy. I’ll bet you haven’t thought, really thought, about any of this.”

  “I spend most of my time thinking of you.”

  But that wasn’t the same as planning a future together. Holly shook her head. He didn’t understand, and she didn’t know how else to explain it.

  But she couldn’t resist when Sam dropped to his knees in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her thighs. His hair felt silky against her bare skin. He breathed deeply, then hugged her tighter.

  “It’ll work out.” Sam’s voice sounded muffled. “We can make all those details work.”

  Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe it, wanted to believe him. She wanted to be as sure as Sam was. But she couldn’t be.

  “How? What about my job—and yours? Where would we live? Oh, Sam—how can it work out?”

  He remained silent. Tentatively, she raised a hand to his head and buried her fingers in his hair, stroking. It felt good. He felt good—and so did Holly, when she was with him. But was it enough?

  “Ms. Aldridge, are you all right?” The voice came from outside the dressing room, but it was grew louder every instant. “Mr. McKenzie? Where are you?”

  The salesperson pulled open the curtain. It took just one look at Sam’s head buried in Holly’s lap to get them both kicked out of the formal wear shop. For life.

  Chapter Nine

  The Cheshire hotel was the finest in all of Saguaro Vista. It catered as much to the local golfing crowd that spilled over from the city course as it did to the temporarily resident senior citizens who liked to spend their winters someplace warmer than North Dakota.

  Tonight, in honor of the holidays, the Cheshire’s elegant lobby had been decorated in shades of ivory and gold. An enormous Christmas tree filled one corner, and orchestral Christmas carols drifted through the cinnamon-spiced space.

  “Thanks for bringing me tonight,” Holly told Sam as they stepped inside together. “Big formal parties aren’t really my thing. I’d hate to face this alone.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re not alone anymore.”

  His words sounded so wonderful. Holly couldn’t help but savor them. Even when she’d planned her life with Brad, she hadn’t thought of them as being truly together, two halves of one whole. Their lives had already been more separate than that. If Brad’s decision was to move their relationship forward, she realized, she’d have to find a way to deal with that.

  But that was for later. For now, she and Sam had a party to get to. Leading the way, Holly headed for the ballroom where her mother’s gala was in progress.

  “If word’s gotten around about what happened in the formal wear shop,” she said as they passed through the lobby, “I’ll probably never be alone. The owner is one of the biggest gossips in Saguaro Vista. People probably think I’m the town hussy by now.”

  For some reason, though, the idea of being on the receiving end of the
townspeople’s censure didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Holly knew she’d done nothing wrong. That seemed more important.

  “You’ll see.” She grinned up at Sam. “They’ll be lining up to date me.”

  He tightened his arm around her waist. “Not if I have anything to say about it, they won’t.”

  At the party, Holly’s mother was the first to greet them. She floated over, doubtless fueled by several glasses of Christmas wassail punch, and linked arms with her daughter.

  “I’m so glad you both could come,” she said.

  Amazingly, her smile seemed genuine. Even Holly, who’d expected disapproval instead, was convinced. It was a relief to know her mother wouldn’t disown her for appearing in public without Brad.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Holly nudged Sam. “Doesn’t my date look handsome?”

  Linda examined him from the top of his head to the soles of his dress shoes. “Yes, he does. You clean up nicely, Steve.”

  “Sam.”

  “Oh, of course. I’m sorry.” She turned to Holly with a frown. “But you’re another story. You didn’t try that hairdresser I told you about, did you?” Licking a fingertip, she swept her daughter’s hair away from her face. “No, I can see you didn’t. Your hair still has that rumpled look.”

  “I like it this way, Mom,” Holly said, but she gritted her teeth and dutifully endured her mother’s fussing.

  Wearing a satisfied smile, Linda stepped back to survey her handiwork. “There. That’s better.”

  Holly stifled an urge to rearrange her hair into the style she’d arrived with. Hey, it was the holiday season—the season of goodwill. She could afford to let this one go.

  “Now,” her mother announced, “I have to speak with Mayor Anderson about his new house. If you’ll both excuse me?”

  They said their goodbyes, and Linda disappeared into the crowd of brightly dressed women and tuxedo-clad men.

  Holly watched her go with a clear sense of relief. After having all but refused to go to the party unless Sam escorted her, she’d been worried about how her mother would react. It looked as if the only problem her mother had with Sam, though, was remembering his name.