Once Upon a Christmas (8 page)

“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
them, 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,
Holly 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.”

“He’s practically as good as new already.”

When Holly had phoned him earlier, Sam had confirmed that he
and his Loony Tunes foot felt well enough to move in this afternoon, as
planned. She’d promised to leave him a house key in one of the porch
flowerpots. He might even be there when she got back home.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to live with a
man like Sam, a man so impulsive he’d give a woman a scorching kiss the day
they met—a man who’d talk about love at first sight with someone he barely knew.

Holly turned down Clarissa’s street. “Did you put Sam
up to something last weekend?”

If she had, it would go a long way toward explaining Sam’s
behavior. Maybe the two of them had cooked up some sort of a joke after all,
and she’d fallen for it—hook, line, and sinker.

“Well…yes,” Clarissa admitted. “I guess you
could say that.”

Holly’s heart sank a little.