Once Upon a Christmas (13 page)

“Thanks.”

Holly lowered her hand and made herself stop looking at Sam’s
lips. Her gaze settled somewhere between his shoulder and jaw.

“You need a shave,” she informed him, trying to
keep up her end of the conversation. The air practically vibrated between them.
She needed to get back on safer ground, but before she could slide away, Sam
wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I know.” The tone of his voice made it plain he
couldn’t care less about razor stubble.

He was looking at her—she felt it. Holly risked a glance
back at him, and her stupid, traitorous gaze went straight to his mouth again.
They were close enough to share the same breath. Close enough to know better.

“Unless you want to be kissed again,” Sam warned, “you’d
better quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m an especially tasty morsel of something you
stopped indulging in a long, long time ago.”

Holly took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s time to stop
denying myself,” she said slowly, assessing the dark shadow of beard
stubble on his jaw. What would it feel like if she rubbed her cheek across it,
just a little?

“Maybe,” Sam agreed.

That brought her up short. “You sound as if you don’t
care one way or the other.”

Didn’t he want to kiss her again? Had she been so lousy at
it the last time? She didn’t think so, but…wasn’t he even going to try to
encourage her?

“I care.” He smiled, wryly. “Do it, then.”

Their eyes met. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Her
spontaneity dissolved beneath the intensity of his expression, taking her
bravado with it. This was real. No amount of rationalizing could change that.

“But do it because you want to,” Sam said, his
voice lowered, “and not for any other reason. Not because you’re mad at
your boyfriend or you want to prove something to me. Not because I kissed you
first.” He smiled at that. “But just because you want to.”

No excuses.
Holly could recognize a warning when she
heard one. This one should have doused her feelings like a bucket of midwinter
snow, but it didn’t. Her whole body tensed with anticipation. Yes,
yes.
It had been so long.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I…I do want to.”

Sam cupped her cheek in his hand, his fingertips stroking
slowly beneath her ear. “Look at me, then. Look at me and know the man you’re
with.”

It was Sam. Scruffy, messy, love-at-first-sight Sam, and in
the instant before her eyes drifted closed, he was the sexiest man she’d ever
seen. She kissed him.

It was the most potent experience she could remember having.
As soon as she opened her eyes again, Holly knew she’d been crazy to think one
taste was enough. Being with Sam made her want to throw common sense to the
wind.

She shot to the other side of the bench as if her behind was
on fire. “So, what should we do next?”

She wished her voice would quit shaking.

Sam leaned his head against the bench, gazing at her with
half closed eyes. “More kissing?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Besides, anybody
could see us here.”

“You won’t kiss me because somebody might see.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right,” she lied. “Wasn’t once enough
for you?”

“Not nearly.” He ran his fingertips along the bare
skin of her upper arm, raising a shivery trail of goose bumps. “Was it
enough for you?”

“I have a fiancé…at least, I think I still do. I
shouldn’t even be here.” She got up, then grabbed her day planner and
purse. “Maybe you should just take me home.”

“I’m not going to force myself on you, Holly.”

“I know.”

Sam reached for her hand. “Scared?”

Yes. Scared of you, scared of me. Scared of losing my
best chance at happiness
. She couldn’t say it out loud.

“Should I be?” she asked instead. It sounded
ridiculous even to herself. She tried again. “I’m sorry, Sam. The kiss was
a mistake. Things didn’t work out for me with Brad today, and I guess I was
feeling vulnerable. I won’t let it happen again. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”

Sam crumpled his paper cup and threw it into the trash can.

“Okay,” he said. “I understand.”

Holly wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t what she
heard next.

“Want to hit some rides before we go?”

Saturday night. Date night, at least for the happily coupled
half of the planet’s population. Standing alone in the vestibule of Francie’s
restaurant, Holly felt decidedly in the uncoupled half. Flipping open her cell
phone, she turned her back on the lovebird couples waiting for tables.

Please be home. Come
on.

Clarissa answered on the third ring.

“Hi, it’s me,” Holly said, trying to sound upbeat.
“You busy?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I…” Clarissa always knew when
something was wrong, even when Holly tried to hide it. Her throat tightened,
making it hard to speak. She blinked, staring hard at the maître d’ stand.
Focusing on it helped distract her long enough to finish talking. “You
want to catch a movie or something?”

Silence. Holly could picture the scene, though—Clarissa
sitting cross-legged on her black kitchen countertop, cordless receiver cradled
to her ear, probably painting her toenails orange. Clarissa was big on beauty
rituals.

“Sure,” Clarissa said. “A movie movie, or a
DVD rental?”

Saturday night. Date night. The movie theater would be
packed with hand-holding, smiling couples. The kind of couple Holly wasn’t part
of anymore.

“DVD.”

“Gotcha. I’ll meet you at your place in half an hour.”

“Unless…unless you’ve got other plans. With David, I
mean. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Don’t be silly, Holly Berry. Get yourself home. And be
careful, too.”

“Yes, Mom.” Holly smiled for the first time in
what felt like hours. “See you soon.”

When Holly pulled into her driveway, Sam’s truck was nowhere
in sight. He was probably on a date, too. So much for love at first sight.

He’d left the porch light on for her, though, and the
holiday lights they’d strung along the eaves flashed merrily, too. Bathed in
their multicolored glow, she trudged up the sidewalk to the front porch. She
kicked off her high heels and sat on the swing beside Sam’s mini Christmas
tree.

The decorated plant had taken up permanent residence there,
where it got plenty of sunshine during the day. Sam had insisted six inches of
Christmas tree was all he needed, but his macho attitude hadn’t fooled Holly
one bit. His enthusiasm for hanging ornaments, cutting paper snowflakes, and
blitzing the windows with spray-on snow hadn’t been lost on her. He loved the
holidays as much as she did. Maybe even more.

Holly sighed. They’d spent hours hanging wreaths, making red
and green construction paper chains, and eating gingerbread men together. Now,
cradling the little tree’s terra-cotta pot with one hand to keep it steady, she
dug her stockinged toes against the porch floorboards and set the swing in
motion. Things with Sam might be coming up all fruitcake and mulled cider, but
as far as the rest of her life was concerned…
that
was another story.

Things weren’t turning out the way she wanted them. The
worst part was, Holly couldn’t figure out why. Everything ought to be peachy.
You study hard, you get straight A’s. You work hard, you get promoted. You find
the right man, you get loved. Except she’d found the right man, and Brad didn’t
love her. He was messing up the rest of the equation. Where was the happily
ever-after ending?

Not that she was naïve enough to believe all relationships
ended happily. Her divorced parents were proof of that. But their marriage had
begun in the heat of passion. It would have been impossible to sustain that,
wouldn’t it? In contrast, with Brad, Holly had found a man with a background,
interests, and professional goals that were all similar to hers. It should have
at least increased her odds of success.

Instead it only left her feeling lonely.

Headlights swept the porch as Clarissa’s sports car pulled
into the driveway and roared to a stop. Clarissa got out and tromped up the
walk carrying an overflowing department store shopping bag.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” she asked.

Holly stopped the swing. Clarissa picked up the mini
Christmas tree and settled herself in its place, balancing the pot on her bare
knees. She plunked her shopping bag between them. They started swinging again.

“I’m just thinking about stuff,” Holly said. “I
haven’t made it inside yet.”

She hadn’t wanted to go in alone. Weeknights were easier.
She could stay at work late and tell herself she was being productive. There
were no such excuses on the weekend. The empty house waited for her, a big old
reminder of how empty her life was becoming, too.

Clarissa tapped the shopping bag. “I’ve got all the
essentials in here.
A Charlie Brown Christmas
and some spritz cookies if
you’re feeling happy,
It’s a Wonderful Life
and a jumbo box of tissues
if you’re not, and two pints of peppermint stick ice cream in either case.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Plus a good ear for listening. What’ll it be?”

Holly burst into tears.

Clarissa stopped the swing. “I knew I should have brought
a George Clooney movie, too. George is good for all occasions.” She
rummaged in the shopping bag, then pressed a wad of tissues in Holly’s hand.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or should I just
go wring Brad’s neck right now? You did go to dinner with him tonight at
Francie’s like you planned, right?”

Holly nodded, sniffling.

“He stood you up. Damn him!”

“No…no, he didn’t stand me up. He was there.”
Holly blew her nose and tried to get herself under control. Her nose was so
plugged up she sounded like a muppet when she talked.

“He was there, but he was a half hour late,” she
continued. “Gina—his secretary—called the restaurant to let me know.
Otherwise I probably would have left.”

Yeah, right. She would have stayed out of pure stubbornness,
if nothing else. Determination had served her well over the past few years.
Holly couldn’t admit that to Clarissa, though. She still had
some
pride
left.

“How did his secretary know about your romantic dinner
together?”

“I made the plans through her. You know how busy Brad
is.”

Clarissa shook her head. “I still think you should have
left. It would have served him right.”

“I’m not trying to teach him a lesson. I’m trying to
put our relationship back on track again.” Holly sighed. It was starting
to look as if she was the only one interested in keeping things going between
them.

Clarissa pulled two diet colas from the depths of her bag
and cracked open a can for each of them. “Negates the calories to come
later from the ice cream.” She winked. “So Brad the Bad strolls in
late. Then what?”

“Well, he joined me at the table. Our special table—
The
Table
—where we sat on our first date.”

Their first date, Holly’s first blind date. Her mother had
fixed her up with Brad after meeting him the day she’d closed the sale of his
parents’ new two-million-dollar Arizona “vacation cabin.”

“Uh-huh. Good move, the special table,” Clarissa
said. “Part of the emotional appeal phase of your plan?”

“Yes.” Holly was a little surprised Clarissa
remembered the plan so well. “But Brad didn’t like it. He spent the first
ten minutes badgering the waiter into seating us farther from the kitchen.”
Holly sighed, remembering. “The poor waiter didn’t know what to do. I’d
slipped him five bucks to seat us there.”

Clarissa tilted her head, staring up at the twinkling
holiday lights. “Men can be so clueless about sentimental things. David
still thinks I picked red roses for our wedding because they matched the
bridesmaid’s dresses best. Duh! They were the first kind of flowers he ever
gave me.”

Holly’s mind flashed on the poinsettias Sam had given her
the day of the winter carnival. Good thing she wasn’t marrying Sam. Poinsettias
would make a pretty goofy wedding bouquet.

“I know,” she agreed. “I don’t think they can
help it.”

She swigged some diet cola, then remembered the peppermint
stick ice cream in Clarissa’s bag. “Do you want to put the ice cream in
the freezer?”

Clarissa carried her shopping bag inside. Holly followed,
swinging her sleek new black shoes by their ankle straps. She didn’t know why
she’d bothered getting dressed up. Brad hadn’t looked at her twice during the
whole meal. If not for his perfunctory, “You look nice tonight, Holly,”
she’d have thought he hadn’t noticed her efforts at all.

“The ice cream is safely stowed for later,” Clarissa
said when she came back into the living room. She flopped down next to Holly on
the sofa and sat hugging her knees to her chest. “So tell me the rest.
What happened after Brad finished browbeating the waiter?”

“Well, we ordered dinner.” Holly paused, squinting
to remember the awful truth. “You know, I always thought it was so
charming of Brad to order for me when we went out someplace. But tonight… I
don’t know, it seemed a little….”

She stopped and shook her head. “I’m probably just mad
because things didn’t work out. But I didn’t like it. And it wasn’t just that,
either. I can’t really put my finger on it. It was as if Brad wasn’t really
there
,
you know what I mean?”

Clarissa nodded, setting her soda can on the glass coffee
table top. Holly automatically reached for a coaster, then stopped. That was
Brad’s rule, not hers. Whose house was it, anyway?

“I know what you mean,” Clarissa said. “David
is like that if I try to talk to him while he’s watching ESPN. Zombie man. Not
all there.”

“Exactly. Brad kept looking around, as if he was
looking for someone.”
Or looking for an escape route.
“I had
it all planned out,” Holly went on. “I brought a portable CD player
so I could play our favorite song. I brought pictures of the ski trip we took
last December, so we could reminisce about the good times. I even alluded to
the first time we, ahh…”