said, “I’m asking you to be my date at my party.”
Chapter Three
Shocked, Holly protested. “I don’t know anything about corporate parties!”
“It’ll be like this one, only with alcohol and worse manners.” He shrugged. “Besides, I went to your party.”
“I wouldn’t have needed you to come to my party if you hadn’t stolen my Santa.”
His hand cut through the chill night air, dismissing her argument. “Details.”
Holly ducked her head. The thought of trying to fit in at a party filled with wealthy, successful businessmen and women sent her into a panic. The idea was preposterous, but not nearly as preposterous as Clay showing up dressed as Santa Claus.
“All right,” she agreed slowly. She looked down at the red sweater and black jeans she wore. “But I’ll have to stop by my apartment to change clothes.”
“Yeah.” Clay hooked his thumbs into the wide black belt circling his enlarged stomach. “Me, too. I knew I’d be pressed for time, so I brought clothes along. If I change at your place, my driver can take us to the party together.”
She didn’t live far, and Holly certainly didn’t want to arrive at the party alone. “Okay. Do you want to follow me?”
“Roger can follow. I’ll ride with you.”
After Clay notified the driver of their plans, he joined Holly in her car. She chuckled when he unbuttoned the red jacket and pulled out the pillow he’d used for stuffing. As she drove, she glanced at Clay, catching glimpses of his profile in the passing streetlights. “What’s the party going to be like?”
“Well, I know we’ll have cheesecake.” His teeth flashed in the shifting light. “Music, dancing. This year has been…Well, it’s been a transition of sorts.” His voice sounded tight, different from his usual teasing tone. “I hope the party will bring everyone together.”
Holly parked her car in front of her apartment building, the limo behind her. After retrieving a black garment bag from Roger, Clay and Holly walked up the steps to the five-story, redbrick building, the winter wind pushing them forward. Holly drew her keys out of her purse, but the key ring slipped from her cold fingers. She bent down, but Clay was faster, and her fingers tangled with his. Unlike her own icy hand, his was warm, and she didn’t want to pull away.
His gaze captured hers, the keys forgotten. Their breath mingled in the night air, but Holly no longer noticed the chill. As he helped her up, the warmth seeped even deeper, weakening her knees. He unlocked the door and handed her the keys once they stepped inside the foyer.
As they took the stairs to the third floor, Holly tried to remember if she’d left laundry piled on the couch or fast-food wrappers on the table. Opening the door, she flicked on the light and breathed a sigh of relief. Only a pair of discarded shoes cluttered the living room.
Holly sensed more than she saw Clay evaluating the apart ment. It had come furnished with well-worn, utilitarian furniture. The beige couch and chair matched the walls and carpet. She supposed her place looked like every other apartment in the building.
She pointed to the bathroom and said, “You can change in there.”
Holding up the hat he’d pulled off back at Hopewell House, he raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Last chance to make that wish…”
“Go,” she said on a laugh as she snatched the hat from his hand and watched him stride toward the bathroom. She wasn’t one for making wishes, but if she were…
Could Clay Forrester really be as perfect as he seemed? She set the hat aside to straighten the pillows on the couch and pick up her shoes. Eleanor had complimented her for finding the perfect man to play Santa, but she’d had little to do with it.
Hearing the bathroom door open, Holly realized he’d finished changing before she’d finished her musing or looked for something to wear. She turned to face him, and the shoes she’d picked up fell from her hands.
Adjusting the cuff on his tuxedo, he glanced up at her. “Is everything all right?”
Holly stared, barely managing a nod. The black tux fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and long legs. The same lock of hair she’d tucked under his Santa hat earlier fell across his forehead. Blue eyes watched her from beneath straight black brows. Chiseled bone structure emphasized a straight nose, prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw.
If a Hollywood movie star had stepped out of the TV and into her living room, Holly couldn’t have been more impressed—or dismayed.
“Holly, is something wrong?” He took a step toward her, and she waved aside his concern.
“No, no, everything’s fine. Except—” she gestured to his tuxedo “—you look ready for the inaugural ball!”
“Well, the party is at the Lakeshore Plaza.”
His words called to mind the elegant hotel, which boasted celebrity visits, views of Lake Michigan and penthouse suites rumored to cost ten thousand dollars a night. Holly had never dared to set foot inside the imported marble foyer, fearing management would throw her out for breaking some “no shirt, no shoes, no six-figure income, no admittance” rule.
“I can’t go to the Lakeshore Plaza. I have nothing to wear!” Not only would she make a fool of herself, but she’d embarrass Clay as well. Her wardrobe would be a dead giveaway that she didn’t belong.
He rolled his eyes. “I have never met a woman who thought she had enough clothes. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” she asked when he grabbed her hand.
“Your bedroom.”
“What!”
He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To find you something to wear.”
“I work in a flower shop!” Holly protested as he pulled her through the doorway. The intimacy of Clay invading her bedroom sent heat rushing to her cheeks. She determinedly adverted her gaze from the tousled bed a mere three feet away. “I don’t have nice clothes.”
He turned to face her. His appraising look swept her from head to toe. “I like that.”
Holly glanced down to see if her clothes had been magically transformed. “A sweater and jeans?” she asked, arching her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Hanging on a rack, that’s a sweater and jeans. On you, it’s something else entirely.”
A delicious shiver raced through her at his husky words and the sexual appreciation darkening his eyes. She longed to give in to the attraction, but her survival instinct raged against it. “I can’t wear this to the Lakeshore Plaza.”
Undaunted, he pulled open her closet door. “So we’ll find something else.”
Holly watched him sort through the garments, his masculine hands a sensual contrast against the feminine fabrics. When he ran a hand down an empty sleeve,
