All She Wants for Christmas. Stacy Connelly

lingered in her gaze, and Clay tempted himself with the thought of proving his words with a kiss. Pulse pounding, he lifted a hand toward her face. The bright glare of the dome light caught him off guard, and he looked over his shoulder in frustration. Behind his waiting driver was the welllit Lakeshore Plaza Hotel.

      Clay hadn’t even noticed the car stopping. If the ride had lasted a few minutes longer…make that a few hours longer…Shaking off the tempting thoughts, he climbed from the limo and held out his hand to Holly. Her fingers felt cold and fragile in his palm. With a reassuring squeeze, he told her, “Remember, it’s just a party.”

      Together they stepped through the front doors, and Holly’s breath caught. She’d heard glowing descriptions of the hotel and even seen a picture or two, but her imagination hadn’t captured the opulence.

      Floor-to-ceiling paintings decorated the lobby, and a waterfall cascaded down the wall behind the front desk. Holly had to force herself not to tip her head back and stare at the gold and crystal chandelier. But as incredible as the decor was, nothing compared to her amazement at walking into the Lakeshore Plaza with Clay Forrester.

      A uniformed bellhop gave them directions to the ballroom. He tipped his cap to Holly. “Enjoy your evening.”

      As Clay led her to the ballroom, music and laughter filled the air, the happy noise punctuated by a cork popping. Several people called out greetings, and Clay grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. Handing one to Holly, he raised his own in a toast. “To you, Holly, for reminding me of the meaning of Christmas.”

      His words sent a giddy rush pouring through her, and Holly didn’t need champagne’s intoxicating promise, but she took a small sip, anyway. Then another, enjoying the way the bubbles danced on her tongue. Smiling at her obvious pleasure, Clay said, “Like it?”

      “It’s amazing. I’ve never had champagne before.”

      Holly didn’t need to see his eyebrows lift to realize her mistake. Champagne and caviar, Holly reminded herself, embarrassed to have pointed out her own naïveté.

      “The first time I had champagne was at my cousin’s wedding. I think I was seventeen.” With anyone else, Holly might have suspected Clay’s story was meant to reveal his own sophistication, but the way he held her gaze reassured her his story held a different meaning. After taking a drink of his own champagne, he said, “I’ll never forget that night or that first taste.”

      Holly didn’t need champagne to make the night memorable. Clay had already done that. And as much as she enjoyed the drink, his lips pressed to hers would be a far more unforgettable first taste.

      Her gaze lowered to his mouth at the thought, and Clay’s eyes darkened. “Holly—”

      “Well, it’s about time you showed up,” a feminine voice called out. Holly looked over her shoulder to see a stunning brunette with close-cropped hair sashay toward them. She wore a red sequined dress that would have done a 1920s flapper proud. “When you said ‘a little late,’ I thought you meant fifteen minutes. I’ve had a heck of a time covering for you.”

      Looking around at the party in full swing, Clay said wryly, “I can see I’ve been missed.”

      “Okay, so we started without you, but I’m glad you’re here.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Albert Jensen’s started working the room like tonight was his idea.”

      Holly saw Clay’s jaw tighten at the words, but then he caught her gaze, and the tension drained away. Relaxing into a smile, he said, “Sounds like we’re just in time. How’s everything else going?”

      “Great. Except for the Santa. Where did you find that guy?”

      Holly and Clay exchanged a glance. “Why? What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing. Except he drinks like a fish and hasn’t moved from the buffet table.”

      Holly looked over. Sure enough, Charlie in his Santa suit held a plate piled high with food. His beard was pulled down below his chin as he ate half a piece of cheesecake in one bite.

      “I’d say he’s perfect for this group,” Clay joked.

      Marie shook her head and held out her hand to Holly. “I’m Marie Cirillo, Clay’s assistant.”

      “Holly Bainbridge.”

      Marie cocked her head. “You look familiar.”

      Holly shot a worried glance in Clay’s direction, unsure how to respond. How would he explain bringing a shop clerk to this elegant party? But Clay didn’t bother with explanations. He simply said, “Holly works at the flower shop in our building.”

      “Of course.” Marie’s smile remained; so did the touch of curiosity. “I bought a plant there.”

      “An ivy, wasn’t it? They’re one of my favorites,” said Holly.

      Marie winced. “Mine, too. But the leaves started to turn yellow, and now they’re kinda brown.”

      Clay laughed. “Marie kills plants since the Humane Society won’t allow her to have pets.”

      Marie stuck her tongue out at her boss, and Holly laughed. “You could be overwatering,” she said, “and you might try some iron.”

      “Thanks. I’ll do that,” Marie said. Then, turning to Clay, she demanded, “Why do I put up with you?”

      “Because we’re perfect for each other. No one else will work for me, and no one else will employ you.”

      “Is that it?” Marie grabbed a glass from a passing waiter and winked. “I thought it was for the free champagne and cheesecake.”

      Nodding at the glass, he toasted, “Then consider yourself well compensated for the evening, and keep Holly company while I go talk to the DJ.” With a quick squeeze to Holly’s arm, he promised, “I’ll be right back.”

      Holly opened her mouth to ask him to stay or offer to go with him, then closed it before she could reveal how nervous she was. Without Clay at her side, her insecurities came rushing back, and she glanced around, waiting for everyone to notice she didn’t belong. She didn’t have to wait long.

      “You know, I saw Clay right before the party. He didn’t mention bringing a date.”

      Holly swallowed. “It was pretty last minute.”

      “I guess so.” Marie’s expression softened slightly at Holly’s obvious discomfort, and she said, “Sorry. You must think I’m horribly nosy. It’s just that you’re the first woman Clay’s bothered introducing to me since his divorce.”

      “Clay was married?”

      Marie winced. “Me and my big mouth.”

      “No, it’s okay.” There was no reason for Clay to tell her about his ex-wife. This wasn’t a real date or the beginning of a relationship. Which was a good thing. If it had been real, Holly would have worried about the image in her mind of the woman Clay had married. Someone sophisticated, stylish, with a pedigree to match his own. A woman who would never need help dressing for a party…

      But there was no reason to worry, because it wasn’t real, Holly insisted as Clay walked back over, ignoring the flash of attraction that felt 100 percent genuine.

      “Sorry about that,” Clay said. “Duty calls. I hope Marie hasn’t been spilling all my secrets.”

      “Just one,” Marie confessed, with a guilty glance at Holly. A champagne cork popped nearby, and she added, “That bottle is calling my name. See you!”

      As Marie made her escape, Clay looked at Holly. Seeming unconcerned by the secrets his assistant might have revealed, he said, “As incredible as it seems, I don’t know what I’d do without her. She keeps me sane. This past year, that was a full-time job.”

      It was the second time Clay had mentioned business