A Long Hot Christmas. Barbara Daly

come in,” Charlene went on. “Make yourselves comfortable. You know almost everybody.”

      “Yes, yes,” Phil murmured. “Sad time for all of us, but I know Thaddeus would have wanted us to go on with our—Harry!” he said, putting a manicured hand forward. “Great to see you. How’s the golf?”

      Sam gripped Hope’s elbow and propelled her forward into the Carrolls’ magnificent reception room, a marble-floored space with twenty-foot ceilings and fifteen-foot windows. They ran directly into Cap Waldstrum. “Cap,” he said heartily. “This is Hope Sumner.” He paused. “You remember Hope.”

      “No,” Cap said, “and I promise you I would’ve.” The caressing gaze of Sam’s colleague—his opposite number in the Corporate Department, the man who might edge Sam out of the partnership—slid down to Hope’s cleavage. This drew Sam’s gaze in the same direction, toward creamy breasts just barely peeking out above the lace.

      He had a brief, satisfying daydream of socking Cap in the jaw. And not merely because Cap was apparently an early invitee to this dinner party while he, Sam, was just filling in. This was bad news.

      He’d decided to try bluffing Cap about Hope, but as direct as lawyers were, subtlety was out of the question. He’d have to hit Cap over the head with the message to back off.

      “I’ll get you a drink, darling,” he said.

      “I’d love some sparkling water, angel,” she answered him, giving him the sappy smile he’d thought he was supposed to use. “With lime. I do better if I start out slowly,” she was explaining to Cap as Sam made a beeline for the bar, “especially during the holidays.”

      The bar being a mano-a-mano scene, he barely got back to Hope in time to hear her say, “Pipe. I’m in pipe.”

      “Not Palmer,” Cap said, sounding amazed. “What a coincidence. Our firm—”

      “She knows,” Sam said abruptly. “Small world, huh?”

      “So how did you two meet?” Cap was looking increasingly interested.

      “I met Sam through…” Hope began.

      “…mutual friends,” Sam interjected smoothly. “And for once, the friends had heads on their shoulders.” He gave Hope a replay of the sappy grin she’d blatantly stolen from the script they’d agreed on.

      “Well, so nice to meet you.” Cap The Snake slithered off into the crowd to offer his apple to someone more vulnerable. Sam The Shark decided to let him go…this time.

      “Two down,” Hope hissed. “Who’s next?”

      “Not a new player,” he hissed back. “Charlene’s coming back for a second match.”

      “Sam,” Charlene purred, “you’re my dinner partner this evening. Your friend…”

      “Hope,” Sam supplied. “Hope Sumner.”

      “Hope Sumner,” Charlene said, “will sit across from you between Cap—you’ve met Cap—” her gaze flitted briefly in Hope’s direction “—and Ed Benbow.”

      “So it’s time to go in to dinner?” Sam said, relieved that Charlene hadn’t yet invited him to dally with her in some “private” location until the soup was on.

      She gave him a mischievous look. “Soon, you impatient boy. Ed,” she said, “come and meet…”

      “Hope,” said Hope.

      “Sumner,” said Sam.

      “Sad occasion we’ve got here,” said Ed. He did some appropriately lugubrious head shaking.

      Hope turned suddenly to Sam, “Daring, I didn’t ever meet…”

      “Thaddeus,” Sam supplied.

      “Fine man,” Ed rumbled. “Salt of the earth.”

      Sam slid a possessive arm around Hope’s shoulders. “We poured him into our opponents’ wounds,” he murmured.

      It was important, of course, to behave as if he and Hope were lovers. About to be lovers, at least. But when she leaned into him, when he felt her shiver of pleasure, he wondered if putting his arm around her and whispering so directly into her ear, a small, very pretty ear, had been a good idea. That shiver had been disquieting, had awakened the sleeping monster inside him again. Except it wasn’t inside him. It was right out there in front for all the world to see. And for all he knew, Hope was just ticklish.

      “How long have you known our boy Sam?” Ed asked Hope.

      “Just a few weeks.” Hope smiled prettily. “Long enough to know all he does is work.”

      “That’s Sam, all right,” Ed agreed.

      Sam had let his hand begin to move against Hope’s shoulder in the most natural lover-like way—just testing for signs of response from her—when to his annoyance he felt something tugging at his other arm.

      “Sam,” Charlene said, “I want to show you my new orchid.” She dug her spiky little heels into the floor and tightened her death grip on his elbow. “We can give Ed and…”

      “Hope,” said Sam, sending a desperate glance in her direction as he slid away from her.

      “Hope a chance to get acquainted.”

      “I’d love to see your orchids,” Hope said warmly. “You, too, Ed? You interested in orchids?”

      “My wife is,” Ed said. “Tanya?”

      A stunning blonde half Ed’s age left the group she was visiting with and came over to him. “What, honey? Hi,” she said, holding out her hand to Hope, “I’m Tanya Benbow. Hey, Shark! What’s up?”

      “We’re going to see Charlene’s orchids,” Ed said. “Knew you wouldn’t want to miss that.”

      The merry party set out for the conservatory, led by Charlene. Earlier, her slim hips had swung seductively inside her lace sheath. Now she gave the impression of a woman on a forced march.

      Sam caught Hope’s eye and winked.

      3

      SNUGGLED IN HER CAPE, standing on the crescent-shaped entryway to her apartment building, Hope said, “Tonight worked out pretty well, didn’t it?”

      “Don’t sound so surprised.” He smiled reminiscently. “When Charlene’s toes were climbing up my leg and you attacked them with your foot…that was your finest hour.”

      “It was a stretch from where I was sitting.” She watched his smile widen. It set her heart to pounding. “I think I gave Ed a little thrill with my knee, but it was worth it.”

      “That look you gave Charlene.” He shifted into a generic-female falsetto that didn’t sound a bit like her, but did sound pretty cute coming from him. “‘Find your own leg to climb, you hussy.’”

      She remembered the moment entirely too well. She’d had to work steadily at her computer all the way home to distract herself from the sensation that had climbed up from her toes as they caressed Sam’s muscular calf beneath the table, a tingly feeling that had made her wriggle against the seat of the dining chair. “Yes. Well worth it,” she murmured. “But she does do great orchids.”

      His low laugh was like warm syrup in the cold night.

      “So thanks for a really interesting evening,” she said.

      He took her hand, held it lightly. “I hope we’ll have more of them.”

      She hesitated. “Let’s take it a step at a time, okay? Tonight was successful. Now let’s try my milieu.”

      His smile grew warmer. “Sure. When?”

      “Next